Page 13 of Stranded on the Prairie
"No, you didn’t," she agrees. "But you took me out of the forest, you helped me, when you didn’t need to do any of that. And if I had to guess why..."
She inches a little closer to me, as though barely daring to let the words cross her mind.
"I would say it’s because you know as well as I do that we need people to keep as alive," she goes on. "Not just...just in our bodies, but in our hearts, too. In our minds."
I don’t look at her. I can’t. I feel as though I will give something away that I can’t take back if I so much as lock eyes with her right now, and I am in no place to do that.
My mother’s final breaths are replaying over and over again inside my head, Lucy’s sobs, Cade’s sullen horror. And I know that I could do nothing but leave, or else the weight of it would hit me so hard I might not survive it.
"Please, Wyatt," she murmurs to me, and, all at once, I feel her hand on my chin. I turn to face her once more as the flames roar up in front of me, and I can see tears glistening in her eyes.
"You still plannin’ on leaving?" I ask her gruffly.
"I don’t know," she admits, and she isn’t lying. I don’t know if this girl has it in her to lie, even when it would likely do her good to keep her mouth shut.
"I don’t have a whole lot to go back to," she continues. "And I...what I do, it’s not like there aren’t dozens of people capable of doing that as well. Out here, though – you don’t have the same support systems. The same care. The same answer to your problems. Maybe I could help..."
She trails off, her voice written with a hopeful nervousness.
"You don’t have anyone back home?" I ask her, lifting my chin, not moving her hand from my face. She shakes her head.
"No..."
"And do you have someone here?"
I want to hear her say it. Even if it’s crazy, I need to hear those words out of her mouth. I know now what Boone has been talking to me about on those nights where he’s had a little too much to drink. What it feels like for a woman to drop in out of nowhere and make everything feel different, send ripples coursing through the whole world for days to come.
"I don’t know, Wyatt," she breathes, her fingertips tracing over my mouth. "You tell me..."
And, the moment I see that glossy look in her eyes, hear the hope in her voice, I know I can’t deny it for another second. Whatever I might be trying to ignore, I can’t let her stand there before me, in more pain than she knows what to do with.
She deserves a man who will be there for her, a man who will do anything in his power to make sure she has what she needs. She might not belong in this time, but there is something rooting her here, something she is not yet willing to let go of.
And something I refuse to allow to slip through my fingers.
Before I can think twice, I raise my lips to hers, and kiss her hard on the mouth.
CHAPTER 8
Riley
As soon as our mouths meet, he pulls me down on to the heavy rug in front of the fireplace, the shadows dancing on the walls around us as I clutch on to him for dear life.
I feel his heart pounding through his shirt, as though the enormity of all the emotion he has suffered through till this instant is burning through every inch of his body. I move on top of him, pulling aside the belt that has just about kept the clothes hanging on to me, but I am ready to bear myself to him now, bear myself completely.
I have seen him at such a vulnerable moment, and he has not run from me, as much as he has tried to pull back.
It’s only fair I give him the same trust, the same intimacy.
I move on top of him, straddling him as I toss aside my shirt and pull off my pants – the warmth of the fire licks at my bare skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of his gaze. He runs his hands along my waist, tracing out the shape of me under his fingers, and lets out a low, appreciative groan.
I trail my hands from his scalp to his face, feeling the scrape of his stubble under my fingertips, watching as his mouth opens to try and taste me. But I am in control now, at least, for thismoment. I dip my fingertips against his tongue, and I feel him stir beneath me at the sensation, clearly already aching for more.
"Lay there," I order him softly, as my hands continue their journey down, undoing the leather straps that keep his shirt tied and working their way along his body – his leather jacket is pooled underneath us, like it’s created a little portal that is meant only for the two of us, a place where I can make him feel good and can lose myself to the pleasure only he seems to be able to gift to me.
Once I have undone the straps of his shirt, I pull them open, exposing his strong chest and the smattering of hair across it – working downward. I do the same to his pants, pushing them down far enough that his manhood springs free.
I flick my tongue over my lip as I drink in the sight of him, this time in no rush, and wrap my hands around his girth. My fingertips meet around the far side but just barely, and he grunts as the sensation starts to get the better of him.
