She stiffened. “You were hurt, and you reacted. You were in an unhealthy situation in more ways than one, and you panicked and cleansed everything with fire. Don’t dismiss your emotions and your self-protection as just a fucked-up decision. Don’t reduce something so complex and real and important to nothing.”
That sudden, unexpected stream of words was delivered with Chloe’s typical crisp precision and calm certainty, as if she couldn’t possibly be wrong. Maybe that was why the words didn’t feel wrong. They weren’t what he’d believed for so long, and yet, somehow they sounded just right. Like he was only human and his mistakes could be excused. Like a few fuck-ups didn’t make him a fuck-up.
Like maybe he should forgive himself for everything. And maybe he should trust himself again. He’d really like to trust himself again.
“Have you ever had any therapy?” she asked.
He cleared his throat, tried to focus on the conversation instead of his tangled thoughts. “I just started, actually.”
“Good. Gigi says therapy is the most important medical service there is.”
“Really?” he asked dryly. “So it’s just, Fuck antibiotics, huh?”
“I didn’t say she was right. Or wrong, for that matter.” Chloe wriggled around until their eyes met, her hands rising to his shoulders. “I’m just emphasizing its importance. Now, here are some more things I’d like to emphasize.” She leaned closer until their noses touched. “First of all: that fucker did not make you. She spotted you before anyone else, which was smart, and she sank her fangs into all your loveliness like a leech, which was disgusting. Second: I know you regret leaving everything behind, but that doesn’t mean it was wrong, and that doesn’t mean it can’t be fixed. You can fix it. You will.”
The way she said it, the sentiment came out as strong and natural as the forest around them. She stared at him so hard he was surprised she hadn’t burned through her glasses. She seemed to think she could get the message into his skull through sheer force of will, and her will was pretty impressive.
He cleared his throat, tried to sound unaffected and missed the mark. “Anything else?”
Her expression became gentle, almost tender. “So much else. You always say such lovely things to me, Red. Do you say them to yourself?”
No. No, he didn’t. It had never occurred to him that he should, not until recently.
“I’ll say them,” she murmured. “I’ll tell you how incredibly clever you are, and how you’re funny, and kind, and sweet, and a damned good artist. I don’t understand how things work in creative circles, and I don’t know how much Pippa actually did.” She screwed up her face and spat out the name like it tasted nasty, which he enjoyed way more than he should have. “But no matter what she did or did not do for your career, no one can change the fact that you’re talented. You’re skilled. You’re good.”
He hadn’t been sure about that for a long, long time, but things had changed these last weeks. He’d known they were changing. And now, when she said that out loud and he believed her without question, he realized things really had changed. It was done. Something in him had been knocked loose, back then, but somehow it had clicked back into place without him looking.
He was good.
His grin started in his toes. It was a warmth that rushed through every inch of him, a warmth he wanted to share with her because it was pure and so was she. He couldn’t think of anything to say, of a way to explain what he felt right now—how free he was all of a sudden. So he showed her.
He sank his fingers into her hair, pulled her closer, and kissed her. She came to him so easily, like she knew this was where she belonged and how they should be: the two of them kissing in the cold, their bodies creating more heat between them than the fire just a few feet away. Above them the sky had long since tumbled into star-spotted night, and below them the earth was fresh and real like the way Chloe made him feel. Her cool hands pressed against his flushed cheeks and her lush mouth joined with his, and he loved her so much his heart felt too big for his body.
So this was bone-deep contentment. He’d almost forgotten, for a while.
Chapter Twenty
Around Red, Chloe tended to talk a lot. But there was something about this kiss, this hungry, hopeful, heart-filled kiss, that pushed her gently into silence, like sliding underwater and blocking out all sounds from the outside world. He surrounded her now. He held her tight. Even when their lips parted, when his hands left her so he could put out the fire, when he unzipped the tent flap and sat back on his knees so she could crawl in first, he was still holding her somehow, deep inside in a way that soothed her. So she didn’t speak. She couldn’t. She was drowning in long-coming lust, and soon she’d be under him.
Lord, she couldn’t wait to be under him.
Red crawled in after her, zipped up the tent’s flap, and they were plunged into an odd almost-darkness that seemed otherworldly. She could make out the vague shape of him, those broad shoulders and the fall of his hair unmistakable even as shadowy outlines. And she had the oddest, deliciously heavy feeling that he was looking right at her.
But the feeling faded as he turned away, fiddling with something she couldn’t see. After a moment, she heard a click—and then there was light. Chloe blinked as her eyes adjusted, then gawked as reality filtered in. Somehow, he’d wreathed strings of fairy lights all around the tent, glowing pinpricks that illuminated the small mountain of blankets and cushions.
She stared, awed. “Oh my goodness. This is what you were messing around with earlier?”
“When you were shouting at me to hurry up and feed you? Yeah.” He winked. “Honestly, the things I put up with.”
Her heart was a burning, brilliant thing lodged against her ribs. “Red, why did you do all this?”
“For you,” he said, as though it was obvious. “It’s always for you.”
Camping had been on her list because it seemed gritty and normal and slightly scary and more than a bit of a challenge, but truthfully, she’d barely wanted to do it. Now, in this moment, she realized just how magical Red had made it. Not only by arranging everything, by making her laugh all day, by remembering her limitations so she didn’t have to constantly point them out—but with things like this. Things like the marshmallows. The extra effort he put in to make this a wonderful experience instead of a checked box.
She looked up at him, his hair gleaming like silken flames, his beautiful face still flushed and his lower lip caught between his teeth, and she realized that his sharp eyes studied her with something like trepidation. As if he was nervous. As if he wanted to know that she liked it.
How could he doubt that she loved it? How could he doubt that she loved him, that she wanted him and trusted him and hungered to do everything with him just for the joy of experiencing his reactions?
She was in love with Redford Morgan, and quite horribly, too. It smacked her over the head so hard she felt dizzy. She should be afraid, should want to hide it, but the knowledge lit her up until she felt just like the fairy lights, and hiding that would be something close to a sin.
But the feeling had come on too fast, surely, for him to feel the same, so she wouldn’t blurt it out yet. Instead, she told him, “I adore you,” and it was truer than her heartbeat.
He smiled, his worry easing in an instant as he crawled toward her, his proximity shrinking the already-cramped space. “Oh, do you?”
She couldn’t believe she’d said something so emotional, so honest, but she also didn’t want to take it back. She’d started all of this in order to be brave, and now, for the first time in a long time, she felt it. If she were to die tomorrow, she wouldn’t have regrets anymore. “I do. I really, really do.”
“You’re not so bad yourself, Button.” He pushed her back against the cushions and she laughed as she bounced a little on the blow-up mattress. But the laughter faded in her throat when Red lowered his body over hers, pressing her firmly into the blankets, grounding her and whipping her into a frenzy a
ll at once. Her lips—and her legs—parted on a gasp. He kissed her jaw and whispered against her skin, “So. You gonna let me slide inside that pretty pussy tonight, Chlo?”
“Yes,” she breathed, trying to arch up against him. But she couldn’t because there was no space between them in the first place, the hard planes of his body forced intimately against hers, her legs wrapping around his waist as if they were puzzle pieces slotted perfectly together.
“Good.” He kissed, then licked, then sucked the base of her throat. She shivered at the hot, wet love, at the lust it stirred between her thighs, and wondered if he could tell her pulse was racing. He must be able to hear the way her breaths sped up and grew ragged, must feel her hips trying their best to rock against his. Her clit was already swollen and needy and desperate for a little more pressure, for sweet friction. He didn’t provide it. Instead, both of his hands found both of hers and he twined their fingers together. Through their clothes, she could feel his hard cock wedged tight against her cleft—and yet, all he did was hold her hands.
“Red,” she whispered.
He kissed her cheek, her temple, her nose. “Chloe.”
“Not to ruin this very romantic moment, but would you possibly consider fucking me now?”
His laughter rumbled through his chest. “I’ve already considered it. Frequently.”
“In that case, would you hurry up and do it?”
“Demanding, aren’t you?” But without warning, he thrust his hips. The thick jut of his erection nudged her clit so beautifully that even with all the clothes separating them, pleasure ripped through her. She was gasping, her sight unfocused, her body already reaching a tipping point. That easily.
Oh, God.
“Baby,” Red murmured with a smile in his voice. “You should’ve told me you were desperate.”
She gritted her teeth. “Shut up.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want?” His lips brushed her ear, the glide of skin on skin hot and sensual. “You seem to come much faster when I remind you of how bad you want it.”
“Red!”
“Chloe. Will you take your hair down for me?”
Even though it would wind up a mess in the morning? “Yes. Whatever. Just—”
“I know, I know. Just hurry up and fuck you. Come here.” He rose up on his knees and she felt so suddenly cold and alone, she actually whined out loud. But then he pulled her up into a sitting position and said, “Hair.”
Her hands rose obediently to undo her braid. But they froze when he yanked off his hoodie and T-shirt, her mind skittering to a stop at the sight of his bare torso. In the low, warm light, his fair skin was burnished pale gold. Shadows played over the lean lines of his body, the ridges of muscle. He flashed her that confident smile as he removed the rest of his clothes. “Now, Chloe. I know you’re wearing twenty thousand layers of clothing and I’m pretty eager to get it all off, so if you could—”
“Okay,” she blurted out, because when he spoke his hands stopped moving, which meant that the fabric covering his body stayed in place, which meant that she still couldn’t see his cock. And she really, really wanted to see his cock, now, immediately, for what she abruptly realized would be the very first time. She unraveled her braid with suddenly rapid fingers, then started dragging her hoodie over her head. Next was her T-shirt, her undervest, her sports bra—God, that was a nightmare—
Holy shit, Red was naked.
She’d been yanking off her clothes, putting her glasses away, and cataloging everything she had to remove, and then she looked up, and there he was, just fucking naked. And glorious. Her mouth practically watered as her gaze dipped lower, taking in all of him, blurry as he was. His thighs were thick and muscular and dusted with fine golden hair, and as a definite leg girl she’d usually take her time enjoying them—except she could barely spare them a glance when his dick was right there, curving proudly up against his taut stomach. It was rigid, heavy, the swollen head flushed and glistening. She reached for it as if hypnotized, but he caught her wrist, holding her off with ease.
His voice more urgent than she’d ever heard it, he gritted out, “You. Clothes. Off.” Then he grabbed the waistband of her tracksuit bottoms, the leggings underneath, and her underwear all in one go. How had he managed that? Was he a witch? The question flew out of her head when he pulled, easing the clinging layers of fabric off her. In the name of teamwork, she dealt with the vest she was still wearing, then started wrestling with her sports bra. Which, unfortunately, was not the most graceful thing she’d ever done.
But Red didn’t seem to mind, possibly because it involved a lot of jiggling and bouncing around. In fact, by the time she yanked the bra off over her head, his labored breaths sounded more like growls and his eyes were glued to her like a tongue to treacle. He dragged the last of her clothes off of her ankles and then they were just two people sitting in a tiny, pillow-strewn, fairy-lit tent, staring at each others’ naked bodies.
She liked what she saw.
He liked what he saw, too. She knew because she could see the frantic rise and fall of his chest, and because his high cheekbones were stained scarlet. His eyebrows were drawn in a fierce expression that sent a spiral of jittery desire through her nerve endings. He wrapped one big hand around the base of his dick and squeezed. “Chloe?”
“Yes?”
“I have this idea. I think—just hear me out, yeah?—I think that you should maybe consider being naked all the time. I mean, just, always. Think about it, okay?”
“I will,” she said, and then, just to see what would happen, she ran her fingertips over her own chest, circling her nipples. “I’ll definitely—”
She never managed to finish that sentence, because when she touched herself it was as if something in Red snapped. He lunged for her, but when he pushed her back onto the cushions he was gentle despite the wound-up tension she could feel vibrating through his body. And then his mouth was all over her, sucking at her breasts, licking at her throat, while his fingers went straight to her wet, aching pussy. He moaned when he felt how slick she was, the sound muffled against her breast. Then he shoved those wonderfully thick fingers inside her and she let out a moan of her own, a sharp, broken thing that was closer to a scream.
“Oh my God, Chloe.” He said it again and again, rasping out her name as he rubbed her swollen, sensitive depths. “Oh my fucking God, you feel so good. Fuck, I can’t wait to be inside you.”
“Hurry up then,” she gasped, her hips jerking as he stroked that secret spot in her, the one that scattered stars across her vision and made her feel more limp and languorous with pleasure than any drug. “Oh, please, just hurry up.”
“I want you to come first.”
“Oh, for—”
He kissed her again, softly, until she released her lower lip from the cage of her teeth. And then he kissed her harder, hotter, wetter, his tongue thrusting in a bold, steady way that made her breathless. When his fingers started moving inside her again, they matched the rhythm of his tongue, fucking her in that deep, consuming, almost obscene way that drove her so damn wild.
He broke the kiss even as his thumb nudged her clit. When she moaned and arched into him, her body demanding more, he smiled. “Relax. We have all night.”
“O-okay,” she gasped out, her voice shaking. Her whole body was shaking, in fact, vibrating as coils of energy lashed around her, holding her hostage, driving her toward what felt like an explosion. “Sounds good.”
He laughed darkly. “Yeah, baby. Sounds good. Good like these little moans you’re giving me.” He kissed her again, quick and hard and so hot she felt seared down to her soul. The thumb that had brushed her clit so delicately touched her again, firmer now, deliciously so. He circled the swollen bud and her whole body jerked as if electrocuted. So he did it again. And again. Even when she dug her nails into the curve of his arse. Even when her breathy sighs turned into something like sobs. Even when she sank her teeth into his shoulder because she was just so fuckin
g beside herself, didn’t know what to do with all this swirling, swelling, pent-up sensation.
He didn’t stop. He didn’t even falter. Instead he told her she was gorgeous, falling apart for him, and that her pussy was going to kill him, and that she was so wet he could feel it dripping into his palm, and that he could do this forever just to feel her shaking under him—
And then she came so hard she couldn’t hear him anymore, couldn’t see him anymore, for a moment couldn’t even feel him anymore. But God, she still knew he was there.
* * *
By the time Chloe’s eyes opened and refocused on him, Red was about ten seconds and one touch away from coming. How could he not be? Jesus, just the sounds she made were enough to push him over the edge. He’d regret bringing all these damn lights if they hadn’t made her so happy, because seeing her laid out naked in front of him was doing absolutely zero for his stamina.
She was gorgeous. She was just fucking gorgeous. The midnight storm of her thick, wavy hair spread around her face like a halo. Her naked skin looked so vulnerable in the low light, completely bare to him for the first time, and so delicate. She was soft, soft all over, from the gentle weight of her full breasts to the lush roundness of her belly to the sheer decadence of her hips, her thighs, her—fuck. He dug his short nails into the palms of his hand and dragged his gaze away from the plump, pouting lips of her cunt, but it didn’t help. Without permission, his fingers rose to his lips and he sucked off her honey, groaning at the taste. So fucking good. Even better than he remembered.
“Oh, gosh,” she said suddenly. She sounded worried. Why the fuck did she sound worried? “I bit you!”
Ah. He smiled and bent to kiss her little frown, his shoulder still stinging from her teeth. “I liked it.”
“Really? Well, that’s okay then. But still. I should’ve asked.”
“You were busy.” He kissed her again. Busy coming on my fingers. “But now you know. I like it.”