Follow the River (River of Rain, #1)

by C.E. Ricci

“I’d much rather bite. Lick. Suck and fuck. Leave marks on you that a kiss just doesn’t accomplish.” And then I drop my knees. Bringing down the only barrier of decency he had with me.

“Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall,” he murmurs, his hot breath whispering across my hip as he reads the Shakespeare quote, written in a gothic font.

“I love the way you fight me, baby. It makes the taste of your cum that much fucking sweeter.”

“I’m not the one submitting tonight,” he growls fiercely. “Riv—” I start, but my protest is cut short when he crashes his lips into mine.

“Accept this is who you are, so you can start to enjoy being stranded in a fucking cabin in the woods with me for another four weeks.”

“I couldn’t hate anyone more if I tried.” “Better be careful, Rain. Love and hate are two sides of the same coin. You’ll be falling in love with me before you know it.”

On his ribs, I see a quote in script. Into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul.

“And what I want? More than anything? Is to finally have something to hold onto to make it through the night.”

“I’ve found you and I’m here, and I promise I will always be your safe place for as long as you need one.”

A love like ours will never be perfect. Putting in the work won’t always be easy. Sometimes we won’t work quite right and others we will have to take a step back and try to see what the other sees. And there will be times when people think it’s wrong. But I have no doubt it will always be intense and passionate. A chaotic flurry of adoration and desire. Yet as messy as this love is, it will always be beautiful. Because it will always be ours.

Staring up at the night sky, it’s the best way to remember we are so much smaller than we make ourselves out to be.

“You have me. You will always have me. Until every star in the night sky burns out. And maybe even then.”

“Tá mé i ngrá leat, Abhainn,” I murmur into his ear before gently kissing his temple.

Even if he is awake, he won’t know what I’ve said. What I’ve just declared. But I do. I am. And I have no fucking clue what to do now that I’ve undoubtedly realized it. I’m in love with him.

Being in love is a daily battle, not only fighting for the other person, but for yourself. It’s finding the common ground, the parts of your souls that speak to each other, strengthening them in ways no one else’s ever could. It’s knowing your worth and not only telling the other person you won’t accept anything less than what you deserve, but trusting them to provide that for you. It’s giving the darkest parts of yourself to another human, saying this is who I am in all my fucked up glory, and not asking them to fix you, but to give you what you need to mend yourself.

“I didn’t want to fix you, only save you from your nightmares. Too bad I didn’t realize the real nightmare is you.”