Page 34 of The Endless Want

I get an arm under her and lift, and she’s lighter than she has any right to be. Three steps to the sofa. Her mouth stays on my jaw the whole way, like letting go is the thing she’s afraid of.

The couch stinks of smoke and mildew, a secondhand store reject with threadbare arms and stuffing poking through a rip in the back.

I barely feel it as I lay her back, her hip bone sharp beneath my hand, her breath quick at my throat.

Her ribs show when she arches, and there is a bruise blooming under her left one the size of a boot heel. I want to find the man it belongs to. I want to take my time about it. That is what’s in my head while she’s saying my name, and I hate myself enough for both of us.

I only want to take and take until she’s filled with me, until she’s more me than her, and until the night blots out the memory of that alleyway.

Her fingers dig into my biceps, and she hisses, maybe at the pain, maybe at the way my teeth scrape her jaw. I don’t care because I need everything from her, and I’ll take anything she has for me right now.

I catch her eyes drinking me in, and while I want to savor this, I don’t know how much longer I can take waiting.

To hold myself back, I increase the depth and stroke of my fingers, coaxing ungodly sounds from her raw throat. It’s like a symphony to my throbbing cock that I’ll bury in her not too long from now.

I feel her shudder against my knuckles, hips locking, a vein throbbing at her throat.

I draw my wrist back and watch her twitch, make her wait a second, and a second longer, until she relaxes just slightly, fallen into the thick, numb static that follows the crest. Then, I shove her thighs apart and lock myself to her, mouth on mouth, ocean on fire.

When I finally push inside her, she shudders, thighs trembling, body jerking against me with a hunger that makes my brain sink into oblivion.

Relief floods me, but it’s not enough. I need more, so much more: her gasps, her clutching at my neck, the scrape of her nails desperate on my back.

I try to keep myself gentle, but the rhythm builds up, each thrust harder than the last, until we both sound like wounded animals.

I press my face hard into the crook of her neck, breathing her in, sweat and smoke and something faintly peppery.

She comes first, a sudden bucking sharp enough to make me lose my rhythm. Her teeth close on my shoulder, hard, and she holds on through it, rigid and then liquid under me.

I’m not bothered about the pain; hell, I want it.

I drive into her until I felt something break inside myself and then, finish, forehead to hers. Her eyes gleaming with the hangover of what we have done.

Her pulse still batters my chest, and I decide to stay here. To pretend that we just solved our problems.

When the moment settles, she stays close, forehead resting lightly against my chest. My arms go around her without thought, protecting her from nothing and everything at once.

“We’ll figure this out,” I murmur into her hair. Ailish falls asleep against me.

Not peacefully. Her breath never fully settles, and every few minutes the muscles in her back tense as if her body is still braced for a chase that won’t let her go. But sleep is sleep, and she needs it more than she will admit.

I eventually ease her alone onto the sofa, draping a blanket over her after I’m up. I don’t dare fall asleep with the paranoia running through my veins. If we make it another several hours with no word or appearances, I’ll know it’s okay to start the next phase of my plan.

Whatever that will be.

She murmurs something I can’t make out, brow furrowing for a second before smoothing again. The sight presses a sharp ache into my chest.

Ailish doesn’t break easily. But tonight came close.

I brush strands of hair away from her cheek, letting my fingers linger for only a moment before forcing myself to step away.

She’s safer with distance. With someone thinking clearly. And right now, that someone has to be me.

I move to the window, keeping the light low. The rain has thinned to a mist, glistening on the streetlamps. The reflections on the pavement shift softly with the wind, like silhouettes moving just out of sight.

I scan the rooftops, the alley, the cars parked across the way.

Nothing.