Page 45 of To No End

A bath sounded truly amazing, and I was grateful to have fewer concerns about a washroom knowing we had this nearby. Relief set in, and I made my way to the edge of the water where I was certain Trace could see me. If he was going to give me a show, then I was going to do the same.

I slowly began undressing in front of him, removing each item piece by piece until there was nothing remaining, all the while, holding him with my gaze. I could see him lick his lips in anticipation. I stood there for a moment longer, naked, moonslight reflecting off my pale skin, letting him appreciate the sight of me. Letting the want build between us.

I stepped gently into the pool, lowering myself into the warmth, trying to stay focused on him. I had to admit it was hard, being distracted by the magic of the water as I was. Magic was the only word to describe the intoxicating beauty of the shimmer, swirls, and glow. The comfort of the hot spring only made it that much more enjoyable. The pool of water wasn’t very deep, making it easy to wade in some areas and stand in others.

Trace made his way closer to me and, despite the heat of the spring, I could feel goosebumps all along my skin that hovered above the waterline. I tried to think of something cheeky to say, to taunt him with, but before I could, Trace said huskily, “Don’t speak. I missed this.”

His lips crashed into mine with more intensity than the last time we were together. Our bare bodies intertwined naturally as I wrapped both my legs around his waist, feeling his excitement pressing at my entrance. I was frantic and greedy, intoxicated by every sweep of his tongue against mine.

The warmth of the water cradled our bodies, making me tilt my head back toward the night sky, and he ran his lips across my throat with fervor. He gathered my hair at the nape, fisting it in his hands, pulling my face every which way to kiss all parts of me. My lips, throat, ears, neck, shoulders. I could wait no longer to feel him and as he palmed my breasts greedily, I let out a pleasurable gasp of his name, “Trace!”

He answered when I called for him. With one fierce thrust, he was now inside me, consuming me. He pushed me against the edge of the pool as our bodies writhed. His mouth grazed mynipples, gently, teasingly, and then forcefully with small bites. The back and forth of soft pleasure and pain was indescribable.

This time would be different; I knew how to find my pleasure. To exert self-control and release at the same time. All this time apart had built up to this, and it did not take long for us to find our climax, together. We stayed there in the water, still entwined, chests rising and falling together. As we caught our breath, I could not possibly imagine myself anywhere else than in his arms.

When we returned to the haven house some time later, I was tired. The weight of the day and reuniting with Trace in every way had brought me to a state of exhaustion. We dried off, changed into comfortable loose garments to sleep in, dimmed the lanterns, and crawled into the bed.

Cradled in the nook of Trace’s warm chest, I let myself relax and listen to the soft rustling of the wind and trees like a lullaby. Trace leaned in and whispered, “I have another surprise.”

My eyes were heavy, and I didn’t think I could handle anything more today. Trace sat up, and behind him, near the headboard, he tugged a tiny rope that led to the roof above us. A small skylight opened, creating a view straight to the doorway of the Gods, to the stars. I couldn’t believe what I was looking at.

It was magnificent; the view of bright twinkling lights, but none were as bright as the three moons of Demir. Trace ran his finger gently along the back of my ear; I had forgotten about my tattoo!

“I was going to save this for tomorrow night, but then I saw this new addition.” He smirked.

“Oh, yeah,” I replied bashfully. I did not want to talk about Versa, otherwise I might not be able to keep the emotions at bay. Instead, I coyly asked, “Do you like it?”

“There’s not much I don’t like when it comes to you,” he said, nibbling on the tip of my earlobe. I could feel the throbbing acheof desire beginning, but I could not let this go there again. Once was enough this evening; I was still recovering.

“It’s amazing. The view, thank you.”

Luckily, Trace took the hint that I was not going to survive a second round and relaxed back into the bed. We lay there in silence for a long while. My eyelids were heavy as Trace twirled the ends of my hair in his fingers. Such an odd thing to witness, knowing how far I’d come in breaking through that hard exterior from when we first met.

Trace reminded me that if I awoke and he wasn’t beside me, not to worry, he was likely just sitting in the chair or had made his way outside to relax beneath the tree. Yes, old habits die hard, I remembered.

Before he’d let me succumb to sleep, he nudged me playfully. “Cress, five questions?”

Before I could protest he said, “Nothing too difficult, I know I may lose you here any minute.”

I couldn’t fathom how he was still wide awake and I was on the verge of letting sleep take me. I nodded in agreement, unable to deny him almost anything he asked. He proceeded to make his way through a handful of light questions, and to make it easy on my tired mind, he provided them all and we both just answered.

Small insignificant things like our favorite season, favorite meal, and I recollected drifting off into slumber as I told him my new favorite scent was him.

When I woke in the morning, Trace was not there. But this time I wasn’t alarmed. I dressed myself, unaware of what the day would entail, and found my attention drawn once more to the leather sketchbook sitting on the table. I seized the opportunity and began to thumb through it. The whole front half weredrawings of landscapes. Trace may not have ever shown anyone, but he was quite gifted.

They were made of charcoal, devoid of color, but I could still imagine the sunsets he had seen, the mountaintops and riverbends; many wondrous places. Signs he was well-traveled, and I was struck with a jealousy I had not expected.

Just as I had planned to set the book down, I turned the page and there it was: a sketch, not of a landscape, but of a female. She was peacefully sleeping, and it was like staring in a mirror. Trace had drawnme. I didn’t know when. Maybe last night, possibly before at the inn? Just like the landscape, it was well done.

I closed the book quickly and set it back on the table, feeling partly ashamed for snooping, but also satisfied at having found myself in the position of being his muse. There were no other sketches of people, just me.

In the days that passed, we enjoyed each other’s company in all ways. Often the silence between us said more than words. This was our language. Everything we could not or would not say, we showed in the way we knew how. Without restraint.

By now, I had memorized every inch of Trace’s body. We’d continued our escapades in the tree house and on our visits to the hot spring. Anywhere, as we often found ourselves unable to exert any semblance of control.

At dinner, we’d play a game of five questions and, for the most part, I could be honest. Now and then I’d have to change an answer ever so slightly to avoid giving myself away as someone more affluent or educated than I was pretending to be. We’d hunt, and I’d act like I was a worse shot than I was. Granted, I had never needed to hunt, but I knew how to hit a target, even a moving one.

If I were being honest with myself, these days of playing house with Trace were perhaps the most normal I’d felt since the news of the Offering. The importance of the list was unusually far from my mind.

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