AFTER PACING THE STABLE for a good ten minutes, trying and failing to talk herself out of what she intended to do next, Emeline followed Hawthorne into the house.
I’m only going to say good-bye, she thought, twisting his ring around her finger. A true good-bye. And then I’ll go.
A fire blazed in the hearth. Down the hall, she heard rushing water from where he was drawing a bath.
She remembered his hands in her hair as he pressed her up against the wall. Remembered the way he turned her skin to fire.
From the washroom, a buckle rattled as he undid his belt, followed by the whisper of fabric as his clothes fell, piece by piece, to the floor. The sound made her swallow. Water splashed as he stepped into the tub and sank down into the water.
Emeline tugged off her boots and listened, thinking back to the stable. To the heady crush of him pinning her to the wall.
He wanted her. That was clear. It was okay to take what she wanted, so long as he wanted it too. Just once. Just tonight.
And then she would leave.
She and Hawthorne came from different worlds. His world was cursed and dying; hers held her beckoning dreams. They would never work.
Of course she was leaving. There was no question.
She just needed to say good-bye first.
Emeline walked towards the sounds of him bathing, her shaky fingers trailing the walls. She paused before the door, staring down at the sliver of gold lantern light spilling through the crack beneath. Her heart hammered as she took the brass knob in her palm and turned it, pushing the door open.
A window lay straight ahead, framing the white moon in a navy sky. Beneath the pane sat an aluminum washbasin, illuminated by the glowing lantern on the floor. Sitting in the basin, head tilted back, was Hawthorne.
When Emeline shut the door behind her, he lifted his head.
For a moment, they stared at each other.
“I thought you were leaving.”
She stepped away from the door. “I forgot something.”
“So you…”
Holding his gaze, she pulled off her shirt and dropped it on the floor.
Whatever he was about to say dissolved into air. He swallowed instead.
Her heart pounded as she undid her jeans, letting them fall in a heap. When she stepped out of the denim and glanced up, she found him fighting to keep his eyes on her face.
Look, she thought. I want you to look.
He gave in, his feverish gaze sweeping down her pale body. His grip tightened on the sides of the basin as she slowly stripped off her bra, then her underpants and socks. The cold air rushed against her, making her skin tighten.
The breath shuddered out of him. Hearing it sent a wave of desire crashing through her.
It drove her towards the tub, her bare feet padding against the floorboards. Warm, soapy water rushed up her legs as she stepped into the basin. With one foot planted on either side of him, she lowered herself down onto his hips.
He inhaled sharply, muscles tightening with restraint.
“Is this all right?” she whispered. “Or do you want me to go?”
In answer, he cupped the wings of her shoulder blades and ran his trembling hands down her back. “Are you mad?” he murmured into her throat, planting a kiss against her skin. “This is where I want you.”
His mouth was like a spell, unraveling her. She felt herself coming undone.
It shouldn’t be like this. No one should have this kind of effect on her.
She slid her hands firmly up his chest, over his collarbone, then along his shoulders. He half closed his eyes as she traced him, his dark lashes shadowing his cheeks. When she arched against him, his breath hitched and his hands spanned her waist, clasping her tight, pulling her into him.
“Emeline.”
The agony in his voice made her ache. She bit his collarbone and clutched his shoulders, rocking against him. Slowly at first. Then faster. Insistent.
Tension hummed through his body. His fingers dug into her hips.
She was breathless with desire. Urgently needing him.
Hawthorne moaned low in his throat. One hand wrapped around her thigh, the other cupped her head, bringing her mouth down to his. He kissed her hungrily, seizing what she offered him as their yearning built towards its crescendo and he quietly called out her name.
When it ended, Emeline fell against him, panting softly as she rested her head on his wet shoulder. Lying curled against his chest, she listened to the slow, steady beat of his heart.
Her whole body hummed with pleasure. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so perfectly happy.
As he leaned his cheek against the crown of her head, Hawthorne’s arms circled her, keeping her close as his palms rested on her curves beneath the water.
“Was that okay?” she whispered, tracing his lean edges with her fingertip. So new to her, and yet familiar. Like a puzzle piece she hadn’t known was missing.
In answer, he tipped her head back and kissed her mouth, the warmth of his lips parting hers. Before she could return it fully, he rose from the tub, wrapped her in a towel, and carried her to his bed.
Where they did it all over again.