It wasn’t an out-of-body experience. She wasinher body, wanted and desired and exhilarated by every touch. He sped up, tension building in his shoulders and down his back. His eyes drank her in. Loving and longing and hers.
At the last moment, he pulled out.
29
Carol
He stayed on top of her as their breathing evened out, the jagged thud of her pulse calming to something that was… calm.
“Sorry,” he murmured.
“For what?”
Moss was lying heavily on top of her, his weight gloriously firm and hot and immoveable. His hand was still wrapped around her wrist, holding her to the mattress. She couldn’t move even if she wanted to. The same way she hadn’t been able to move after Briers shot her. After Eloise betrayed her and she couldn’t keep her head above the waves.
Where was the fear? The panic? The clamp on her lungs, the hook in her gut pulling her to go, to move, anything but stay still?
Gone.
She didn’t want to move. She didn’tneedto move. She could stay here, forever, with him.
Perfect.
Moss swore under his breath. “Didn’t even think about condoms until…”
Oh. Right. And it wasn’t as though she was on birth control—not that they’d even talked about that. But he’d pulled out. She knew that wasn’t reliable, but just this once…
Just once?she thought with a pang.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Am Iokay?” She blinked up at him. “…Yes? Yes. Yes, I’mmorethan okay.”
He let out a self-deprecating huff of laughter, his eyes creasing at the edges. “Glad to hear it.”
“And… you?”
“God, yes. It was perfect. You’re…” He reached out for her, and something uncomfortable flickered behind his eyes. “Perfect. Damn it.”
She bit her lip, carefully, and his pupils widened. “Maybe we should visit a pharmacy? Before we leave the country?”
Before this precious intermission was over and they went back to facing the end of the world. A chill brushed over her.
Moss reached out. Hesitated before his hand touched her face. “Damn it.”
He rose, leaving cool air in his wake. Carol tensed. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re still—I swore I’d never let you be hurt again, and the next minute—I’ve broken every promise I made about you.” His voice was sharp with regret. Regret? Did he regret what they’d just done?
She sat up uneasily, pulling the sheets around her. “What promises? You never promised me anything.”
“I promised myself.” His mouth twisted. His eyes were dark—human dark, heavy with conflicted feelings. He wouldn’t meet her gaze. “I promised myself I would leave you alone. When I broke that one, I promised myself I at least wouldn’t hurt you.”
He lifted his eyes to hers, and that was worse than him not looking at her at all. His gaze was hard, as though he had to force himself to look at her.
“You’ve never hurt me,” she breathed, but he didn’t soften.
He jerked his chin sideways without answering. “And when I broke that promise, I told myself at least I’d wait until you were recovered from the attack.” He lifted one hand to caress her cheek, the sensitive pads of his deft, blunt fingers just brushing her lower eyelashes. His thumb ghosted over the corner of her mouth.
