Page 130 of The Final Cut

“All the way.”

Her throat moves. She nods.

I drive into her, slow at first, then hard enough, deep enough to make her breath catch, controlled enough that she has to take every inch instead of vanish into the speed of it. She grips me tighter, hips lifting, wanting harder, faster, anything that will drown the hospital, the drones, Isabel’s voice, Cal’s failing numbers.

I do not give it to her yet.

I pin one of her wrists beside her head and take her mouth, fucking her in long, deliberate strokes until the fight in her starts to change shape. Until her body stops trying to flee itself and begins to soften beneath mine. Until the tears at her temples are no longer only fear.

“Ask,” I say.

She shakes her head.

I still.

Her eyes snap to mine. “Don’t.”

“Ask.”

Her pride trembles. Then bends.

“Please.”

“For what?”

She glares at me through wet lashes. A breathless, furious laugh breaks out of her and disappears into a gasp when I move again.

“Please make me come,” she says, each word dragged over broken glass. “Please, Nash.”

I give her what she asked for.

Harder now. Faster. My hand between us, thumb finding her clit, pressure exactly where she needs it while I keep her eyes on mine. She comes with my name torn out of her, body locking around me, nails biting deep enough to sting. I follow before I mean to, control snapping clean under the feel of her holding nothing back.

For a while afterward, neither of us speaks.

I roll us carefully, keeping her close. She lies half on top of me, cheek against my chest, one hand curled in the ruins of my shirt. Her breathing evens by degrees. The city glows beyond the curtains. Somewhere outside this room, men move, phones buzz, threats gather, Cal fights his own body, and Isabel waits for us to make the next mistake.

Reva’s voice is small when it comes.

“If he dies while I’m not there…”

I close my eyes. “He knows you love him.”

“That isn’t the same.”

“No,” I say. “It isn’t.”

She is quiet a long time. “I don’t like this, Nash.”

“My reasons are sound.”

She’s silent, and her fingers relax. Exhaustion takes her unevenly, one muscle at a time, until her weight settles and her breath warms my skin in a slow rhythm. I hold her until my arm goes numb, then longer because numbness is nothing.

Eventually, I sleep. Lightly, because I don’t sleep deeply anymore.

A faint shift of air wakes me sometime after midnight. The room is dark except for city light through the curtains. Reva is no longer against me.

I open my eyes.