Last time we made love, and this time he fucks me, fucks me hard as if he knows just what I need. I need to be taken to the edge of oblivion, past doubts, past insecurities. Will a man like him really want a life with me? I'm no Bellamy. I'm no Jemma. I'm a girl who hasn't seen much, and he's a man who's seen more than his share, and maybe that's why we could work. He's been to the edge and back. But me? I've been walking in sunshine all my life.
We finish together, gasping, hearts pounding hard, and he pulls himself from me. I roll on my back, looking up at him. My whole body is shaking from the pleasure, from the idea of what could be.
He leans over me, pinning me to the bed, brushing his thumb over my cheek. "Why are you crying?" he asks.
I shake my head, squeezing my eyes tight. "It's nothing," I say.
"That's not true, Marley," he says. "It's everything. Tell me."
"I want us to work. I want us to fit together."
He smiles. "We fit together pretty good right then, didn't we?"
I laugh despite myself. "That's true," I say, licking my swollen lips. "I'm still so mad that you didn't come back for me."
"I'm glad you didn't come for me," he says.
"Why?" I ask.
He rolls me into his arms, cradling me, kissing me, my cheeks, my mouth, my nose. "Because had you come to my property in the Whiskey Mountains, I don't think you would've liked what you saw."
"What do you mean?"
"You deserve a guy who can give you the damn world. Few months ago, if you would've come to my place out on Whiskey Mountain, you would have seen a shitty little cabin falling apart. Nothing else."
"I don't need anything fancy," I say. "You saw the house I grew up in. It's modest. I'm not looking for…"
He shushes me. "Hey. I've been working on my house," he tells me. "All these months, that's what I've been doing."
"Really?" I ask. "And what is it you do? I mean, besides working on your house?"
"You asking if I have a job?"
I bite my bottom lip. "I don't want to be that kind of girl," I say, "pressing a guy, pushing him into a corner."
"Why not?" he asks. "Why not be that girl? Why not tell the man you like, hell, the man you could love, what you deserve, what you demand?"
"I don't know. Most of my life I've been taught to be quiet, to just do what I'm told, to play the part. Be a good daughter or be a good sister."
He shakes his head. "I don't want that. I don't want a woman like that."
"What are you saying? You don't want a woman like me?"
"No," he says, pushing back on my words. "That's not what I'm saying. I want the real you, the real Marley. The Marley who has opinions. The Marley who has desires. The Marley who closes her eyes and pictures a life, and I want to know what that life is. Because fuck, baby, if I have any chance of giving it to you, I will. But I need to know what I'm working towards before I can start."
"You're asking me what I want with my life? Complete honesty?"
"Yeah," Maker says. "Complete honesty."
"Sitting at the fire tonight," I tell him, "I was hearing these stories about these fancy parties and the extravagant lifestyle that you used to lead, and it made me wonder if a life with me would be big enough for you."
"Fuck. What is that supposed to mean? Because you know all that shit I did before, it didn't get me anywhere good. I'm here, alive, by the skin of my teeth. And it's more than I deserve. But being here, in the woods, I’m finally miles away from that shit that pulled me under for so long.”
“But there's some shady stuff in Alaska," I tell him. "I knew what Father John was doing. He's still out there, you know. He's still taking in women who are left and alone, bringing them to God knows where. Forcing them into servitude in whatever way that suits him. I hear about it. I live next door to the sheriff in Riverside." My cheeks turn pink. "Well, you met that sheriff, didn't you?"
Maker scoffs, "Yeah, I sure as hell did."
"Anyways, life in Alaska isn't all sunshine and daisies and waterfall hikes. It can be dangerous too. And not just the bears. There can be scary stuff that happens up here. Dangerous stuff. Heck, I heard Jameson used to do drug runs for the Mountain Militia. Did you know about that?"
Maker swallows hard. "Yeah. Yeah, baby. I did."
"See? You know all the shady stuff that's going on up here already. It makes me wonder…"
"What? You wondering if I'm going to be tempted to go to the dark side again?"
"Maybe," I say. "Look, I'm not saying you would want to do that. I'm just saying you might get bored. Just living up here, doing… what, exactly? I was listening to you guys talk. I know you’ve been a part of bigger things. You had a purpose back in California. So, look, I'm scared if I lay out what I want with my life, you're going to hear it, and you're going to run the other way."
"But what if I want something different?" Maker asks. "I built a fucking cabin. I'm trying to put down roots. I have plans to invest my money in the Whiskey Mountains. I want to make this place better. And I want to use my money to make that happen."
"Okay," I say. "I'll take you at your word, and I'll
