Page 20 of Psycho

“Fuck, yes, just like that.”

My orgasm slammed into me and burst like fireworks. I kept pumping with sloppy thrusts, driven by the pure instinct to stay inside her pussy as long as possible after being apart too long.

Eventually, my body sagged, and the lack of sleep dragged me under. I didn’t pull out—didn’t want to, didn’t have the energy. Not even for that.

I hooked an arm around Bobbie’s hips, holding her in place.

“Stay,” I croaked against her hair. “Please. Don’t leave. Don’t…don’t disappear on me again.”

A heartbeat of silence filled the room. I waited, expecting Bobbie to promise that she wasn’t going anywhere.

But she said nothing.

And the bliss of sleep closed over me at last.

Chapter six

Bobbie

Within minutes, Arrow’s breathing evened out to a steady rhythm. The tight embrace of his arms went slack as sleep took him under, and he slumped heavily against my back.

A small smile touched my lips and I soaked up as much of his sweltering body heat as I could.

During my four years in Juniper Creek, I didn’t date or hook up. I wanted to slip through the cracks intentionally, unattached and invisible. I told myself it was better that way, since I wasn't staying.

Inevitably, I would pack up and leave town. Just like I always did, searching for a home and a place to belong that I never found.

Deep down, I didn’t want to admit that I was scared—scared of ruining yet another relationship, scared to build friendships that fell apart, scared to let people see the real me. Maybe it was better that I remained alone, isolated, where I couldn’t hurt anyone.

I was scared of being unwanted again, just like I’d been unwanted by my family.

But I had to admit…it felt so good to be held.

Bringing Arrow’s hand up to my mouth, I pressed my lips to his knuckles with a kiss. As much as I loved hearing him talk about keeping his promise to me, fulfilling our pact of marriage, the logistics of it were…complicated.

Arrow clearly put down roots here. He found his home where he belonged.

But I didn’t know how to live like that. And hell would have to freeze over before I ever asked Arrow to give up his happiness for my sake, just because I couldn’t stay in one place for long.

With a sigh, I carefully slid out of bed. A strangled noise lodged in my throat when his cock finally slipped out and I felt empty all over again. Arrow frowned, reaching for me in his sleep, but he didn’t wake.

My heart squeezed at the sight of his relaxed features, his rumpled hair spilling over his forehead. He looked so…peaceful. I smoothed my thumb along the familiar wrinkle of stress between his brows.

The day he turned eighteen and aged out of the foster care system, I thought my world was ending. I cried so hard that I nearly puked.

You’re going to forget all about me, I sobbed. Everyone else left me, and now you’re leaving me, too.

We stayed in touch for a while, calling each other nearly every day.

Two years later, it was my turn to leave foster care. But I didn’t pick up the phone when Arrow called to offer his congratulations. Because I couldn’t bear to hear how he had moved on without me.

Life had a funny way of making our paths cross again anyway. In our twenties, Arrow and I ended up in the same psychiatric hospital for a few weeks.

I was riding the high of a manic episode.

And Arrow was in the trenches of PTSD, hallucinating the flames of a fire that didn’t exist. His eyes were haunted with ghosts from his past. He couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, and he spent most days in a medicated haze to calm his restless agitation.

But when he was lucid, we would end up like this—skin to skin, chasing the euphoria of an orgasm that no pill could provide.