Page 157 of A Million To Fall

He chuckles, but finally—god, finally—lowers himself between my thighs. I feel the hard length of him slide against my slick skin, the blunt head brushing my clit and pulling a gasp from my throat. He groans, low and guttural, then shifts his hips, lining himself up before easing inside me.

Boston moves carefully, like he knows he's asking my body to accommodate all of him, giving me time to adjust while I hover on that exquisite edge between too much and not enough.

My back arches, a whimper catching in my chest as he finally sinks into me. My hands tighten on him as the stretch turns into something intoxicating.

“Look at me,” he murmurs, voice strained. “Skye. Please. Look at me.”

I open my eyes and meet his. The heat there is enough to set me ablaze.

He sinks deeper still, inch by inch, until he bottoms out with a groan, his gaze never leaving mine. For a moment, we just breathe each other in, our bodies locked, our hearts hammering in sync.

“Okay?” he rasps, his thumb brushing along my jaw.

“Perfect,” I breathe, and then I roll my hips, just enough to make him shudder.

That’s all it takes.

He begins to thrust—deep, long strokes—slow at first, eyes fixed to my face, gauging my reaction to him. And I try to stay with him, try not to lose myself just yet, but the weight of him, his scent, the way he moves inside me is so intoxicating that my eyes fall shut.

“Fuck,” I hear him groan quietly, his tempo increasing. His hand closes over my breast, thumb dragging slowly over my nipple, pulling a soft moan from me, while his mouth follows the line of my throat, teeth grazing, then softening—like he can’t decide whether to devour me or memorize me.

The pleasure builds fast, hot and sharp and blinding. It coils tight in my core, in my spine, his thrusts turning more urgent, more erratic.

“Boss,” I gasp, my hands on his shoulder blades, nails digging into the muscle there like that could stop me from falling. “I’m… I’m gonna—”

His breath breaks, a rough, guttural sound tearing from his chest, his rhythm stuttering as his body tightens above me.

“Fuck… me too,” he manages, voice wrecked, barely holding on.

And then I fall apart with a cry, my whole body throbbing around him, clenching, pulsing, pleasure ripping through me like lightning.

He follows instantly, a strangled groan spilling from his lips as his hips drive into me in a broken rhythm—once, twice, three times—before he stills, buried deep, his body locking up as release crashes through him.

I force my eyes open, desperate to watch him in this moment that holds nothing for him but pure, undiluted ecstasy. And, God, is he beautiful.

When he finally slips out of me, he disposes of the condom before lying beside me and pulling me into his arms like this is exactly where I belong.

For a while, neither of us speaks as Boston’s fingers drift lazily up and down my arm, his breathing finally evening out. I rest my cheek against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“I wish it was simple,” I whisper into the quiet.

His hand stills.

I lift my head enough to look at him, and judging by his expression, he knows exactly what I’m talking about.

Us.

“I mean, your mom still has to make it through the diversion program,” I say, tracing absent circles over his sternum. “I still have to walk into Archer’s house tomorrow and pretend I haven’t…” I let out a shaky laugh. “Pretend my entire world didn’t shift on its axis.”

His jaw tightens. “You don’t have to do this, Stormy.”

“Yes,” I say softly. “I do. For now.”

His brows pull together. “For now?” he repeats carefully.

I nod. “For now.”

I don’t know exactly what tomorrow looks like. I don’t know how many pieces of my old life will survive what comes next, or what new shape my future will take once the dust settles. But for the first time, that uncertainty doesn’t hollow me out from the inside.