“I think about this every damn night,” I said, dragging her top down farther to expose her shoulder. “I think about your cunt on my tongue. About you begging me for more. I’ve been thinking about it ever since that night in the forest.”
She let out a desperate sound, and I swallowed it with another kiss—hot and deep and filthy enough to burn.
“Do you want that?” I asked. “You want my mouth on you?”
She nodded, wild-eyed. “Yes. Please.Fuck—Austin ...”
I dropped to my knees without hesitation. We’d been too hurried to go slowly the first time, and I wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice. I’d been dreaming about the taste of her formonths.
Selene tried to say something, but I grabbed her thighs and pulled her forward.
“Shh,” I said, mouth already pressing hot kisses up the inside of her leg. “I’ve got you.”
And then?—
Footsteps above.
A creak of the upstairs floor.
Selene went rigid as her hand clamped on my shoulder. I blinked up at her, both of us panting like we’d just run a mile.
She shook her head, eyes blown wide. “I can’t. Not here.”
I nodded once, jaw clenched, swallowing down every last ounce of want like it might kill me.
She straightened her top, flushed and trembling. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” I stood slowly, brushing my thumb across her cheek. “But just so we’re clear ...”
She looked up, blinking.
“I’m not done with you.” I grabbed my hoodie and walked out the door without looking back.
I knew then—and so did she—that the pretending was over.
FIFTEEN
SELENE
I stared at the ceiling,still and silent, as the fan rotated in slow, hypnotic circles above me. The early-morning light cut in through the blinds—angled and soft, warm against the sheets that had twisted around my legs sometime in the night. I hadn’t really slept. At least, not in any way that counted.
My body hadn’t forgotten.
It still buzzed with the memory ofhim—his mouth against mine, the press of his body pinning me against the dryer, the way he’d groaned my name like he wanted to take whatever I was willing to give. I rolled to bury my face in the pillow.
What was I thinking?
I’d nearly let him fuck me in the laundry room. I would have if he hadn’t stopped. If he hadn’t stepped back with that wrecked expression like he wanted to stay but knew better.
And what does it say about me that I was disappointed he had?
I turned my head on the pillow, already hating myself for the way my heart squeezed, for the heat that stirred low and shamefully between my legs. I shouldn’t be thinking about this—about him. About how it felt to be touched and wanted like that. It had been too easy to lose myself in him, to forget that therewas a child upstairs and a life I was barely holding together most days.
I pressed my thighs together under the sheet, searching for relief I hadn’t earned. My nipples ached beneath the thin cotton of my top, overly sensitive, the fabric rasping against them just enough to make me squirm. I could still feel the ghost of his hands—broad, calloused, and confident. I recalled the way they’d slid down my sides, not possessive or hurried, but like he’d known what he was doing. Austin was patient, like he’d been waiting for me to catch up to the truth we’d both been circling for weeks.
I let my eyes fall closed and gave myself one single second to remember it. His voice—low, frayed, filthy.
You feel that? That’s what you’ve been doing to me.
