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Hard enough to destroy whatever was left of me. I unleashed a moan and drove harder into my fist. I was falling for her and I couldn’t stop.

“Nyssa.” I groaned as my body clenched tight.

I worked the length harder.

And harder.

Hearing her own moans in my head.

My balls clenched. A savage kick tore along the length of me. Warmth hit my palm, spilling between my fingers before the water washed it away. But I didn’t release. I couldn’t… not yet. Not even if I wanted to. And I didn’t want to.

I stayed there long after the worst of it passed.

Breathing.

Listening.

Wanting.

And somewhere in her wing—she would’ve found the tray by now.

Known I’d heard her.

Known I’d stayed anyway.

I closed my eyes against the sting at my throat.

“What are you going to do now, Nyssa?”

My voice sounded rough even to me.

“Are you going to run?”

The thought of that was a shotgun to my chest. I swallowed it. Hit the taps, ended the spray and stepped out. The towel was rough. The cold sheets rougher. Still, I dragged on a pair of pajama pants and pushed the top sheet aside, then climbed in.

But sleep didn’t come for me.

It rarely did.

I slid my hand under my head and stared into nothing.

Yet…

All I heard was her.

The sound of her moans became a haunting intrusion to every damn thought that entered. The low groan of pipes invaded from this old house. Somewhere above came the patter of rain. Wind howled through the tiny gap in the window frame. It’d be hitting her side of the house harder. Beating against the window in her room. Keeping her awake. I could go to her. Sit while she sleeps. I could be the Phantom.

“Jesus Christ, do you even hear yourself?”

I rolled over. Reached out to the empty side of the bed.

Cold.

That’s all I felt.

Fucking cold.

Go to her.