I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you forever.
The words are a mantra in my head, a vow sealed with every drive. And then her climax hits like lightning. She cries out in a full-body spasm, tightening mercilessly around me. My eyes roll back at the sensation, but I keep going. I slow my thrusts.
Deep, slow.
Deep, fast.
Deep, slow.
I kiss her until my muscles finally begin to tighten. And then I slam into her one last time, groaning into her neck. I hold her there, shaking, full of us until the world slowly comes back into focus.
I never want to leave her.
I stay inside her, softening slowly, my forehead resting against hers. Our breath comes in ragged, synchronized gasps. The water begins to cool, a slight chill that does absolutely nothing to douse the heat between us.
We just breathe. Connected.
Finally, I lower her gently, her legs wobbling as her feettouch the tile. She sags against me, her face buried in my chest. I wrap my arms around her, holding her close under the spray.
“I love you, too,” she whispers against my skin, her voice hoarse.
I tilt her chin up, kissing her softly, gently. A complete contrast to the animal I was moments before. We wash each other slowly, tenderly, our hands rediscovering every inch of skin. The passion has burned down to a warm, glowing ember for now. I dry her off with a soft towel, patting her skin with a care I usually reserve for my guitar.
I haven’t touched anyone gently since her. With Adriana, it was never gentle. Never...human. Just something to take the edge off the craving, the noise, the rage. A means to survive another night. But standing here with Emma, I know with terrifying clarity that I would rather be locked in a room andforced through withdrawal again and again than ever touch anyone but her.
Carrying her back to the bed, I lay her down and pull the blankets over us. She curls into my side instantly, her head on my chest, her leg thrown over mine. Her breathing evens out almost immediately, falling into the soft, deep rhythm of sleep.
I stroke her hair, listening to her breathe, feeling the steady beat of her heart. My body is exhausted, sore, and completely, utterly sated. For now.
My hand drifts down, resting possessively on the curve of her hip. I want to believe we can survive this—that somehow we’ll all walk out alive. But I’ve seen what happens to people who push too hard, who step out of line. I’ve watched men bleed out for far less.
And I’m about to really piss my handlers off.
Chapter twenty-two
EMMA EASTON
I wake to cold sheets. My hand reaches instinctively across the mattress, searching for warmth, but the space beside me is empty. The indentation where Jude slept is still there, warm, like he left just moments ago. The room is dark except for the pale sliver of moonlight leaking through the window, painting faint lines across the floor.
My chest tightens.
I sit up slowly, listening. But I hear nothing. I slip out of bed, careful not to make the floorboards creak. The guest room door is open, and I peek inside. Heather’s curled up on her side,wrapped in blankets, drowning in Micah’s shirt. But he’s gone, too.
A quiet dread threads into my veins.
I keep moving.
The light catches my eye first. A faint, shifting glow at the back of the house—two small beams flickering against the patio railing. Phone flashlights.
I press my hand to the sliding glass door as I look out into the night. Jude and Micah sit outside in the dark, their faces half-lit by the glow of their phones. The rest of them is swallowed by shadow. The house is too dark. I’m invisible here.
Then Micah flicks the lighter. The tiny flame snaps to life, illuminating the little black case on the table between them. For aheartbeat, the flame shows their hollow cheeks and tired eyes. My throat closes.
No.
Please, no.
Micah works efficiently. The soft crackle of the lighter repeats—brief bursts of fire kissing metal, heating it, bending the shadows around their shapes. A faint chemical tang drifts through the barely opened door, sharp enough that I catch it even from here. The scent mixes with the cold night air, awrongnessI feel in my bones.
