Josh was quiet after coming down from his orgasm, and not the soft, content kind of quiet he usually slipped into when he was boneless and satisfied, half asleep against me.
This was different.
He lay on his stomach beside me, one cheek pressed into the mattress, breathing raggedly. His hair was damp at the temples and the base of his neck, and his body was still warm and flushed.
I lay on my back for a minute, catching my breath, staring up at the ceiling.
God, I loved wrecking him.
But the longer the silence stretched, the more a small knot started forming in my chest.
Josh was usually begging for attention by this point.
Now he just… lay there quietly.
Too fucking quiet.
I shifted closer and draped an arm loosely over his waist, pulling him against my side. “You good?” I asked.
He nodded almost immediately. “Yeah.”
The answer came a little too fast.
And his voice sounded… wrong.
Subtle, but wrong.
Not sleepy.
Not relaxed.
Tight.
Something cold slipped down my spine. I rolled onto my side so I could see his face. He was already looking at me, his eyes wide with fear.
My stomach dropped.
He didn’t speak. Instead, he mouthed something silently,“There’s someone in here.”
Every muscle in my body went rigid. Adrenaline slammed into my bloodstream, but I willed myself not to move, not to tense.
I didn’t even let my expression change.
Because if there was someone else in the room, the worst thing we could do was give it away.
So instead I let my hand drift slowly up Josh’s side in what probably looked like lazy aftercare, brushing my fingers over his ribs. “Sure you’re okay?” I murmured casually.
Josh swallowed. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Just tired.”
His eyes flicked briefly toward the wall above the bed.
Then back to me.
I studied him carefully, and without breaking the faux relaxed vibe, I mouthed back, “You saw them?”
Josh gave the smallest possible nod. Barely a movement.
Then he mouthed another word, “Reflection.”
