Page 50 of Molt

I frown. “Stop what?”

She steps closer.

“Lenora.”

“Tell me.”

My hand tightens around hers. “Stop.”

She doesn’t move.

Neither do I.

“Again.”

“Stop.”

“Mean it.”

I can’t.

Her eyes move to my mouth as mine drop to hers.

The bathroom suddenly feels too warm.

I can smell her shampoo. Feel the heat coming off her body. Her bare thigh brushes my leg. Barely but enough that every memory I have of her crashes into me at once.

Her mouth.

Her hands.

Her laughter against my skin.

The way she used to say my name when she wanted something. The way she’d curl against me after I pulled orgasm after orgasm from her body and pretend she wasn’t tired. The way she’d trace the bones beneath my skin. The way she’d whisper “Still you.”

Until one night I wasn’t.

I release her.

Hard.

She stumbles back.

“Don’t.”

Her expression hardens. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You were going to.”

“So were you.”

“I’m trying to keep you alive.”

“By acting like you can’t stand being near me?”

“Yes.”

“That’s fucking stupid.”