Page 35 of Snowy Secrets

I latch onto the back of his neck and move with him, our foreheads pressed together. God, we feel good together like this. My every sense leans into it, and River can feel the change. He always could.

He draws up one knee and tips his hips to just the right angle. My breath hitches, and I'm catapulted into a new level of ecstasy.

River nibbles down my throat, sinking his teeth into that spot in my neck. My toes curl.

"Fuck, Bella. Can I come in you?"

"What?" I'm going to come. It's too much.

"I don't want to presume."

If it would make him move with a bit more gusto, I wish he would. "Yes. God, come in me."

Oh, and he moves just the way I want him to, longer, withdrawing thrusts and punctuated pumps into me. I hover for just a few seconds before everything inside me blitzes. I'm breaking apart and molten at the same time.

He draws it out, hard and heavy, until he stiffens and bows over me. Grinding. Filling me up.

Nuzzling my neck, he leans into me, locking us together as we recover. He's warm, and I don't want to brave the chill of the room without him.

He stares at me, eyes bloodshot and raw, his voice a mere croak as he pleads for forgiveness. A tremor runs through his broad shoulders.

"Bella," he whispers, his voice thick, "I know I've been a fool. I said things, did things, that I can never take back." He reaches out, his hand trembling as it hovers inches from my face. "Can you ever forgive me?"

The question hangs in the air, heavy and suffocating. Forgiveness? After all the pain, all the loneliness? It feels like an insurmountable task, a mountain I'm not sure I can climb.

Yet, as I gaze into his tortured eyes, a flicker ignites within me. I see the broken man beneath the hardened exterior, the soldier ravaged by the ghosts of war. I see it all, and I can't be cruel. Not when my whole body is so clearly opposed to it.

Without a word, I reach out and take his hand, the warmth of his skin stark against the coldness that has settled around my heart. He flinches, as if expecting me to recoil, but I hold on tight, my grip a lifeline.

"Come here," I whisper, my voice barely audible.

He hesitates, his eyes searching mine for any sign of rejection. But all he finds is a longing, a yearning for the connection we once shared.

I pull him toward me, and he collapses into my arms, his body racked with sobs. I hold him close, my fingers tangling in his hair, the scents of whiskey and old books filling my senses.

We sink to the floor, the worn rug cushioning our fall. I drape a throw over us, cocooning us in a makeshift haven. His head rests on my chest, the steady rise and fall of his breath a comforting rhythm against my skin.

The room is silent, save for the ticking of the grandfather clock and the soft snores that soon escape River's lips. His grip on me tightens, his body seeking solace in my warmth. I stroke his hair, a silent lullaby for the troubled soul within.

At this moment, as I hold my broken soldier close, I know that I won't be able to walk out on us. It won't be the same, and there's so much I have to tell him. God, I don't even know how he'll react if I get to the news of Ginny—although I'm nowhere near telling him. I'm most definitely still mad at him.

But we can stay here a while longer.

River's eyelashes flutter, and he calls out my name as he drifts in and out of dreams, his sleep light. I touch his chin with my fingers, admiring him and also hating that he's this beautiful, even in the most haunted state he's ever been. I get why he did it. He's apologized enough. I gently extricate myself from his grasp and tuck him properly into the throw. Then, I move toward the door. Just next to it, there's a table with pens and notepads. I pause, turn to watch him snoring, and smile. He could do with a little note, because I don't want him to wake up and think I've bolted. To my room, of course. Where else would I go when the world is basically buried in snow?

With a muffled sigh, I leave the study and head upstairs. The others are still in the kitchen, from the clink of glasses and the distant chuckles that float into my ears. For no reason at all, I'm blushing. Good thing I don't need to encounter either of them on the way.

Up in my room, I settle down next to my laptop, but sleep is dulling the edges of my thoughts. Yawns come unbidden, so I get into the comfort of the large bed and drown myself under the quilt.

My eyes close to the memory of River's mouth on my body.

Yes,I sleepily think,I'm still a little mad at him.

16

MARCUS

The storm's finally blown itself out, leaving a damn mess behind. A pristine white mess, but a mess, nonetheless. Stepping onto the porch, the cold air hits me like a slap in the face, a sharp reminder that even paradise has its bite. Snow's piled high against the cabin, turning familiar paths into a maze.

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