“Does sex usually calm you after a vision?”
“I don’t know.” It was an answer she’d given too many times in the last hour. “I’ve never tried it before.”
His fingers threaded through her hair, and he angled her face up to his. He studied her, measuring the moment. She thought he would refuse her. Then his eyes dropped to her mouth.
“I’m here however you need me, darlin’.”
It went frantic after that. Only the necessary clothes came undone—and, thank God, he had a condom in his wallet. She guided him to her center and took all of him in one glide. The sudden, breathtaking stretch pulled a broken sound from her throat. The fullness silenced everything cold and terrible in her head—anchoring her in something real, something she needed.
His hands slid under her skirt, palming her cheeks, but she didn’t need the guidance—she rode him hard and fast.
The leather creaked under her knees, the windows fogged white, the whole truck rocking—neither of them cared.
She felt the solid weight of him, the drag of him inside her. His grip tightened on her backside, fingers digging in as he pulled her down harder. The angle shifted, sending him deeper, almost unbearably so. The tension in her snapped all at once, her fingers fisting in his hair as her body locked tight around him.
That was it for him, too. His hips drove up once, twice, then he followed her over, both of them groaning—nothing quiet about it.
For Erica, reality returned in layers. The thud of their hearts, the heat of the cab, the ragged quiet where urgency had been. Then the weight of what had just happened crashed down all at once.
She hid her face in his collar, her body shaking as she fought tears.
Her reaction didn’t seem to surprise him. He gathered her close, his arms locking around her and held on.
“I can’t believe I did that,” she said, voice raspy. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. It’s what you needed.” His hand stroked slowly along her spine. “Now let the rest of it out.”
And she did, the floodgates bursting open on years of bottled-up emotions.
Ugly, heaving sobs wracked her. The kind she’d never let anyone witness. He didn’t flinch. He simply held her.
When she was all cried out, his shirt damp with her tears, she sat up, sniffling.
He opened the glove box and fished around. “No Kleenex. Napkins,” he said, wiping her cheeks himself. He went back for a second, handing it to her so she could blow. She dabbed her nose, drawing the line there.
“Gotta say, darlin’, that was a deluge.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I don’t expect you volunteered for this.”
She sighed. “You’d be right.”
“Does this… catharsis happen every time?”
“Never.”
“Why now? I would think seeing Debra Wilson dead through Cheyenne’s eyes was more terrifying.”
She grimaced as the image resurfaced. “That was pretty graphic.”
“Didn’t mean it as a reminder.” He picked up her hand and laced their fingers together. “What was different tonight?”
“You. I never had anyone to hold on to before.”
His fingers flexed. “Damn, darlin’… you’re breaking my heart.”
“That wasn’t my intention.” She offered a tentative smile. “This catharsis was freeing. Thank you.”
