Christmas at the Riverview Inn

“Wha—?”

“This.”

His knees on the floor, he pulled off her underwear, damp and thin. And then he settled himself between her thighs he could taste her before putting his mouth on her. And he knew she was about to become his favorite flavor. That, years from now, he’d wake up from a dream and still be able to taste her.

He put one arm over her hips, the tip of his tongue tracing her delicate seam. She jerked and moaned, and he did it again, deeper each time, until he was inside of her.

She pulled at his hair, pushed at his head.

“I’m going to—”

He hummed against her, slipped his finger deep pushing on that soft tender spot as he sucked her clit and she exploded against him, a shaking, wild dance between him and the bed. She clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes closed, and she tried to control it as best she could which was cute. Sure.

But also not going to work for him.

If he was in danger of falling apart, he needed her right with him.

And there was no one in the goddamn lodge.

He grabbed a condom and slid it on, and before her orgasm had faded he pushed himself deep.

She hissed a pained breath. Her face twisted in a sharp wince.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked, pulling out, noticing just how tight she was.

“I’m fine,” she lied.

“Bullshit, Josie. I’m…” There were faint smears of blood on the condom and his heart stopped. Dead.

“Please,” she moaned, lifting her hips to tempt him back inside but he could not forget her blood. “Cameron. It just hurt for a second. I’m fine. I’m good. I need you. Please.”

“How alone were you?” he asked, unable to believe he was asking this. Unable to believe the answer he already knew in his gut.

A virgin. Josie had been a virgin.

She shook her head. Her chest was damp with sweat. Her eyes wide and dilated. “Don’t stop. Please, Cameron.”

“Goddammit, Josie.” He bit the words out through his teeth. Everything inside of him was crumbling. Melting. He pushed back into her, slowly, so slowly. Taking care even when his control felt razor thin.

Her eyes popped wide and her hand left her mouth to grab onto the bedspread like she was about to fly up and away and needed the grounding.

“A virgin,” he whispered, bending his head, clinging…clinging. “A goddamn virgin.”

Savagely, he loved it. Loved it. That she was his in this way. It was backward and base, but it was real in him. A prehistoric delight.

He moved slow but all the way. As deep as he could go until he saw her eyes roll back in her head and the skin of her neck turn red. Her legs twitched restlessly against his and he grabbed her knees, pushing them back and onto the bed.

His plan had never been tenderness. His plan had been cathartic mutual violence.

Now it was survival.

He eased into her like this was the end. Like it was goodbye. Like it already hurt.

She grabbed his shoulders, breaking the distance he was trying to hold onto, and he lay against her, chest to chest.

“So good.” Her breath hitched. “Oh my god, it’s so good.”

He ducked his head and got pulled into the rhythm of the orgasm that had been gathering in his body for— seven years? It was undeniable now, and he reached between them, found the bead of her clit, and worked it with his thumb. Harder than before. Finesse was gone and she jerked under him, her moans louder, but it wasn’t enough.

He knew, all at once, that nothing would be enough. Not ever again. Not with her. Not without her. He was ruined. But that was a problem to deal with later. After.

“I want you screaming,” he said.

“Cameron,” she gasped.

“More.”

He did as she asked, gave her more, holding on by a thread until her mouth opened on a sweet cry, her body a sweaty clamp of muscle and pleasure all around him, and he ducked his head, pushed his whole soul right into her, and came so hard he saw his life and his world explode into stars.

15

JOSIE

Whatever she’d thought the aftermath of sex with Cameron would be like, this…this wasn’t it.

They lay, side by side, naked on top of the covers despite the chill in the air, catching their breath.

Carefully, so carefully, not touching.

How was that possible? How did he go from being inside of her to not touching her at all?

Is this me, she wondered, not touching him? Or him not touching me?

She grabbed his hand, a test, and he shifted out of the way. So far out of the way he got up and walked to the bathroom. Boneless and limp she watched him go, the flex and shift of his body was so beautiful her breath caught.

He’s walking away. Again.