“Fuck.” I feel her tighten around me, making me roll my eyes as my cock stays sensitive inside her. She draws every drop out of me as she collapses back against me, her breath breaking into slow, shattered gasps as her pleasure crashes over her again.
“Yes,” she moans. “God, yes.”
She drags her lip between her teeth and speeds her fingers over her clit until she can’t anymore.
I pull out, spin her around, and slam her against the tiles. My hand closes around her throat, her mouth opening as mine crashes into hers, swallowing every last sound she makes. Ourtongues twist together, and I devour her mouth like it is my last meal.
Because if I were facing death, I would ask for her.
I would burn this world for her. I would drown everyone in it if it meant having her. She got under my skin and became part of me. This obsession I can’t rip out, and if there is a cure for whatever this is, I don’t want it.
All I want is her.
We lie on the bed, her head tucked on my chest. Her breathing rises and falls against my skin, and I can feel every single breath on me. Outside, night already swallowed the day. My phone starts to buzz against the mattress. I let it vibrate, pressing my palm over it, trying to hold this moment still.
But it buzzes again.
The screen lights up, and Nico’s name flashes across it.
He never calls. My chest tightens. I swipe to answer.
“Judas, Judas,” he says, his breath scraping in and out. “Fuck. I don’t even know if you can hear me, but you have to run. The President found out you’re Harrington. He knows you and Carmen are at your house. You have to go before he comes.They’ll shoot you both. The cops know where you live. It’s bad, man.” He sucks in a breath, like he’s drowning. “Just run.”
I don’t say anything. I just couldn’t say anything.
I turn the phone off and swing my legs off the bed.
She stirs, blinking up at me, hair falling into her eyes.
I sign fast towards her.We have to go. They found us.
Her face drains of color. She’s moving before I finish the sentence.
We crash into the closet, our hands grabbing whatever they touch. Clothes slide off hangers and hit the floor. I shove some of it into the backpack and zip it closed. My sneakers scrape against the floor as I jam my feet in, laces hanging loose. There is no time to tie it.
She pulls on her shoes. And as soon as she does, I catch her hand, and we run down the hallway. The front door slams open as we run outside.
Both bikes are parked just in front. I look at her. I’m already memorizing the line of her jaw, like I am already losing her.
Whatever happens, you have to keep driving, I sign.
I swing the backpack onto my back and climb onto my bike, the helmet clicking into place as I pull it over my head. She moves to her pink Yamaha, straddling it, her sneakers slipping for a second before she finds her balance.
“What do you mean, Judas?” she asks before she pulls the helmet over her head.
“Ride or die,” I say, my voice muffled inside the helmet. I press my palm to my chest. “We ride until we die.”
She nods, rolling her bike forward. “We ride until we die,” she whispers, copying the gesture, her palm crossing over her heart.
We push away from the house, turning the engine on. We look at each other one last time, visors sliding down while our hands twist the throttle. The street opens in front of us, and we surge into it.
I fold over the bike, every vibration climbing up my arms, into my shoulders, into my teeth. The handlebars tremble under my grip. I tilt my head and see her beside me, leaning into the ride, her hair whipping against the back of her helmet.
We take the short road and head onto the main one. There is no one there. It’s just us.
The curve comes, and she glances at me. She lifts off the seat for a second, rolling her hips back toward me. I laugh and slap my palm against the helmet as she rockets past me.
Then she reaches back and extends her hand as I pull up beside her.
