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I give him only a moment of peace before I start grinding against him and he groans out my name. When we move together, it’s the closest thing I’ve ever felt to complete.

I can’t think of anything beyond us. Beyond this. Each time I call his name it’s closer to being forgotten. Until all I can do is mumble incoherent sounds.

But he hasn’t forgotten me or mine.

‘Miller,’ he breathes. ‘Look at me.’

I see him, dishevelled, eyes centred and determined. His thrusts are coming harder. I hike my leg up higher, pull him closer, clash his lips into mine all while I watch the look of worship in his eyes. I can feel myself winding, climbing, reaching, like this mountain we built will be both our death and salvation.

‘Come with me.’ I barely get the words out.

I watch him lose all control. He fucks me with abandon. He fucks me so hard I can feel my back becoming one flesh with the tree I’m pressed against. I don’t care. I want him. I want more. I want us to fall together.

There’s a storm raging around us, rolled in from nowhere. The sky is a turbulent reflection of the abandon we share. Dark and grey, the clouds spin above us like dancers. Rain begins to fall, but the wind does nothing but fan the fire burning between us.

I’m too tight, and getting tighter. I cry out. And he grunts, thrusting into me fast and hard until he’s chasing the edge of that cliff too. So close I can feel his muscles tightening. He looks at me, leans down and kisses me with both eyes open as we reach the cliff face. The fall is so far, when we land there’ll be nothing but chaos and discord. Doubt has found purchase, but not enough to stake a claim. Because in his arms, nothing is a mistake.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The Tub

Ding.

A bright red notification pops up on my home screen, illuminating the coffee table a seductive shade of red before disappearing. My head whips in Walker’s direction to see if he’s noticed. He has not. Clearly he’s immersed in whatever it is he’s reading in the paper. His eyes scan the page, with a dimple creasing the stubbled skin of his cheek every so often. And I’m pounded with a horrific hit of jealousy. Who’s making him laugh? Well – as close as he ever gets to anyone making him laugh.

He’s reading the Keninburgh Times. I bet it’s that bitch Dan. Sure, the gossip column is entertaining – but I swear to Stars that guy’s a closet incel.

Then – horror of horrors – a chuff escapes him. I watch that little air of betrayal blow a lock of hair that had fallen into his eyes back.

My eyes widen.

This is practically cheating.

And right in front of me, no less!

I clear my throat to get his attention. Still enraptured in his little love affair with the paper, he pays no heed. My nostrils flair.

I can’t entirely blame him for losing interest – watching VVV reruns after we just binged the entire series isn’t exactly breaching new boundaries, but it is our thing. And participation is compulsory.

‘That says Tuesday,’ I say, looking at the top of the paper before he folds it in half.

‘Congratulations, you can read,’ he drawls.

‘It’s Thursday.’ I frown.

‘Another stunning display of your observational dexterity. Well done.’

I huff. Whatever. ‘I’ll just go on my phone then.’

‘You do that,’ he quips.

Fine. I will. I pick up my phone and scroll, while Vlad drawls out his luff letters to the girls on screen. Walker looks far too peaceful.

I sniff. ‘I’m offended.’

He rolls his eyes and throws the paper down, attention now undivided. I turn, ready to engage when I see…

I gasp.