Briar Valley: The Complete Duet

18. Willow

CHAPTER 18

WILLOW

I FEEL LIKE I’M DROWNING – TWO FEET

Peering out of the cabin window, I stare at Micah’s studio. He’s been locked in there for the past few days, and I’m worried that he’s slipping back into old patterns. I’ve barely seen him.

Zach and Killian are out doing road maintenance after the recent snowstorms washed out some of the tracks. With Arianna at school and Tara posted outside, I hate being alone.

It reminds me of the endless days spent locked in the apartment in Southampton. When I’m alone, the dark thoughts begin to swirl and expand like curling cigarette smoke in the crevices of my brain.

This is ridiculous.

Just go over there, Willow.

With a sigh, I step outside into the February air. Tara immediately perks up when she spots me, looking up from the phone clasped in her hands.

“Willow? Everything okay?”

“All good, I’m just heading over to see Micah.”

Her eyes twinkle. “He’s an interesting one, isn’t he?”

“You could say that.”

“I’ll give you two some privacy. Shout if you need me.”

Leaving her posted outside the cabin, I crunch over frost-bitten grass as I approach the cabin. The weather is still frigid, even with March quickly approaching.

It’s as cold as the day we arrived in Briar Valley this time last year. It’s almost like nothing has changed, when in reality, our lives are completely different now.

“Micah?”

Knocking on the studio door, there’s no answer at first.

“Mi? It’s me. Can I come in?”

When I knock again, Micah’s panicked voice calls back.

“Go away!”

Gut twisting, I open the door and step inside without permission. “That’s not happening. What’s going on?”

The scene I was expecting to find is nowhere to be found. There’s no rubbish strewn across the floors or empty liquor bottles. No scent of vodka or cigarettes. Instead, Micah’s old chaos awaits.

Paint is covering every surface along with a fine dusting of sawdust and wood chippings. At the centre of the room lies a massive baby cot, under which Micah is laying with a paintbrush in hand.

“Mi?” I squeak.

He moves to sit up so fast, he smacks his head on the cot. “Shit, Willow. I told you not to come in. It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“I thought you were drinking in here!”

Rubbing his head, he sits up properly. “Just working. You don’t need to worry.”

Inching closer, I take in the breathtakingly beautiful cot. It’s been carved with painstaking detail, from tiny wooden roses cut into the glossy mahogany to intricate brocade designs in the walls.

“Wow, Mi. It’s so freaking incredible.”

A blush tinges his cheeks. “It’s not done. You weren’t supposed to see it yet.”

I trail my fingers over the exquisitely carved handlebars, loving the smooth wooden surface. “It’s perfect.”

“Consider it an apology for being such a dick to you when you returned.”

“You had every right to be angry with me, Mi.”

He shakes his head. “Avoiding you and drowning my sorrows wasn’t the answer, though.”

Taking a seat on the floor next to him, I grab a paintbrush and dip it in the pot. We work together, painting the slopes of the cot and each joint in the frame individually.

“I’m sorry,” he adds.

“You can stop apologising.”

“Not yet.”

Sighing, I dab paint on one of the carved roses. “I’m sorry too. We haven’t treated each other right. I’d like to fix that.”

“Me too, angel.”

“So… where do we go from here?”

Micah gnaws on his bottom lip. “Do you still want to be with me?”

“Of course, I do.”

“I really wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to.”

Annoyed, I dab him with the paintbrush, smearing his arm with the light cream colour. “We’re not discussing this.”

“Yes, we are. We’re adults.”

“I don’t want to be an adult today. I’m over it.”

Smirking to himself, Micah lifts his brush and taps the tip of my nose with it. I can feel the thick paint on my skin, dripping down until it’s smeared across my chin.

“Got you back,” he teases.

I hit him again—on the cheek this time, covering him in paint.

“If you want a war, I can bring it.”

Micah lifts an eyebrow. “Is that a threat?”

“You bet your ass it is.”

Dabbing me again with another smear of paint, he takes my wrist and yanks me closer so our mouths smack together. The moment his lips are on mine, everything changes.

The gentle playfulness melts into something else, something hotter. A roaring bonfire ignites between my thighs as his tongue slips into my mouth to tangle with mine.

Mouths duelling and hands exploring each other, the pace quickly picks up. Months of nothing but building tension erupts to an explosion between us. I want to crawl inside the shell of his skin.

“Fuck,” he gasps into my mouth.

“I need you, Mi.”

“I need you too, angel.” He grabs a handful of my ass and squeezes. “But should we… you know, in your state?”

“State?” I repeat with a laugh. “I’m pregnant. Not out of action. Stop being cute, and fuck me already.”

Grinning so wide it reveals the soft dimples that mark his cheeks, he uses the tip of his finger to gather the paint on my face, wiping it onto his other hand. Micah slowly massages his way down my shoulder and arm.

Once the paint is smeared over the marks on my arms, covering them from sight, he hesitantly clicks his mouth open to speak again.

“You should’ve told me.”

My eyes laser in on his sad face. “You should’ve too.”

“With what?”

“The drinking, Mi.”

“You weren’t here.”

“Neither were you.”

Sighing, his lips ghost over mine. “I guess that’s fair.”

Grabbing his chin, I kiss him more firmly, staking my claim across his mouth with a lash of teeth and tongue. We’ve treated each other like shit, but that doesn’t matter now. Nothing else does.

It’s just us.

As it should be.

With the slickness of fresh paint still between us, Micah pulls the short-sleeved t-shirt from my body and quickly unclasps my bra to free my breasts.

He palms them, spreading paint over my stiff nipples with his fingertips. The sensation of the cool liquid causes me to gasp into his mouth, loving the strange feeling.

“I missed these gorgeous tits,” he marvels. “Did they get bigger?”

“Everything’s going to get bigger.”

“Damn. That’s awesome.”

“You’re so adorable.”

Cocking an eyebrow, he leans in again to bite down on my bottom lip so hard, pain zips down my spine.

“Adorable?” His palm smacks against my ass. “I’ll show you adorable.”

The quiet, shy virgin I met a year ago vanishes as lust blazes in his eyes. It’s been too long. Too hard. Too much distance.

With a hand against my sternum, he pushes me backwards so I’m laying down on the paint-splattered sheet covering his studio floor. Micah unfastens my jeans then begins to pull them off.

The sides of his hands brush against my thighs and hips, adding to the tantalising sense of pressure that’s blurring my vision. I want him. Us. Everything and anything in between.

“I want to bury my face between your thighs, angel,” he purrs, peeling off my white panties. “And I want to make you come all over my tongue.”

“Jesus, Mi.”

Pushing my legs open, he kneels before settling between them to gain full access to my core. The moment his mouth meets my pussy, I arch off the sheet and cry out.

“Fuck!”

He’s hesitant for a moment, but he soon forgets his nervousness and buries his tongue in my cunt. Adding his thumb to my clit and swirling it, I’m soon seeing stars behind my eyes.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he coos.

Gripping handfuls of the sheet, I buck and writhe, melting under his increasingly confident attention. Once he sees my reaction, Micah goes to town as he dives into his meal with enthusiasm.

Sliding his finger through my folds, he spreads come and saliva to moisten it before pushing inside my entrance. I slam a hand over my mouth to swallow my scream of pleasure.

“No,” he scolds, prising my hand away. “I want to hear you. I’ve thought about this moment for months.”

Working his finger in and out of my tight hole, he begins to thrust, his eyes locked on me. I can’t run away from his gaze. I’m pinned and at the mercy of his tongue lavishing me.

“Come for me,” Micah orders, flicking my bundle of nerves. “Let me taste those sweet juices in my mouth.”

His filthy words leave me with no choice but to give in. The waves are approaching—building, expanding, growing more intense. I’m swallowed whole and shoved off into the deep end.

When Micah looks up from between my thighs, his mouth is scored with shiny moisture. He takes his time licking his lips, slowly but surely showing me how much he enjoys the taste of my release.

“You’re so perfect, angel. That was incredible to watch.”

Sitting up on my elbows, I grab the scruff of his stained t-shirt. “We’re not done yet. Come here and finish what you’ve started.”

Eyes on fire with need, he strips off his paint-covered clothing, leaving him standing in his tight black boxer shorts. My throat tightens as every sculpted inch of lean, compact muscle in his short frame is unveiled.

The bulge in his boxers offers a silent promise. He’s as gorgeous as the day we first slept together on the mountaintop amidst wildflowers and evening mist.

“Like what you see?” Micah asks, sounding far too much like his cocky brother.

“Maybe.”

“I missed you so fucking much, angel.”

I crook a finger, beckoning him closer. “Come and show me how much you really missed me.”

He approaches then covers his body with mine. We’re still on the floor, disregarding the paint pots and mess of brushes causing chaos around us.

Micah retakes his place between my legs then secures his mouth to my nipple, gently biting down. I wriggle beneath him, desperate to feel his touch. His throbbing cock is so close to my centre.

“Do we need protection?” he murmurs.

“I can’t get more pregnant, can I?”

Micah chuckles. “I have no idea. But if you’re fine going without…”

I’m unprepared for him to pin my left leg to the floor and slam inside me in one slick pump. The sudden impact causes me to scream out so loud, I worry that Tara will come running at any moment.

He buries himself to the hilt inside me, his eyes rolling back in his head. Shifting my hips, I encourage him to move and slam back into me. I’m practically shaking with need.

“We should slow down,” Micah worries, his movements stilling. “I don’t want to hurt you while you’re like this.”

“I’m fine, Mi. Stop worrying so much.”

“Are you sure? It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“No,” I answer, cupping his dimpled cheek. “Please. I want you so bad. Make me forget all the months we’ve wasted.”

With a wicked gleam entering his eyes, he kisses me fully on the mouth. The lines between him and his twin are blurring so much. If I didn’t know better, I’d struggle to tell the difference.

He’s changed.

I’ve changed.

We’re in the unknown now.

Pulling out, Micah repositions himself then pumps back into my pussy. The thrust is punishing, slamming his length deep inside me and igniting my core. I rake my nails over his paint-slick skin.

“Oh God,” I groan.

Each jerk of his hips sends me spiralling, deeper and deeper into a bottomless pit of desire. I’m falling. Tumbling. Losing myself and all the anxiety that’s plagued me for months.

All that exists is us—our bodies, breath, minds—entwined and moving together in a tantalising dance. Nothing else matters when we’re together.

“Willow,” Micah moans, pumping into me in fast, frenzied strokes. “You feel so good, angel. So good.”

Before I can come again, he abruptly pulls out and halts his movements. I scream at the loss of pressure, feeling suddenly empty.

“Come and ride me,” he gasps, sitting back on his haunches. “I don’t want to come yet. You’re so tight and wet.”

Letting him pull me up, I clamber onto his lap then position my legs on either side of his waist. Micah hisses when I take his length and push it against my entrance.

Sinking down on him, we both moan loudly, locked in a breathless, sweaty tangle. At this angle, he reaches an even deeper place, brushing that illusive spot that drives me wild.

I lift myself on his lap then push back down, feeding his length back into me at a steady pace. Each pump drives me back to the edge of falling apart.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he praises, cupping my bouncing tits. “Like a damn goddess, riding my cock.”

Fuck, has this dirty-mouthed devil been inside of Micah all along? He’s forgotten how to be shy, and his compliments feel so good.

Grabbing a nearby paint pot, he winks at me with that damn wicked gleam in his eyes again. I watch him lather his hands in paint and move them back to the swell of my breasts.

“I want to paint you, Willow. Every luscious inch of you. Will you let me do that one day?”

“Yes,” I mewl.

“Naked?”

Working myself on his shaft, I can’t protest. “Yes.”

“That’s my perfect, little angel. Let me see these incredible tits covered in paint now.”

Smearing the paint over my chest, the bite of cold liquid heightens my pleasure. He massages it into my skin, holding the heaviness of my breasts in each of his palms.

“Does it feel good, baby?”

“God, yes,” I bite out.

“Imagine this body laid out on my canvas in paint and ink,” he muses, mostly to himself. “It’ll be a masterpiece.”

Thumbs swirling and fingers spreading, he covers me in paint then tweaks my rock-hard nipples again. As the paint warms up, my skin flushes with sweat, and I’m overtaken by trembles.

“I’m close,” I cry out.

Micah begins to thrust upwards, lifting his hips to meet me halfway. “Me too.”

We’re both moving and grinding, chasing our own highs with nothing but mess and madness around us. If anyone else were to walk in, there’d be no explaining this scenario.

Just before I can fall apart, Micah captures my lips in a final kiss that swallows my moans. I gasp into his mouth, feeling the swipe of his tongue against mine as our orgasms hit.

We come at the same time, and Micah growls through his release, our lips remaining locked together.

I can feel his hot come pouring into me and slipping between us. The warmth causes fireworks to explode beneath my skin—popping, bursting, crackling with flames and almighty bursts of ecstasy. I slump against his chest, my arms wound around his neck.

“Christ.” Micah holds me close, our skin practically glued together. “I love you so much, angel. It scares me to death.”

“You won’t lose me again.”

“Now we have even more to lose. I want this family with you so badly, but I’m terrified of what it means for us.”

Lifting my head, I look into his dark, forest green eyes. So much uncertainty stares back at me. Fear. Grief. Anxiety. Excitement. There are too many emotions for me to begin to untangle.

“I promise you, Micah, that we will make this work. Our family will survive. We always do.”

He nods with a scared, slightly crooked smile. “We always do.”

“No matter what.”

After holding me against his chest for a few moments, he heaves me up and spoons me in his arms like a small child. Micah grabs a clean sheet from his shelf then throws it around us to cover our naked bodies.

“Let’s clean up,” he decides. “I want to take care of you.”

“Okay.” I smile at him, brushing a sweaty tendril of hair off his forehead.

We leave the studio and make a beeline for the guys’ cabin. Across the street, Tara is still standing in place outside of my cabin, taking a phone call. She blanches when she sees us.

Grimacing in shame, all I can do is give her a little wave. She tries really hard not to laugh while she waves back and continues her phone call.

“New friend of yours?” Micah asks quietly.

“She’s nice actually.”

“I still don’t love having strangers here.”

“They’re keeping us safe,” I remind him. “That’s the condition of us staying. We have to be safe from any threats.”

“I know, angel.”

Carrying me into the cabin, Micah heads for his bedroom and into the bathroom. He places me down on the floor and flicks the shower on before spinning to face me.

“Can I… No, never mind,” he trails off.

“What is it?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, he peeks up at me shyly. “I just wondered if I could touch the baby for a second.”

My heart melts. “You don’t have to ask, Mi.”

“Yeah, I do. I’m not just going to touch you without your permission. That’s totally weird.”

“It’s your baby too!”

“Whatever, I still want consent.”

Laughing hard, I drop the sheet and stand naked in front of him. “Okay, then you have my consent.”

Smiling to himself, Micah kneels down in front of me. I have the tiniest, almost imperceptible baby bump, accentuated by my already round belly and wide hips.

“What do I do?” he wonders anxiously.

Rolling my eyes, I take his hands and lift them to my belly. With his palms cupping me, I hold his wrists to keep them there. His thumbs stroke over my skin in wonderment.

“Hey,” he whispers in a tiny, amazed voice. “Hi, little one.”

Tears well up in my eyes. The paint smeared all over me is drying and flaking off, but it doesn’t conceal the life that’s blossoming between us.

Our life. Our future.

It’s right there for the taking.

“I’m going to look after your mama, alright? We love you so much already. So much.”

I have to blink tears aside before they roll down my cheeks.

“Be good,” Micah instructs, placing a gentle kiss right above my belly button. “We’ll see each other soon, little one.”

With his lips on my belly, I feel content for the first time since returning. I’m whole again in this moment. Nothing else matters, and the miles still to climb fall into insignificance.