Page 73 of These Secret Years

“Are you sure? I know you’re not—I know I usually⁠—”

“I’m not picky,” he says.

“Okay.” Frantically, I look between his eyes, flashing a glance between one, then the other and back. “I need, this. You know? You get it?”

“Of course I don’t get it. But I’ve got you,” he says.

“Yeah?” I kiss him hard again before he can answer.

He whimper moans, and we’re back in it again. Grinding and breathing for each other so deep in each other’s mouths, it feels like drowning. His hands massage my ass as he moves our bodies together in that rolling motion unique to good sex because he’s got me.

God, I fucking wish.

I wish my life were that simple.

I would never call anything that’s happened between Knight and me a mistake, but I would definitely call it stupid. He’s way too goddamn likable and perfect for me to think I could leave here and chalk this up to a summer fling. I’d love to say I’m cold and shut down enough to be able to do that, but people like him—genuinely good people like Knight Winters—must be my weakness. It was the first time he let me fuck him that I knew he could hurt me.

Not that I think he would. Not on purpose. It won’t be because he’s cruel or dismissive. It’ll be because he stays true to who he is. And that’ll hurt because it’s sad. It’s sad that someone so good has chosen to live his life alone.

He’s not meant for me, and I’m not meant for him, and I’ve known that since I gave him head in the woods, but fuck we’re good together. That is, I mean, as long as he doesn’t know the truth about me. That I’m another man’s whore.

To get a few deep breaths, I break away from his mouth and move down to suck and kiss his neck. He turns to press his lips to my ear. “You wanna get back on the mattress?”

“I don’t care.”

“Somebody’s gonna get rug burn if we don’t.”

“Also don’t care.”

“Right well. That might be the tequila talking.”

“It’s me, I promise.”

He gives my ass a rough slap. “Stop moving, or I’m gonna come.”

“It’s not just me.”

“I’m serious,” he says on a gasp, his voice strained.

Reluctantly, I slow my grinding and take my mouth off his neck. I push myself up on my hands and look down at him. “Don’t overthink.”

“I’m not. Trying not to come. Literally.”

“Okay,” I breathe. “Should I get the lube?”

“Yeah. Do that.”

As I get up, the sight of the tequila bottle is pretty damn tempting, but what’s more tempting is the sight of Knight with a massive erection, running his hands down his face and crunching his abs up to sit. How a man who looks like that thinks I’m anything special to look at is mystifying to me, especially given what I’ve done to myself in the last year.

But I swear to God, if I had any kind of a normal appetite, I would have gained a hundred pounds to make myself less attractive to Adrian. My nervous system doesn’t work that way, though. Skipping the tequila, I walk to my backpack, pulling the lube but not the condoms out of the side pocket.

Knight notices this right away as I toss the bottle onto the mattress.

“Forgetting something?”

“No.” I kneel on the big bubble of plastic before crawling on top of him again. “Do you mind?”

“Fucking you bare?”