I kept my hand on his face anyway.
“You sure about that?”
“Nick.”
“That wasn’t an answer.”
“Yes.”
He moved again, slow enough to be cruel and deep enough to make my nails bite into his shoulders. My back arched, and when his name escaped me, his hips drove in a fraction harder before he caught himself.
“Again,” he said, rough against my mouth.
The sound he made when he lost that inch of control was going to haunt me in broad daylight.
His forehead came down to mine. For a few breaths, neither of us moved except where we had to. His chest brushed mine. His arms trembled. My knees tightened against his hips. Every excuse I had left was lying dead somewhere near my borrowed T-shirt.
“Say something,” he said, his voice rough at my mouth. “I need you with me.”
Of course he would ask that now. My brain produced exactly nothing. My hips, unfortunately, had plenty to say.
I ran my thumb along his beard, felt the muscle in his jaw jump beneath it, and forced the words out before I could dress them up into something safer.
“You know exactly what to do with my body,” I said. “It’s the rest of me that’s making you panic.”
He went still, but the part of him buried inside me didn't soften, which made the silence infinitely more dangerous.
“Because I want all of it,” he said. “And wanting it means I have to stop pretending this ends cleanly when you leave.”
The cabin gave us nothing to hide behind. No radio. No lodge noise. No one needing him more than I did.
He stayed right there, exposed and furious about it.
My thighs tightened around his hips. My hand softened against his face. My pride took another humiliating step back.
Mostly, I hated that I meant it when I told him not to waste the night hiding from me.
“You hear me?” I asked.
His throat worked.
“Yes.”
“Good.” My voice came out thinner than I intended. “Because tomorrow is already coming, Nick. Don’t waste tonight hiding from me.”
“I’m trying,” he said.
“Try harder.”
The words hit him low—I felt the answer in his hips before I saw it in his face.
His control didn’t snap. Nick Mercer would probably keep standards while the walls gave out. But it changed. The distance in it burned off, leaving something rawer beneath. He lowered his mouth to mine and kissed me like he had run out of places to hide.
Oh.
Damn him.
I kissed him back.
