Page 105 of Joker

“You feel so fucking good Angel, come with me.”

She starts to tense my name ripping from her mouth as I find my release collapsing next to her.

Later, when her breathing finally evens out and her body goes soft and heavy against mine, I lie there staring at the dark ceiling with one arm locked around her waist and the taste of my real name still burning in my mouth.

She came into this room as something I wasn’t supposed to touch.

She leaves it mine.

I don’t sleep.

I just lie there with her tucked against my chest, staring into the dark and realizing somewhere between her first kiss and the sound of my real name on her lips, I stopped being a man who could walk away from this.

Or her.

I should feel guilt.

Regret.

Some warning bell telling me I just crossed a line I can’t uncross.

Instead, all I feel is her breathing against my chest and one cold, undeniable truth settling in my bones.

I should’ve been more careful.

Because now she’s not getting rid of me.

I wake up warm.

That’s the first thing I notice.

Not the room. Not the unfamiliar ceiling. Not the weight of a heavy arm draped low across my waist or the steady heat at my back or the fact that every inch of me feels used in the way that has absolutely nothing to do with regret and everything to do with being wanted too thoroughly to mistake it for anything else.

No.

It’s the warmth. Deep, bone-level, impossible warmth. And for one dangerously blissful second, before my brain catches up, I let myself stay there.

Still. Half-buried in sleep and the kind of quiet that feels earned. Then reality slams into me all at once.

I go rigid. Not because I regret last night.

That’s the worst part.

I don’t. Not even a little. I remember every second of it in flashes hot enough to make my pulse kick hard under my skin.

His mouth. His hands. The rough scrape of his voice against my ear. The look in his eyes when he told me if I chose him, I needed to understand exactly what that meant.

The sound of my own breathing when he gave me a choice and then actually meant it.

I remember his real name like it’s burned into me now.

Travis.

No one calls him that. No one. But he gave it to me anyway.

And I took it.

I took all of it. That should probably terrify me less than it does.