Except none of that mattered in my dreams. The impending doom was faraway enough when I was wrapped in his arms. It was a safe haven we’d carved out of the apocalypse just for us. Sometimes I couldn’t tell what was real, and what was fake anymore.
For the last week, we’d methereevery night.
There was something to be said about the end of the world and desperation—it had a tendency to strip people down to their ugliest instincts. Mine had manifested as being completely, and hopelessly drunk on the sight of Jude Ransom’s perfect ass.
He turned away from me for a moment, shifting in the sheets. I watched the movement of his back, the slow stretch of muscle beneath warm skin. Even here, in this strange dream-room with the faint scent of metal, he moved with the same careless confidence I remembered.
“What are you doing?”
He glanced over his shoulder, that crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “An experiment.”
“With what?”
“With this.” He rolled back toward me, sliding one arm beneath my waist as he pulled me closer. The length of him was hard to escape. He was solid, and pressing all the right spots.
The breath left my lungs in a quiet rush. “Jude—”
“Shh,” he murmured, brushing his thumb along the curve of my hip again. This time his touch grazed even lower. His mouth found the hollow beneath my ear, and the warmth of his breath sent a shiver down my spine. “You feel real,” he said softly.
I laughed under my breath. “You say that every night.”
“Because every night I’m terrified I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone again.” My fingers slid into his hair without thinking, tugging gently until he lifted his head. His eyes searched my face in the dim light, softer than I’d ever seen them. “You’re not allowed to disappear this time.”
“I’m not planning on it.”
“Good,” he murmured. He kissed me then, slow and deliberate, as his hand drifted between my thighs. His finger slipped inside, testing the warmth there before pressing deeper. Another followed, curling gently until a breath left my lungs. He propped himself on one arm above me, lowering his mouth to the front of my throat.
One kiss. Then another. Higher and higher until he found my mouth again.
“More.” The word left me before I could stop it. Every night I needed more of him. If I was going to starve and thirst, I was at least going to die fully sated on Jude Ransom.
He slid his fingers away, holding them between us like he was admiring a piece of art. They caught the dim light as he brought them to his mouth, sucking them slowly, deliberately. “Delicious.”
“More.”
He tilted his head, that wicked grin appearing. “More?”
“Mhm.” Yes. More.
“As you wish.”
He shiftedbetween my legs, knocking one knee aside and pushed the tangled sheets out of the way. His body settled against mine as he slid forward, teasing the space between my thighs without quite pushing inside. “Like this?”
“More,” I groaned.
“I don’t know—” he started, pulling back
I wrapped my legs around his waist and dragged him down, forcing him deep inside me in one hard thrust.
“Fuck.”
“Fuck,” I echoed, eyes squeezed shut, fists twisting in the white sheets beneath me. “Jude—”
“I know, baby.” He braced himself on his palms, pressing a kiss to my cheek before he moved again, pulling back slowly before thrusting deeper the second time. Harder. “You feel perfect.” His breath ghosted across my mouth.
My hands roamed over the strong line of his back, memorizing every inch of skin I could reach. I breathed him in, threading my fingers through his hair and tugging hard. “Fuck me, Ransom.”
The pace he set wasn’t hurried, and I almost cursed him for it. Strong and deliberate, never rushed. It was like having all the time in the world—and precisely none at all. We danced along a line I’d daydreamed about as a teenager, lovesick for her best friend. It wasn’t sex for the sake of sex, though that was certainly a bonus. It was something more.
