Chapter 11 The Refuge, New Mexico #2
This time, there was no hesitation. No preamble.
He moved within her, a fulfilling pressure that was equal parts completion and need.
She reveled in the sensation, her body welcoming him, pulling him deeper.
Their rhythm was unhurried, each thrust pushing her higher, the world narrowing down to just the two of them.
He rode her slow and steady, his body moving with hers as they moved towards a shared climax. His hand found hers, fingers intertwining as if he wanted to be connected with her in the most intimate way possible.
The coil in her belly tightened, the pleasure building up to an unbearable peak.
When he pressed his thumb against her nub, she shattered under him, a cry ripping from her lips at the pleasure that washed over her—intense, earth-shattering, all-encompassing.
He wasn’t far behind, his face buried into the crook of her neck as he shuddered, his breath hot and ragged against her skin.
His grip tightened on her hand, his body tensed, before he too succumbed to the crashing pleasure.
His release was as powerful as hers, a testament to their undeniable chemistry and connection.
The silence that followed was only interrupted by their uneven breathing, gradually becoming synchronized, just like their heartbeats.
The comfort of being in each other’s arms, their naked bodies tangled together, felt like a soothing balm to her tumultuous thoughts.
She traced her fingertips along his arm draped over her, goosebumps rising in its wake.
His chest rose and fell against her back, his heartbeat drumming a steady rhythm against her. The heat of his body, now a familiar presence, warmed her in more ways than she could count. She reveled in the languid post-coital haze, every fiber of her being thrumming in delight.
She listened to the gentle rustling of leaves outside, a symphony complemented by the distant chirping of birds. The song of the morning wove itself into the fabric of their cocoon, the outside world existing yet comfortably out of reach.
Emotion welled up inside her as his lips pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder.
She could almost taste the sweet intimacy of the moment, a flavor that was fast becoming her guilty pleasure.
Each time Kawan touched her, loved her, it chipped away at the walls around her heart.
Walls, she thought, she’d never lower—walls that were crumbling, bit by bit, under his tender care.
His fingers ran through her hair, and the familiarity of the action made her heart flutter. She turned in his arms, capturing his gaze.
There was no mirroring of desire this time. Instead, it was replaced by an affection she had seen before but had been too afraid to acknowledge. It scared her, how it made her feel. But it also thrilled her in a way nothing ever had.
Her hand reached up, tracing the outline of his lips, reveling in the sensations they’d stirred. His eyes held hers captive, their silence speaking volumes. The intensity of his gaze made her heart pound. It was a look she would never tire of— a look she was becoming addicted to.
The silence stretched, creating a bubble around them, its delicate nature threatening to shatter under the weight of words unspoken. There were no more games of dominance or surges of desire—only a mutual understanding and a burgeoning affection that left her breathless.
She’d tasted the forbidden fruit of love and found herself wanting more.
With each moment Kawan spent cherishing her and treating her with a tenderness she’d never known she needed, she found him carving a place for himself inside her heart.
The thought that should have terrified her, but instead, filled her with warmth.
She snuggled closer to him, their bare skin touching as she finally owned up to the feelings she’d been pushing away. His eyes spoke of promise—a promise of love that was terrifyingly beautiful. She found herself lost in the depth of his gaze…
Until a buzzing noise interrupted the stillness.
"Kawan..." she whispered. “Is that your phone vibrating on the nightstand?”
“Yup.” He rolled to the side and snagged it. “Jupiter’s texting.” He sat up. “We need to head to their cabin. Jupiter says they have something we need to see.”
Lark tossed back the covers.
“Hey. Wait.” Kawan curled his long arm around her waist, twisting her body to face him.
He palmed her cheek. “It’s not even six in the morning.
The text said to come as soon as we can.
We have to time for a quick shower and maybe make a pot of coffee.
I’m not sure I can stomach any more of that swill that Specs makes. ”
Lark shook her head. “You can shower if you want. I’m putting clothes on and running out the door.”
He chuckled. “We really need to work on your patience.”
She tugged her shirt over her shoulder and then glared. “Sometimes you’re about as funny as Moose’s names for his chickens.” She held up her hand. “Which aren’t all that funny.”
“They're fucking hilarious. And when you meet them, you’ll understand why.” He hiked up his jeans and fastened them before snagging a shirt from the dresser.
“Who says I’m ever going to Virginia to meet the chickens?” She shimmied into her yoga pants. A fashion Specs had talked her into. They were comfortable. Different than jeans or camo pants that she always wore one size too big.
“I do,” Kawan said with a big goofy smile.
“I told you. I’m not letting you sneak out or walk away this time.
” He lowered his chin and cocked a brow.
“I can be a patient man. I know with you, I’m gonna have to be.
But I love you. That’s a fact that isn’t going away.
” His smile widened. “I need to use the bathroom. I’ll just be a minute.
Then we can go.” He strolled past her, stopping to kiss her cheek, before disappearing.
She swallowed her breath. Her heart beat so fast it hurt. It wasn’t like she didn’t know how he felt. However, she was still trying to push down her own truth. Fighting it with everything she had.
Only it was impossible when he treated her like she was his world. Not to mention, he always showed up. He was always there for her when she needed him.
And sometimes when she didn’t.
Hearing the words tumble out of his mouth with such ease and with so much meaning stole her breath. More than that—he stole her heart.
Or maybe she handed it to him on a silver platter.
It didn’t matter how it happened—only that it did.
Now she was left with a choice.
Fight for him or do what she always did and… run.
Lark stepped into Specs’ and Jupiter’s cabin, taking the cup of bitter brew that Jupiter offered. “I made it this morning. My stomach couldn’t handle another one of Specs’ special blends.”
“We don’t let her near the coffee pot.” The words caught in her throat. We. Past tense now. There was no "we" anymore—just her and Specs, the only survivors of a team that used to tease each other about bad coffee and worse cooking.
“Now you tell me.” Jupiter strolled back to his computer and screens, eased into his chair and and stared at his monitors with that same quiet determination he always had.
“What? Do I have to get my own?” Kawan asked with a teasing tone.
“You’re a grown-up.” Jupiter dropped his hands to his keyboard and tapped gently. “Besides, I’m tired of being your work wife.” He lifted his hands, cracked his knuckles, typed for a few seconds, sighed, and then leaned back again, shaking his head.
“Moose is still Thor’s,” Kawan muttered as he shuffled toward the kitchen.
“That man has always been unbearable until he’s had caffeine.” Jupiter kept his gaze glued to the screens, his lips drawn tight.
“You’re not any better.” Kawan strolled back into the living area, raising his mug. “No offense, Specs, but this actually tastes like coffee. Not swill disguised as slop.”
“Nothing I haven’t heard a dozen times before,” Specs said from her perch next to Jupiter.
The soft whir of the ceiling fan stirred the air, and Lark could almost believe the cozy scene created by The Refuge…
meant safety. A word that now had a different meaning.
As a kid, safety meant she had a roof over her head, food in her belly, and whoever she was living with at the time at least cared enough to ask about her day.
As an adult, it meant she stood vertical.
Now, her heart wanted more than to simply beat steadily in her chest.
She sat on the couch, studying Specs hunched over her laptop with lazar-sharp intensity Her demeanor was so different than Jupiter’s this morning. She was dialed in. Focused. Maybe a little too focused.
“Hey, Specs,” Lark said softly.
Specs tilted her head, shifting her gaze slightly. Her eyes flickered. It was a tiny spark, but it reminded Lark of when Specs would come alive when the pieces of a puzzle she’d been working behind the scenes fell into place. “Yeah?” The corners of her mouth tipped slightly upward.
“You sleep last night?”
“Some.” Specs’ gaze darted—for a split second—toward Jupiter. “Having nightmares. They wake me through the night. It’s hard. I sometimes don’t want to close my eyes and go back to sleep. But I know I need to. I know I can’t keep functioning on cake and my bad coffee.”
Jupiter pushed back his chair, squeezed Specs’ shoulder, then paced toward the kitchen. He hovered by the counter, sipping coffee from a dented mug, his shoulders stiff with unmistakable tension.
Lark wondered if that was from his obvious attachment—and attraction—toward Specs. Or was it from the grief and trauma that had consumed Specs? Lark learned forward. “Seems like you and Jupiter are getting along well.”