“The standing stone likes us,” he reminded her.
“Maybe it does,” she said. “I wish I was more like Cass and her sisters sometimes.”
“In what way?”
“More… I don’t know. Impulsive and in the moment rather than always choosing the practical path.”
“Cass is practical. Lena, too, don’t you think?”
“In one way. But in another they’re so…” She shrugged. “I don’t even know what to call it. When they’re mad, they get really mad. When they’re sad, they cry. They feel things.”
“We feel things. Don’t we?” He moved to stand closer to her and took her hand.
“The difference between us and them is that in a minute, we’ll go into the house, have a snack, clean up and go to bed at a decent hour so we can be rested and refreshed for work tomorrow. Cass and her sisters would… I don’t know… do something crazy under the moonlight.”
“I can be up for crazy.” He tugged at her hand. “Let’s see what the stone is doing.”
“Now? It’s pretty dark in there.”
“It was dark last time, too. Come on.”
“It’s cold.”
“None of the Reeds would ever say it’s too cold to see the stone,” he teased her.
Still, Wyoming hesitated. “What if something crazy actually happens, though? Cass told me a strange story about being in the maze once—how it wouldn’t let her out.”
In the moonlight, Wyoming’s wild curls and pixie face gave her an otherworldly look, and Emerson was compelled to touch her. He lifted a hand to cup her chin. Smoothed her curls away from her face. “Then we’d just have to stay there. I bet we could figure out how to pass the time.”
Her eyes widened, and for a moment he thought she’d say she wanted to go inside. Wye chewed on her lip, sent another uncertain gaze toward the maze and said, “Okay, let’s see the stone.”
Emerson’s pulse thrummed as they made their way to the maze’s entrance, still holding hands. Was he fooling himself, or had she just given him permission to get a little closer?
They were silent as they traversed the pathways. He was far steadier on his feet than he’d been the first time Wye dragged him through here, but he still stepped carefully, knowing how much damage one wrong move could do to his ankle. When they reached the center, a shiver traced down his spine. The stone looked a little wild in the light of the moon.
“Should we ask it a question?” Wye asked quietly.
Emerson led her close to it. “Like what?”
She leaned against the stone, facing him. “You could ask if I’d let you kiss me.”
He probably should ask, Emerson thought, but he couldn’t wait for an answer. Instead he braced his hands against the stone to either side of her and lowered his mouth to hers.
His kiss was slow, probing, and her response was sweet enough to take his breath away. He framed her feet with his own, wrapped his arms around her and leaned in. When they finally came up for air, they were both breathing hard.
“What else should I ask the stone?”
An impish smile played with her lips. “If I’d let you undress me?”
“What happened to it being too cold?”
“Shut up.”
He chuckled and unbuttoned her coat slowly, pushed it back over her shoulders and helped her out of it.
“It is cold.”
“We’ll have to take care of that.”
He lifted her sweater over her shoulders next, and Wye shimmied out of it. She quickly unbuttoned her shirt and shrugged it off.
“You’d better warm me up,” she told him.
“Yes, ma’am.” Emerson undid the catch of her bra and tugged it off to bare her breasts. He longed to be naked himself.
Soon.
When he palmed her breasts, sucking in a breath at their delicious heaviness, Wyoming sighed and leaned into him. Emerson caught her mouth in a kiss and began to struggle out of his own clothes.
Wyoming helped him strip down, until he stood in jeans, boots and nothing else. He wrapped her in another embrace, trying to keep her warm with skin-to-skin contact.
“You feel good,” she groaned a moment later, “but I’m freezing.”
“Should we go inside?”
Wyoming hesitated, freezing in his arms. “If they can do it, we can, too.”
“Do what? Who?”
“You can’t tell anyone I told you this,” she whispered. “Cass would kill me—but they’ve all had sex out here in the maze. Every last one of them. Even when it was cold.”
“And if we’re going to live here…” He let the statement hang.
She shrugged. “It’s like… in the rule book. Don’t you think?”
Definitely. Emerson surveyed the situation, scooped his winter coat off the ground, hung it around her shoulders and backed her up against the stone again.
“What about you? Aren’t you cold?”
“Don’t worry about me.” He’d be warm in a matter of minutes. “Wye, are you sure?”
She nodded.
“I need to hear you say it.” He never wanted to do anything she didn’t want him to do.
“I’m sure,” she said. “Look, I’ve spent years holding men at arm’s length, not wanting to get involved. Not wanting to risk letting anyone treat me the way my father did. Then you came along. Emerson, no one… no one’s ever stood up for me the way you did tonight. It was… amazing.” She went up on tiptoe and kissed the underside of his chin. “So I’m sure—about this, anyway. I’m not making any promises about forever, though. Not yet. Maybe not ever. All I’m saying is I trust you. I know being with you will feel good. And I want…”
“You want to feel good?” he supplied.
“I want to get to know you better.”
Was she blushing? He wished he could tell, but the light was too dim. At least it illuminated her curves—and her wicked little smile. God, Wye was hot as hell.
And she wanted him—inside her. His whole body heated at the thought of it.
Emerson worked at the button of her jeans, unzipped them and tugged them down.
“It’ll be easier if they’re off.” Wyoming stepped out of one boot, then the other, balancing on top of Emerson’s feet so
