The water is everywhere, pushing, pulling, biting.
But I fight to the surface, lungs burning, heart ready to explode.
I break through, gulp air, and see Hunter on the dock, pale and wild-eyed.
He’s yelling my name.
Not Daisy. Not “sweetheart.” My real name.
“Tara Monroe!”
I laugh, spit lake water, and swim to the ladder. My hands are numb, but I haul myself out. I stand on the dock, naked, shivering, but I’ve never felt stronger.
Hunter rushes to wrap me in his arms, his coat, whatever he can find. He’s shaking, too, but not from cold.
He kisses my forehead, my cheeks, the tip of my nose. “Jesus, Tara. You scared the hell out of me.”
I laugh, snot running down my face. “Good. You deserve it.”
He looks at me like I’m the only person in the world.
“I remember,” I say in a grim voice. “All of it.”
His eyes go soft. “Does it hurt?”
I shake my head. “It’s perfect.”
We sit on the dock, wrapped in his coat, me on his lap, skin pressed to skin. The world is bright and sharp and so, so alive.
I turn, straddle him, and kiss him again. This time, it’s slow. He holds my hips, thumbs digging in just enough to sting. I slide my arms around his neck, tug his hair, grind against him. His cock is hard, hot even through the wet fabric.
“Are you sure?” he asks, voice raw. “It’s very cold, and you’re wet.”
I nod, and push him onto his back. “No, I’m hot, Hunter. Hot for you.”
I line him up, still slick from the lake, and take him inside me, inch by inch. The stretch is perfect, a sweet ache that fills everypart of me. I ride him slow, watching his face contort, his hands roaming over my back, my ass, my thighs.
The dock creaks under us, and the mist swirls around, hiding us from the world.
He thrusts up into me, desperate, but I hold him down. “Not yet,” I whisper. “I want to remember this forever.”
He groans, hands fisting in my hair. “You’re killing me.”
I smile, lean down, and bite his lip.
“I know.”
I fuck him hard, grinding until the pressure builds and breaks. When I come, it’s like the whole lake shudders. Hunter follows, gasping my name, filling me with his heat.
We collapse together, tangled and breathless, the water lapping at the boards.
After, we lie side by side, watching the sun burn through the mist.
“You okay?” he asks, stroking my arm.
“I’m more than okay,” I say. “I’m finally home.”
He smiles, and this time it sticks.