When the Heart Falls(145)

Her giggle travels through the maze. "The part where you eat me?"

"Yep. And there's a part in there about bread." Another turn, another dead end.

"So?"

"Bread rhymes with head," Cade says.

"You're disgusting."

"And you love it." Two more turns, this path looking more promising.

"I'm just using you for your body."

"Not right now you aren’t." I’m closer to her voice. She must be around the corner. "I found—" I round the corner, and come to a halt.

She’s discovered one of the secret chambers within the maze and is sitting in the grass, turned away from me, blouse beside her.

Like a dryad from a story.

Her long black hair trails down her back. The curve of her creamy shoulders enticing.

The vision is so unexpected, so beautiful and erotic.

She turns her head to peer over her shoulder at me. “You were saying?”

I take a step closer. “I was saying something?”

Her eyes twinkle with mischief as she bites her lower lip. “I did promise a prize if you found me.”

I walk around her, admiring every angle. “You don’t know what you do to me, Winter.”

“I know what I want you to do to me.” She reaches her hand out, and I kneel in front of her as she rises to her knees.

We face each other, passion ablaze between us. “What do you want me to do to you?” I ask. I can think of so many things I’d like to do.

Her fingers grip my collar as she pulls me closer. “First, kiss me, cowboy.”

My lips hover a breath from hers. “As the lady wishes.” I’m gentle with her at first, my mouth landing on hers lightly, a whisper of a kiss as my knuckles graze her back and shoulders.

Her hands, now flat on my chest, push against me, nails digging into my skin as she deepens the kiss, her breathing coming faster.

My hand tangles in her hair, gripping the back of her head as my other hand strokes her back, moving under her bra strap. “Winter, you’re killing me here. I want you so bad.”

She lets go of me, reaches back and flicks off her bra as only a girl can do. Pulling away from me, she drops the white lace to the side and smiles. "Then take me."

It's too much temptation to resist, and so I explore her body as the sun beats down on us, warming us against the occasional cool breeze.

I take her to the edge of desire, pushing her over that edge into ecstasy, but our pleasure is cut short by the sound of others talking in the maze.

She groans. "I want you."

“I want you too, darling, but I hear other people coming.”

Blushing, she grabs her blouse and adjusts her skirt, giggling. “I can’t believe we just did that!”

I kiss her, lingering on her mouth. “And we'll do it again later.”





CADE SAVAGE





CHAPTER 23





WE SPEND CONSIDERABLE time driving east, then north, crossing through the French countryside and traveling through small villages. We take turns driving until we arrive at Honfleur.

Honfleur is another medieval port town known for attracting artists, writers and poets. Cobbled streets and ivy-covered buildings share space with more modern-looking apartment complexes. We don't have a lot of time, and there are a few other places we want to see before we head back to Mont Saint-Michel, but there's a museum I want to show Winter.

"This is the Eugène Boudin Museum," I tell her when we arrive. "Remember when we talked about art and you told me your favorite painting was by William Turner?"

She nods. "He makes nature into a being with real emotion. Oceans weep and mountains roar in anger. Skies shriek the fury of the gods, or shine peace on the earth."

"Well, they have a special exhibit here of his work, on loan from the Tate Gallery in London. He was one of the founders of this museum."

With a squeal, she throws her arms around my neck and kisses me deeply. "Thank you! This is the best surprise ever!"

We spend as much time as Winter wants examining the paintings, talking about landscape expressionism, and making out in corners.

"This one's my favorite." Winter stands before a painting of a deer in winter. "The first snow makes me think of beginnings, of how pure things can be. The sun reminds me that purity fades."

My jaw clenches. "It doesn't fade. It's ripped away.”

"I suppose that's true," Winter says. "One moment we're innocent, then we witness something, do something, and that innocence is lost."

"Even if it's by accident.”

Her shoulders fall forward a fraction. "Especially then."

I reach for her hand and squeeze it. "Do you think God punishes accidents?"

Winter tilts her head. "Depends on the accident."

"Murder.” The peace of the painting before me is at odds with my own emotions. “Or something worse."

"There's no accidental murder. That's manslaughter."

I shrug. "A technical term."

"What's worse?" Winter asks.

I struggle to find words. "Sometimes people get broken, and nothing can fix them. Sometimes death is better."