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Moiety
Chapter Twenty Three: The Pacific
"Hey Lola," James breathes against her skin, smile breaking across her shoulder.
"Mm?"
"When this war is over, I want to take you to the Pacific." His thumb traces the length of her collar bone, soft and wicked and sharp in his hands.
"What's in the Pacific?" She sounds like crisp air. Like the snap of sails. Like waves sloping up the shore.
"Mi casa." His hum of thought rolls from his lips to her sweat-slicked skin. "And maybe yours too."
He dips his tongue to the hollow of her throat and tastes her.
Like salt and sand.
Like home.