“Yikes, Lumberjack. That log looks uncomfortable.”
I scowl at her, then storm back inside, aggravation mounting when I hear her throaty laugh. I add finishing touches to the food and then plate it for both of us. Double-checking the burners are off, dishes in hand, I tuck my beer under my arm and walk out to join her. Willa’s staring at the stars, one arm stretched along the ledge of the tub, spinning her wine.
When her eyes meet mine, they’re softer. Warm, chocolate brown, with flecks of caramel. Her glass is almost empty. Wine makes her a little pliant, and by the look in her eyes, a lot horny. Wine leads to horny eyes. You bet your ass I file that away for future use.
As I hand Willa her plate, she smiles up at me. “Thanks.”
We eat in silence for a few bites, me on a neighboring Adirondack chair, Willa in the tub, her plate held over the bubbles. She uses her fingers to eat since she can’t use her lap and cut with a knife and fork. First the chicken, then she slides a few green beans between her teeth and chews. “Damn, you can cook, Ry.”
I make a noncommittal noise as I take a swig of my beer.
“Ryder.”
I glance over at her. “Hm?”
Her eyes soften further. Her irises shift to pale, golden candlelight. “Come in here.”
Our gaze holds for a long time. My finger taps my beer bottle.
“Why?” I finally manage.
Willa doesn’t blink away. She just takes one long breath and sighs. “Because I want you.”
I almost drop my beer. Setting down the bottle and my plate, I look at her once again. “I need more than that.”
Willa bites her lip, then blinks away, staring into the dark horizon. “I want Ryder Stellan Bergman. Flannel king and fearless mountain man. I want my Business Math buddy. I want the guy who ruins guacamole and who knows how to touch my hair. I want the asshole who whistles at my games and hugs me so hard my lungs feel like they’ll pop.” She swallows. “I love that feeling when you’re so close to pushing too hard, squeezing too tight, then you know exactly when to stop. You know when to battle and when to say sorry.”
My breath comes out jagged. My heart is smashed in a vise of emotions that Willa’s words only twist tighter.
“I want Ryder who read to my dying mother,” she whispers. “I want Ryder who brought me whiskey and peanut butter cups and was the first man to ever slow down and hold me and help me feel safe enough to fall apart. I want the man who carried me down a mountain today. I want his quiet strength and his big heart. I want you.”
I stand. Willa does too. And everything changes.
Air rushes out of me. She’s so beautiful, there aren’t words. There aren’t words to describe what moonlight looks like on the lines of her muscles in her shoulders, her stomach, her legs. No words to capture the soft dip and swell of her hips, the curve of her breasts and her taut nipples which tighten in the cold.
Her fingers dance by her side as she waits. I know I’m breathing because I’m still alive, but it doesn’t feel like it. I’m stunned.
“Ryder,” she says quietly.
My eyes meet hers, and my heart burns with knowledge. I love her. I’ve known I loved her, but the truth bursts inside my chest, surges up my throat, and beats a violent tattoo inside my mind as I stare into her eyes.
“Come here,” she whispers.
I step closer. Willa does too. She leans onto the ledge inside the tub, placing her at eye level. I hold her gaze as her hands settle on the first button of my shirt that’s still done, working them open, one by one.
Halfway done with my buttons she pauses. She presses a kiss to my forehead and wobbles. My hands go to her hips, holding her steady as she resumes unbuttoning my shirt. Her skin is smooth and taut, hot from the water. When she presses my shirt off my shoulders, I shake it off and finally do what I can’t avoid doing anymore.
I drag my mouth hungrily over her breast and taste her skin. Her nipple’s hard, the most beautiful berry pink. I plump it in my hand and roll my tongue across its surface.
Her hands are in my hair, and air rushes out of her.
“Oh, God,” she moans.
Willa drops to her knees in the water, furiously tugging at my buckle, yanking open the button. She drags down the zipper and shoves my jeans off my hips. I tug them down the rest of the way, shucking my boxers next.
Willa’s eyes are wide as she stares at me. It’s the hardest I’ve ever been, my length so tight and thick, it smacks into my belly button as it springs free.
A slow smile brightens her face. “Well?” she says. “What are you waiting for?”
Hot tubs are relaxing, but they’re not great for this. I want to see her well. I want to take my time. I need my wits about me, and Willa’s naked body all over mine in a Jacuzzi spells disaster for that. Not to mention, hot tubs are also terribly unhygienic for anything sex-related, not that I’m telling Willa that. She’ll give me shit for my neurotic cleanliness.
My hands slide down her shoulders to her waist, as I hold her gaze. She yelps as I haul her out of the water, wrap her around my torso and step back through the door.
Willa’s smile is infectious as she locks her arms around my neck and squeezes her thighs. I have to bite my cheek not to lose my senses because she’s centimeters from sliding along my cock. “Where are we going?” she whispers.
I shoulder open the door to the massive first-floor bathroom. A glass shower with a tiled bench and two waterfall spouts winks from the far end of the room.
Willa’s eyes follow mine. “Wow,” she says breathily.
I set her down and flip on the light switch. Turning on the water, I adjust it, then turn on the towel warmer. Willa shivers a little, and I drag her with me toward the echoing space.
She looks around, her hands running along my arms distractedly. “Why aren’t you coming in?” Her eyes follow my hands as they reach into my hair, near my ears. “They have to come off.”
I nod.
Willa hesitates, then steps closer, gripping my arm. “Do you want me to get out, so you don’t have to—”
“I’ll never be able to. They’ll fall off with…with that kind of movement.”
Willa blushes, but there’s a sadness in her eyes. “So you won’t hear—”
“I’ll hear you fine, Willa.” I kiss her wrist, never letting my eyes leave hers. “Always have.”
Carefully, I detach my auditory processors and transmitters, setting them on the counter. The world’s sounds telescope once again. Gone are those many ambient noises I’ve already begun to unconsciously take for granted. I’m left with the tug of my breath, the husky whisper of Willa’s. My heartbeat pounds in my ears.
“Come on, Willa.” Slowly I lead her into the shower, letting water tumble over us.
Her eyes snap up and hold mine. “You said it.”
I know what it means to her, to talk, to say her name when I have very little sense of how it sounds. Before the implants, I never did that, not once. I was too embarrassed, too insecure about having lost the sound of my voice. But I want Willa to know that fear and hesitation aren’t here between us anymore. I want to show her walls can come down, even after you’ve put time and energy into building them.
“Ryder.” I see my name on her lips more than I hear it. I feel its sound vibrate across my chest, and settle in my heart.