Page 109 of Secret Paths

I lose the last of my control. My hips push deeper, three uneven strokes, and I come with my face against her neck, holding her so tightly I have to make myself ease my grip.

We stay on our sides, still joined, my arm beneath her head and our hands tangled over her heart.

The room is quiet except for our breathing and the rain at the window.

Neither of us rushes to separate. Mandy's breathing evens out beneath my hand, but she keeps my fingers laced with hers as if letting go would require a decision she is too tired to make. I feel the last of the strain leave her shoulders.

‘Better?’ I ask.

‘Do not sound so pleased with yourself.’

‘That is not a no.’

She gives my hand a tired squeeze. ‘You are still annoying.’

‘Good. I was worried the sex had changed me.’

A laugh slips out of her, quiet but real. It matters more than it should. I kiss the back of her neck and she settles more firmly against me, accepting the comfort without naming it.

There was a time when either of us would already have made a joke sharp enough to create distance. Tonight, she stays in my arms, and I do not pretend I am holding her only because moving would be inconvenient.

After a while, I force myself to move.

Mandy makes a small sound of protest when I ease away, but she lets me go. I deal with the condom, find a tissue, then come back to the bed before either of us can start pretending we are practical people with places to be.

She has not moved far.

She is on her side, one arm folded beneath her head, eyes open but unfocused in the low light. Her hair is a mess against my pillow. Her blouse is somewhere near the door. One of her shoes has ended up on its side by the wardrobe, as if it gave up halfway through a dramatic exit.

I climb in beside her.

For a second, she stays where she is.

Then she moves.

Not quickly. Not with any of her usual certainty. She shifts closer until her forehead rests against my chest, then tucks herself into me as if the shape of my body is something she has been looking for all evening.

My arm comes around her.

I do not ask.

I do not make a joke.

I just hold her.

Her breath warms my skin. One of her hands settles against my ribs, fingers loose, then tightens slightly.

“I needed you tonight,” she says.

The words are so quiet I almost think I have imagined them.

Almost.

Everything in me stills.

“I do not mean...” She stops, breathes out, then tries again. “I had a horrible week. I was tired. I did not want to go home and be alone with it.”

My hand moves over her back once, slow and careful. “You could have come here for that without sleeping with me.”