Riggs looked around the clearing.

Sage had parked the truck half a mile away and they had carried the sign and supplies through what felt like the wilderness for fifteen silent minutes.

“Where are we?” he asked, looking around at the circle of small shelters surrounding a shady area with a stone pit at its center.

“This is a scouts’ campground,” Sage explained. “But the kids are at Heaven Falls for their annual canoe trip. We have the place to ourselves.”

Riggs noticed the color staining her cheeks a moment after the words left her mouth.

He tried not to smile, though he felt a sense of victory that she wanted to be alone with him, even if it was only to paint a sign.

“Is there a good place to work?” he asked.

“The mess hall,” she replied, heading toward one of the rustic looking shelters.

When they got closer, he could see that the walls were made of screens. Two rows of picnic tables filled the single room in the structure. Sage opened the door and flicked a switch. A ceiling fan turned on but no light.

“I guess the bulb is out.” She shrugged. “It’s still light enough in here to work.”

She placed the sign on one of the tables and Riggs unpacked the cans of paint and sealant, and the brushes from the bag he carried.

“What are these for?” he asked, pulling two wooden sticks and a metal loop out of the bag.

“The key is to open the paint cans and the sticks are to stir the paint,” Sage told him.

“What about these?” he asked, pulling out a copy of the Stargazer Gazette and three bottles of water.

“The newspaper will protect the table from being damaged by the paint,” Sage said. “One water is to clean the sign before we paint it.”

“And the other two?”

“Those are for us,” she said. “That was a long walk.”

Riggs laughed and watched as she spread the newspaper on the table.

“Want me to clean the sign?” he offered.

“Sure,” she said.

He took the sign and one of the water bottles outside and did his best to get it clean.

When he returned to the mess hall, Sage had already opened one of the paint cans and was stirring it. The paint was creamy and white - watching Sage’s delicate hand swirl the stick around in it was almost hypnotic.

“Okay, I think it’s ready,” she announced.

Riggs found the largest brush.

“That’s perfect for the white background,” Sage said approvingly. “Do you want to do it?”

“Sure,” he said. He was pleased, he’d been curious about the consistency of the white liquid.

Sage gestured for him to begin.

He dipped the brush gently into the paint and applied some to the wooden sign. It was satisfying to feel it go on smoothly and to see it covering the offensive words.

“Paint with the grain of the wood,” Sage suggested, moving her own hand left to right to show him.

He tried again and noticed how easily the brush moved along the surface of the sign.

It was silent in the room except for the calls of the birds outside. The air swirled cool against his skin in the wake of the fan.

And Sage stood so close beside him, her presence not engaging any of the five senses he had learned about, but stimulating him in a different way, until his body thrummed like a tightly strung violin.

The moment seemed to stretch for hours as she watched him smooth away the writing on the sign until it was a wash of snowy white.

He placed the brush down on the newspaper and turned to her.

“You have a little paint, right there,” she murmured, going up on her toes and extending her hand to his cheek.

He grasped her wrist in his hand before she could touch him, and pressed his lips to her palm.

She gasped but did not pull away. Instead, her arm relaxed in his hold, as if she were melting.

Sage gazed up at him, lips slightly parted, her big brown eyes telling him everything her voice would not.

The air between them sizzled and Riggs suddenly thought of Zeno’s dichotomy paradox - two bodies halving the distance between themselves an infinite number of times, never touching.

He had to go all the way.

“Sage, may I kiss you?” he whispered.

She nodded.

He bent to press his lips to hers and it was everything he had dared to imagine and more. Her lips were so soft and sweet.

She went up on her toes again, sliding her arms around his neck, maddening him with the press of her breasts against his chest.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer, deepening their kiss.

Sage whimpered slightly against his mouth and he licked her lips, plunging his tongue inside when she parted them for him.

He had seen this in movies, read about it, but nothing prepared him for the actual intimacy of tasting her mouth, feeling her sweet tongue caress his.

Desire raged in his blood and he was torn by his own opposing needs - his body’s fierce demand that he claim her immediately and his heart’s instinct not to rush, not to miss any facet of this tremulous new experience.

And he would not make the mating bond before she had accepted him.

But he could feel Sage’s nipples graze his chest through the thin fabric that separated them. Her heart was beating so fast. Her body pressed to him as if she wanted him to consume her.

He knew what she needed. He would give her every pleasure imaginable without claiming her, if she would allow it.

The idea excited him terribly and he kissed her with renewed fervor, until he felt her nails sink into his shoulders.

As gently as he could, he lifted her in his arms.

She wrapped her legs around his waist without breaking their kiss.

He carried her to the closest table that wasn’t covered in painting supplies, and sat her on it.

“Riggs,” she murmured as he pulled away to look at her.

“You are my mate,” he told her roughly. “But I cannot ask you to accept me now. Just let me please you.”

She blinked up at him.

He pulled his t-shirt over his head and relished the way her eyes went wider as she stared at his chest. He was glad his body excited her. He had not earned the muscles, any more than she had earned her soft curves or dark eyes, but he was grateful if they gave each other pleasure.

He rolled up his shirt and placed it on the table behind her, a perfect pillow.

She looked up at him hungrily.

He kissed her again, gentleness forgotten for a moment as he slid his hands under the hem of her shirt and lifted it slowly.

She raised her arms, making it easy for him to remove it.

His heart pounded in his chest and he pulled back slightly to look at her again.

She was exquisite. Her skin was smooth and tan except for a dark freckle above her belly button, and her breasts were generous, nearly spilling over the lacy contraption that held them prisoner.

“Sage,” he breathed.

She blushed pink but did not look away.

He took a deep breath.

This is literally what you were made for. No need to be nervous.

She held perfectly still as he wrapped his arms around her, found the tiny hooks and released them. He eased the straps from her shoulders, kissing the tiny indentations the garment had left there.

She tilted her head slightly, as if in invitation, and he nuzzled the place where her neck met her shoulder. She smelled like the orchard, peaches and cinnamon and summer.

Need bubbled up inside him and it took everything he had to restrain it.

For her. Be patient for her.

He pulled back slightly and was beside himself all over again at the sight of her bare breasts. Each pale orb was as beautiful as the moons of Aerie.

She arched her back slightly, as if to offer herself to him.

He reached out and stroked one rosy nipple lightly.

Sage gasped.

Worried that he had hurt her, he searched her eyes, but they were hazy with need.

He cupped her breast and lowered his face to taste it.

Her nipple stiffened further on his tongue.

He licked it into his mouth and Sage moaned and gripped his upper arms.

Overcome with lust he feasted on her breasts, first one and then the other, glorying in her every sigh and moan until her grip on his arms tightened and he knew it wasn’t enough anymore. She needed more.

He cupped her cheek in his hand, kissing her forehead tenderly as he lowered her to rest her head on his t-shirt behind her.

She looked up at him with such trust in her eyes that it almost hurt his heart.

I love you. I will never leave you. I am yours. We belong to one another.

These were the words he longed to speak, but he did not want to frighten her with the depth of his feelings.

So he tried to express himself with the brush of his lips against her belly, the gentleness of his hands as he removed her shorts and underthings.