Dawn light crept through the big picture window at her back as she sat on the overstuffed settee in the parlor. The warmth of the sun did nothing to ease the cold ache that had settled in her bones in the last hour though. Her stocking-clad feet were planted on the wooden floor, back stiff from leaning forward against her cotton covered legs, the white chemise nightgown she wore slightly see-through from the moisture of her tears collecting against the fabric. Soft voices filtered through the open archway to the hall, the two pairs of eyes flitting over to her while the third's back faced her direction.

Her eyes stared without seeing at the far wall, a framed portrait of her parents staring back at her from the fuzzy black and white image. A tear slid down her frozen cheek, dripping soundlessly into her lap. Her gaze didn't falter.

Footsteps sounded near her, and she knew they were coming to talk to her. To ask. To learn what happened.

"I went to wake him up for our morning chores and he was cold as ice," she said numbly. Her shoulders shook with a shiver, and she wrapped her arms around herself, eyes still distantly focused.

"The doc seems to think he passed sometime in the early hours of this morning," the sheriff said gently, placing a hand on her knee. She had knelt down to speak with her.

Distantly, she appreciated the effort the sheriff had taken to soften the blow. She looked up into their faces. The deputy stood silently a few steps away, his arms crossed over his chest, a small frown on his lips. The dark haired doctor stood in the archway, thumbs hooked into the pockets of his pants, face blank, hazel eyes seeing far too much. The sheriff, her eyes filled with concern, crouched before her, a question in the set of her mouth that she chose to forego.

"What happens now?" She whispered. The air felt heavy. Piercing. Too empty without his presence.

"I'll take him to my," the doctor paused, "clinic. I can prepare him for burial there. You can come by in the next few days to make the arrangements for where you'd like him to be placed afterward."

She nodded blankly.

The sheriff squeezed her knee and stood. "We'll help him move your father's body. Take a couple of days to come to terms with all of this, get things in order here on the farm, and let myself or Deputy Xavier know if you have any concerns. You know where to find us, right?"

She nodded again.

After some shuffling, mumbling, and a final goodbye, the house settled into quiet again. Only in the silence of her now empty home did she allow herself to break down and cry.

------------------------------------

Two days passed.

She nibbled bread and drank warm milk.

She fed the animals and milked the cows.

She rode her horse through the plains at breakneck speeds her father would have chastised her heavily for.

She stood in the doorway of what had once been her parents' bedroom and stared at their belongings.

She cried herself to sleep.

With weary bones and dark purple circles under her eyes, she rode her favorite bay gelding, Astra, the half mile into town. Her black canvas pants were wrinkled and worn, one of her father's old button-up shirts half tucked into the waistline, a camisole noticeably absent were anyone to eye her too closely. She couldn't bring herself to care. She was alone in the world, camisole or not. She had no concerns about propriety or finding a husband. She had a farm to care for, animals to feed, land to tend. It had been her and her father since she was 8 years old and her mother had passed from consumption. This was what she knew, what she was good at.

She dismounted heavily in front of the doctor's building, tying Astra off to the hitching post where the doctor's snow-white mare, Jasmine, was currently secured. Jasmine and Astra whinnied to each other in hello as she climbed the few steps to the door. Without knocking, she pushed the door open, a loud creak echoing into the small waiting space.

"Ah, I was wondering when I would see you." His voice, followed by the rest of him, appeared from the hallway to the right of the small welcoming counter. "Come. Let's discuss arrangements in a more private space."

She nodded and followed him.

A small office was tucked into the back corner of the building, two wooden chairs set along the front of the desk, another tucked behind it. The room was bare aside from the furniture and a slew of papers spread across the desktop. 

The doctor moved to the chair behind the desk, pulling one of the ones in front of it out for her as he passed by. She nodded in appreciation before taking a seat. 

“What’s your name?” She blurted suddenly, watching as he lowered himself slowly to sit across from her. 

“My apologies. I forgot that I typically only spoke to and interacted with your father on previous visits to your property.” He pushed his wire-rimmed spectacles up his nose slightly. “I’m Zayne.” 

“Zayne,” she repeated quietly. A slight flush crept up his neck and across his nose. 

“Most people in town refer to me as ‘doc’ or ‘the doctor,’ so feel free to use either of those monikers if they suit better.” His eyes drifted down to the papers in front of him. “Now, to business…” 

For the next little while, he outlined the various coffins he offered, all the same shapes, but different types of local wood, and asked brief questions about where and when a burial ceremony would be held. 

“I just want him wrapped and brought back to the farm. He should be next to my ma. No onlookers, no well-wishers, just me, him, my ma, and the land, as it always has been.” 

Zayne looked at her closely, and once again, she had the distinct impression he saw far more than she wanted him to. Her brow furrowed and she dropped her gaze to the polished surface of the desk.

"Do you have a horse cart?"

She looked back up at him. His face was blank, free of any judgment or confusion, or emotion at all, now that she thought about it.

"I can transport him back to your land, if that is what you wish." He was still. So still.

"Okay."

He nodded. "I have a couple of farms to visit for general checks this afternoon, but I can bring him this evening if you'll be ready by then?"

"General checks?" The confused tone of her voice had his lip quirking in the tiniest smile.

"I am a horse doctor," he said. "I help tend to ailing animals in addition to my undertaker duties."

"A man of many hats," she murmured to herself. She stood and the chair screeched against the floor. "This evening works. Thank you."

With a gentlemanly nod of his head, he stood with her, following her out to the posts where their horses were still tied. Astra bobbed his head happily when he saw her, and Zayne patted Jasmine's flank as she untied Astra's lead rope. With a sudden huff and pinned ears, Astra lunged toward Zayne. She grabbed at his rope, pulling him back and scolding him.

"Astra! What has gotten into you?" She grabbed the leather straps connected to his bit and pulled him away from Zayne.

Zayne was busy calming Jasmine, who had startled at Astra's aggressive display and was prancing in place, trying to get some distance. "I remember your horse," he said, side-eyeing Astra as she scratched along his forelock and whispered gently to him. "He has never been a fan of me."

"Did you traumatize him as a colt or something?" She asked, feeling defensive. "Were you the one to geld him?"

"No. He simply doesn't like me."

"Well, he seems fine with everyone else. My pa never had any issues with him."

Zayne hummed thoughtfully before turning to go back inside.

Digging her boot into the stirrup and flinging her leg over Astra's back, she pulled his head around, pushing him into a canter, and took off for home.

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The grave took longer than she anticipated to dig. By the time the sun began to set, her hands were bloody, her body sore, and her mind blissfully blank with the monotony of manual labor. The wooden cross she had fashioned from old wood stuck haphazardly from the ground at the head of her hole, a direct counterpart to the worn cross a couple of feet to its right where her ma's body was laid to rest. She wiped the sweat dripping down her forehead away with a dirty sleeve and stared at her work.

The crunch of approaching footsteps was followed by a soft voice. "Are you ready?"

She hadn't even heard him approach. Hadn't heard the rumble of the cart over the densely packed dirt or the soft clod of Jasmine's hooves.

She nodded.

Following Zayne to the cart, she watched as he gently lifted her father's cloth-wrapped body and carried it to her designated resting place. The cloth smelled of alcohol and arsenic, and she wrinkled her nose at the potency that permeated the air as she followed behind Zayne. He carefully lowered to his knees and together, they lowered her pa's body.

Her chest felt heavy. A lead ball settled in her gut. Her vision blurred and she swiped at her eyes angrily. Standing to grab the shovel, Zayne reached over and pulled it gently from her hands.

"Allow me."

Words stuck in her throat, neck squeezing like a vice around her voice box, the emotions choking her so suddenly she couldn't respond.

He didn't say anything more. Just started moving dirt over her pa's body. She clenched and unclenched her hands at her sides, the new blisters cracking and oozing over her dirt-streaked palms. Her tears flowed through the dust on her cheeks, and her eyes burned with sweat and dirt and anger.

Why? Why did he have to go?

The sun's last rays began to darken as Zayne finished packing the fresh earth down on the grave.

"Your hands," he said, pointing to the small pools of blood in the dirt next to her boots.

"It's nothing," she whispered back.

"Come. They need to be cleaned and wrapped to prevent infection." He placed his hand on her back, right between her shoulder blades, steering her toward the house. She moved with him without struggle.

Something inside of her felt irrevocably broken. Shattered with that dawn light only two days ago. The ache in her was deeper than her muscles or marrow. It was in her mind, her heart, her very soul. Weariness weighed against her shoulders, and even with the care Zayne was giving her, she couldn't bring herself to thank him. He filled a bowl with water, dipping her hands in and letting them sit in the cool liquid for a moment. Her eyes were drawn to the swirls of debris and blood that began to slough away with the simple act. His own hands, scarred and strong, joined hers, a clean cloth brushing softly against the split skin. When they were cleaned to his standards, he took the cloth and set it against her forehead.

Her eyes, previously closed as he worked, opened and locked on his. He didn't say anything, didn't meet her gaze for longer than a moment, consumed with his task. He pushed stray hairs away with the cloth, wiping away the dirt, sweat, and tears from her face. The green in his hazel eyes reminded her of verdant pastures, the brown and gold throughout like streaks of dirt and flowers from a distant childhood she could vaguely remember. For the first time since her pa passed, she felt a small measure of relief. This stoic, quiet man was allowing her to take her time and her space. Gratitude swelled, and she could feel the prick of new tears behind her eyes.

He continued to work quietly. He finished wiping her face, then moved her hands from the bowl, setting it aside. Vaguely, she realized he must have stopped and gathered items from his saddle bag, as he had a small leather case next to his feet. He reached into it and pulled strips of clean cloth from within, drying and then wrapping her hands with care. He tucked the tail ends of the cloth in neatly against the wraps and stood gracefully, gathering his things before putting the bowl in the kitchen's wash basin.

He nodded to himself as he checked the room before addressing her again. "If you need any assistance with the animals, you know where to find me."

She looked up at him, hoping that the gratefulness she was feeling was shining in her eyes and nodded back. Her mouth felt dry, tongue heavy. He seemed to understand all the same. He tipped his dark stetson her way and she listened until the door closed and the cart's subtle creaking were no longer audible. Slipping her boots from her feet, she curled up on the parlor chair and promptly fell asleep.

------------------------------------

For several weeks, she learned how to be alone. She went into town once a week for supplies and to sell milk, but otherwise, she spent her time with the cows and horses, tending to their needs. Calving season was coming, so she busied herself with checking the heifers each day and cleaning out the birthing stalls for them, layering them with fresh straw and stocking them with water and hay. She had never gone through a birthing season on her own, and her nerves rose with each passing day as the pregnant cows showed closer and closer signs to calving.

Swallow your pride and ask him to come. She stared down the road to where Zayne's "clinic" sat. She had just packed her saddlebags with flour, sugar, carrots, apples, and some wrapped salted pork. Feeding Astra a carrot, she scratched over the white splotch above his nose and moved around him.

The worst thing he can say is no, she told herself as she walked toward his door. Jasmine wasn't hitched outside, but the door was unlocked, so she let herself in.

"Hello?" she called into the empty space. Silence.

Following her memory to his office, she peeked inside, seeing nothing. The room was almost exactly the same as when she had been in it before. She moved into the room and peered at the desktop. A pencil and blank sheets of paper were neatly set in one corner, and she grabbed a piece, scrawling a quick note for him to find whenever he returned:

"First calving season alone. Would appreciate a seasoned hand in case anything goes wrong. First cow is looking likely to drop her calf in two days." She wrote her name at the bottom and placed it on top of the papers in front of his seat.

She quickly made her way back out of the office and down the street to Astra, who was snorting impatiently against the post as he watched her approach.

After unpacking her goods at home and turning Astra out into the pasture to graze, she moved the four closest cows into birthing stalls, opting to eat with them as they settled in. Maisie, one of her most gentle cows, laid down in the center of the stall without a care in the world, chewing her cud contentedly. Once her small meal of bread and salted pork was finished, she moved behind Maisie's head, wire brush in hand, and pulled her head into her lap.

With a combination of brush and fingernails, she scratched Maisie behind the ears and under her chin, the cow leaning into her touch. The coarse hair tickled her bare forearms, shirt rolled up from eating, and she let out a relaxed sigh as she tended to the pregnant heifer's itchy skin. As she brushed and scratched, she hummed and planted little kisses along Maisie's head.

"Not much longer now, girl," she said, pulling Maisie's ear through her hand, the softer fur tickling against her palm.

"It's rather dangerous to let them lay on you like that, you know." Zayne's voice was just loud enough over the shuffling of animal hooves in the stalls to be heard.

She jumped and Maisie's head shot up, looking for danger. "Shh, shh, I'm sorry, darlin', he gave us both a fright," she said, glaring at Zayne as she pet Maisie comfortingly. She gently pushed Maisie's head away and stood up on prickling legs.

"My apologies. It wasn't my intention to frighten either of you."

"Then don't walk into someone's barn like a damned ghost!"

His voice tinged with amusement. "I'll be sure to stomp more heavily next time to alert you to my presence."

She crossed her arms and subtly shook her leg out, the pins and needles sensation growing stronger as her sleeping flesh regained sensation.

"What are you doing here?" She snapped.

"I received your note." Her face flamed.

"Right, my note." She waved him off. "I said two days, not immediately."

He moved into the stall and looked Maisie over. "Cows can be stubborn. They don't often adhere to dates we set for them." He looked up at her, a little twinkle in his eye. "I saw your note and decided I should come out and check them myself. Better safe than sorry."

She narrowed her eyes. "What? You don't trust my judgment? Don't think I know when a cow is going to calf?"

"I said no such thing," he replied, sliding his hand along Maisie's distended stomach, pressing in around her tailhead and testing the give. He continued his checks, squeezing Maisie's udder and squirting a small bit of milk into his palm. "Her milk is looking cloudy, and her udder is full and distended," he paused, running his hand over her spine and scratching her briefly. "But she doesn't show any other signs of being in an imminent birthing state. She's much too placid."

"She's been seeking out more alone time in the pasture, pushing away the other cows, and her tailhead and flank, as you probably just felt, is loose, which means she's getting close."

Zayne nodded thoughtfully. "We'll keep an eye on her."

He moved out of Maisie's stall and started to walk down the line of stalls. Huffing in annoyance, she followed him, securing the stall door before taking off after him to the next cow. Zayne visited each of the four cows she had brought into the barn, noting their signs, and giving his own opinion on when each of them would potentially give birth. To her satisfaction, his own estimates closely matched hers. Her smile grew wider with each cow he visited until she felt like her cheeks would crack with how wide her mouth was stretched.

"That's the first smile I've ever seen on you," Zayne observed, stepping away from the last cow in the barn.

Her smile faltered, then softened. "It's been a while since I remember smiling like that," she admitted, cheeks heating. She lifted her hands to massage her cheeks. "I guess I need to do it more often, because now my cheeks hurt."

"You should," Zayne said. Their eyes met and she looked away quickly, face burning brighter.

"Thank you."

He nodded at her, tilting his head down until his stetson blocked her view of his face.

"For everything. Not just this."

His boots shuffled slightly in the dirt before he looked back up at her. "It's my job."

"Oh, of course." Embarrassment joined the emotions rising in her throat.

And then he said, "and my pleasure." So faint it almost missed her ears, but a swell of happiness filled her nonetheless.

She smiled at him again, then suddenly realized how she must look. Days without a bath, hair tangled and wild, dirt under her fingernails and smeared across her skin, clothes rumpled and torn… smelling of sweat, manure, and hay. She took a small step away from him, not wanting him to look too closely or smell her too sharply. He noticed her distancing herself and his face went blank, any trace of amusement gone in an instant.

"I'll come back and check them again tomorrow," he said, straightening up and readjusting his hat. He tipped it forward with a mumbled, "Miss," and turned on his heel, his long legs eating up the ground as he hurried away from her.

Relief and confusion circled in her head as she grabbed the lantern from the hanging post and extinguished the others she had lit for her evening excursion.

"Good night, ladies," she called to the cows, closing the barn doors behind her and making her way back to the house.

Her thoughts beat at her as she walked. Why had Zayne left so quickly? Had he caught a whiff of her? Was that what had caused such a strong reaction? He had seemed so intent to leave all of a sudden… With an internal shake of her head, she vowed to bathe in the morning before he returned.

------------------------------------

The idea of a bath was still at the forefront of her mind as she kneaded flour, yeast, salt, and water into a dough. Baking for her horse doctor wasn't something she had intended to do, and yet the idea had possessed her in the early morning hours when she lay staring at the ceiling and wishing she could go back to sleep.

Happy with the texture, she placed the dough ball into her cast iron pot and slid it into the oven. With the light from her gas lamp casting her reflection in the dark window over her kitchen wash basin, she noted the streaks of flour on her cheeks and dotted on her nose.

With a small huff, she wiped at them and turned to grab her boiling pot from the floor next to the stove.

The water pump outside filled the pot quickly, and she grunted slightly as she hauled it back inside. For another 30 minutes, she hefted water in to boil on the stove, then poured it into the galvanized tin bathtub upstairs.

By the time she finished filling the tub, the smell of fresh bread was beginning to fill the first floor. She peeked into the oven and looked at the color of the crust. It was browning nicely.

She checked the bread a few more times over the next 15 minutes, pulling it from the oven with thick towels and placing it on the wooden counter top to cool.

No longer concerned about burning her gift loaf, she scurried up the stairs and pulled her clothes from her body, untwisting her hair from the loose bun she had secured it in for sleeping and stepping into the now perfectly warm water.

She scrubbed every nook and cranny, taking extra care to scrub her face and scalp and loosen and free all of the hay and dirt that had accumulated there over the past several days. The water began to change color as she scrubbed her skin until it was pink and raw.

As she dressed afterward and tossed the dirty water from the window, she took care to brush through her long hair and braid it delicately into a plait that she then pinned around her head in a coronet. Her fingers squeezed against her cheeks to bring color into them, and she spread some beeswax over her lips to make them look less cracked and dry.

She gave her reflection a smile and imagined what Zayne might think when he saw her looking fresh and clean. A true blush rose to her face as she envisioned his eyes widening slightly, those strong hands clenching at his sides as he fought the urge to embrace her.

He may be stoic, but he is still a man. Her mother's wink and laughter filled her mind as she recalled the way her pa always reached for her ma when he would come in from the fields in the evening, the house full of mouthwatering smells and warmth. Her heart ached briefly, her hand coming up to her chest to press against her skin.

The sun rose slowly over the mountains, the sky painted in pale pinks, oranges, and yellows. She put a kettle on and added some dried tea leaves and a dollop of honey to a cup before pouring the hot water over the top of it.

Anxiety clawed at her consciousness. She wrapped the fresh loaf of bread with a clean cloth and put a small jar of fresh butter and homemade jam into a basket, then scrubbed the counters and swept the floors.

Her ears strained for any sign or signal that Zayne was approaching, and by the time mid-day hit, the house was clean, she had scrubbed and hung her bed sheets to dry, checked the pregnant heifers, and let the other animals out to graze in their pastures.

She lunched on her front porch, eyes trained on the road to her house.

Zayne still didn't show.

She had all but resigned herself to his not coming when she finally saw Jasmine come into view in the late afternoon.

Standing and brushing her pants of dust, she touched her hair and used a spare cloth to dab at her face. Realizing she was acting far too eager, she sat back down and picked up the book she had been pretending to read for several hours, peeking over the top of it as he approached.

He stopped Jasmine at the small post along the front fence and hopped down from her back, holding his hand beneath her mouth to give her a treat of some kind.

He walked toward her slowly.

She lowered her book, feigning what she hoped was a look of surprise to see him and giving him a small smile.

"Doctor Zayne. I wasn't sure if I would see you today."

His eyes roamed over her, and she sat up a little straighter.

"Apologies. I was caught up with a couple of other farms and only just got away."

"No need to apologize." She felt heat rising to her cheeks as she rushed the words out. Eager to divert his continued scrutiny, she stood and put the book down on the chair, moving past him and down the stairs toward the barn without looking back. "Let's not keep you from your task. I'm sure you'd like to go home."

He didn't say anything. He followed slightly behind her.

She became distinctly aware of the sway of her hips. He must think you a floozy, dressing up for him and walking in such a way… Her head dropped and she watched the ground as she covered the last few feet to the barn, grateful the walk was over.

Lifting her hand, she gestured for Zayne to move past her and begin his checks, waiting outside of each stall while he quickly moved between them.

"Little to no change in most of them," he announced, still pressing against Maisie's flank. "But this one could calf any day."

She nodded and he scratched Maisie behind the ears.

Neither of them said anything. She shuffled from one foot to the other, waiting for him to speak or do something. The tension built inside of her until she couldn't help it any longer.

"I made you some bread," she blurted.

Zayne's head lifted and he met her eyes.

"It's up at the house."

He stepped away from Maisie and closed the stall behind him. "You didn't have to do that."

She shrugged. "I wanted to. As a thank you."

He studied her again.

She spun on her heel and started out of the barn. As she turned, she caught the smallest hint of amusement in his eyes.

Back in her house, she grabbed the basket and turned to hand it to him. He took it carefully, not even looking at its contents.

"I put some butter and jam in with it as well. In case you want something other than just plain bread."

"That's very thoughtful." His eyes flicked down and he lifted the jar of jam.

"It's huckleberry. From early last spring."

He made a noise of assent before placing it back into the basket.

"This is very kind, and unnecessary."

He doesn't like it. Her shoulders rounded protectively and she dropped her gaze.

"I really appreciate the thought that went into it though. I'm sure I will enjoy all of these things." His voice was soft, and she peeked up at him through her lashes. He offered her a quirk of his lips and she felt a little tingle along her spine.

For a moment, their eyes held. The ambient sounds of the countryside surrounded them, yet she could hear his breathing, so tuned into him that she noticed the slightest noises he made.

Her blush returned. "I hope you do."

It could have been the reds of the setting sun hitting him just right, but for a moment, she swore she saw the slightest tinge of pink along his face.

He tipped his hat and stepped back down the stairs.

She crossed her arms to hug herself as she watched him untie and mount Jasmine, her basket held in his lap. With a secret smile to herself, her lip trapped between her teeth, she felt a thrill at the idea of him taking and eating something she had made just for him.

Gradually, the dust settled from his ride away, and she turned to go back inside, a funny feeling she'd never had before taking root behind her ribs.

------------------------------------

Sometime in the early morning, a feeling of awareness shot through her body. She sat up in bed and looked around the room, groggy and confused. The tingle spread through her consciousness until she was shifting to put her feet on the floor. Wandering, half-asleep, to her window, she looked out toward the barn and saw a light flickering through the cracked open door.

Any remaining sleepiness left her body in a hurry and she rushed around her room, grabbing a coat and swiping her daddy's shotgun from the landing before running down the stairs in her bare feet and taking off across the field.

She approached and slowed, quieting her footsteps and raising the gun to her shoulder, taking shallow breaths as she peered through the small gap. She could hear a low voice and the rustling of hay. A familiar lowing joined the voice and she pushed the door open more, keeping the gun at her shoulder as she slipped through the gap.

"If you're here to steal my cows, you've got another thing comin'," she said, her voice shaking slightly as she moved toward the voice.

She stepped carefully toward the open stall on the left, eyes sweeping quickly to see if there were signs of any more than just the one thief. A head of dark hair came into view as the perpetrator stood, turning slightly toward her with his hands raised in supplication.

Her mouth dropped open. "Doctor Zayne?" She took in the long expanse of his arms, dampened with some kind of jelly and traces of blood. Her heart stuttered. The cow behind him lowed again.

His eyes flicked to the gun at her shoulder before moving back to hers. "Apologies. I didn't mean to frighten you. I had a sneaking suspicion I might need to come back out tonight, and it turns out, I was right."

The gun dropped to her side and she propped it up against the stall. "What do you mean?"

He turned back to his patient. She moved into the stall with him, looking down at the mess of pre-birth and the two small hooves protruding from Maisie's hind end.

"It seems we were right about her being ready to have her calf at a moment's notice," he murmured, dropping back to his knees.

Her feet carried her toward Maisie's head, and she pet her snout, whispering encouragement as her stomach heaved and contracted, the little hooves shifting in the straw.

"She's doing well so far, but I did have to turn the calf a bit initially, as it seemed to be upside down."

Head nodding, she bent and touched her head to Maisie's. "She's done this several times before, so she's a seasoned professional." She looked over at Zayne. "She's had fairly easy births in the past, so we can only hope this one goes the same way."

Zayne nodded. "We'll keep an eye on her and hope for the best."

Over the next hour, Maisie moved restlessly, rolling and pushing until the snout of her baby was visible, quickly followed by its shoulders, torso, and back hips and legs. Zayne sat back and watched as Maisie stood, wiping his hands on the cloth near him and beckoning her to join him as Maisie moved around to nudge her baby and lick it clean.

"A healthy baby girl," he said, his lips tilting up into the biggest smile she'd ever seen on him. She was mesmerized for a moment, watching him as he watched the new pair, until he shifted to look at her.

Her face flamed and she spun to look at Maisie and, "Mabel." She looked back at him and smiled. "I'm going to name her baby Mabel."

They watched together as Mabel fought to sit up, shaking and making small noises of discontent as Maisie continued to lick her tiny head, mooing gently between passes of her thick tongue.

Tears pricked her eyes as she watched them, the bond of mother and daughter already clearly strong. Zayne's hand twitched next to her as she looked down at the stall floor. She was grateful that the straw covered floor muted the sound of her tears hitting the ground.

Zayne cleared his throat gently before he tapped his boot with his hand. "Are you alright?"

She nodded and gave him a watery smile. Using the sleeves of her coat, she wiped the trails from her cheeks and gave a half-hearted chuckle. "Just having a moment of feminine weakness," she tried to joke.

His face was serious though, lips and eyes tilted and filled with concern. Instead of questioning her further though, he rocked slightly and tapped his shoulder into hers.

She let out a real laugh then, appreciating his attempt to cheer her.

After a few more minutes, he broke the silence again. "You can go back to bed if you'd like. I'll stay with them for another few hours to make sure she passes the placenta. You've had a long day and an even longer night. Sleep is important."

She scoffed and adjusted her feet, burying them in the straw to warm them a bit. He seemed to finally notice her lack of footwear and scowled at her bare toes.

"You'll catch cold if you stay out here much longer without coverings."

"Oh hush. You're not sleeping, so I'm not either," she scolded.

His mouth turned down in an unhappy frown before relaxing back into a neutral position. "I am working. Therefore, I don't have the ability to go to sleep at the moment."

"Hogwash."

His eyebrows popped up into his hair and she laughed.

"What? Not used to women talking back?"

He let out a low chuckle. "No, it's not that." His eyes warmed as they tracked over her face. His hand lifted before he seemed to remember himself and dropped it. "Not used to anyone calling my bluff."

She studied his face for a moment, noting the light shadows under his eyes and the stubble along his jaw. You don't sleep very often, do you, Doctor Zayne?

Her hand itched to reach out and smooth the hair back from his forehead, to trace the prickly line of his chin and push against the pillowy cushion of his lips. Her mouth popped open unconsciously and her breaths came out a little harder. His gaze shifted to her mouth and something heady and new rose between them.

Catching herself, she swung her head back around to Maisie and Mabel and felt her face heat again. Perpetual blush… she thought to herself. Don't even need to pinch my cheeks around him.

She felt his attention still focused on her and took a small breath of relief when it shifted back toward the cows.

For the next few hours, they talked off and on. To her horror and Zayne's amusement, she fell asleep a couple of times and he didn't wake her.

The sun crested the horizon a few hours later, and surprising her again, Zayne asked if he could go wash up in her house before coming back and pulling her bread, jam, and butter from his bag.

In the silence of the early morning, the birds still waking up and the animals dozing lightly around them, they shared a light breakfast. Contentment settled like a blanket over her shoulders, and once her belly was full, she dozed again, vaguely aware of Zayne pulling her gently toward him so her head could rest on his shoulder as she drifted off once more.

------------------------------------

The next several weeks followed a similar pattern. She would get a gut feeling at random hours of the day or night and head out to the barn, only to find Zayne already there. She would join him and assist in any way he needed, then marvel at the new little lives as they appeared with him by her side.

Once the heifers had all given birth and the calves were deemed hale and whole and healthy, he would come out two or three times a week, bringing honeycomb or cookies rolled in sugar that made her teeth hurt from their sweetness.

One day, he arrived and heard her cursing at a cabinet door that had come off of its hinge, and before she had time to notice his actions or protest, he was kneeling on the floor and hammering the hinge back into place with tools she recognized from her own barn.

After that incident, he always found some small project to busy himself with, and she would watch him raptly from whatever seat or doorway he was nearest, admiring the strong line of his shoulders and the way his jeans hugged his thighs and stretched over his backside. He pretended not to notice her attention, but caught her eye on more than one occasion, that little shift of his lips belying his amusement at catching her again.

With all of the time they spent uninterrupted together, she found herself opening up to him more. There were multiple occasions where she realized she had been talking for a long time without pause, flushing when she realized how her mouth had run away from her. He didn't seem to mind it though. In fact, he watched her with a small smile on his lips, his eyes bright and amused by her candor.

When he did speak, he shared his own life with her in small increments. She learned about his family, how he had learned everything he knew about being a doctor from his parents. His father had gone to school for it, and his mother had picked things up over years of assisting his father when he went on calls. He had one younger brother, who was decidedly less interested in medicine, and had become something of a world traveler.

He confided that he had a rather prodigious sweet tooth, and upon learning that information about him, she made it a point to bake sugar biscuits and fresh fruit crumbles and cobblers from her mama's old recipes when she knew he would be around. She loved to watch the way his eyes lit up when he would smell them cooling on the counter. She would playfully swat his hand every now and again when he would swipe one before it was properly cooled, much to his amusement. He still managed to eat them despite her objections.

Every day, she felt the impulse to touch him grow stronger. Zayne captivated her in ways she had never considered a woman could be captured. He was steady and kind and dependable, but still had sparks of mischief and sarcasm that she would pull from him from time to time. She wondered if he felt the same way, but was too afraid to ask.

When the sun went down and propriety dictated he leave, she savored the quiet moments they would share at her front door, both of them standing in silence, their eyes trailing over each other's faces. She longed to reach for him and feel the press of his lips against hers.

It was on one such night that the dam between them finally gave way.

Like the nights before, they stood in the front doorway. His gaze felt like a physical drag against her skin, and gooseflesh prickled up her spine as the now familiar tension settled between them.

She swayed toward him slightly, biting her lip and steeling her spine. Courage. Just a few seconds of courage. She stepped into him, pressing her chest to his and keeping her eyes on his. They widened briefly before a hand came to her waist, holding her lightly.

"Are you feeling well?" The words felt loud between them, and his voice softened as if he noticed it too. "Your cheeks are flushed." His other hand came up and he pressed the back of it to her forehead, checking for what she could only assume was a fever.

"I'm fine." She swayed further into him and slipped her arms around his back.

His eyebrow lifted. His hand slid from her forehead down to her cheek. "You feel warm," he murmured.

Her eyes fluttered at his low tone. "You make me warm…"

"Are you saying that I gave you a fever?"

"In a sense."

He watched her carefully, his hands still lightly touching her, despite her proximity and forward actions.

She nuzzled her face against his palm. Zayne's breath hitched.

"Doctor Zayne?"

She felt his chest rise in a long breath. "Yes?"

"Would you kiss me if I asked?"

He stiffened beneath her hands. She froze in response. Foolish, foolish girl… She pulled away from him, dropping her head quickly and stepping back.

Zayne's hand tightened on her side and he held her in place. Embarrassment colored her face now, and she felt the hot prick of shameful tears as she attempted to move away from him.

"I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have asked that. Forgive me."

Instead of releasing her though, he pulled her in and hugged her. "You didn't even give me a chance to respond." Tucking her firmly against him again, he held her with his arm barred across her back, using his free hand to lift her chin and tilt her head back up to him.

She refused to look at him. Her eyes were filling, and a tear slid from the corner of one as she tilted her head away from him.

"Why are you crying?"

For some reason, the question broke her. "Because I am embarrassed. You must think me vile and loose to ask such a question, but I thought you held some kind of affection for me. Clearly, I misread the situation, and acted like a floozy. And now you'll disappear into the night, never to return, and I'll be alone. Again." She lifted her head and looked up at him. Her voice broke. "I don't want to be alone again."

She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his collarbone.

"I don't want to be alone again either." His voice was so soft she almost didn't catch it. "Do you truly believe that I come out here every day just to sit on your porch or check on your animals?"

She shrugged.

He let out a tired breath. "If my only intention was to help, I would do what needed doing, and I would leave. I would have no reason to stay and eat with you, or ply you with sweets from town whenever I came out. I wouldn't spend the entire evening dreading the moment the sun went down because I knew that meant I had to leave." He tilted her head back again to meet her gaze. "And I certainly wouldn't hope that there was a sign that you wanted me as much as I want you."

Her eyes were wide. Stunned. The last of the tears leaked down her face and dripped onto her shoulders.

"What are you saying?"

His eyes flicked down to her lips again before he leaned down to her, giving her time to move away or push him back. She did neither. Her wet lashes fluttered against her cheeks as his lips brushed hers. Her arms wrapped around him again and the pressure of his lips increased.

Her mind felt like it was floating away from her on the evening breeze. She was nothing but sensation and relief in his arms.

For long minutes, their lips broke apart before pressing together again. Over and over until her head felt lighter than air and her limbs were jelly.

Pulling away from her, he kissed her nose and just below her eyelids. "I should probably go," he whispered.

She shook her head, her eyes still closed as she basked in the feeling of him. "Stay."

It was his turn to shake his head. "I fear I may not be able to control myself if I do."

Her eyes popped open at that and she noted the desire he was trying to mask in his own. "Then don't."

He closed his eyes and raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "You don't want to make this easy on me, do you?"

She let out a giggle before leaning up to kiss his cheek.

He dropped his hand and cupped her cheek. He placed one last, lingering kiss to her lips before rearranging his hands to hold her shoulders and gently pushing her backwards.

"No. I will do this the right way."

The whine that passed her lips should have mortified her, but she was too distracted to care.

His thumb dragged along her lower lip and he leaned forward to nuzzle his head into her neck before his breath brushed her ear. Another set of tingles worked up her spine.

"When I come back next, I will have a ring." His hands slid up and down her arms in slow passes that sent skitters all over her body. "And I will have a very important question to ask you." His lips touched her neck and she subconsciously tilted her head to give him more room. A low chuckle filled her ear. "Should you say yes, I'll give you everything you could ever want." His head pulled back and he looked down at her. "Nod if you understand."

Half-lidded eyes met his and she nodded, slack-jawed and full of butterflies.

He lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the back of it. "Until then, sweetheart."

Backing away from her, she watched him saddle and mount Jasmine, riding back toward town with a glance over his shoulder and the biggest smile she had ever seen on his face.

Her head finally caught up with everything, and she let out a loud whoop, jumping in the air before locking herself inside and running around the main floor of her house in boundless excitement.

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Several days passed before he returned. With each day without him, she found herself bereft of both sanity and sleep. She spent half of her time rushing around to complete her chores, and the other half sitting diligently on her porch, awaiting his return.

She cleaned compulsively, baked dazedly, and daydreamed endlessly.

The smallest sounds had her running for the windows, peering out to see if it was him. Most of the time, it was a tree branch against the fence line or a horse on a tear around the pasture.

She washed, organized, and reorganized her clothes. She took several baths, never feeling quite clean enough, despite having bathed only a day or two before. She hunted through her mama's old clothes stored away, pulling out anything that wasn't half-eaten by moths and washing it.

By the time Zayne reappeared, she was exhausted and overwhelmingly elated.

He rode up and dismounted quickly, his strides toward her purposeful. She ran down off of the porch to meet him, throwing her arms around him as soon as he was close enough.

His head found her shoulder and his arms wrapped around her.

Pulling back slightly, she kissed him quickly before smacking his shoulder with an open palm. "Where have you been? I've about gone stir crazy waiting for you to come back."

He chuckled and put a hand in his pocket. "I had to get something, and the trip to go pick it up was a couple of days ride each way."

She looked down to see a small golden ring in his palm. It caught a spare beam of sunlight and winked at her.

Her hands flew to her mouth and she looked up at him with awe. "For me?"

Zayne's lips quirked. "I wouldn't buy one for anyone else." He stepped back and dropped to a knee. "Do you remember me saying that when I came back, I would have a very important question to ask you?"

"Was that it?" She teased, bowing forward slightly to smile at face level.

He huffed a breath of air from between his teeth. "No." She giggled. "But this is." He took her left hand in his and kissed it, the barest brush of his lips. Her breath caught and the whole world went quiet. "Will you marry me?"

For a moment, she felt frozen in time. She took him in. His hair was tousled from the breeze. His clothes were slightly askew. His cheeks were pink from his ride. His eyes sparkled with mirth.

She would never forget this moment for as long as she lived.

"It would be my greatest honor," she replied.

He kissed her hand again and slid the ring onto her finger. It was a little bit loose, but it was hers, and she spun it around her finger before raising it into the light and letting it reflect the sun.

Zayne watched her, a soft smile crinkling his eyes as she spun and held the ring with her opposite hand. Seeming to remember him, she threw herself into his arms and he toppled backwards with her momentum.

They crashed to the ground and she realized she was laughing. And crying. Great, big, happy tears. He wiped at her cheeks with his thumbs as he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, her laughter bubbling up between them like soap in a bath before he pressed his forehead to hers.

"There's one last thing I need to add on to that question," he murmured, rubbing his nose against hers. "Will you marry me tomorrow? The preacher is in town, and we can go in and get married first thing in the morning before all of the hubbub starts."

She nodded emphatically. "I'd marry you right now if I could." He kissed her in response.

Eventually, they rose from their dusty spot and brushed each other and themselves off. She led him inside and pulled a jar of honeycomb from the cabinet.

Sitting across from each other at the table, they ate the sweets and spoke with small smiles and muted chuckles, both of them blissfully unaware of the world around them.

The next morning, after little sleep and a desperately cold and quick bath, she climbed up onto the cart and sat next to him. He wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and kissed her temple before clicking his tongue. She slid her arm through his closest arm and leaned her head on his shoulder as they went into town. The early morning air bit at her cheeks, but his body was warm and sturdy next to her, so she couldn't find it in herself to care too much.

The preacher was just walking down the steps when Zayne pulled up in front of the saloon. He tipped his hat at her and Zayne hopped down and held a hand out for her to take as she joined him on the ground.

The sheriff came out behind the preacher, a broad smile on her face, followed closely by Deputy Xavier. He nodded at the two of them and startled lightly when the sheriff clapped her hands.

"So, I hear you two crazy kids want to get married!" Zayne looked down at her at the same time she looked up at him, and they smiled at each other.

"That's correct."

The sheriff clapped again and dropped down the next few steps to stand next to the preacher.

The ceremony was quick. The sun was barely poking over the mountain peaks by the time they each said "I do," and that was that. Zayne pulled a larger gold ring from his pocket and gave it to her to place on his hand.

"Now we match," she whispered, pressing her left hand on top of his.

He kissed her hand and she felt contentment settle through her. Was this what it felt like to be truly content? The world in the palm of your hand and your whole future open out before you? The wonder of all of the possibilities her life held with him stretched before her in an endless, gleaming beam.

Previous daydreams filled her head. Nights by the fireplace, curled under a single blanket, reading beside each other. Him coming home from a long day of work to a fresh meal and her washing him as he relaxed in the bath. Zayne holding their baby, pressing a kiss to the soft flop of hair on their head. Their children following him around as they completed their chores. The two of them, gray-haired and milky-eyed sitting side by side on the porch, hands clasped together as the sun set along the horizon.

A hard ball of emotion lodged itself in her throat.

They climbed back into the cart to a series of loud whistles from the sheriff and claps from the deputy. The preacher waved and Zayne directed Jasmine back toward the house.

Walking up the stairs of her family home, she suddenly turned toward Zayne and placed a hand on his chest. He paused on the step below her, a befuddled look on his face.

"Are you alright?" His hand landed over hers and his thumb stroked the skin on the back of her hand twice.

"I just want to savor this moment. We're about to enter our home as a married couple for the first time." Tears pricked at her eyes as thoughts of her parents flooded her mind. They would have loved to see her this happy.

Zayne made a small sound of concern and pulled her close, wrapping her in his arms as she began to sob into his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she burbled, standing up and wiping the tears away with her arms. Zayne slid his hands down to rest on her elbows and looked at her questioningly.

"I was thinking about my parents. How they must have done this same thing the first time they came home as a married couple. How happy they would be to see us married and about to do the same thing. I miss them."

Zayne stepped up to stand beside her. "They are so proud of you, sweetheart. I know it." He kissed the top of her head. "We can stay out here for as long as you'd like."

He held her for a while until her breathing steadied and she was able to turn toward the door again. She slid her fingers between his and nodded silently that she was ready.

He reached out and pushed the door open before sweeping her up into his arms. A small squeak of surprise accompanied his light chuckle, and her hands wrapped around his neck to hold herself to him. He stepped over the threshold before gently setting her back down in the front entryway.

He pushed his boots from his feet before kneeling before her and unlacing hers, his hand lingering along her ankle and sliding down to cup her foot.

Tickling tingles licked up her calves and through her torso, making her shiver lightly as she watched him rise to his feet again and meet her eyes.

Without a word, she took his hand and led him up the stairs. He had never been to this part of the house before, so she showed him each room. She watched as those intelligent hazel eyes took in everything, including how pristine and clean her parents' former room was. She hadn't been able to bring herself to clean it and remove all of their memories just yet. There was a niggling sensation at the back of her mind that she would be ready with him by her side though.

Stepping into her room, she stood nervously in the doorway. He walked through the space, touching her blankets and looking over the small trinkets on her wash table.

Butterflies were starting to rise in her as she considered what usually happened after a wedding. The wedding night. Her pa had done his best to explain, but he was a farmer, and most of his analogies had been about cows or horses. Despite his confusing soliloquy on marital relations, she had managed to get the gist of his "lesson." She was curious, but the thought of being naked in front of someone else made her skin tingle with anticipation. Zayne seemed in no rush though, and when he sat down on the edge of her bed, he laid back and closed his eyes as if it was the most common thing in the world for him to do.

She crossed to the opposite side and sat down, laying back so their heads and shoulders were about even. He turned his head and looked at her. She smiled, wide and bright. He chuckled good-naturedly.

"I don't know about you, but I haven't been sleeping very well this past week," he said softly.

Her voice matched his in volume. "Neither have I."

"Would it be alright with you if we just laid down and rested for a little while?"

In the back of her mind, she wondered if he had sensed her nervousness and was offering her an alternative that still allowed them to be close, but with more clothing. A surge of gratitude swelled in her chest and she nodded.

She sat back up and pulled the stockings from her feet. He did the same on the other side of the bed. Without pulling the blankets back, they both laid on top of the coverings, facing each other with heads nestled against the pillows.

He reached for her and dragged a single finger down her cheek and to the corner of her lips. "Such a beautiful bride. Now, my beautiful wife."

Heat stained her face and she searched his eyes. Open honesty and, dare she say it, love, shone back at her.

"Sleep now, wife. I will be here when you wake." He craned his neck to kiss her forehead and laid back on the pillow, closing his eyes peacefully.

She stared at him, marveling at the fact that he was her husband. She reached out and her thumb slid, whisper-soft, along the dark circles beneath his eyes. How long has it been since you last had a full night's sleep? she wondered. Love and concern rose sharply. He would finally be able to rest. Have a home to come to where he could lay down his burdens or let her help him carry them. She felt the honor of being his wife in that instant; a safe place full of comfort, warm and welcoming and wholly his. No need to put on airs. He could be himself. His breaths deepened and evened out, and the gentle cadence of his exhales made the perfect white noise for her own sleep to take her.

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Waking was a chore. Her eyes felt like they had been rubbed with dirt and her mouth was dry. She was so warm that she could feel the moisture of her clothes sticking to her skin. She made a move to roll over and away from the sun she was clearly laying in when she felt the band of an arm heavy against her waist. Once she noticed that, she also noticed the leg that was tangled between her own, and the heavy puffs of air that blew small hairs free of her neck.

Zayne.

Trying not to wake him, she turned slowly in his arms and found that his entire body was plastered to her back. Their limbs formed a human knot.

Despite her best efforts, his eyes fluttered open and he took a moment, just staring at her, before she could see the sleepiness begin to recede.

He hummed and closed his eyes again, squeezing her closer with his arm and nuzzling into her neck. "Not a dream then," he mumbled.

She squirmed and pressed her hips back into him as she retorted, "No, but you're hotter than a blacksmith's hammer."

He chuckled and kissed her neck slowly, gently.

Her hips pressed into his again and met something hard. Unsure what it was, she rolled her hips back into it once more and Zayne groaned.

She blushed. Hard. "Oh! I'm so… I didn't mean to… I had no idea that was-"

He made a shushing sound and his arm moved down over her hips. He pulled her deliberately against the hardened appendage that she now recognized to be his manhood.

"This is normal," he murmured. "It often happens when I sleep, and takes just a few minutes to return to its previously pliant position once I wake."

It twitched against her buttocks. She shifted her hips in curiosity and felt it move again.

"Unless it is stimulated to stay this way," he added derisively.

Chastened, she stilled and tried not to let the heat in her face blister.

Shifting slowly, she turned to face him. His lips tipped into what she now knew to be his signature smile. Her hand lifted and she stroked along his jaw, the bite of his stubble against her callused fingers creating a tingly friction.

"What are you thinking about?"

She tucked a hand beneath her head. "I don't know if I can believe that this is real." A short, concerned laugh followed her statement.

His eyebrows furrowed slightly. "It is." He took one of her hands and placed it over his heart. "I promise."

His heart beat strongly against her palm. Her eyes drifted shut to savor it. When she opened them, he was watching her. She shifted forward and pressed her lips to his gently. Then again. And again.

Her hand wandered slowly over his shirt, following the line of his collarbone and then down over his chest and stomach. The muscles shifted beneath her hand as she moved across them.

Zayne's lips parted slightly and when she kissed him the next time, one of his hands came up and slotted between her head and her neck, holding her mouth to his.

His tongue touched her lip and she paused. He didn't press. Didn't try to coerce her. He waited. Patient.

She tentatively touched her tongue to his and his tapped hers in return. With that silent agreement, he opened his mouth wider, and she followed his lead. Their mouths slotted together, and his tongue slid along hers in a slow caress.

The movement was so erotic and new that she moaned as he did. As her tongue explored his, the sensations grew, and she felt a new sort of heat building beneath her skin and sinking into her lower stomach. She gripped his shirt with her hands and pulled herself closer, tongues and lips moving sinuously against one another.

His hands smoothed down her sides and wrapped around her waist once more, pulling her in close. His hips rocked subconsciously against her pelvis and she gasped into his mouth.

Her heart, which had been steadily increasing its tempo, felt like a new filly breaking free in the pasture for the first time. It bucked against her ribs in a wild beat. Where nerves had blossomed before, interest took its place. She wanted to feel every part of him.

He whispered her name against her lips and she met his eyes. "It may go without saying, considering that we're already married, but I love you."

"I love you too, Zayne. I want to hear you say that every day, at least."

He chucked and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "What do you want to do now? Are you hungry?"

She shook her head and pressed her lips to his gently. "I want to continue this…"

His eyes shuttered and a heavy breath pushed against her face. "Easy does it. We don't have to do anything you aren't ready for."

That earlier thrill of trying something new sparked and began to burn brighter in her belly. She rolled slightly to free both of her arms and reached out, running her hands down the buttons of his shirt until they caught on the lowest one.

She pushed the button through the hole and watched for his reaction. His eyebrows dropped slightly and he nodded for her to continue. She moved upward slowly, holding the placket with one hand as the other pushed each button through the material.

He watched her intently, his breathing picking up subtly as her pinky trailed against his stomach, the hair from his happy trail tickling against her hand. Each button brought more of his skin into view, and she drank in the sight of his light chest hair and toned torso. The shirt separated to the edges of his shoulders, and he rolled to his back to sit up and slide it off. Her eyes tracked the bunch of muscles in his back. She swallowed heavily.

Instead of maintaining her position laying down, she sat up and shifted forward onto her knees. Her fingers skated along his torso, tangling in the hair over his pectorals. She trailed them over his shoulders and down his arms, noting the scars along his forearms and tracing them slowly, looking up at him with a question in her eyes.

"Working with animals is not always a safe job," he murmured. "Something I learned quickly when I was fresh in the field."

She lifted the arm she was holding and kissed each scar, looking up at him through her eyelashes. He leaned his head back and looked down at her with a smile. Awareness crawled up her spine and left her with pleasurable shivers.

His arm pulled away from her and he leaned back on it, reaching across his body to cup her face and pull her in for a kiss. She leaned forward on her knees, her hands landing on his shoulders to stabilize herself.

Zayne shifted, moving backward toward the wall so he could regain the use of both hands. She crawled with him, not wanting to let their lips part for more than a moment.

Resituated, she climbed into his lap, straddling his legs and pulling her skirt up to bunch between them. The hard line of him met her apex, and she gasped into his mouth. Her thighs and inner bloomers were wet, from sweat and the pulsing sensation that enveloped her. She swore she could feel her heart beating between her legs.

His hands landed on her hips before wrapping around her back. In turn, her arms wrapped around his neck and she pressed herself as close as was possible, lifting and sitting back down heavily. He groaned and his arms flexed.

Enjoying the strained sound of pleasure it seemed to pull from him, she lifted and pressed down again, feeling that tell-tale bob of him against her darkest parts. She did it several more times before he pulled away and scolded her.

"Unless you want this to be over far too quickly, I suggest you stop doing that for a moment."

Feeling bold, she rubbed against him instead, but her body caught on the ridge of his crown and a pleasurable tingle made her legs clench. Zayne watched her with interest as she did it again.

"Does that feel good?" He loosened his grip and put his hands back on her hips, giving her space to move her chest back. He cast his gaze downward and watched her move against him before looking at her face for her reaction.

She nodded and they both looked down as she repeated the motion. "Like riding a horse," she whispered on an exhale.

A breathy sound, almost a chuckle, escaped his lips before dissolving into a groan. She continued to shift over him, his trousers getting more and more wet the longer she rubbed herself along his length. He was panting, his fingers gripping her more tightly, and she had a growing feeling of tension beginning to make her brain feel fuzzy and warm. The tension coiled like an rattlesnake prepared to strike. Her fingertips dug into his shoulders, indeterminate sounds leaked out, and then it broke.

The feeling was almost painful, white hot and stunning, and it only seemed to continue to build as she kept up the movement of her hips through the sensation. Zayne was murmuring something to her, but everything sounded muffled through the haze that surrounded her. When it suddenly felt too sharp to keep moving, she stopped, her head dropping to his shoulder. Little tremors rocked through her intermittently. Zayne's hands rubbed soothing circles against her back and hips. Her hearing slowly returned and she lifted her head to blink at him with blurred vision.

Red stained his face across his nose and cheeks, spreading into his hairline and to the tips of his ears. His chest rose and fell in rapid exhalations. His mouth was parted, eyes half-lidded and fogged with the same pleasurable expression she was sure she also wore.

"What was that?" Her voice sounded croaky to her own ears, and she cleared her throat carefully.

He gave her a long, blistering kiss in reply. His hands were searing brands as they pushed beneath her skirt, driving the fabric upward until they had to part for him to bring it over her head. He quickly divested her of her shift next, freeing her breasts to the sweltering air of the room.

Distracted, his hands cupped them, weighing them in his palms. As he leaned in to press kisses against her neck and collarbone, she explored the muscles of his shoulders and back, pressing firmly into the lines along his spine and the ridges of his trapezius.

His tongue found her nipple and she grabbed the back of his neck, cupping his head to her as she arched away from his body, an arm reasserting itself around her back to keep her close by. He suckled on each nipple in turn, his eyes closed in blissful oblivion as she writhed and mewled.

His free hand, left too long without employment, found its way between her legs, tentatively stroking against the soaked fabric above her clit. Fingertips stroked the bundle of nerves and she jerked involuntarily. He made a sound of assent, adjusting the pressure of his touch. The sound of his fingers, slick and slippery, added to the lewd soundtrack they were creating.

She didn't know what to do with her hands. She kneaded and pulled, pushed and dug in, but her mind was fracturing, torn between the wet heat of his mouth on her chest and the slow drags of his fingers against her cunt and circling her clit.

Moving on their own, her hips rode against his hand, that same tension building again. He dipped inside of her and she cried out at the new feeling. Her lips formed words before they crumbled away and his name was spilling from her over and over again. It left her a final time on a scream as she came again, panting heavily.

"I want to hear 'Zayne' leave your lips 1,000 times… 10,000 times even…" He raised his hand and inspected the translucent threads that strung between his two fingers.

Eyes locked on hers, he drew the fingers into his mouth and began to lick them clean. Her mouth dropped open in shock and curiosity, and in a move that surprised them both, she grabbed his hand and directed them into her own mouth.

Zayne's eyes hooded as her tongue slid along each digit, tasting herself.

His pupils were blown wide with unbridled desire.

Their lips met again in a messy rush. Despite the languid state of her body, she felt far from satisfied. Her hands were itching to touch more of him, and as they met and parted, she trailed her hand down his chest to meet the hardened length of him still contained by his tented trousers.

Her name was a strained whimper against his lips. She shifted backward off of his lap and pushed her bloomers off of her legs. He reached for her before realizing what she was doing and diverting his hands to his own pants. He pulled the buttons free and pushed them down his hips. Naked and eager, she helped pull them from his legs, then took her fill of his body fully exposed.

Toned stomach, tapered waist, thick thighs, and flushed cock all drew her gaze. A curious pool of pearlescent fluid sat below the tip of him, and with a glance up at his face, she reached forward to dip her fingers into it. It smeared lightly against his skin, similar in consistency to her memory of the fluid that had coated his fingers after he touched her. His breath hitched when she brought her fingers back and sucked them into her mouth.

He let out a small chuckle as her brow furrowed and she let the flavor spread over her tongue. "Salty…"

"You aren't the only one who has been enjoying yourself," he said, a little smirk pulling his lips up slightly to the right.

She smiled back at him and raised an eyebrow. "I take it you mean you found your own pleasure somehow?"

"Most definitely," he responded, holding his hands out for her to come back to him.

She crawled forward and over his legs.

They met in a slow kiss. He held the back of her head and murmured her name gently before squeezing her hip as she brought their bodies back together. They moaned in unison as the combination of their slick allowed for them to slide against each other in a luxurious glide.

He pulled back and touched their foreheads together. "Lift your hips." She obeyed him, eyes cast down to watch as his hand gripped his cock and shifted it to a vertical position. With his other hand, he guided her forward slightly until the crown nestled against her lower lips. "Lower yourself slowly. Very slowly." His voice was gentle, and she knew this was the pinnacle moment, the moment when two truly became one.

She slowly lowered herself over him as he held himself in place. The initial stretch was intense, and she closed her eyes to focus on breathing as she moved infinitesimally down his length, her body slowly opening to take him in.

Halfway down, she let out a whiny moan and their eyes met. "Just like that, sweetheart. You're doing so well," he praised, stroking the backs of his fingers against her cheek. "Slow and steady. Take breaks if you need them."

She shook her head stubbornly, pressing down until their hips met. Her heart roared like a freight train beneath her skin. Sweat beaded along her spine and hairline. Her lungs strained to take in air. She had never felt this full before.

Zayne rained kisses along her cheekbones, across her nose, and along her jaw, whispering to her all the while. She wrapped her arms around his neck and began to kiss him back.

With her lips planted against the pulsing vein in his neck, she lifted her hips slightly and pressed them back down. He froze beneath her. His hands flexed against her sides. He murmured her name.

She did it again.

That felt gooood.

With increasingly confident movements, she raised and lowered herself onto him, clenching over his length. His breaths were harsh in her ears, little moans and groans egging her on.

His hips rose to meet her. They worked together, a team with one goal in mind.

She adjusted her hips and the new angle changed something he was rubbing against inside of her. Her brain whited out. She buried her head in his shoulder on a desperate moan. He groaned in response.

"Zayne…"

"I know."

He began to thrust into her more heavily, his arms wrapping around her to hold her in place as he slammed into her over and over. Her voice climbed in pitch until every muscle seized and his rhythm faltered. The most intense wave yet hit her and she heard Zayne make an almost inhuman sound of his own.

Collapsing against his chest as her muscles relaxed, his rapid heartbeat thrummed against her ear. Lips curved into a smile. She pressed a kiss to his sweat-slicked skin. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

She tilted her head back and he looked down at her. With an indulgent smile, he brushed his lips against hers.

"Hi," she whispered.

He rubbed his nose against hers lightly. "Hello."

"You're my husband." She pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw as he planted one of his own on her cheek.

"You're my wife."

Effervescent happiness was rampant throughout her as she kissed the tip of his nose. "I'll never be alone again."

His arms tightened around her a little more, squeezing her to him. Lips brushed her temple and let out a contented sigh. "No, you won't. I'll make sure of it."

"And you'll never be alone again either," she added, stroking a hand along his chest.

"I haven't been since you came into my life."

Tears slid silently from the corners of her eyes as the true weight of their new lives together settled over her, and through it, Zayne never let go.

He held her until her tears dried and her eyes fluttered shut in blissful sleep, and when she woke up again later, head pillowed on his chest and wrapped in the cocoon of his body, those hazel eyes already smiling at her, she knew with absolute certainty that she would never tire of him being the first and last person she would see each day.