He starts to shake, his moan broken. Ruined. And it’s all I need.
All I can take.
Forehead pressed to the door, knuckles white and straining, I come with my teeth clenched so hard I taste blood.
Mal follows, biting my shoulder to keep whatever sound is throttling him contained. He’s so deep inside me, I feel him, pulsing and hot, even with the condom, and it sends another bone-shaking shudder through me. Another harsh shock of heat keeping that blade of danger pressed to my throat.
I feel Mal in every nerve.
Every wild, rampaging beat thundering against my ribs.
I feel the weight of him behind me, one hand pinning me to the door, the other still splayed across my convulsing stomach, and for the first time in years, I don’t feel empty.
Just smothered by a rush of endorphins so abrupt I sway on my feet.
Solid in ways he wasn’t last night, Mal holds me up. “Breathe.”
With my head against my trembling forearm, I claim some oxygen, at peace for a few long breaths, even with Mal still inside me, a different person than when we started.
No. It’s just sex.
It has to be.
I don’t know anything else, and we can’tbeanything else. A thought that creeps with insidious intent as Mal’s chest lifts and falls against my back and his hand on my stomach presses harder, as if he knows I lost the meal we ate together before I showered the shame from my skin and came to find him.
He knows.
I fucking hate that. But in this fucked-out moment, I love the comfort of his subtle touch more. And so we stay where we are, as if we have all the time in the world, wrapped up in each other in the dark as though we’ll never let go.
Dazed, I drift. Could I sleep like this?
Maybe—
Footsteps in the hallway bear down on us, a drum beat of reality jerking me awake. Jack calls my name, and we’re out of time.
Mal moves fast, pulling out of me, yanking my sweats halfway to where they need to be, and ripping his body from mine.
I’m instantly freezing. Stumbling. But Jack knocks on the door before I can get my shit together to do more than tuck my dick away and wipe up the cum Mal’s fucked out of me.
Behind me, he snorts.
I turn to fire a glare at him, but…
He’s gone.
I blink at the hollow space he’s left behind. The open window. The closed drawer hiding the lube and fuck knows what else.
Like he was never here.
“Skylar?”
Jack sounds anxious.
I wrench my focus from where I last saw Mal—last felt him—and open my door, squinting at the hallway light.
Jack frowns back at me. “Are you okay?”
“I just woke up.” The lie tastes bitter on my tongue, because it’s not entirely untrue. I’m just too messed up to unlock the metaphor. “What’s wrong?”