Sawyer: The Stewarts of Skagway #4 by KATY REGNERY

Author:KATY REGNERY [REGNERY, KATY]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Katharine Gilliam Regnery
Published: 2024-08-15T00:00:00+00:00

Flashback 3

Ivy

Fourteen Months Ago

I lie half across his body, resting my ear on his chest, right over his heart.

Over the last few seconds its race has slowed.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

Gently, lazily, he pulls his fingers through my hair, crown to tip, crown to tip. It’s comforting. It’s hypnotic.

My eyes flutter closed, concentrating on his heartbeat. It’s steadier and steadier now. Strong and certain. Like him. Like the way he looks at me when he slides inside of my body.

His other hand, palm down and still, rests on my lower back.

We are tangled and naked, sweaty limbs and the sweet smell of sex.

An oscillating fan on my bureau dusts our skin every few seconds, making goose bumps rise on my backside.

I press my lips to his warm skin and open my eyes again.

The early-evening sun, still high and bright in the sky, slants into my bedroom, and the white lace curtains flutter with a breeze from the harbor.

The first of three ship horns booms through the town.

Back to your ship, tourists. Time to go.

In four days, it’ll be time for me to go, too.

My heart stammers, and I force the thought from my mind.

Stop it. Don’t think about it.

I’m getting good at that. I’ve been doing it for weeks.

Over the ripple of his pectoral muscle, I spy my phone on the bedside table. I put it on Do Not Disturb when Sawyer knocked on my door. Clark’s been texting and calling more often lately, and with added pressure from my father, I feel myself growing weak. If Clark keeps calling, and my father keeps insisting that I give him another chance, I feel like I might give in.

Stop it. Don’t think about Clark. Not right now.

Especially when nothing has ever felt more right—not in my entire life—than this summer spent in Sawyer’s arms.

I close my eyes again, concentrating on Sawyer’s heart.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

Live in the moment, Ivy. Live in the moment.

It’s good advice. When I don’t take it—when I think about leaving him—it feels like someone’s reaching into my chest, putting their fingers around my heart like a cage, and trying to rip it from my body. It comes as close as I’ve ever imagined it would feel to die a painful death.

“You okay?” he asks me, the rumble of his deep voice making my eyes open.

“Mm-hm.”

“You’re quiet, princess.”

I lean up on his chest and tell myself to smile. And despite the chaos in my mind, it comes easily. It’s so easy to love him.

Stop it. You don’t love him. That’s not allowed.

“It’s intense sometimes,” I say, pressing my lips to his skin and lingering there.

“Always,” he corrects me. “It’s always intense. Since the first time.”

He’s right. It is.

The first time I had sex with Sawyer, I didn’t know it could be like that. I didn’t know it could feel like that. Those first few weeks, we were like an addiction to each other. We couldn’t get enough of touching each other, making love to each other, bathing together, just being together. Being apart was agony, even if our separation could be counted in minutes.

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