56. Re
Reunion
Helena
Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it: if a man would give all the substance of his house for love, it would utterly be contemned.
My fingers trace the heated skin of his neck. He’s still inside me, our bodies still locked together, but it’s more than that. He’s here. Fully, completely.
He is undone.
His chest rises and falls in uneven breaths, his skin flushed, his heart laid bare.
His eyes—God, his eyes. I have seen the gates of heaven, have been in the presence of angels, but nothing, nothing compares to the blue that stares back at me now.
Raw. Open. Stripped of the pride and grief that’s kept him from me.
I cup his face, my thumbs grazing the stubble on his jaw. “You remember.” My voice is barely above a whisper, but it carries the totality of the years between us. The longing. The heartbreak. The hope.
His fingers tighten on my hips, as if he’s afraid I’ll slip away. “I remember.” The words are quiet, but they hit me like a thunderclap.
My throat tightens. “No more running?”
He presses his hips forward, not to claim, not to take, but to ground us both. His hands frame my face, rough and calloused, yet impossibly gentle as they hold me there, as if he’s memorizing the shape of me beneath his palms.
His voice breaks. “You and me, forever.”
And just like that, the burden I have carried for so long finally lifts.
My legs tremble as I slowly lower them, feeling the absence of him as he slips from me.
A shiver runs through me, the night air cool against the heat he left behind.
My fingers brush over his stomach as I kneel, tugging his jeans back up over his hips, my touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary.
When I rise, he’s already waiting, his lips meeting mine in a kiss so gentle it steals my breath. It’s a stark contrast to the fire that burned between us moments ago, a quiet promise in the aftermath of something wild and untamed.
Before I can fully process the tenderness of it, he moves.
Strong arms dip low, and before I can react, I’m lifted effortlessly off the ground. A startled gasp leaves my lips as he throws me over his shoulder, my world tilting.
“Bronco!” I squeal, laughter bubbling up as I brace my hands against his back.
I can hear the grin in his voice as he says, “It’s time for bed, Mrs. Hayes.”
His grip tightens around my thighs, and despite my playful protests, I sink into him, letting him carry me into our home.
Morning comes too soon, stealing away the night too quickly. A dull ache settles behind my eyes from the beer, and a deeper soreness lingers in my thighs. A reminder of my husband.
Beside me, he stirs, the early sunlight casting a golden hue over his bare skin.
My fingers trace idle patterns across his chest, feeling the heat of him, the smooth skin, and the light dusting of hair beneath my touch.
It’s familiar and comforting. His breathing shifts, his eyes cracking open just enough to find me.
A slow, satisfied smile spreads across his lips as he hums in contentment, pulling me closer.
This is heaven.
“We should get up,” I murmur, though I make no move to leave the bed. “I’m starving, and Kiran’s bound to be awake soon.”
Silas lets out a low groan, rolling onto his side to press his face into my neck. His lips brush soft, lazy kisses along my pulse, his hand resting possessively on my hip. “The men can make their own damn coffee. Kiran can have cereal.”
I squirm, fighting the pull of his warmth. “Please? I haven’t seen him in over a week.”
He exhales a long, reluctant sigh before placing one last kiss on my shoulder and sitting up. I follow suit, pulling the sheet to my chest as I watch him move from the bed.
His body is carved by years of hard ranch work. Broad shoulders, well-defined arms, and thick thighs that lead up to a backside that has no business looking that good in his forties. Time has barely touched him, the land preserving him like a relic of masculinity.
When he turns, he catches me staring. A knowing grin tugs at his lips before he grips the edge of the sheet and yanks. The fabric slips from my grasp, pooling at my waist and leaving me exposed beneath his hungry gaze.
“Not fair for you to get an eyeful and not me,” he teases, eyes dark with mischief.
I smirk, feigning innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Amusement dances across his face as he shakes his head. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Caroline.” He steps closer, hands trailing over my bare skin. “Now, get out of bed before I decide we’re staying in this room all damn day.”