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I lift her by the backs of her thighs and she wraps her legs around me.

I carry her off the path. Not far. Just enough that the corn closes around us. The Earth beneath us is soft and warm.

Of course it fucking is.

She looks down at the dirt then at me. “If another dead woman crawls out of the ground, I’m leaving.”

I laugh against her mouth. “Reasonable.”

“And if the dirt eats the rest of my clothes, you’re buying me new ones.”

“Done.”

“Expensive ones.”

“I’ve had two hundred years to invest.”

She pulls back. “You’re rich?”

“Obscenely.”

Her eyes light up. “Oh, now I’m interested.”

“Now?”

“Shut up.” She kisses me again.

I lower her toward the ground but stop before her back touches it.

“You’re sure?”

Her expression softens, then she reaches up and touches my face. “Catch me, Reaper.”

Fuck.

I lower her into the dirt. The Earth catches her like it was waiting for this, warm and giving, and she sinks back with a gasp that goes straight to my cock. I kneel between her legs, the corn rising around us like walls, like a church, like a fucking confessional where the only God is hunger.

“Skirt,” I growl. She’s wearing one. Flowing, thin, nothing underneath. I saw it when she ran—the moonlight catching her thighs, the absence of lines where panties should be. No panties. Bare. Ready. “You planned this?” My voice is barely human.

“Wanted to be caught.” She arches, the tank top pulling tight across her breasts, nipples hard against the fabric. “Didn’t know it’d be by you when I first arrived.”

I’m in jeans and a t-shirt, my belt is already undone and my zipper halfway down before I force myself to stop.

“Rhett.” She whimpers. Actually whimpers, and the sound detonates something in my chest. “Please.”

I grab her knees, spread her wide in the dirt, and look.

Fuck.

She’s soaked. Glistening in the moonlight, her pussy swollen, pink and tight. Too fucking tight for what I have, what I’ve been walking around with since she ran from me in the maze, what aches against my zipper now, heavy, thick and angry.

“You’re so fucking tight. This is going to hurt Sage.” I warn, and it comes out like a curse.

“It won’t—”

“It will.” I drop to my stomach in the dirt, shove her skirt up around her waist, and bury my face between her thighs without warning.

She screams. Not a word. A sound, raw and broken, her hands flying to my hair, pulling, scratching, trying to get me closer and push me away at the same time.