Unflagging, unstoppable, he worked himself within her. She met each of his thrusts with a lift of her hips, every groan and gasp with a soft, breathy cry. His hand fumbled for hers to lace their fingers together as he lifted it over her head, then pinned it there. Her release almost broke through her then, but she fought it back, tried to control it.
Then his rhythmic thrusts turned ragged, uneven, each one punctuated by a soft, growled moan. “Hanna… God, Hanna, I’m–”
Heat slammed through her as the release crested and claimed her. She screamed his name, wrapped both legs around his waist to ride the waves of shuddering pleasure. His cries joined hers as he filled her, head thrown back and expression filled with a near-painful bliss.
They collapsed back onto the bed all at once, quivering with the final waves of the release they had shared. His arms wrapped around her to pull her against his chest, fierce in their protectiveness. “I love you,” he said, hoarse with emotion. “Never question that. I never knew what I was looking for until now. You are the dream I had when I dreamed of the future, and the one who would walk beside me.”
Overwhelmed, lost in her own love for him, she curled closer to him to murmur his name. Ever after, she hoped, began with this moment, where they clung to each other in the twilight of their love and closed their eyes to the lowering nightfall.
* * *
The house satquiet in the shadows of midnight. Hanna dozed in his arms, spooned against his chest, warm and soft and beautiful in her slumber. As he held her, enchanted by the curve of her neck and shoulder, he realized with some surprise that he had never felt so at-ease in his home as he did tonight.
He had never noticed the tension before, not consciously. Not until it disappeared and his heart felt lighter for its absence. Greenhill Hall had its charms, and a definite appeal to dwelling within its history-filled walls. Yet not once had Greenhill relaxed him or allowed him to feel at home until tonight. Tonight, he realized he existed here with his guard up and a sense he was a guest in his own house.
A guest in my own life. That changes tonight.No more appeasing a board of directors whose goals and ethics didn’t match his. No more compromising morals because he couldn’t rock the boat. No more allowing people who left him sad and empty in his life. Not even when they shared a blood relation. A genetic bond did not excuse emotional terrorism.
I don’t even know why she came back into my life. Inheritance? A sudden attack of guilt and perspective after the father she resented died? Why is she even here?Careful not to jostle his sleeping lover, he reached for the phone on the bedside table. When he turned it over to see the screen, he found a voicemail count of twelve and a line of incoherent, poorly spelled texts about a son’s duty to his mother, loyalty to the one who had given him life, and demands that he should return to her side immediately instead of debasing himself with that woman.
Hanna stirred and looked over her shoulder. “Don’t throw that phone,” she murmured. “It doesn’t deserve the abuse.”
“Hm?” He returned his attention to her. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s all right. I was only dozing.” She snuggled back against him. “Why are you frowning at your phone?”
“Because my mother has filled it with voicemails and texts. They must have given her something to help her sleep, because I can’t read half of these. It looks like her autocorrect mugged her.” He put the phone back on the table, face down, so the notifications wouldn’t bother them.
“She’s not going to be pleasant when they let her out.”
“Then she’s going to be finding a new place to live. I’m done with her. If she genuinely needs help, I won’t turn her away, but that’s not what these messages say to me. They say she’s choosing to behave badly. She can do that somewhere else.”
“I’m sorry she’s acting like this.”
“So am I. But I’m also grateful. Tonight has opened my eyes. I’ve been a spectator in my own life since my grandfather died. Not anymore.” He leaned down to kiss the back of her neck, lingering in the taste of her skin and heat of her body.
She made a soft sound between a moan and a sigh. “I hope I’m part of your plans.”
“An integral part.” As he drew back, he saw her tattoo again. He’d noticed it before, as they explored each other’s bodies, but had far better things to do at the time than ask about her taste in artwork. A simple sparrow drawn in a vintage style, black and white with wings spread in flight, was inked at the top of her spine. “This is pretty. Classic, even. What does it mean?”
“It’s a sparrow. I got it in memory of my uncle. Great uncle, I suppose. My mother’s uncle. He was the only member of my family I ever felt close to. I’d see him on holidays and family birthdays, whenever extended family got together. Not as often as I wanted to, but I looked forward to seeing him when I could.” A soft smile turned up the corners of her lips, the kind that bespoke fond memories and old regrets.
He leaned down again, this time to place a kiss over the ink. His lips tingled faintly.Even just kissing her lights me up.“I suppose your family has a natural fondness for sparrows.”
“Not really. My Uncle Joe did, though. He was a sailor in the Navy, and a believer in old superstitions. When I asked him about his tattoo, he told me it was to prevent his soul from being lost if he died at sea. The sparrow would catch his spirit before it disappeared under the waves and carry him to the afterlife. A lot of his crew got them, he said.”
Gregory waited for the churn at the pit of his gut that happened anytime he thought of ghosts, spirits, or lost souls, but it didn’t happen. “That’s interesting. I didn’t know sparrows had anything to do with carrying spirits.”
“The ancient Egyptians thought they did. They believed sparrows were psychopomps. Creatures that help souls find where they need to go,” she said. The way she spoke the words, slowly and with care, told him she remembered his fear of ghosts and didn’t want to rouse it.
He appreciated the thought, even as the need for caution disturbed him.I really need to work on that. I wish I understood why it bothered me so much.“Then I guess we should be very grateful to sparrows. I know I am. You’ve definitely guided my spirit to where it needs to go.”
Her backside teased against his cock for an agonizing few seconds as she squirmed around to face him. “How about I guide something else to where it needs to go?”
Then her hand slipped down between them, and he forgot about everything but her.
13
Truths Hidden by the Fog of Time