He takes the lead, and I follow, through a forest. Then we’re at the edge of a large field, and there’s a stream winding through it.
I see something shiny in the distance and realize it’s the car.
“Oh, wow. Who drove it here?”
“One of the staff. He’s going to ride one of the horses back.”
“How will we get back?”
“On the other horse.” He smiles. “Don’t want to ride rump?”
“On the horse’s butt? No way!”
He laughs, and we ride up to where the tent is already assembled. He hands off his own horse, but the guy won’t take it. He waves and walks off into the night. Liam has to stalk after him and convince him to get on the horse.
I look up at the stars. “This is seriously incredible.”
“I’ve always liked the outdoors.”
“Did you get to do a lot of that stuff growing up?”
“Some. Lots of group things.”
“At school?”
He nods.
“So you weren’t in Gael that much the last ten years.”
“Not really, no.”
“That seems kind of sad.”
“Does it?” He unzips the tent’s top. “What about you? You spent your childhood outdoors, right?”
“Yeah. It was pretty awesome. I always had a horse, and there were woods all around our house. We all hunted deer with bows and fished in the ponds. You’ve seen it all on TV.”
“Your family was happy?” he asks.
I can read between the lines; he’s asking me if it’s real, as opposed to made-for-TV. I nod. “Pretty happy. My parents had a rough spot or two, but we were always happy. I’d say they’re very happy now. My dad gets tired of the show sometimes. My mom, too, honestly. I don’t think they’ll do it a whole lot longer. But it’s been an experience.”
Liam pulls the tent flap open, and we crawl inside onto the sleeping bags. Liam fires up a lantern, and I stretch out on my back, looking at the ink black sky and all the sparkling stars.
Tell him, Lucy.
I shut my eyes. They’re still shut when I feel his hand playing at the hemline of my shirt. His fingers slip inside, cold against my warm belly. I “brrr” and fold myself around his arm to warm his fingertips against my skin.
“Too cold?” He chuckles.
“Hell yes.”
I rub my hands over his, through the fabric of my shirt, and then he’s inching downward, fingers walking to the top of my pants. I lie there, very still, as he unbuttons them.
I shouldn’t—I know that—but all I really think is: this is the last time, before I tell him. This is the last time, and I want it.
Liam lies on his side, watching my face as his long fingers stroke me through my silk panties. I can’t help lifting my hips, which is his cue to peel back the elastic waist and delve inside. He’s toying with me very lightly, stroking when I need him to plunge. It makes me moan. After a few times of his fingertip skating around my clit, I buck my hips and grab his wrist.
“Liam…”
He laughs, a low, dark sound. “Yes?” he says as he teases me everywhere but there.
“Inside,” I manage.
He parts my lips and delves down, slowly, gently, teasing where I’m slick and need him most.
“Please…”
“You want me inside?”
I push up against him, groaning.
“I want in, too, Lucy.” He draws his hand out of my underwear and moves atop me. I shimmy beneath him, working my pants and panties off. And then he’s rubbing against me; he’s teasing me.
“Oh God…”
His head skates up and down my throbbing slit, pushing lightly when he reaches my entrance, but not enough to penetrate. I push against him.
“Please…”
He drags himself up, rubbing his head on my clit until I’m groaning, shaking.
“I want you inside me. Please…”
He kisses my clit with his head for a few more minutes, groaning just like I am. Then he moves back down. He props himself up with one hand; with the other, he strokes my neck.
“Are you sure?” His voice is barely louder than a whisper.
“Yes—please.” I grab his nape and pull him down on me. Liam kisses my breasts, then he rises up and crawls back down me. I can feel him reach for something, see the glimmer of the moonlight on the condom wrapper, hear the soft pop as he puts it on.
Then he’s there again, aligned with me. Our eyes meet and we thrust at the same time, then groan together.
“Jesus, Lucy…”
I can feel his pleasure in the way his body tautens and quivers. He just holds there for the longest moment, his fingertips gripping my shirt sleeve as his eyes shut and I feel him throb inside me.
I tighten around him, and he makes a low, hoarse sound—and then he’s moving. Slowly out and hard back in, out then in, filling me up then leaving me bereft and arching.
All I know is overwhelming pleasure, and the feeling of his strong arms underneath my grasping hands. He moves inside me like we both were born to be joined like this, drawing moans and gasps and grunts from me like music, till I’m shaking and he’s breathing loudly and his thumb is on my clit and then I’m coming.
Liam thumps hard inside me, his elbow bending so he’s half collapsing on my chest as his cock swells to fill me and his muscles quiver and he pants.
“Lucy…dear Christ.”
His forehead rocks against my ribs. He drops a kiss on my arm, through my sleeve—and then he’s pulling out. I curl over on my side, surprised to find that there are tears in my eyes. I’m not even sure why.
Minutes later, I hear zipping—or unzipping—and he’s drawing covers over me; he’s settling beside me, curling around me.
He pulls me close and kisses my cheek. “Thank you.”
“Thank you too,” I tell him sleepily.
“You are amazing.”
I wake up in the middle of the night to find him wrapped around me. He’s warm—really warm—which is good because the air is cold. I snuggle up against him and pull him to me, and he wraps his arms around me. His head ends up right against my stomach, and I know I’m ready.
He deserves the truth.
Tomorrow morning.
TWENTY-SEVEN Lucy
I wake up to Liam kissing my shoulder. The sex we have before the sun is even fully up is so intense it makes my chest ache when we finish and we’re sitting by a nearby stream. I’m wrapped in one of our blankets. Liam’s arm is wrapped around my back, holding me close to him.
We’re both sipping cider he warmed up over the fire behind us. And I’m feeling like I might be sick.
Still—“I love it here.”
“I’m glad,” he says.
“Do you love it? I mean, is this where you’re going to be living fulltime?”
“I do live here.” He smiles.
“Do you like it?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t believe you,” I say softly. “You don’t seem as peaceful here as I feel. When you were calling me, you weren’t sleeping. Tell me about your next few years. What will happen as you get older? What will you need to do…like, for the country?”
“Is this a trade?” He smiles weakly. “My stuff for yours?”
“It can be a trade.” I smile back. “I trust you. You can ask me anything.”