"Corsica, please," Penn breathed against my bare neck.
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I answered by falling back onto the sleeping bags and reaching my arms up to him. He covered me, muscles quivering, and when he pressed deep inside, I saw more stars than were in the sky.
Chapter Fourteen
Penn
The whole night flashed through my mind again as I woke up. No wonder I thought it was a dream. But Corsica's smooth skin was still pressed against mine, her soft hair spilling over my shoulder. We were tucked in together, the two sleeping bags zippered together into one. I could feel the sunlight starting to filter through the oak branches, but I didn't want to believe it.
Why did last night have to be the shortest night of the year? I asked myself.
The summer solstice had been a blur of feasting and fire, dancing and celebrating. The only things I could really focus on were the memories of Corsica's delicious lips and her body opening beneath me.
I groaned and pried open one eye. It hadn't been a dream. She was still tucked against me, her face buried against my neck.
I stopped breathing. I wanted to curse the sun for rising and the soft breeze for blowing because I didn't want to wake her. Corsica sighed in her sleep, and her fingers curled on my chest. Underneath her light hand, my heart hammered, and I couldn't believe the drumming didn't wake her up. I knew once she woke up, she would snap out of her solstice trance and demand to be taken back to civilization.
Corsica wouldn't be content with the savory smells of campfire breakfast that wafted up the hill. She'd be embarrassed by her tousled appearance and ready to get back to modern conveniences. I could already imagine her griping about the tangles in her hair.
I lightly plucked a few blades of grass out of her blonde strands and smiled to myself. I wasn't in any hurry to see her wake up.
Instead, I laid back and thought over the night. There was a tight pull in my chest as I remembered the psychic. Some perceptions old Tabitha had, I scoffed. She didn't even notice that our whole engagement was an act.
Though, she knew right away what Corsica had been through. Her mother had died of cancer, and here she was going through it all again. Except it was my mother, my family, and we were still perfect strangers.
I skipped those thoughts; they didn't make sense. The only thing I knew was that when Corsica kissed me, the whole world faded away. It still felt like we were on a separate cloud, with the morning fog gathering in the groves below us.
"What time is it?" Corsica murmured against my neck.
"Too early for a run, if that's what you're thinking." I squeezed her closer until her eyes opened. "You did it, by the way. You survived a whole night out in the open air."
Corsica was still too sleepy to be annoyed. She stretched against me and smiled. "I seem to recall doing much more than surviving."
My throat closed up, and my body roared to life. Still, I was afraid to move, as if one shift would break the spell. Instead, I counted the leaves above us and pretended her smile hadn't set me on fire.
"Well, if it's too early for a run and you're too lazy to get up, I might as well make us some coffee." Corsica pushed away from me.
I watched the bare expanse of her back disappear under her sundress. "There are coffee grounds in my pack and a coffee press. I'll have to make a fire first."
Her hair whipped back. "No. I'm going to prove to you once and for all that I can handle myself at a campsite. I'll make the fire. You can heat the water for the coffee."
I was amazed with her efficiency. The fire was small, and she managed to focus the heat so the water boiled easily. While she admired her own handwork, Corsica combed her fingers through her hair and ended up looking as fresh as if she'd just stepped out of the five-star spa. The fact that she could erase our wild night together so easily irked me, and I ground my teeth over the coffee.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about my mother," Corsica said. "I just didn't think it was a good time, you know?"
I stabbed the coals of the fire with a stick. "I know. Thanks. I just feel bad. All that talk about doctors and treatments must have been rough on you."
"Not as rough as sleeping on the ground," Corsica said.
The knot of irritation slipped free, and I smiled. "I knew it! You'd prefer Egyptian cotton sheets and down pillows every time, wouldn't you?"
Her smile warmed with a secret fire. "And what if I prefer what I had last night?"
My body jolted. "Like what?"
Corsica laughed. "The stars bright above us. They were beautiful. Why? What'd you think I was going to say?"