Page 112 of Every Thought Taken

“Let’s sit,” I whisper, my cheek on his chest.

We break apart, but his arm around me remains as we stagger toward the couch. I steer us left as we round the arm of the couch, but he keeps us walking forward, guiding us to the rug in front of the fire.

Lowering to the floor, he pats the ground next to him. “Please.”

I drop down beside him and wrap us in the blanket again. Smoky pads across the floor, brushing against Anderson’s leg, then curls in a tight ball between us. Nose tucked under her tail, she purrs as she drifts off.

Beneath the blanket, Anderson takes my hand in his and laces our fingers. The calloused pad of his thumb rubs my hand in slow, gentle strokes while his eyes lose focus staring at the flickering flames in the fireplace.

What happened tonight was hard on him, but it was no picnic for me either.

There is a reason I haven’t kept in touch with or celebrated special occasions with the Everett parents. Not long after returning from college, Mrs. Everett made it evident she was not my biggest fan. She never gave a clear indication of why, but I knew she blamed me for Anderson leaving. I may have been one of the reasons Anderson drove away from Lake Lavender, but she is the epicenter of his pain.

And tonight, she took a knife to every old wound and made it fresh.

Anderson returned with the hope of healing fully—well, as fully as someone can from such an injury—but this run-in with his parents may have thrown that plan in the dumpster.

“I shouldn’t have walked away earlier,” he mutters, dropping his chin to his chest, his eyes now on Smoky. With his free hand, he pets her gray fur. Finds an ounce of solace in her sweet companionship. “It was immature.” The muscle in his jaw tics. “A juvenile reflex I can’t seem to shake.” He levels his gaze with the fire. Deep creases form at the corners of his eyes as his brows scrunch together. “I hate it,” he whispers, barely loud enough to hear.

We go quiet a moment as I let his words sink in. With Anderson, I don’t react immediately. Not with delicate situations. A quick reaction may lead to miscommunication or misinterpretation. I don’t tiptoe around what I say to him—I will always be honest with Anderson—but in moments such as these, hasty responses often cause more harm than good.

“I get why you walked off.” My fingers tighten around his. “You needed space and time to think.”

Dancing flames reflect in his blues as our gazes lock. “I did.” He swallows. “But I went about it wrong.”

A soft smile barely lifts the corners of my mouth. “You did.” Leaning forward, I press a chaste kiss to his lips. “You wanted to approach them when you were ready. You wanted to set the time and place and be in control of the situation. Tonight, you were robbed of all that.” I lift a hand to his face, cup his cheek, and lightly scrape my nails through his beard. His eyes fall shut as he leans into my touch. “I love that you were able to heal on your own, away from the source of pain.”

My heart spasms in my chest as my stomach twists at those words, but I bite the inside of my cheek. The pain I endured during his absence is incomparable to the hurt I caused him or that he went through with his parents.

“More than anything, you needed the time to yourself,” I say, voice raspy. “Not just to heal, but to discover who you are without the influence of others.” I nod, more to myself than him. “On the road, you processed hard situations without other people.” Lifting our joined hands, I twist them and kiss the inside of his wrist. “Your initial response is to deal with it all on your own. If you still need that, just say the word. Wander the streets. Go for a drive. Kidnap Smoky and spend a few hours in the spare bedroom with her. Whatever you need to clear your head. And if you’re open to the idea, I’d love to be there for you. However that looks.”

In an unexpected move, Anderson hauls me into his lap. Smoky cries out then scurries off, indignation on her furry face. Anderson mutters an apology, but the words vanish seconds later. He frames my face with his hands, brushes his thumbs over my cheeks once, twice, then his lips are on mine.

The kiss is soft at first. A gentle brush of the lips again and again. Then he tilts my head in his hands. Licks the seam of my lips. Silently asks—no,begs—for more. Without breaking the kiss, I shift to straddle his lap. Hook my legs around his hips. Fist his shirt and drag him impossibly closer. Stroke my tongue over his and deepen the kiss.

Strong arms band around my middle and crush me to his chest. A moan spills from his lips and I swallow it eagerly. He flips me on my back and settles in the cradle of my hips, the bulge beneath his zipper pressed between my thighs. Hungry lips kiss my chin, the line of my jaw, the sensitive skin beneath my ear.

Then his lips are gone.

Mayan-blue irises meet my jade greens. His fingers toy with the wayward strands of my hair as he brushes the tip of my nose with his. “Damn, I love you,” he whispers, his breath warm on my lips. Soft lips meet mine in a kiss that ends far too soon. “I love how imperfect we are.”Kiss.“I love how the world wobbles less with you in my arms.”Kiss.“Most of all, I love the way you love me.” When his lips meet mine, the kiss is far from innocent.

Lips and tongues taste mouths and skin. I arch my back, a moan escaping my lips as he licks down my neck and nips the curve where my neck and shoulder meet. Clawing at the hem of his shirt, I tug it up and over his head. Deft fingers unbutton my pajama top then snake beneath me to lift me enough to wiggle free from the material.

My fingers find his hair as he trails kisses down my breastbone. Gentle, followed by greedy laps of his tongue. His lips dance over my skin to my breast, tasting and nibbling while his hands knead my flesh. Hungry. Desperate. I gasp when his tongue darts out and licks my areola a breath before he bites my nipple, the sting and adrenaline shoot between my thighs. My back bows off the floor as he licks and nips his way to my other breast.

“Ander…” I pant out his name.

He crawls back up my body and crushes my lips with his as he unbuttons his pants. Hooking my thumbs in his waistband, I shove them and his underwear down his ass, then his thighs, before kicking them aside. On the next breath, he flips me so I’m above him. His fingers thrust my pajama bottoms and panties down my legs to join his on the floor.

Straddling his hips, I lower myself until we’re skin to skin. I run my fingers through his hair. Drop my lips to his. Show him how much I love him without words. His arms band around my middle as he hums. I suck his bottom lip between mine. Nip the plump flesh and smile when he growls.

Palms on his pecs, I sit up and roll my hips back, coating his erection with my arousal. His hands find my hips, gripping them hard as he sits up. I wrap my legs around his waist. Snake my arms around his neck.

On the next rock of my hips, his tip bumps my entrance. I pause, lay my forehead on his, and inhale a shaky breath. Brushing the bridge of his nose with the tip of mine, I lock on to his addictive blue eyes. “I love you, Ander.” Then, as I lower myself on him, I drop my mouth to his.

A guttural moan rumbles from his lips as his hold on me tightens. “Love you, North.” A hand trails down my spine, resting on my tailbone and encouraging me to move.

In the light of the fire, we shed the last of our fears. Expose our hearts fully to each other. Vow to always love and support the other. And as the sun gradually lights the dark sky, we fall into a blissful sleep beneath the blanket next to the fire.

---