A Different Crossroad #2
He understood. He withdrew his hand, and she nearly whimpered at the loss, but then he was pulling her into his lap, her thighs bracketing his hips, and that was better. That was so much better.
"Together," he agreed.
By the time they finally left the water, the bath had gone cold, and neither of them had noticed.
They stumbled from the tub, dripping, reaching for each other before they'd even found the towels.
Water streamed from their bodies, pooling on the floor, and neither of them cared.
Rion lifted her easily, his hands under her thighs, and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her to the bed.
He laid her down and followed her, his weight settling over her in a way that made everything else disappear. She arched into him, needing more, needing everything. "Tell me what you want."
"You." She pulled him closer, her nails dragging down his back. "Just you."
When he finally slid inside her, they both went still.
Lark had expected heat, urgency, the desperate rush toward release. What she hadn't expected was this feeling of completeness, as though some missing piece had finally fallen into place. Rion's forehead dropped to hers, his breath shaky, his eye squeezed shut.
"Lark," he whispered. Just her name, like an invocation.
She lifted her hips, urging him to move, and he did.
He was attentive in a way that undid her completely. Rion treated her like a mystery he wanted to unravel, like a book he wanted to memorize. He paid attention to every sound she made, every shift of her hips, every catch in her breath, and adjusted accordingly.
When she gasped, he did it again. When she pulled at his shoulders, urging him closer, he gave her what she wanted. When she whispered "there," breathless and aching, he stayed there until she couldn't form words anymore, until she was nothing but sensation and heat and the sound of his name.
And when she finally came undone beneath him, shaking, his mouth against her throat and her fingers twisted in his hair, he was right there with her.
Afterward, they lay entwined in the wreckage of the sheets, breathing hard, sweat cooling on their skin. Lark stared at the ceiling and tried to remember the last time she had felt this sated.
“Well,” she said eventually. “That was worth waiting for.”
Rion laughed, the sound vibrating through his chest where her head rested. “High praise.”
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Too late.” His arm tightened around her. “As Pippa would say, I’m going to be insufferable now.”
“You were already insufferable.”
“More insufferable, then.” He pressed a kiss to her hair. “I can live with that.”
They lay in comfortable silence as the evening deepened. The fire crackled in the hearth. Beyond the window, the sounds of Milton settling into night drifted up from the streets below.
“I keep thinking about that first inn,” Lark said. “The bed that was definitely not medium-sized.”
“It was a very small bed.”
“We were both so careful not to touch. Lying there as if we were made of glass.”
“I wanted to touch you. So much.” His voice was soft. “I just didn’t know if you wanted me to.”
“I did.” She tilted her head to look at him. “I think I wanted you from the beginning. Or at least since the night we had to share that ridiculous makeshift tent. I just didn’t know how to admit it.”
He chuckled. “And now?”
“Now I’ve admitted it. Thoroughly.” She smiled. “Multiple times.”
He laughed again and rolled her beneath him, and for a while after that, there were no more words.
She woke to morning light and the sensation of being held.
Rion was still there, his arm heavy across her waist, his breath stirring the hair at her temple. She lay still, not wanting to wake him, wanting to preserve this for as long as she could.
She had never been good at this. The morning after. The part where you acknowledged what had happened and figured out what it meant. She had always left before dawn, slipping away while her partners slept, avoiding the awkwardness of conversation.
But this time, she didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay right here, in this bed, with this man who looked at her like she was the most important thing in the world.
“I can hear you thinking,” Rion murmured against her hair. “It’s very loud.”
“I wasn’t thinking.”
“You were definitely thinking. You do this thing with your breathing when you’re worrying about something.”
“I don’t do a thing with my breathing.”
“You absolutely do.” He shifted, pulling her closer. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” She turned in his arms to face him. “That’s what I was thinking about. Nothing’s wrong. Everything is actually … good. And I don’t know what to do with that.”
His eye was soft in the morning light. “You could try enjoying it.”
“I’m not very good at enjoying things.”
“I’ve noticed. Fortunately, I’m an excellent teacher.” He kissed her forehead. “Lesson one: when something good happens, you don’t immediately look for ways it might go wrong.”
“That seems na?ve.”
“It seems healthy. You should try it.”
She wanted to argue, to point out all the ways this could fall apart, all the dangers waiting for them at the end of the road. But he was looking at her with such certainty that she couldn’t bring herself to shatter the moment.
“Fine,” she said. “I’m enjoying this. Are you happy?”
“Extremely.” He kissed her properly this time, slow and thorough. “Now. I believe we have a while before we need to leave. Any thoughts on how we might spend it?”
“A few.” She pulled him down to her. “Let me show you.”
Eventually, morning intruded.
They dressed slowly, stealing touches, exchanging smiles that felt new even after everything they had shared. Rion kissed her before they left the room, soft and unhurried, and as she kissed him back, she thought she could happily spend the rest of her life doing exactly this.
But the rest of her life was not on offer. What was on offer was breakfast in the common room and two more days of travel.
One thing at a time.
Pippa took one look at them when they came down to breakfast and grinned.
“Finally,” she said. “You both look significantly less tense. I approve.”
“Pippa.” Darian’s voice carried a warning.
“What? I’m happy for them. Look at them. They’re practically glowing.”
“We’re not glowing,” Lark said.
“You’re a little bit glowing.” Pippa reached for the bread. “It’s nice. You should do whatever caused that more often.”
“Can we please talk about anything else?”
“Fine, fine.” Pippa waved a hand. “But I’m just saying. Two more days on the road. Might as well make the most of them.”
They ate breakfast together, the four of them plus Noctis, who had apparently charmed the kitchen staff into providing him with a bowl of scraps.
The food was good, the company was better, and Lark let herself forget about Summerbright and the Ashen Enclave and everything that waited for them at the end of the road.
But forgetting couldn’t last. It never did.
“Two days,” Darian said as they gathered their things and prepared to leave. “Maybe less if we push. We should go over the plan one more time.”
He was right. Lark knew he was right. But as she followed the others out of the Hearthstone Inn and back onto the Trader’s Way, she couldn’t help but glance at Rion.
He met her eyes, smiled, and she felt herself slowly melt.
Two days to Summerbright. Two days before they would separate, before she and Darian would go into hiding while Rion and Pippa approached the enclave. Two days before everything changed again.
She reached out and took his hand.
Whatever came next, she would face it with this. With him beside her, his hand in hers, and the memory of last night burning bright in her mind.