Page 38 of Chasing Eternity
“Tasha…” His voice is barely a whisper as his gaze rests on mine. “It was awful watching you go. And yes, I was hurt that you didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth. But mostly, I’m just so glad you’re back and that you’re okay.” His words vibrate with relief and a deep-seated yearning. “Did you get what you needed?” he asks.
Instead of answering, I pull away and lift my arm, revealing the luminous gold circle now marking my flesh.
He inhales sharply, his eyes widening as he traces the curving line with a gentle finger. But there’s a flicker of unease in his gaze, like a storm cloud passing over the sun.
“It should’ve been me,” he says, his voice loaded with regret. “I should’ve gone back, found my dad, completed my training, and come up with a plan. Instead, I let myself get seduced by this place, by the ease and comfort we have here. I feel like I should be apologizing to you.”
“But you did seek help, didn’t you?” I say, then tell him about the vision I saw of him holding the pocket watch.
At first, I worry he’ll find it intrusive. I mean, I’m basically admitting to spying on him. But his expression softens, and he says, “I spoke with my grandfather. Unfortunately, we didn’t get very far before Arthur showed up. Do you think Elodie knew and tricked us into thinking he’d be away longer?”
I shake my head. “She seemed genuinely surprised when I told her.”
Our eyes meet again, and though there’s still so much more to say, more to share, the need to remain close, to preserve this intimate connection, overpowers everything.
As though reading my mind, he pulls me to him and presses a soft kiss to my forehead, my eyelids, and finally the tip of my nose—the gestures both tender and fierce.
I melt against his chest, feeling his embrace tighten, enveloping me in a cocoon of protection and reassurance. In this moment of stillness, we stand locked in each other’s arms, the chaos and uncertainty of the world beyond these walls fading away, leaving me cloaked in a sense of peace so profound, I vow to reclaim every moment we’ve lost, starting now.
“Braxton,” I say, just as he whispers my name. “You first,” I laugh softly, my gaze searching the depths of his.
“I read your note.” His eyes hold mine, those deep ocean depths revealing a world of emotions.
A warm blush creeps up my cheeks, recalling the raw honesty of the words I wrote.
“And I love you, too,” he confesses, his voice steady, resonant. “I always have and suspect I always will.”
His words instantly dissolve as he captures my lips in a kiss so fervent and deep, it resonates through every fiber of my being. Our tongues swirl, our bodies press and meld; the promise of a perfect fit is so tantalizingly close, yet still thwarted by too many stubborn layers between us.
“I don’t want to wait any longer,” I whisper feverishly against his lips. “I don’t want to wait for someplace more special. This moment is all we truly have, and it’s more than enough.”
Braxton pulls back slightly, his dark blue gaze searching mine. “Are you sure?” he asks, the tenderness in his voice contrasting with the heated need smoldering in his eyes.
I trace a finger lightly along the slight bend of his nose, a charming imperfection in a face so flawless it looks as though it were sketched by Leonardo da Vinci himself.
“I’ve never been more certain of anything,” I say, my voice thick with emotion and an unquenched desire to finally be with him, to truly know him in the way that I’ve dreamed of.
In an instant, my wind-and-rain-soaked jacket falls to my feet. My borrowed T-shirt is next, swiftly followed by the whispering slide of my jeans. The room crackles with an electric charge, as Braxton’s gaze roams the length of me, awe and desire intermingling in his eyes.
“My God,” he says, his voice thick with wonder. “How did I ever get so lucky?”
Gently lifting his T-shirt over his head, I silence his words. When his jeans join mine on the floor, I reach out to him, pulling him so close, a shared shiver runs through us.
“Tasha,” he exhales, his voice threaded with longing and a tinge of disbelief. Finally, we find ourselves here, in a moment that feels like we’ve waited several lifetimes for.
Together, we move toward the bed where he gently lays me onto the sheets and settles his body over mine. Our kisses deepen, growing more fervent—a dance of longing and need, of dreams deferred but never forgotten.
He unhooks my bra and flings it to the floor. Then lowering his head, he draws me into his mouth, eliciting a feeling so sweet, so intense, I’m sure I’m about to rocket right off the bed.
I reach down to find him, confirming he’s more than ready for this. “There’s a condom in the drawer,” I say, watching as he retrieves it, rips into the package, and fits it onto himself.
“Tasha,” he groans, his fingers curling around the lace band of my underwear. “You have no idea how much I want this—how much I want you.”
I respond with an arch of my back, a roll of my hips, and a kiss so deep it leaves no doubt that we’re finally about to cross this invisible threshold into a new realm of intimacy.
With my underwear discarded, Braxton centers his hips over mine. I draw a sharp, anticipatory breath, bracing for this long-awaited moment of connection, when a sudden series of loud, insistent dings shatters the silence.
Braxton freezes, his glazed eyes meeting mine in a shared moment of confusion. The spell that bound us just a moment before is now broken by the all-too-familiar intrusion of the reality of living at Gray Wolf—a harsh reminder that even here, in our most private moments, we are never truly alone.