Chapter 17
The compound was quiet for the first time in weeks.
Wake stood on the dock with his coffee, watching the morning mist rise off the lake.
No runs today. No threats. No brothers coming and going with urgent news about Razorback movements or supply routes or any of the hundred other things that had consumed every waking hour since Marley walked into his life.
Just silence. Just peace. Just a single day to breathe.
He felt her before he saw her—that awareness that had become hardwired into his nervous system, the constant knowledge of where she was and whether she was safe.
She came down the dock path with two mugs in her hands, wearing one of his flannels over shorts, her legs bare and golden in the early light.
"Brought you a refill," she said, trading mugs with him.
"You didn't have to."
"I wanted to." She settled against his side, fitting herself under his arm like she'd been doing it for years instead of days. "It's quiet."
"Yeah."
"I don't trust it."
He smiled against his coffee. "Me neither."
They stood there watching the water, and Wake let himself feel something he rarely allowed. Contentment. The bone-deep satisfaction of having something worth protecting right here in his arms.
"Come somewhere with me," he said.
"Where?"
"There's a cove on the east side. Private. Good swimming." He looked down at her, reading the question in her eyes. "No agenda. Just... I want one day where we're not waiting for something bad to happen."
Her smile was slow and warm. "One day sounds perfect."
They took one of the compound's smaller boats—Wake at the helm, Marley stretched across the bow with her face turned up to the sun.
He navigated through the main channel and into a series of narrow cuts that most people didn't know existed, coves hidden behind cypress stands and limestone outcroppings.
The spot he found was exactly what he remembered. A small beach of white sand, sheltered by bluffs on three sides, the water crystal clear and still as glass.
"It's beautiful," Marley breathed.
"Found it years ago. When I was still working the marina." He killed the engine and let the boat drift toward shore. "Never brought anyone else here."
She looked at him then, understanding in her eyes. "First time for everything?"
"Something like that."
They swam. The water was cool enough to be refreshing, warm enough to stay in for hours. Marley was a stronger swimmer than he'd expected—moving through the water with confident strokes, diving under and coming up laughing, her hair slicked back and her skin gleaming.
Wake watched her and felt the familiar heat building in his blood.
He'd had her a dozen times now. In his cabin, on the dock, once against the workshop wall when they'd both lost patience waiting for nightfall.
Each time left him wanting more. Each time confirmed what he'd known from that first night at the Anchor—this woman was an addiction he had no interest in curing.
"You're staring again," she called from the deeper water.
"I'm always staring at you."
"It's not polite."
"I'm not a polite man."
Her laugh echoed off the bluffs. "I've noticed."
She swam back to him, her body moving through the water with lazy grace. He was standing chest-deep near the shore, and she stopped just out of reach, treading water with a smile that told him she knew exactly what she was doing.
"Come here," he said.
"Make me."
He lunged for her and she dove, slipping through his fingers like a fish. They chased each other through the cove, half-wrestling, half-swimming, until he finally caught her around the waist and hauled her against him.
"Got you," he said.
"Maybe I let you catch me."
"Maybe you did." His hands slid down to her hips, pulling her close enough to feel exactly what she did to him. "Now what are you going to do about it?"
Her eyes darkened. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, and pressed herself against him in a way that made his vision blur.
"I have some ideas," she murmured.
"Share them with me."
She kissed him instead of answering, her mouth hot against his despite the cool water. He walked them toward the beach, carrying her weight easily, never breaking the kiss. When his feet hit sand, he laid her down on the narrow strip of shore where water met land.
"Here?" She looked around at the open sky, the exposed beach. "What if someone—"
"No one comes here." He knelt over her, bracketing her body with his arms. "It's just us. It's always going to be just us."
She reached up and pulled him down.
This was different from the urgency of their other times. There was no danger driving them, no adrenaline requiring release. This was choice, pure and simple—two people who wanted each other and had all the time in the world to prove it.
Wake kissed down her throat, her collarbone, the swell of her breasts above her bikini top. She arched into his mouth, her fingers digging into the sand, soft sounds escaping her lips that made him want to take her apart piece by piece.
He untied the strings of her top with deliberate slowness, watching her face as the fabric fell away. She was beautiful everywhere—golden skin, peaked nipples, the flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat. He lowered his mouth to taste her and she cried out, her hips bucking against him.
"Wake—"
"I love hearing you say my name." He moved to her other breast, lavishing it with the same attention. "But I love hearing you say my real name more."
"Austin." It came out broken, pleading. "Please."
"Please what?"
"More. Everything. I need—"
He knew what she needed. He'd learned her body over the past days, mapped every sensitive place, catalogued every sound she made. He knew that touching her here made her gasp. That kissing her here made her writhe. That when he finally put his mouth here—
She screamed his name to the empty sky.
He worked her through the first climax with his tongue, holding her hips steady when she tried to thrash away from the intensity. When the tremors finally subsided, he kissed his way back up her body and found her eyes glazed, her mouth swollen, her whole body flushed and shaking.
"That was—" She couldn't finish the sentence.
"That was the warm-up."
Her laugh was breathless. "You're going to kill me."
"Not yet." He shed his own swim trunks and positioned himself between her thighs. "Not until I'm finished with you."
He pushed inside her slowly, watching her face, feeling her body stretch to accommodate him. She was tight and wet and perfect, and he had to stop halfway, pressing his forehead to hers, fighting for control.
"Don't stop," she whispered. "Don't ever stop."
He didn't.
He set a rhythm that was slow and deep, drawing out every stroke until she was begging him to go faster, harder, more. Sand scraped against his knees and water lapped at their feet and the sun beat down on his back, and all of it faded into white noise against the sensation of being inside her.
"Mine," he said, the word dragged out of somewhere primal. "Say it."
"Yours." She pulled his face down to hers, kissing him with a ferocity that matched his own. "I'm yours, Austin. All of me. Everything."
His control shattered.
He drove into her without restraint, chasing the release that was building at the base of his spine. She met him thrust for thrust, her legs locked around his waist, her nails scoring his back hard enough to leave marks. The tension coiled tighter and tighter until—
"Now," she gasped, and he felt her clench around him.
He followed her over the edge, his whole body shaking with the force of it. For a long moment, there was nothing but pleasure and heat and the woman beneath him crying out his name.
Then silence. Just the lap of water. Just the call of distant birds. Just two heartbeats slowly settling into sync.
Wake rolled onto his back, pulling Marley with him so she was draped across his chest. The sand was warm beneath them, the sun hot on their skin. He felt hollowed out in the best possible way—empty of everything but her.
"I could stay here forever," she murmured against his chest.
"We'd have to go back eventually."
"I know." She propped her chin up to look at him. "But right now, I don't want to think about eventually. I just want this."
"This?"
"You. Us. A secret cove where no one can find us." Her smile was soft, unguarded in a way he rarely saw. "One perfect day."
He tucked a strand of wet hair behind her ear. "You deserve a thousand perfect days."
"I'd settle for this one."
They stayed on the beach until the sun was high overhead, swimming and talking and making love again on a blanket Wake retrieved from the boat. By the time they started back toward the compound, the afternoon was fading into gold.
Marley fell asleep on the ride home, her head on his shoulder, her hand resting on his thigh. Wake guided the boat through channels he could navigate blindfolded, watching the woman beside him and thinking about futures he'd never let himself imagine.
A house on the lake, maybe. A dock where he could work on motors and she could sit with her feet in the water. A life built on work and loyalty and the kind of love that only came from earning it.
He wanted that. All of it. With her.
The compound appeared through the trees, and reality settled back over him like a weight. The war wasn't over. Maddox was still out there. The danger that had driven them together was still very real.
But for one day—one perfect day—they'd been free.
Whatever came next, he'd carry this with him. The memory of still water and sunlight and a woman who'd seen everything he was and wanted him anyway.
He docked the boat and lifted Marley into his arms, carrying her sleeping form toward the cabin. She stirred against his chest, her eyes fluttering open.
"Home?" she murmured.
He looked down at her face, soft with sleep and trust, and felt something settle permanently in his chest.
"Yeah," he said. "We're home."