Skin sliding.
Breath tangling.
The thud of the headboard against the wall.
Every time she sighs, my chest cracks wider.
Every time she says my name, I fall harder.
This isn’t sex.
This is something else, because I don’t just want her body.
I want mornings.
I want her laugh in my kitchen.
I want—
Shit.
I reach between us. My thumb finds her clit, and I run tight little circles. Her body seizes, her pussy clamping down around me so hard that it pushes me right over the edge with her.
I bury my face in her neck as the pleasure crests. It crashes through me intensely. A hot, blinding wave that steals every thought straight out of my head. Heat ripping down my spine, and my hips jerking like I’ve lost control of my own body.
Her legs lock around my hips, and my name breaks from her like she’s shattering.
Everything goes white-hot and breathless and endless.
Then it’s stillness—just us.
I don’t pull out.
Don’t move, because I can’t.
Because if I let go, this might disappear.
Chapter Eighteen
SHAY
IWAKE UP naked, sheets tangled around my body—alone.
I feel for him through my sleepy haze, hands sliding across the cold cotton. But the bed is empty.
