Chapter 25: Turn around and face me, woman,
She didn't stop.
Even after his laughter faded, even after the silence settled again, the soft, trembling sound of her crying grew sharper, not dramatic, not attention-seeking, but the kind of crying someone tries very hard not to let anyone hear. Little broken breaths, stifled into the blanket.
Nate lay still for a moment, staring at the wall.
Then he swore under his breath and rolled over.
"Skylar," he said quietly.
She didn't answer.
She turned her face deeper into the pillow, shaking once, shoulders tense beneath the covers.
He tried again. "Skylar."
Nothing.
A muscle in his jaw ticked.
"Turn around and face me, woman," he said, his patience fraying enough that his voice rose.
She stayed exactly as she was, small, curled, stubborn.
His tone sharpened.
"Skylar. I won't ask again."
The air tightened with the seriousness behind those words, the same tone he used when warning her about a tripwire or when a Ripper screamed too close to the cabin. It wasn't cruelty. It was command layered over concern.
Slowly, reluctantly, she shifted under the blanket.
She turned toward him, though most of her face was still hidden, her hair falling over her eyes. The cabin was so dark he couldn't make out the details, only the dim outline of her trembling breath.
"What is going on, woman?" he asked bluntly.
There was no softness in his tone, but there was something else, something searching.
She sniffed once, wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, and tried to steady her voice.
"We're almost out of food," he continued. "Tomorrow we leave for supplies. You know what that means. Rippers. Bandits. God knows what else. Do you honestly think this is the best time for… this?" His hand made a vague, frustrated gesture between them.
"I don't know," she said, her voice cracking. "I really don't."
She swallowed hard, trying to keep herself from breaking again.
"I just… I feel so guilty. Every time you look at me and then look away. Every time you hold yourself back." She took a shaky breath. "And I know I should be taking advantage of you, pushing this for my gain like before, like I planned but…"
She couldn't finish the sentence.
The words dissolved into another small sound, half-sob, half-breath.
Nate stared at her in the dark.
He knew exactly what she was about to say.
And he wouldn't let her say it.
He wouldn't let her cross that line in her own mind, wouldn't let her reduce herself like that.
"Stop," he said quietly.
Just one word. Firm. Sharper than comfort, but softer than anger.
He exhaled a long, weary sigh, the kind that came from a man fighting himself for days and finally reaching the end of his restraint.
Then he moved.
He reached out, slipped a hand behind her arm, and gently pulled her toward him.
Skylar tensed for a heartbeat but only a heartbeat, before she let herself be drawn in.
Their foreheads brushed.
Her breath hitched.
And then he kissed her.
Not with hunger.
Not with frustration.
But with a fierce, tired inevitability, the kind of kiss that wasn't about desire or bargaining or desperation, but about finally, finally letting go of everything he'd been holding back.
Her hand instinctively clutched his shirt.
His fingers threaded into her hair, anchoring her against him.
The world outside, the hunger, the coming danger, the Rippers, the empty streets and ruined buildings, vanished for a moment.
There was only the quiet cabin.
Only two tired survivors.
Only the kiss they both should've run from, but couldn't anymore.
Her hand instinctively clutched his shirt. His fingers threaded into her hair, anchoring her against him. The world outside, the hunger, the coming danger, the Rippers, the empty streets and ruined buildings, vanished for a moment. There was only the quiet cabin. Only two tired survivors. Only the kiss they both should've run from, but couldn't anymore.
The kiss deepened, shifting from a tired inevitability to a spark, then a wildfire. Nate's lips, once firm and almost brutal, softened, growing hungrier. He tasted the salt of her tears, the faint metallic tang of fear, but beneath it, the undeniable sweetness of her mouth. His tongue, emboldened, traced the seam of her lips, a silent plea. Skylar gasped, a soft, broken sound that ended up swallowed by his mouth as she parted for him. Her tongue met his hesitant at first, then entwined, a desperate dance of seeking and yielding.
His hands, which had been anchoring her head, began to roam. They slid down her back, over the thin fabric of her worn shirt, feeling the subtle curve of her spine, the delicate bones of her shoulder blades. He pulled her closer still, flattening their bodies against each other until there was no space left between them, only the desperate press of flesh against cloth. Skylar arched into him, a low moan vibrating deep in her throat, a sound that unleashed a primal growl from Nate. It wasn't aggressive, but guttural, possessive, a release of weeks, months, years of pent-up desire and unspoken longing.
His fingers found the hem of her shirt, rough and worn. With a slow, deliberate movement, he began to push it up. Skylar tensed, then relaxed, her own hands now fumbling with the buttons of his heavy flannel, their movements uncoordinated but urgent. The cold air of the cabin, usually a biting presence, now felt like a sensual tease on their exposed skin as the fabric gave way. Her shirt came off first, pulled over her head with a rustle of fabric, revealing her in the dim light.
Nate's eyes, even in the near-darkness, devoured her. Her chest, unbound by any bra, rose and fell with rapid, shallow breaths. And there they were: her magnificent, huge double D breasts, full and heavy, pushing upward with an almost impossible curve. They seemed to swell with her excitement, pale against the faint light from the moon filtering through the grimy window. His gaze lingered on the prominent, firm peaks of her hard nipples, already engorged and dark, standing at attention, practically begging for his touch.
He Inhaled sharply, his control fraying further. "Skylar," he breathed, the word a reverent whisper against her lips.
He broke the kiss, his mouth trailing a path of fire down her jaw, along the sensitive curve of her neck. He paused at the hollow of her throat, felt her pulse hammering wildly beneath his lips, a mirror to his own. Then, inexorably, his mouth descended. He found the valley between her breasts, warm and soft, before one hand cupped a heavy, yielding globe. Her double D breast filled his palm completely, its weight a revelation, its softness a torment. He kneaded gently, his thumb brushing over the taut, hard nipple, eliciting a sharp gasp from Skylar.
"Nate…" she whimpered, her voice thick with desire, her own hands tearing at his shirt, finally freeing it from his shoulders. He shrugged it off, letting it fall forgotten to the floor, revealing the hard planes of his chest, scarred and muscled.
His mouth finally reached its destination. He latched onto one of her hard nipples, drawing it deep into his mouth. He suckled, slow and deliberate, a low groan escaping her lips as a jolt of pure pleasure shot through her core. His tongue swirled around the demanding peak, then dragged gently, laving the sensitive skin. He nipped playfully, gently, sending shivers through her. Her other breast, still exposed, trembled with her quickening breaths, its hard nipple aching for the same attention. He switched, moving to the other, suckling just as intensely, his free hand continuing to tease and caress the first.
She was writhing beneath him, feverish, her hands now digging into his shoulders, pulling him closer, desperate for more. "Please, Nate, please…"
[A/N: If you liked the book then dn't forget to leave a like and commen. Drop a power stone, it helps . If you're interested in this story you can now read 25 chapters ahead available on patreon.com/jacobperalta ]