Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 83(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 83(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
I fist one hand in her hair and the other in the dirt beside her for leverage as I move into her, hard, deep, frantic.
Her body rolls upwards to meet mine, her eyes almost hazy as she grips on to my shoulders and drinks me in. I can smell her, that soft, sweet, strange scent in the air, and I want to drink deep from it till I’m full to bursting.
I settle for another kiss, one hand sliding down to grip her hip and still her as I thrust into her frantically, filling her to the brim with every movement, listening to the way her breath hitches and tears as she spirals closer and closer to...
Her body bucks against mine in a sudden, wild motion that seems to be utterly outside of her control. I feel her muscles squeeze around me, as though she is trying to draw me even further into her.
But there’s no more space left between us to close – she rakes her nails across my shoulders and kisses me again, breathing me in deeply, and the sound of her soft whimpers is all that it takes to push me to the point of no return.
I sink into her one last time, stilling my body there, allowing her to clench and squeeze around me as muscles spasm with helpless need.
Her cheeks are red, her soft lips parted, and this close up, I can see the smattering of freckles over her chin and her cheeks. I want to trace each one out like a star map, commit it to memory...
I grunt as I finish inside of her, the warmth of my seed entering her at last. She tightens her legs around me and holds me in place for a moment, breathing hard.
In the soft dirt, in the cool air, it almost feels as though with have sewn a seed here between us today.
And, I suppose – in some kind of way, we have done just that.
CHAPTER 5
Cora
This time, when I wake, it’s to the sound of slow breathing beside me – and the memory of exactly what brought me here fresh in my head.
I sit upright, and there he is beside me, Boone – his shirt off, sprawled next to me, one arm tossed over my stomach like he’s making sure I don’t go anywhere. I do my best to piece it together, the way he followed me out into the woods, how he kissed me, how he lifted me into his arms and brought me back here and made love to me till my head was spinning and my heart could take no more.
When I fell asleep, it was to the thud of his heart in his chest, and the denial, for a little longer, that anything at all might have been wrong.
But in the cold light of day, I don’t get to deny it for another minute. I’ve been out there, into the woods, and I can see that nothing is as it was when I...when I left. The air tastes different, the trees don’t look the same, even the cold feels colder against my skin.
Something is wrong. And I can’t deny it for another second.
I swing my legs out of bed, and, before I can make it anywhere, I feel his hand on the small of my bare back.
"Where you going in such a rush, Cora?”
His voice has the hoarseness of sleep to it, but he doesn’t sound spooked or confused. I glance back over my shoulder at him, this man who rescued me from the midst of the woods and brought me somewhere safe, and I feel a stab in my chest. There’s a part of me that wants to live in the fantasy a while longer, but I know I can’t keep pretending, not without losing my mind in the process.
"Boone, I – I need to ask you something," I begin, haltingly, tripping over my words as I struggle to string them together.
He props himself up on his elbow, a crease appearing between his brows. The dark stubble on his sharp jaw has grown in a little overnight, and I can still almost feel it against my skin. But the fantasy can only last so long before reality nudges its way in, and the longer I try to hide from it, the harder it’s going to be to face the truth.
"What is it?”
"What...what year is it?”
He stares at me for a long moment, clearly baffled by the question. Can’t say I blame him.
"How bad was that fall?" he asks, an edge of flippancy to his voice. I shake my head.
"I just need to know," I plead with him. "I – please, Boone, just tell me. What year is it?”
He flicks his tongue over his lips, considering. And then, at last, he gives me my answer.