Bayou

Chapter 27 ~ Disappearances

Chapter 27

The storm I'd watched cloud his aura darkened and morphed into a winding twister. He sucked me in and spun my thoughts until the only direction I could decipher was toward him. It was different. It was incomparable.

He touched me here, kissed me there, tangled my limbs around him tighter, and drove into me so completely, I didn't know where he ended and I began. All I could do was drift, be tossed and rocked in the waves his chaos created.

He was everything. He was rough but not careless. Demanding yet tender. He took until I cried out, then gave it all back with an intensity that made my legs tremble around him. Croc kept my face above the surface and breathed new life into my lungs.

And when the waves began to crash, my body convulsed and lungs expanded. His name erupted from my lips like the final crack of thunder before the world settled.

He kissed me more gently, caressed me softer, then gathered me into him and carried us both through the trees and into the water.

He waded into the canal, then stopped and held me with one arm, alternating back and forth as his hands cupped the water and drizzled it over my shoulders, my neck, my chest.

I gazed up at his face, absorbing the tenderness of his touch, and my throat clogged. My eyes burned.

When his eyes met mine, his lips pursed. He cupped the water again and lifted his hand to let it gently drip over my forehead, then he took his thumb and wiped my temple, my cheek. "Did I hurt you, Willow?" he asked, words rough.

I placed my hand over his and held it there. "No." I turned my face, kissed his palm. "You didn't."

"You're crying."

I lifted my other hand and felt the moisture on my cheeks, but I couldn't be sure if it was from me or the canal. "I'm not."

"You are," he bent forward and hoisted me up, pressing our foreheads together, "I'm sorry. I should have made you go."

"You tried to make me go. I didn't want to. I still don't." I bent forward and kissed his lips. "If I'm crying, it's because I've never been as happy as I am right now."

He drew a breath that shuddered in his chest, then pulled me into a crushing embrace.

I let him hold me and used my hands to cup the water up and over his back, his shoulders, his arms, washing away the dirt, sweat, and blood that coated his skin. My chest ached more with each new cut I uncovered. He'd done that. He'd bound himself and suffered, all to protect me.

He was right. He wasn't a man. I'd dealt with men. I'd lived in a world full of them, and apart from Merle, not one had ever caused me anything but grief. Croc was godly. He was perfect, inside and out, and he cherished me. For the first time in my life, I felt lucky. I felt blessed, and those were things that didn't exist in the current world unless you were born with them.

"You're a gift," I whispered, both to myself and him.

He loosened his arms, allowing me access to cup the water over his chest, his stomach.

I focused on my work, but I felt his eyes on me, watching, intent. "I'm not used to having someone take care of me." I flattened my palm over his chest, running it down to the V of his stomach. His muscles shook under my touch. "I guess I got overwhelmed." I glanced up at him. "It was beautiful, Croc."

He nodded, acknowledging my words, but he didn't speak. His face was shuttered, his eyes fire, and the bone in his jaw jumped in time with the knot in his throat.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

He grunted, and his lip twitched at one side. "You're asking if I'm okay?"

"You look tense." My lips curved. He had no idea. He was God's gift to women, designed specifically for me, and he was worried that I'd have some complaint. It was absurd. It would be like winning the lottery and complaining about how to spend it. What would he do if he knew how perfect he was? Would it change him? I didn't think it would.