Wave after wave rolled through her. I felt every one, felt her milk me in hot, pulsing spasms that ripped my control clean away.
I slammed up once, twice, burying myself as deep as I could get, and came with a guttural groan that felt torn out of my chest. Pleasure crashed over me, blinding, endless. I spilled inside her in thick, pulsing jets, hips jerking helplessly as she kept fluttering around me, drawing it out until I was empty and shaking.
She collapsed against my chest, trembling. I wrapped my arms around her tight, buried my face in her hair, breathing her in—sweat and vanilla and sex. My heart was thundering so loud, I was sure she could feel it.
“God, Gabby,” I whispered. “You okay?”
She nodded against my shoulder, then laughed softly, shaky. “Better than okay.”
I kissed her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. “We should probably get dressed before?—”
Headlights swept across the fogged windshield, bright and sudden, cutting through the cab like a spotlight. We both froze. Through the blurred glass, I could just make out the shape of the department’s rescue truck pulling up behind us, red and blue lights flickering off the snow.
My buddies had found us.
5
GABBY
We scrambled to get dressed like teenagers who absolutely deserved detention.
Headlights flared through the fogged windows of Mason’s truck, bright and damning. There was no hiding what we’d been doing. Not with the glass all steamed up.
My jeans stuck halfway up my thighs. My hands were shaking—from the cold, from the rush, and from that creeping dread settling right under my ribs. The kind that whispers,you should’ve known better.
Mason, infuriatingly, was already put together. Belt buckled. Coat on. Hair raked into something presentable, like he hadn’t just been inside me seconds ago.
“Hey,” he said when he caught me staring. “You okay?”
“Fine.” My voice came out thin as ice.
I wasn’t fine. The guys were here now—the same ones who’d spent all night razzing him about me. The same ones who’d turned his love life into a running joke.
This was the part where I became the story.
A knock hit the driver’s window. I startled so hard, my elbow knocked the door. Through the fog, Conner’s grin appeared like a jump scare.
Mason wiped the glass and cracked the window. Cold air sliced in with laughter and snow.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Conner said. “Looks like somebody finally learned how to talk to a woman.”
“Those windows aresteamed,man,” Hux added. “What, you two running a damn sauna in there?”
My face flamed. I clutched my coat, suddenly very aware that my hair was a wreck and my mouth still tingled.
“Called it,” Briggs crowed. “You owe me twenty, Knox.”
“The bet was that he’d talk to her, not?—”
“I think he did more than talk. Look at her hair.”
I braced. This was it. The joke. The high-five. The part where I disappeared into a punchline—some warm distraction during a snowstorm.
“No.”
Mason’s voice cut clean through the noise.
He wasn’t smiling. He opened his door and stepped into the snow like something had shifted inside him—solid, immovable.
