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He pulled back enough to look at me. His eyes were dark, his breathing ragged. A strand of his hair had fallen across his forehead.

“You’re sure?”

I nodded, biting my bottom lip. “I’m sure.”

His hand slid down my stomach, over the waistband of my leggings. He paused, giving me one last chance to change my mind, but I said nothing. I wanted him to touch me. When I lifted my hips, he slipped his hand inside.

His fingers found my wet center, and his breath stuttered against my neck.

“You’re soaked,” he whispered.

He touched me, focused, precise, and devastatingly competent. Two fingers sliding through the slick heat of me, finding my clit and circling with just enough pressure that made my vision blur. My head fell back, and I braced my hands on the counter behind me. He watched me while he worked me with patience that bordered on cruel.

“Right there,” I breathed.

He pushed two fingers inside me and my whole body clenched. His thumb stayed on my clit, rubbing slow circles while his fingers curled forward, finding that spot that made me grip the edge of the counter, turning my knuckles white.

“That’s it. Let me feel you. Let me feel you clench around my fingers.”

Every single nerve in my body was lit up. I was already close. I tried to concentrate, his mouth on my neck, his fingers buried deep inside me, his other hand gripping my hip to hold me in place, the hard length of him pressing against my inner thigh through his pants.

“Everett…” His name came out jagged and fractured.

“It’s okay to fall apart; I’ve got you.”

He moved his fingers fast, his thumb pressing harder. I grabbed his shoulder and dug my nails in. He groaned and bit down softly on the curve of my neck, and I came apart.

The orgasm rolled through me in pulses that made my thighs shake. I buried my face in his shoulder and moaned his name. He kept his hand right where it was, continuing to work me through it until the aftershocks faded and my body was limp, leaning into him, breathing hard.

For a moment, neither of us moved.

His hand was still between my legs. My face still rested against his shoulder. As my breathing steadied, he withdrew his fingers slowly, resting both palms on the counter on either side of me.

I wanted to pleasure him, make him cum as hard as I had. I reached for his belt.

“Don’t.” He caught my wrist, gentle but firm. “Not tonight.”

“But you…”

“I know,” he said, his voice strained. His breathing hadn’t steadied and I could still see the hard line of his erection straining against his pants. The fact he was stopping showed me the discipline he had.

He stepped back, ran his hand through his hair and looked at me, still sitting on his kitchen counter with my leggings pushed askew, my lips swollen from his mouth. As I looked at him, I saw the raw, open, and terrified look on his face.

“Good night, Ember,”

He picked up the bottle of scotch and his glass and left me in the kitchen.

Long after I’d heard his office door close, I still sat on the countertop, pressing my fingers to where his lips had been. I could still taste him.

Chapter Six

Everett

The smell of cinnamon woke me. For a few seconds, I thought I was in our old house. The one with the large bay window in the kitchen, and the mantle Rebecca spent every October turning into something out of a magazine spread. Cinnamon candles lined every surface of the house, and fall garland wound up the banister. The entire house smelled like a season I used to love and learned now to dread.

I opened my eyes and looked around the bedroom. I was in the Maple Lane Falls house, the one I’d purchased because it held no memories of what life used to be, but the cinnamon-pine smell was still there.

I got out of bed and opened my bedroom door. The hallway was now a Fall Wonderland as well.