Page 71 of Dead Girls Don’t Forget

He lifted me easily and my legs wrapped around his hips on instinct. He carried us through the water until my shoulders met the cool tile. His mouth found my throat, slower now, brushing the hollow beneath my ear. His hand slid lower, stroking me through the lace. A broken sound left me against his shoulder.

"Tell me to stop."

I didn't.

"Harper."

My fingers tightened against him.

“Tell me what you want.”

I exhaled, unsteady, and met his eyes. “Don’t stop.”

His mouth crashed back onto mine. The last of his restraint disappeared. His tongue pushed deep as his hands moved over me, thighs, hips, shoulders, pulling me harder against him. I met him with the same force.

The water made everything easier. Our bodies felt lighter, shifting against each other with almost no resistance. I shoved his briefs down far enough to free him and gripped the hard muscle of his ass as he pressed hard against me.

His hand hooked the lace aside and slid a finger into me. I gasped into his shoulder. He answered with a rough breath against my throat.

“Do we need a condom?” he asked, low.

“I’m on the pill.”

His eyes closed briefly. When they opened again they were darker. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

That was enough. He shifted me higher, one hand beneath me, the other steady at my shoulders. When he pushed into me, it was slow, controlled, giving me time to take him.

My breath caught. His forehead dropped to mine as he filled me completely, and for a moment we both stilled, breathing together.

Then he moved.

Slow at first, then building. Each thrust pressed me back against the tile and drew me down onto him again. The water moved with us with every stroke. One hand stayed tight at my shoulders, cushioning the impact, while the other slid down to my thigh and pulled it higher, opening me further.

The new angle hit deep. I gasped. “Jackson.”

He stilled for half a second, checking, then drove into me again, harder.

“I’ve got you.”

He picked up the pace. The water lapped softly against the tile. His mouth found my throat, then the curve of my shoulder. When he bit down lightly a sound tore out of me that I barely recognized as my own. My eyes closed without permission.

He lifted his head, mouth brushing my jaw. “Eyes on me.”

I opened them. He was already watching.

My fingers tangled in his wet hair as his rhythm deepened. His other hand slid between us, thumb settling over my clit and moving in slow, deliberate circles that deliberately didn’t match the pace of his thrusts. The contrast made everything start to blur.

“Jackson.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m—”

“I know.”

The pressure built fast. He held me there, eyes locked on mine, not letting either of us look away.