Not needing to be told twice, her fingers make quick work of the paper, ripping and shredding the masterpiece I spent nearly half an hour to create in less than ten seconds. When she opens the black box and peers inside, she sucks in a sharp breath at the sight of her Grams’ cigarette case completely restored.
“Crew,” she whispers, covering her heart with her free hand. “How did you do this?”
“Look inside.” I ignore her question, eager for her to get to the other part of the gift. The part that’s got my pulse jackhammering and my gut flipped inside out.
Gently popping the latch free, she carefully opens the top and sees the lone joint inside with the words ‘I love you’ written on it, completing the set of messages.
She’s crying again, and going off the bright smile plastered on her face, I’m assuming they’re happy tears. Bringing both of my hands up to her neck, I cradle her face in my palms and tell her what I’ve been dying to tell her for days.
“I know we’re young, and I know we’ve still got a lot to learn about ourselves, each other, and life in general, but I don’t want to do any of that without you by my side. I hate the circumstances that brought us together, and I hate even more that I tore us apart, but I love you, Hudson Shavell. Give me the chance to show you just how much, and I promise you won’t regret it.”
“Crew.” She sniffles, wiping away the dark streaks from her face. “I can’t—”
“Crew.” I hiccup through my muffled sob. “I can’t—”
His lips crash down onto mine and steal the rebuttal straight out of my mouth...along with every other sensible thought I have. The strong fingers cupping my face slip to the back of my neck, anchoring my head as they tangle in the loose tendrils at my nape, and he kisses me harder. Determined to plead his case.
Gently coaxing my lips open with his tongue, he invades my mouth with effortless strokes, silently reminding me of the taste—his taste—I constantly crave, even when I’m infuriated with him.
He draws my bottom lip in between his and sucks hard while his teeth nip at the swollen flesh, eliciting a soft whimper from me. Then, tenderly brushing his tongue over the sting, the pain melts away, taking my reservations with it.
"Hudson," he breathes as our mouths slowly break apart. "Please don't say you can't. I know I've got a lot of shit to make up for, and I will. Not only tonight. Not only this weekend. But from this point forward."
Leaning down, he rests his forehead on mine, his bright green eyes feverish. "I know you can't just suddenly forget what I did, how horrible I've acted, but I'm asking you to forgive me and let me make it up to you. Please give me—give us—another chance."
"I-I'm scared, Crew," I confess, my voice raspy as I step back, putting a little distance between us. "You broke me! I waited for you, and you didn’t come. I cried for you, and you weren’t there. I looked for you, and you were with her! It was one thing to push me away, but to toss me aside for her of all people? There’s a difference between needing space and using me as your punching bag."
I stop momentarily and take a deep breath, forcing back the emotions threatening to bubble over. "But when I saw you with her—knowing that you'd left my bed and gone straight to hers—you broke me. My heart shattered into a thousand pieces when you made me feel like I meant absolutely nothing to you. And although all of this," I wave my arms around the romantic, picturesque setting and then look down at the good-as-new cigarette case in my palm, "all of this shows me that you're remorseful and want to try again, how can I be sure you'll never make me feel like that again? I'm scared to hand you my heart, now that I know the power you have over it."
"You have no idea how badly I wish I could undo what I did, but I can't, and I'm so fucking sorry for that." He pulls me up against him again, and I don't resist as he locks his fingers together behind my waist. "You mean everything to me, and I promise you I'll never be reckless with you again. I'm so far from fucking perfect, and I'm sure I’ll do something stupid in the future, but I won't purposely hurt you. Not ever again. I swear to you, Hudson, on Caleb’s memory. I. Love. You."
And with that, I give into the inevitable.
I’d wanted to forgive him long before I ever walked inside the cabin. I’ve missed him. Been miserable without him. And him being here with a genuine heartfelt apology, wanting to reclaim my heart, gives me hope for us.
“Okay.” I nod, peering up at him through my spiky, wet eyelashes.
“Okay?” he repeats the word, tilting his chin to the side, unsure of what I’m agreeing to. “Okay to me loving you? ‘Cause that’s gonna happen whether you say ‘okay’ or not, snow angel.”
The hint of a smirk that plays at the edge of his mouth when he calls me by the nickname he appointed wreaks havoc on my insides. My hands tremble. My heart threatens to explode. My body tingles from head to toe.
“Okay, I accept your apology, and I believe that you won’t intentionally hurt me again,” I clarify, flattening my palms against his chest.
His pupils dilate as I lift up on my tiptoes and bring my mouth a hairbreadth away from his. “And I love you too,” I whisper against his lips just before covering them with my own.
No surface inside the cabin is safe from us. Once we rip each other’s clothes off, our skin melds together in the most intimate of ways as we make up for lost time apart. His breaths become mine. Our racing hearts beat in tandem. It’s as if we can’t get close enough to each other, desperately clinging to each other as he works his cock inside of me over and over again.
We stop long enough to watch the magnificent New Year’s Eve firework show from the bubbling hot tub, with the snow-covered Rocky Mountains completing the most perfect moment in time—a moment I’ll never forget. Before the performance ends, Crew lifts me out of the water and perches my ass on the ledge with his head buried between my legs. I forget all about the fireworks overhead as the colorful explosions of ecstasy going off behind my closed eyelids are nearly too much for me to handle.
For the rest of the weekend, he rocks my world. On the plush king-sized bed. In the hot tub again. On the brown leather couch. Bent over the breakfast table. Hell, even on the bearskin rug in front of the fireplace. There’s an excellent chance I won’t able to walk when we leave.
When we’re not attacking each other like wild animals, we talk. About anything and everything. Retelling stories from our childhood, dreaming aloud about the future. Sometimes, we end up in a heap of laughter on the floor, and others, we need a tissue to dry our tears. It’s fun and it’s meaningful and it’s easy. It’s pure love, and I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.
The last night of our stay, we’re lounging in bed after a slow, sensual session of making love, smoking our last joint: the ‘I love you’ joint he gave me when I got here. He’s sitting up, using the pillows against the headboard for support as I lie on my side with my head in his lap, gazing up at him while I trace random patterns on his toned abs with my finger.
While he gently works his fingers through my tangled locks, he peers down at me and says, “I’ve got to help Mom clean out our old apartment tomorrow afternoon. The manager was nice enough to let us out of our lease, but we’ve got to get most of the stuff into storage for now. I was hoping you’d come with me. It’s gonna be hard going through all of his stuff.”
“Of course I will. Whatever you need.”