I did.
But this feels different,hefeels different. There’s a look in his eyes as he watches me slide down his body, that says he’s not thinking about the cold anymore, or the past, or anything else butmeat this moment.
I free his cock from the fabric. His breath shutters the moment I wrap my hand around his length. He’s warm and hardin my grip. Lowering my head to it, I lick the tip slowly to tease and watch how his jaw clenches, letting out a low moan.
“You’re evil,” he breathes, voice fraying at the edges.
“And yet,” I murmur before taking him in my mouth, steady and deep this time, letting up only to say “you love the feeling of my mouth around your cock, don’t you?”
His head falls back as his body responds with another groan. I can see the tension pull taut throughout his body as I drag my tongue along the underside and hollow my cheeks.
“Fuck.” His hips jerk, one hand finding my hair. He grips onto it like I am his anchor, like heneedsme.
And I like that feeling more than I should.
I take him deeper down my throat, working him with my mouth and hands. He curses again, his muscles tight like he’s right on the edge. But then he’s pulling me up, dragging me into his lap and crushing his mouth to mine again, desperate and hungry and full of that same need that is burning through me.
“You keep that up,” he rasps, “and this is going to be over way too fucking soon.”
I grin against his lips. “Then shut up and fuck me, Alex.”
My body is aching and trembling against his. Our bodies press together, skin to skin, and I swear I forget how cold it is or that my heart is failing and I’m running out of options.
He cups my face like I’m something fragile that he’s scared to break, and there’s that look again that says I mean more thanjustthis moment.
It terrifies me.
But instead of pulling away, I guide his cock into me as I lower myself onto it. The stretch pulls a low moan from the both of us.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he breathes, his forehead resting against mine.
His fingers dig into the skin at my hips in a way I know willleave marks, but I don’t care. I want them. I want the memory of this moment between us tattooed on my skin forever.
I start to move, slow and deep, rolling my hips back and forth in a rhythm that makes him groan and my toes curl. His name slips from my lips in a broken whisper, and he thrusts up to meet me, matching me, driving me higher.
It’s messy and hot and so damn intense I can barely breathe. Each movement winds me tighter and steals the thoughts from my head until all that’s left ishim—his hands, his voice, his body against mine.
He flips us suddenly, laying me down on the thick blanket and pressing into me deeper, harder. I cling to him, wrapping my legs around his waist, nails digging into his back as the pleasure builds to something blinding.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he growls into my neck. “Wantedyou.”
I don’t know if he just means right now, or for years. I don’t ask to clarify. I simply let myself feel every touch, every breath, every thrust… like it might be my last. Part of me is still scared it will be.
We come together, tangled and breathless, clinging to each other like we might fall apart if we let go. And for one brief moment, I forget what’s waiting for me.
I forget that I’m still dying.
Wrapped in the cocoon of his arms and the blanket and the scent of pine and water clinging to our skin, I let myself pretend whatever this is between us is real.
Even if only for today.
19
ALEX
I’m so fucked. Completely and utterlyfucked.
Emma is in the kitchen, humming off-key as she digs through a drawer, probably still looking for the wine opener she told me she was trying to find twenty minutes ago. There’s nothing stopping me from walking out the door and pretending none of this ever happened, for both of our sakes. But I can’t move. My body won’t let me. I stand stupidly in the living room, pretending to admire a damn ceramic cow she has on a bookshelf, like it’s a priceless piece of art instead of the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen.
