Page 18 of The Next Lie

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

I kiss him again because that is faster than coming up with a comeback, and also because his mouth is right there and I am not made of stone. I take the rest of him in one slow, greedy slide that leaves me seated fully in his lap, filled so deep I have to stop and breathe against his mouth. For a moment, neither of us moves. The bathwater laps against our joined bodies. His chest rises hard against mine. My nipples drag over wet skin, and my body clenches around him like it has opinions.

A lot of opinions. Possibly a full dissertation. Shiloh’s head falls back against the rim of the tub. “You feel⁠—”

“Finish that sentence carefully.”

His eyes open, dark and hot. “Perfect.”

Damn him. That one gets in. I lift my hips before it can settle too deeply, then sink back down. Pleasure rolls through me, blunt and bright. My fingers dig into his shoulders. His hands slide to my waist, up my back, down again, like he cannot decide where he is allowed to touch now that I’ve given him permission.

Everywhere, idiot. My body says it before I do. I grab one of his hands and put it on my breast. His eyes flare.

“Reva.”

“Do I need to draw you a map?”

“No.”

“Then catch up.”

His mouth curves, but it is gone almost instantly when I move again. His hand closes around me, thumb dragging over my nipple, and pleasure punches through me hard enough that my rhythm stutters.

“There?” he asks.

I glare at him. He does it again. My head tips back. “You know damn well where.”

“Still like hearing you say it.”

“Of course you do.”

I ride him because I need the motion. Need the pressure. Need the slick drag of him inside me proving my body is still mine, still capable of wanting, still capable of taking something from this cursed night besides another wound. I need to feel alive in a way death cannot argue with. His mouth finds my throat. This time, he bites.

Not hard enough to hurt in a bad way. Enough to make me gasp and clamp down around him. Shiloh curses against my skin. “Careful.”

I laugh into the steam. “I thought we were done being careful.”

His hands grip my hips, and then he finally, finally stops treating me like cracked glass. He does not take over completely. He is too smart for that, too tuned to the jagged places under my skin tonight. But he helps. Lifts me. Guides me down harder. Meets me with a thrust that sends water slapping over the side of the tub.

“There we go,” I say, breathless. “Knew you were in there somewhere.”

His smile flashes, wicked and wrecked. “You have a mouth on you.”

“You noticed?”

“I have a list.”

“I better be number one.”

“You’re the whole damn list.”

My chest does something stupid. I ignore it by moving faster. The tub is a disaster. Water spills everywhere. My knees slide. His hands catch me every time, strong at my hips, my ribs, my back. I slap one hand against the tile wall to steady myself, but it slips, and Shiloh drags me closer, laughing under his breath in a way that sounds half-mad.

“Your floor,” I gasp.

“Fuck my floor.”