The Heartbreaker of Echo Pass by Maisey Yates
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THATWASHOWGriffin Chance found himself sitting by a campfire down at the river, Iris cooking trout in a pan, which she had helped catch quite handily. She was wearing a combination of the outfit that she had come in yesterday, and one of his shirts, which was overly large on her, the flannel rolled up at her wrists so that it didn’t totally cover her hands. Her dark hair was a mess, loose and wild around her face, and her cheeks were red, maybe from the sun, or just from living. She was just so alive. And he sat there, and wondered, really deeply wondered, how he had ever thought her plain, because she wasn’t. She was a deep, still sort of beauty like the mountains. Like the water. The trees and the sky. The kind that settled over your skin, and became what grounded you. That rooted you to the earth.
So intrinsic to the makeup of the world that some days it was easy to look at it and not fully realize. But when you did, when you stopped and took it all in, it could still your breath. The kind of beauty that a man couldn’t possibly take in all at once.
She knew. She knew his story. The strangest damn thing. And she was there with him still. Smiling.
But he wasn’t going to think about it. Because she’d said... To just pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist. And to be with her. So he was.
It was a gift. This sliver of time.
And he didn’t want to think of what lay beyond it. But for now he wasn’t going to.
“Fish is almost done,” she said. She shook the pan, and a lock of hair fell into her face, at the same time as the shoulder on his shirt fell. It didn’t expose any bare skin or anything like that, but there was something about seeing Iris Daniels so undone that unmade something inside of him too.
“Do you go fishing a lot?” he asked, when she was settled next to him, picking pieces of fish out of the pan with her fingers.
“Not really. We used to. Me and my dad.”
“Tell me about your dad.”
“He was the chief of police in town. And he was... I thought he was the strongest and best man in the entire world. A close second was my uncle Todd. When it was just me and my older brother, Ryder, and my cousins Colt and Jake, we’d go fishing with them on the weekends. They were just very good men. And my mom... We would come home with fish, and she would cook it, and she always made it taste amazing. I remember telling her one time that I didn’t like trout because of all the bones. She picked every single one out. Tried to make it into something that I would enjoy. She was just like that. She took care of us. And things got a lot busier when the younger kids came and it changed, like families do. But yeah... My dad. You know, my sister Pansy, she became the first female chief of police in town. That’s all she ever wanted. Was to make our dad proud.”
“What about you?”
“I wanted to take care of everybody. It’s such a funny thing, but I figured if I couldn’t be taken care of, then maybe... Making a space where all that care still was... Building that same kind of feeling, that sense of home that my mom did, that maybe it would be enough. That maybe it could go some way in healing some of the hurt. And it did. I mean, it really did. Until I realized that... It was more of a barrier than it was a crutch. At least now. It wasn’t always. But you know, life changes. Things change.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it like that.”
“No,” he said. “It’s just, that you’re right. Things change, you can’t go back.”
“Sometimes I think maybe I tried to go back a little bit too much. Sometimes I think that by trying to make the same kind of house, I didn’t really ever figure out what kind of home I would make. What kind of life I wanted to have.”
He nodded slowly. “You know, they say time goes on, but it’s a funny thing about grief. And about people. You can sure as hell do your damnedest to stop time. To pull yourself right out of it. To make it so you’ve got nothing but you and your grief.”
“Yeah,” she said. “That’s very true.
“So,” she said, her tone changing to something comically conversational. “Are you from California?”
He didn’t know why. But he laughed. It caught him off guard about as much as when she had made him smile earlier. But damn, she had made him smile. “Yes,” he said. “I am. The Bay Area. Kind of outside of San Francisco. Born and raised.”
“I see. Rich family?”
“Yes,” he laughed. “So I never really appreciated it, I have to say. Things were just kind of there. And yeah, I did a pretty good job managing all my money and things like that, but to be honest so much of that came from having learned how to do it way back when. My dad was always managing lots of portfolios and things like that. But the best thing is we had a ranch. So I grew up with horses. And I just... Oh I love them. I always have. Horses are the best part of life.”
“Then you really are a cowboy.”
“I really am. On a good day.”
“Are you going to make a ranch up here?”
“I don’t know.”
The subject of the house loomed large between them, but she didn’t push. And he wasn’t in the mood to talk about it. It didn’t go along with this. This light, getting to know you stuff that was like something he’d forgotten existed.
“Favorite color,” he asked.
She closed her eyes and smiled. “Raspberry buttercream.”
“That’s not a color.”
She opened her eyes again. “Disagree. It is a food, a flavor and color. And it’s a very particular color that you get when you put fresh raspberries in buttercream, and it is both beautiful and delicious.”
“Okay,” he said. “Favorite food.”
“This could get repetitive really quickly.” She tapped her chin and looked at him. “First kiss.”
“Molly McDonald. Fourth grade.”
“No way.”
“There was no tongue.”
“A relief.”
“You?”
“Well,” she said, her cheeks turning rosy. “That would be you.”
“How the hell, Iris?”
“I don’t know. I mean, I guess I do. I just kind of closed myself off. And then I decided to step out and go for it, and it turns out I can start a business, and find a man to kiss. I had no idea.”
“There you go.”
“First time?” she asked. “And I’m not asking so you can ask me too. The answer is going to be boring.”
“Lacey Anderson. An older woman. I was sixteen, she was seventeen. She taught me a thing or two.”
“So, not big on virgins, then?”
“Not historically.”
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
He nodded slowly. “My sister, Mallory, is quite a bit younger than me. She worries. A lot. All the time. And is frequently unhappy with me for my lack of contact.”
“What about your mom and dad?”
“They’re giving me space. You know, like good new age California parents do. Which is nice since, if we were in the same vicinity, they’d give me no space at all. If my dad is talking, he’s sharing his opinions. So. Space is being given.”
“But your sister’s not giving you space.”
“No. And anyway, half the time I’m convinced she’s acting as an agent for my parents while they pretend to be a lot more okay with me doing my own thing than they actually are.”
“I know all about meddling siblings. I might not have my parents, but believe me when I tell you my older brother more than makes up for it. Plus, my sisters are always in my business. Then there’s my cousins, and Sammy.”
He probably wouldn’t meet them. It would be for the best if he didn’t. This thing that they were doing up here... It didn’t have anywhere to go. That was the problem. It was stuck up here, because he was stuck up here. Because there was nothing else.
And as nice as it was to sit and talk, it wasn’t really an appetite for talking she had awakened in him last night. He brushed her hair back from her face and kissed her. The desire that flared inside him was instant, hard and deep.
“Ever had sex outdoors?” he asked.
“I think you know the answer to that.”
“Well, we better fix it.”
He pushed that flannel off her shoulders, tugged her T-shirt up over her head. She gasped as the air hit bare skin.
That braid of hers was plain and simple, and inflamed his desires in a way he couldn’t quite articulate. And didn’t even want to. He didn’t want to articulate. Not anymore. He just wanted. For the first time in his life not every feeling was his enemy. And he was damn happy with that. Because this felt good. She felt good.
She had brought cookies, and her beautiful body, and moments in the sun, and it was a form of magic he hadn’t thought he could have.
Her lips were sweet, the curve of her breasts over that bra plump and delicious. He lowered his head and licked her skin, and felt her shiver beneath his touch.
“You’re beautiful,” he rasped. “I want to make sure you know that. Beautiful like I’ve never seen.”
And he didn’t care about anything but the truth of those words. He didn’t care about the past. He didn’t care about the future. He didn’t care about anything but holding her soft, sweet body in his arms. And it was sweet. So damn sweet. He moved his hands down her back, pushed them down beneath the waistband of her jeans so that he could cup her ass.
“Griffin,” she whispered.
“What?”
“Just... You.”
He stripped those jeans off of her, her underwear. And all he could do was stare. At that enticing thatch of curls there between her thighs, at all that smooth, creamy skin. He had forgotten. All the things he liked about women. The things that made him so happy to be a man. She was all of them. Every last one. She was everything. She wiggled out of his hold, and stood, shaking out her long dark hair. And he could only stare. Then she turned away from him, her hair cascading down her back, ending just above where her waist nipped in. He looked at her hips, generous and lovely, at the dimples just above her behind. The round curve of that plump flesh. He was struck by a deep, completely aggressive urge to have her. And also rendered completely motionless by the sight of her.
It was a hell of a thing. And so was she.
She looked over her shoulder, her expression one of shy innocence, mingled with a slow roll of seductive thunder. Whether or not she knew that was there, he didn’t know. But it was. At least, it was to him. It reached out and grabbed him. Compelled him to stand. Then she looked away from him again, her dark hair shimmering like a wave when she took a step forward into the water. She jumped back, a reaction to the cold. But then she stepped forward again, this time more determinedly, putting both feet into the slow moving stream. “I’ve never done this before,” she said, and he could tell that as she lifted her arms to wrap them around her body.
“What?”
“Skinny-dipping.”
Then, as if she was compelled by an invisible force, she took two large steps forward, then lay forward in the water, shrieking as it closed over her skin.
“Cold,” she said.
“Yeah, I figured.”
“Are you going to join me?”
“I could,” he said. “But the view is awfully nice.”
“Come on,” she said.
And he felt like she was beckoning him to something else, though he didn’t want to pin it down. He wanted it to keep on shimmering inside of him, moving around like an invisible force. Weightless. Wonderful.
Because so few things in his life were. Nothing, if he were honest. For the last five years, nothing. And then, there she was. A forest sprite or an angel, he didn’t know. But she was something.
And he wanted her.
He stripped the rest of his clothes off, and his eyes caught hers. Her gaze was... Hungry, there was no other word for it. He thought a lot about his own hunger. About how long it had been since he felt these things, since he’d touched another person. Since he felt connected in any way.
Since he felt sexual desire. Stripping it back to its most basic, taking away even that human connection element, he had just been starving for pleasure.
But she was too, and that made him feel something.
Something deep and immeasurably satisfying.
“I’ve never seen a naked man before,” she said. Her words were small, and he knew she didn’t mean those to be seductive. But dammit they were.
“Really?”
“I mean, not... Like that.”
He looked down. “Aroused?”
“Yeah,” she said, her cheeks turning the most delicious shade of pink.
“Turned on.”
“Yes,” she said.
“For you.”
“Definitely not.”
He waded into the water, and wasn’t concerned at all that the cold would have a dimming effect on him. There wasn’t a possibility of that. Not when Iris was right there.
Want and need blurred together as he moved closer to her lithe form. He closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her wet, naked body, pulling her up against him. She gasped, turning fully into him, her breasts sliding against his chest, their legs tangling. Her eyes widened, he assumed when she felt his erection pressing against her stomach.
It was completely silent around them except for the sound of rushing water, and the breeze in the trees. The sun was shining down on the river’s surface, tossing light onto the ridges of movement there, a glow surrounding them. A halo surrounding her.
There were very few perfect moments in life. And Griffin had been absolutely certain he would never live another one.
He’d been sure that he’d used them all up. And that when life had come to collect payment for all those moments, the cost had been dear enough that he would never be able to feel it again. He’d had his perfection. And there would be no more.
Except this moment was perfect. This woman was perfect, and if he could have stopped time then and there he would have done it.
But time rolled on and his hands roamed over her body, hers over his, tentative at first as they explored his chest, and then down farther. His breath caught in his throat, and she leaned forward, kissing him just beneath his jaw. He groaned, tightening his hold on her, flexing his hips forward.
“I didn’t think I was like this,” she whispered.
“Like what?”
“Sexual. I mean, I knew that I... That I would like to. With... With a man. It’s just... I didn’t think I would...” She brushed her hand over his cheek. “Outside. In the water. I didn’t think that I would feel like I might die if I didn’t have someone. Not after I went so long not having someone.”
“Because you didn’t know.”
“It’s safer,” she whispered. “To not depend on anyone.”
“I know.” He felt bereft, hollow then, not because of his loss, but because of the inevitability of these kinds of conversations. The inevitability of this truth. That any time you made a connection with someone you were at risk. No matter what you told yourself.
“I know it, but it doesn’t... I’m so glad that I’m here.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said, his voice rough.
And as he moved his hands over her curves, he realized that this was a lot like fire.
He had just cooked fish at a fire. Sat in front of it for warmth.
He had to make his peace with it. Because of the way he chose to live. Because he had gone off-grid. He had to surrender to the fact that it both gave life and took it.
And he supposed this kind of connection was a lot like that.
He knew that it could destroy.
But he also realized that he needed it a hell of a lot more than he’d allowed himself to believe.
It was all about control, really. Fire out of control killed. Fire in control gave life.
Control, that was the thing.
But not now. Not here. Here, control didn’t matter. Here, he didn’t have to think about those things.
Here, he could just be with her.
And let there be nothing else.
He tilted her back, kissing her neck, down to the edge of her collarbone before moving back to her lips, sliding his gently over hers, the water making them slick. Then he tasted her, deep and long, lapping at the inside of her mouth until she shivered, and this time not from the cold.
He kissed her chin, her throat, the valley between her breasts. Then he moved across to one tightened bud, sucked it deep in his mouth, desire bursting in him like a bomb. He moved to the other breast, another moment he could live in for the rest of his life. This deeply captivating moment where only her breasts, only her body mattered. There for him to worship, there for him to indulge himself in.
That was a miracle that he had forgotten about. This miracle of sex. Where you could give and take endlessly and in equal measures. In the same moment. He had never seen anything like the joy on Iris’s face, tinged with wonder as he touched her. As he stoked the flames of her desire.
A fire that could destroy.
A fire that could heal.
He moved one hand between her legs, traced a pattern of pleasure over her slick folds. She gasped, and he moved his thumb in a circle over that sensitized bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs, pushed a finger inside of her as he continued to tease and torment her. As he sucked her nipple deep into his mouth. He felt her explode around his fingers, pleasure rolling through her body like a wave. Then he kissed her. Deep, long and endless, and he could have just kissed her like that forever. With the water lapping gently against them, with her body shaking and shivering from the orgasm she just had. With the sun in the sky as a witness, and the blessed silence of the wilderness enveloping them in all its velvet glory.
But then he carried her up out of the water, all limp and boneless, and was thankful for the blanket they brought with them. He spread it out on the ground, and brought her up against him, kissing her, kissing her like the answers to everything might be found there.
Even though his mind was blank of questions. Void of absolutely everything, which made touch all the more heightened. The cool temperature of the surface of her skin giving way to heat beneath. The water droplets there. Smooth flesh, puckered nipples, that slick, sweet spot between her legs. Lips like a rose petal. Hair like silk.
She grabbed hold of his face, kissing him hard, deep, her intensity increasing as she rocked against his body. She met his gaze, and didn’t turn away. And he maneuvered them so that he was between her thighs, testing the entrance to her body with the blunt head of his arousal. She gave, easily, much more so than last night, than that first time where breaching her had been a marked event. This time it was a slow glide into heaven as she opened to receive him. As she let her head fall back, her eyes fluttered closed, but only briefly as she let out a low moan of pleasure.
And then she opened those beautiful eyes again. Green and gold—more than brown, he’d decided—shot through with strands of the sun, and it was like he heard that color. Echoing in his heart. He began to move, the sounds of their pleasure the new soundtrack to the forest. And when he found his pleasure, she did too, her nails digging into his shoulders, the plaintive cry on her lips balm for his soul. And they lay there together like that, on the blanket, beneath the sun. He moved his hand down her arm, laced his fingers together with hers.
That had been more than one perfect moment.
Far more.
