He eases us down onto the bed, gentle but unyielding, until I’m sprawled across his chest, clinging with everything left in me. His fingers thread through my hair in slow, patient circles. The touch is small, ordinary—impossibly fierce in its constancy.
“Shh. It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you.” His lips press to my temple, warm and real.
Words trip and break in my mouth. “He... I—”
“It’s okay,” he murmurs again, softer now. “Breathe with me. In... out.” He matches his breathing to mine, deliberate, tangible—a rhythm I can follow when mine threatens to splinter.
“I miss him... so much...” The confession rips out of me, raw and stupidly simple.
Vincent’s voice catches, quieter than before. “I know, baby.” He kisses the crown of my head like he’s sealing something fragile. “I know. And he misses you too. I promise.”
There’s no grand speech, no easy fix. Just the press of his body, the cadence of his breathing, the way his hands hold me like a fact: I’m here. I’m not leaving.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Nova Marshall
PAST (2018)
"Every time you pick up your guitar
to play, play as if it's the last time."
Eric Clapton
––––––––
"Do you think they're wondering where we are?" he whispers against my mouth, his lips brushing mine with every word as he presses me harder against the sun-warmed cliffside.
Ocean Beach stretches endlessly behind us, but all I can see is him—his wild hair, the way his eyes flicker with hunger and hesitation.
"We haven’t been gone long," I murmur, my breath already unsteady.
His grin curves against my cheek. “The shell excuse won’t hold up much longer.”
I nod. “Okay, then—”
But he sweeps me up into his arms before I can finish. My legs wrap around his waist instinctively, my body arching intohim as he crushes his mouth against mine. My swimsuit sticks to my skin, damp with saltwater, and his hands grip the stone on either side of my head as if I’m the only anchor he has.
"Five more minutes," he whispers, his lips grazing my jaw. "We can say we were chasing a crab... taking pictures."
I giggle, though it dissolves into a gasp when I grind my hips against his, and his answering moan vibrates straight through my chest.
"Here?"
"Hmh," I nods as he presses his thigh higher between mine.
He nods too and lets me down. “I don’t know how we had the guts to leave Steve and Max alone.”
Laughing, my hands run across his chest as my lips trace his neck, tasting salt and skin. “Maybe it’s because you just were dying to kiss me?"
"I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you," he breathes, his voice breaking just slightly. "And I never will."
My heart stutters and I kiss him hard, sliding my tongue between his parted lips. His leg wedges deeper between mine, holding me up, pressing exactly where I need him. The sound that escapes me is more of a moan than a sigh.
Still, he hesitates. "I don’t want you to think I only think about... this." His hands hover, trembling just at the edge of my swimsuit bottoms, as if touching me might be too much.
I cup his face, forcing him to look at me. "Vincent. Whatever we do, it’s because we want it. Because it feels good. Because it’s us. I don’t think you’re a pervert. Do you think I’m one just because I think about that thing you do with your tongue all the time?"
