He woke to the sound of rain on the roof and, for a second, the world was perfect. Just her and him, pressed chest to back, her breath slow and even against his arm.
The old digital clock on the nightstand glowed a blue 3:44. He had a full three hours before the house would start ticking toward morning routines and the false civility of breakfast conversation with Logan.
He meant to just stay where he was, but when he pressed his nose into her hair and inhaled the sharp, mineral tang of sweat and the faint, wild trace that was just Greta, the animal part of him wanted more.
Jesus, he was thirty-nine. He hadn’t gone this many rounds in a night since Bush Jr. was in office. But she shifted against him, hips rocking back with a small, greedy movement, and he was instantly hard again.
Her lashes fluttered, but she didn’t wake all the way up. Her hand circled his wrist where it bracketed her waist. She made a sound that was half sigh, half satisfied complaint. He slid his hand over the ridges of her abs, the dip between her ribs, the slope of her breast, and she arched into it like a cat. He wanted to go slow. He wanted to taste every inch of her. But the clock wasalready running down and he was already drowning in her. He slid his cock between her thighs and felt her clench around him, desperate and needy.
“Bear,” she gasped, wide awake now, and arched back into him. “Oh, God, yes.”
He withdrew and sank into her again, snaking a hand around the front of her to work her clit as he rocked against her from behind.
Her body fit him so perfectly that he thought maybe this was what he’d been built for. All those years of holding back and self-control and trying not to want too much, just to end up here—inside Greta Dougherty, her fingers digging into his forearm, her hair loose on the pillow, and her mouth open, gasping slurred curses every time he bottomed out.
It didn’t take long before she started shaking, her hips rolling back with every thrust. She came with a muted, animal sound, her nails biting into his arm. He followed almost immediately, the release so intense it left him blind for a second, nerves all white noise and heat. He pressed his face into her shoulder and stayed there, both of them shuddering through the aftershocks.
When the world came back, he rolled onto his back, cradling her against his chest. She went with him, draping herself over his stomach, her hand splayed wide on his chest. He felt the pounding of her heart through her whole body. She laughed, low and satisfied, and nipped him just above the nipple.
He thought about saying something. He wanted to tell her he loved her, that she was the only thing that made sense anymore, but the words caught somewhere between his brain and tongue. He settled for pulling her closer and running his palm up and down the length of her back, memorizing every inch.
After a while, she propped herself up on her elbows, regarded him with a look that was equal parts mischief and exhaustion. “We smell like a locker room and wet dog.”
He winced. She wasn’t wrong. “Shower’s too small for both of us.”
“Damn.” She groaned and rolled out of bed. “I’m going first then.”
He watched her cross the room naked, streaks of sweat and other things running down her thighs, hair wild.
She was so beautiful it hurt.
When they finally settled back into the bed, both clean and the sheets changed, she draped herself over his chest, but she didn’t sleep. He could all but hear the wheels turning in her head.
“What’s going on in there, Greta?”
She said nothing for several long heartbeats. “I knew it was Daniel. The break-in at Summit, the slashed tires. He left a dead bird on my hood three weeks ago, and I didn’t tell anyone.”
He didn’t move. He was afraid he’d put his fist through the wall if he did. “Why not?”
“I don’t know. I guess…” She sighed, and her breath rushed out over his nipple. “I thought nobody would believe me. He’s a Goodwin.”
“I would’ve believed you. I’m always on your side, Greta. Always.”
“Yeah, I know you are you.” She sat up, keeping her hand on him. “My whole life, I’ve been trying to prove I could handle anything. To myself, to my dad, to everyone in Solace. Daniel was the first thing I couldn’t just muscle my way through. I thought if I ignored it, it would go away, or I’d figure out how to handle it on my own. But I couldn’t.”
He stayed quiet because he figured letting her talk was the only thing he could do right now.
She tugged at one of the orange strands above her eyes, twisting it around her finger. A nervous tic she didn’t know she had.
“I thought maybe if I handled it alone, I could finally stop being…”
Afraid, he thought when she trailed off. She tried so hard not to show it, but Greta Dougherty had lived in fear since her twin went missing all those years ago.
She shook her head. “Never mind. I just didn’t want to be someone else’s problem, I guess. But you didn’t treat me like a problem. You just… showed up.”
He let out a long, slow breath. “I’m always going to show up for you.”
She looked at him. “I know.”
