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“I want you to come in me while I’m coming,” I pant out, frosty fog filling the air around us.

I want to come again, but I want him to come. I want us to do this again, and again, and again. All night.

Great, I escaped drugs and alcohol, just to end up like all the other ex-hitmen, ruled by addiction.

I’m just addicted to a gorgeous gray monster.

And his huge gray monster cock.

It’s not fair that even though I’ve had my mouth and my hand around him, I never noticed the little ridge of stitches that run up his thigh and down the base of his cock, hidden under the skin.

My boyfriend has tiny, invisible nubs for my pleasure, something I didn’t feel in the same way when he was plowing me into the wall like a beast in heat, but now, face to face, his cock sandwiched inside of me as our chests and hips grind and collide—it’s nothing short of divine. They’re in a line that rubs the exact path of the underside of my clit, a path that makes me see stars.

My orgasm is faster this time, blinding and sudden, sharp and sweet. It starts with a startled gasp, a sense of “What? But I just...” And ends up as a scream. “Laaaazarus!”

He muffles my scream with a desperate kiss, a groan that’s rupturing into me as his body shudders and spends.

“Ohhh. Oh, fuck. Oh, Vic, that was... That was wild, honey. I didn’t think it would be like that. Are you okay?” he pants, head to mine. His hand comes up to cup my cheek, eyes blinking back the sweat he worked up, even in this weather, even with his physique.

“I’m wonderful. Fantastic. Starting to get cold. And wet.”

“Wanna go somewhere with me?”

“Like you have to ask? I’ll go anywhere with you.” I kiss him, tenderly this time, gently, letting my body slowly drip down his, sliding to my feet. I don’t care if people heard us. Or even if they saw us.

I was a wild thing, with a wild thing as my mate, and it makes me feel closer than ever. I hug him hard, head on his chest. His hand strokes through my hair, and he clutches me tight.

Everyone else has pulled away. Sex over, they’re done.

Not him. He’s here. Cuddling me, kissing the top of my head.

“I wanna go home,” he whispers.

I don’t know where his true home is. To Manny and Rhea’s house? His crypt? California?

“Then take me home.” I smile up at him.

Chapter Twenty-Two: Home

One time of making love, actual love, can change you.

“That’s foolish. Crazy shit, boy. Talking through your ass.”

Let anyone tell me that, and they’ll be the ones breathing through their butt. So there.

The road splits, and I follow it to the shop. The apartment above it.

“Manny and Rhea want you to come to Christmas dinner. And come open presents in the morning, too, if you want. And if they need to leave to take care of the baby in the NICU, or help Hannah before the delivery because she’s on bed rest, you can stay in the house. Or here. In the apartment. They don’t know whether we’d fight when we’re alone, Rhea says, but I know. I won’t fight with you. Well, no, I’ll fight other things with you.”

I let all of those words rush out, eyes locked on the road, hands locked on the wheel.

I don’t look at her.

What if that was just... Raw, crazy, adrenaline-rush sex? What if “I love you” is what you say when you’re feeling amazing, and it really should have been “I love how you make me come, stud-monster?”

“Okay.”

Okay?