The First Crown

Before the Apple Trees

Lilliana

“You came,” I whispered.

“Of course I came.”

The words were simple, but they lit something deep in my chest. He stepped forward, his hand outstretched. I took it without hesitation, letting him draw me from the open orchard path into the darker press of the trees.

“You trust me too much,” he said softly, but there was a smile tugging at his mouth as he guided me between the trunks.

“Not enough,” I said, and that made him laugh quiet and rough, as though he hadn’t meant to let it out.

The orchard gave way to a smaller clearing, moonlight pooled on grass like silver water. At the center of it was a blanket, a small basket, two lanterns with beeswax candles glowing low and golden.

My breath caught. “You… did this?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking almost shy. “You’ll need strength for sneaking back. Thought you might be hungry.”

I knelt on the rug, smoothing my skirts beneath me, and smiled up at him. “You thought of everything.”

He crouched across from me, opening the basket. There was bread, a small wheel of cheese, a flask that smelled faintly of cider. We ate in silence at first, the quiet broken only by the rustle of leaves overhead and the distant hum of crickets.

When my hunger faded, I found myself watching him instead. The way he broke bread with his strong hands. The way his jaw worked as he chewed. The way the candlelight softened the sharpness of him, turning him almost gentle.

“What are you staring at?” he asked, eyes glinting as he passed me the flask.

“You,” I said simply.

Something in him went still. Then he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, fingers lingering just a moment too long. My breath hitched.

He caught me by the waist and pulled me into his lap in one smooth motion, the strength in his arms leaving me breathless. My skirts pooled around us, my knees bracketing his thighs before I realized what had happened.

My heart hammered as I whispered, “Is this what you imagined?”

“Not quite,” he said, his mouth curving into something dangerous and soft all at once. He traced a slow finger along the edge of my neckline, the calloused pad grazing the skin just above my heart. “I never imagined you’d let me get this close.”

I swallowed hard, the air between us thick and heady.

His mouth was on mine, his hand slid up my back, anchoring me to him as he coaxed my mouth open, his tongue stroking mine until the world tilted and heat pooled low in my belly.

When we finally broke apart, I was gasping, my fingers fisted in his shirt.

“Reade…”

“Lillie.” He rested his forehead against mine, breathing hard. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“Then show me,” I whispered, emboldened by the way he looked at me, by the tremor that ran through him.

A soft curse escaped him before he kissed me again, hungrier this time. His hand slid lower, tracing the curve of my spine, and I arched instinctively into his touch. The neckline of my gown dipped as his finger traced it again, this time slower, leaving gooseflesh in its wake.

I didn’t know when my skirts had slid higher, only that the cool air kissed my knees and I didn’t care. I wanted him closer, wanted more of him, more of the way his mouth left me dizzy and weightless.

His lips found my jaw, then the hollow beneath my ear, working lower until they brushed the base of my throat. The sound I made startled me a breathless little gasp that seemed to undo him completely.

“Moon save me,” he muttered, pulling me closer still, as if he could fuse me to him and be done with restraint forever.

“You taste like honey,” he murmured, his lips trailing over my collarbone.

Heat pooled low in my belly, stronger than before, until I was squirming without meaning to. My skirts had bunched around my thighs, and as I shifted, something hard pressed against me.

I froze for half a breath, startled puzzled before the pressure sent a jolt through me so sharp I gasped.

Reade’s grip on my hips tightened.

“What—what is that?” I whispered, mortified at my own breathlessness.

His mouth curved against my throat, and a rough sound escaped him half laugh, half groan. “Me,” he said hoarsely. “It’s me, Lillie.”

The answer should have sent me scrambling, but instead my pulse kicked faster, heat rising in my cheeks. The strange, thrilling pressure was all I could think about. I rocked against him again, experimentally, and this time a startled cry escaped me at the rush of pleasure.

I didn’t know what I was doing, only that it felt too good to stop. I moved again, slower this time, testing, and his head tipped back with a low groan that vibrated through his chest.

“That’s it,” he whispered, his voice fraying. “Don’t stop, Lillie. Take what you need.”

I moved again, slower, bolder, my body catching on instinct as my breath came faster. His mouth found mine, kissing me hard, almost desperate, before trailing lower along my jaw, down the line of my throat until he brushed the neckline of my gown.

“Reade—” My voice trembled, but I didn’t stop moving.

His answer was a growl low in his chest as his hand slid up, cupping my breast through the thin fabric. His thumb brushed over the peak, and my head tipped back on a gasp. The added sensation made my body jolt, my hips grinding harder into him without thought.

“That’s it,” he murmured against my skin, his tongue tasting the hollow of my throat before moving lower, kissing the swell of my breast where the gown had slipped.

The world blurred, every nerve alight, until nothing existed but his hands on me, his mouth on me, the relentless heat building where we pressed together.

I rocked again, faster now, driven by something I couldn’t name, until the pleasure broke over me in a rush so fierce I cried out, clinging to his shoulders as though I might fall apart entirely.

Reade held me through it, kissing me until I stilled, until I could breathe again. When I sagged against him, trembling, he rested his forehead against mine, his chest rising and falling hard beneath my hands.

I sagged against him, every muscle loose, my breath shuddering as though I’d run miles. My whole body still hummed, alive and aching.

Reade’s hand stayed firm at my back, holding me steady, his other hand brushing the hair from my damp temple. He pressed soft kisses along my jaw, my cheek, the corner of my mouth feather-light, almost reverent as if to soothe me back into myself.

I swallowed hard, my voice barely a whisper. “What… what was that?”

His lips found my temple. “That,” he murmured, “was you finding out just how much pleasure you can feel.”

Heat flushed through me all over again, but this time it wasn’t only from desire. “Is it always—” My voice caught. “Like that?”

His thumb brushed my cheekbone tenderly, his gaze searching mine as though he wanted to remember every inch of my face.

“It was like that because it was you,” he said quietly, voice almost breaking. “Because it was us.”

The sincerity in his tone made my breath catch, my heart fluttering so hard it almost hurt. I nodded, trembling under his hands, unable to speak.

Reade kissed me one last time soft, lingering, almost chaste after everything that had just passed.