Chapter 17 #2
He drives us back to the ranch with the windows down. The dark comes in cool off the mountains. My head’s tipped back against the seat.
"Rick waved me off in there like I said something offensive," he says. "All I said was that truck's been to more funerals than he has. Which, statistically, might not even be true, but it felt true."
I laugh. My hand finds his across the console. His palm turns up and holds on. It's warm and easy. That's the part that doesn't help.
All of it is real.
He cuts the engine, and we sit there for a second in the dark lot.
"You want to come in?" he asks.
I look down the path toward his cabin. The porch light is on.
I do want to. I know I do. I tell myself that's enough.
"Yeah," I say.
***
The door closes behind us, and we toe off our boots. Then he turns and kisses me before I've taken a step. His hands go to my shoulders and pull me in. I pull him in by the front of his shirt and kiss him back. The wanting is not the problem. The wanting has never been the problem.
We make it to the bedroom. I take my shirt off.
He gets his. I get his belt. He gets my jeans.
His follow. He pulls me down onto the bed with him and kisses me, long and slow, his weight settling over me.
His mouth moves to my jaw, my throat, and then down.
He drags his lips across my collarbone and takes his time getting to my breasts, his mouth closing over my nipple.
I arch up into him. He works the other one before he keeps moving, his mouth trailing down my stomach, his hands holding my hips.
By the time his mouth finds my center, both of my hands are in his hair.
His arms hook under my thighs, holding me where he wants me.
His tongue finds my clit and stays there, steady and relentless, while he works two fingers into me and curls them.
My body clenches around him, and my breathing comes out in short gasps.
My hips push toward him. I grab the blanket under me.
He knows exactly what he's doing. He's known since the tack room.
My thighs start to shake. "Levi," it comes out low and broken, and he doesn't let up, his tongue working steady circles while I come apart, my hand fisted in his hair, my whole body shaking through the last of it.
He lifts his head and looks up at me, and whatever he finds in my face makes him stay right where he is for a second.
That's what I can't shake. He's here. Every bit of him. And I'm already half gone, and I don't know how to stop it.
He crawls up over me, holding my eyes the whole way, and I reach between us and wrap my hand around him and stroke him once. He makes a rough sound against my throat.
"Cass."
I pull him closer instead of answering.
He pushes my knee out with his, lines himself up, and drives in.
My breath goes out hard. He pulls back and drives forward, and I gasp, digging my fingers into his back.
He finds a pace that's deep and even, his hips rolling into mine, every stroke full.
I feel him everywhere. The drag of him pulling back.
The pressure of him pushing forward again.
I wrap my legs around him and pull him deeper, and he groans into my neck.
He's trying to stay close. I can feel it in the way he moves, the way he keeps his chest against mine, the way his hand cups the back of my head. He's all the way here.
And I keep drifting.
His hand slides between us, and his thumb finds my clit, and I jerk up against him.
"God, Cass."
I pull him down and kiss him. He keeps moving, keeps his thumb working, and I feel myself climbing fast. My whole body pulls tight. I turn my face into his neck so he can't see my eyes when I break.
It hits hard. My hips grind up against him, and I clench around him. "Levi." It comes out in a breath, my nails dig into his shoulders, the whole thing rolling through me in long waves.
He drives into me twice more. His hips stutter forward, and he groans, low and wrecked, his arms shaking as he comes. He holds there, buried deep, breathing hard against my collarbone.
We stay like that. His weight on me. His breath slowing against my skin.
He rolls to his side and takes me with him. His hand spreads over my stomach, warm and heavy.
He kisses me.
The ranch is quiet outside. His breathing slows.
I lie there and look at the window.
Garrett said he wants his brother back. That he's going to try.
I don't know when I fall asleep. I just know I stay awake for a long time.
***
In the morning, I wake to the sound of him moving.
He's already up, the blanket pushed back on his side, the room gray with early light. I hear him pull on his jeans in the dark. The soft sound of the dresser drawer. Then his feet on the floor, moving toward the kitchen.
I lie there and listen to him make coffee.
A cabinet opening. Then the low sound of the pot settling on the burner. The smell comes after, slow and warm, working its way down the hall.
He comes back to the doorway and leans against the frame. He's got two cups in his hands, his hair’s a mess, and he's looking at me, his eyes soft, taking me in.
"There she is," he says softly. "I brought you coffee."
"Thanks," I say.
He crosses the room, sits on the edge of the bed, and holds out a cup. I push up and take it. The ceramic is warm against my palms. The ranch stirs outside. Birds in the pines, the crickets still going in the grass.
He leaves tomorrow. He told me that. I knew it then. I know it now.
Going back to Sadler is either the thing that brings him back to Whispering Creek or the thing that shows him he never had to leave it in the first place.
He's watching me over the rim of his cup. Sees something. Doesn't say what.
I take a sip of coffee and look out the window at the trees.
Neither of us says the thing we're both thinking.