Page 70 of The Space Between
“Where?”
“Does it matter?”
I think about it for half a second, then, I shake my head. “No.”
It doesn’t matter. I’d go anywhere with you.
We take the back trail through the woods behind the cabin, following the river. His pace is steady. Mine is just a little behind him. He doesn’t reach for me, doesn’t really wait, but he glances back, twice, just enough to let me know he hasn’t forgotten I’m there.
We walk for a long time. I glance at my watch and see we’ve been walking for about half an hour. Suddenly, the path narrows before it opens up again, revealing a bend in the river I haven’t seen yet. I’ve never been this far back. It’s quieter here. Wilder. More untouched.
He gestures to the land. “This is mine,” he says.
“You own this?”
He shrugs. “Yeah. I inherited it. My grandparents left it to my parents. They were gonna build out here… a weekend spot but they never got around to it, and then, they died. It came to me, and well, I kept it.”
I look around at the lush grass. It’s higher here. About thirty or so feet above the river. But the river is still right there. Trees circle the perimeter, thick and full. It’s a stunningly perfect spot. It looks like a postcard. “It’s beautiful.” I murmur.
He doesn’t look at the river or the land. He’s looking at me as he says, “Yeah. It is.”
We don’t talk much after that.
He shows me the stretch of river where he taught Aubree to swim. The tree she fell out of once when she climbed too high and he thought she broke her leg. The flat rock she named “Princess Stone” because it was “where the river throne goes.”
I take it in, listening to the love in his voice as he shares pieces of himself, his life.
I can’t show him anything out here. I don’t have a river. I don’t have a childhood that smells like sunscreen and cypress, and cedar, and oak. Like hope. I don’t have memories of a child I loved more than life itself, or someone I walked down the aisle with, and then, I lost them. But I havehim.For now. It feels like I have him. And that’s starting to feel like something.
I don’t even knowhow it happens. One second, we’re standing on the edge of the riverbank of his property, my toes are in the mud and his hands are shoved in his pockets like he doesn’t trust them not to reach for me, and the next, I’m stepping forward, peeling off my shirt, and undoing the button on my shorts. He watches me like I’m some kind of miracle and a mistake all at once. And then, hefollows.
He follows me into the river. I don’t know if he meant to or he just forgot… but I’m in the river and he’s beside me.
The water is curling around my calves when Gruene steps in. My eye widen and I gasp, “Gruene… you’re in the water…”
He looks down, as though shocked. The current’s softer here, not as rapid. It’s almost… calm. It’s still flowing, you can see the current in the water, but it’s not aggressive. There’s no pull. I don’t have to fight to keep my balance. It’s still cold, but it’s quiet.
He swallows, and then says, “I’m in the river.”
I nod. “Are you okay? We can get out.”
He pauses and then he reaches for me. His hand links with mine and he shakes his head. “I think I’m okay.” He pulls me deeper. The water reaches my knees, and then, my thighs. Reaching out, Gruene grips a low hanging branch, and he lays back still holding my hand.
I’m unsure but I lie back beside him. And we just…float.
The water driftsover us for a long time. Then, he stands and touches me. His fingers dance over my arms and I stand beside him. His touch isn’t hungry. It’s reverent.
His palm slides up my spine, over my ribs, curling around the back of my neck like he’s remembering every inch of me he’s already mapped. Tilting my head back, I kiss him. I can’t help it.
We don’t rush.
His lips cling to mine like he’s starving forcomfort, not control. River water coats our skin, and I taste sweat on his tongue.
His hands cradle my hips, guiding me back toward the shallow bank until my feet find solid ground and I’m anchored. Kneeling in the water, he peels my panties down my legs. I lift one foot and then the other so he can remove them. I’m completely naked as he throws them onto the bank and presses his mouth between my thighs.
I shiver as his tongue flicks against my clit. “Gruene—” I gasp, fingers threading into his wet hair.
He growls against me, low and deep, the vibration alone enough to make my knees buckle. His tongue worships me while his lips suck and press kisses. He alternates between slowlicks to quick flicks against my clit, before humming over it and nipping it. I moan, “Gruene… ohhhhh… Mmmmmm… yes… God… yes… Ohhhhhhh...” He sucks it into his mouth applying suction at the same time as he flicks it and my knees lock while my back arches. I yank his face further into me.
