Page 108 of Fallen Rook

Me: You know I want to come.

Tomcat: Fair warning, I’m going to be in a terrible mood.

Me: Right, so, back to normal? Love it for us.

Tomcat: Brat.

Me: I’m guessing you didn’t smile today…

Tomcat: Don’t set yourself up for failure.

Me: Oh, but I do love a challenge.

Tomcat: Get your ass over here.

Me: Give me twenty.

I was already up on my feet before I was done typing the message. Tristan and Luca’s eyes flitted over to me.

“You leaving now?” Luca’s scowl was so deep I worried it bent his brain out of shape. “We were in the middle of a conversation.”

I opened my arms with a wiseass smirk. “A wise man once told me only a fool would trade true love for dirty money and endless death.”

I brought Tom a plate wrapped in foil with all of Tierney’s delicacies, and a joint made of the finest, purest weed known to man. I wasn’t taking any risks by feeding him alcohol. Last time he got sloshed, some dark shit trespassed between us, and it was a memory neither of us wanted to revisit.

I lifted my fist to knock on his door, but it opened before my knuckles hit the wood. He appeared in all his Tom-esque glory. Elegant and chiseled down to the bone. The mad blue of his eyes—tinged with gold, turquoise, and indigo—saddened me. Because I knew I’d never see it on another human again.

“Hi.” I smiled brightly.

He didn’t smile back.

Instead, he grabbed the back of my head, pulled my face to his, and smashed his lips against mine so hard, so fiercely, I lost my balance and tripped forward with an oomph.

“What th—” Tom took advantage of my parted mouth, shoving his tongue inside and deepening our kiss to territories I didn’t know were humanly possible.

I managed to salvage the laden paper plate in my hand—barely—as we both staggered through the door, Tom kicking it shut behind us. Our lips did not disconnect the entire time, as if he needed my mouth like oxygen. He had a three-day stubble, which I’d never seen him with before, and it felt funny against my cheek.

“Bro? You okay?” I strangled out, literally speaking around his tongue.

“Can we fuck?”

“Yes.”

“Then I will be, once these are off.” He started clawing at my pants, and I took the opportunity to slide the plate over the kitchen counter.

Other unusual details dotted the scenery, which I took in as he kissed his way down my body. The apartment wasn’t exactly messy—Tom would never—but two mugs sat on the coffee table and a whole-ass puzzle was on the kitchen island. And while no alcohol was in sight, the many plastic-wrapped utensils littered across the kitchen told me he hadn’t been cooking his micronutrient meals, but ordering takeout.

My dick leapt out, and just when I thought Tom was going to suck it, he came back up and kissed me some more, touching me everywhere. It was desperate, but not brutal, animalistic, and violent like the last time his demons had come out to play. I knew I could stop this, knew that he would stop, but something else was afoot—an undercurrent of sadness entangled in this white-hot, potent desire buzzing between us. Like he needed me so much he didn’t know where to touch, what to do to satisfy his needs.

“Baby, lie back for me.” I ran my palm over his chest, getting rid of his shirt as I propped him over his half-finished two-thousand-piece puzzle. He did, panting, looking lost for the first time since I’d met him.

“Have you been to work the last few days?” I fastened my mouth over his nipple, feeling his fingers raking through my hair as he tossed his head back. I trailed the tip of my tongue over one tight nipple, kissing it before moving to the next one.

“No,” he groaned.

My stomach dropped. I didn’t need to ask him why. I knew.

And just like that, I knew why I was here, too.