Page 136 of Show Me

I climb over him, knees bracketing his hips, and he's guiding himself to my entrance, the head of his cock pressing, stretching, and I sink, feel every inch of him filling me, the burn of it, the perfect stretch.

We both groan. His head falls back again, throat exposed, and I lean down to bite at his jaw, his neck, anywhere I can reach. He meets me thrust for thrust, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise, guiding my rhythm even as I set it.

“Look at me.” He does, his eyes dark, blown, fixed on mine with an intensity that scares me. This isn't casual. This isn't what we agreed to. This is something else entirely, something neither of us will name.

I ride him harder, feel the sofa creaking beneath us, the slap of skin against skin, the wet sound of him fucking me, the way my body grips him like I never want to let go. His hand slides between us, finds my clit, and I cry out, the sound loud in the quiet house.

“Come with me,” he grits out, his thumb circling, pressing, his hips thrusting upward to meet every downward grind of mine. “Ruby. Please.”

The please undoes me. I feel it building, the coil tightening, my thighs shaking, my vision narrowing to the point of his shoulder, the sweat on his forehead, the way he's watching me like I'm the only thing in the world.

I come first, hard, my body clenching around him, milking him, and he follows seconds later, groaning my name, his hips jerking upward, his grip on me bruising, desperate. I feel him pulse inside me, feel the tension drain from his body in waves.

I collapse onto his chest, breathing hard, our sweat slick between us, his heart hammering against my ear. His arms come around me, tight, anchoring, and I don't move. Don't pull away. Don't pretend this is something we can walk away from.

“Stay.” The word is murmured into my hair, and I don't know if he means tonight or longer, and I'm too afraid to ask.

I don't answer. I close my eyes, listen to his breathing slow, feel his arms loosen and then tighten again like he can't decide whether to hold on or let go. Eventually, his breathing evens out, his chest rising and falling in the rhythm of sleep beneath me.

I stay awake longer, watching the shadows on the ceiling, feeling him softening inside me, the intimacy of it, the danger of it. I know what this is. I know what it isn't. I know what I want it to become.

I don't say any of it.

I let myself drift off instead, wrapped in his arms, pretending for a few hours that this is enough.

Chapter Seventy-Two

Ruby

Several Days Later

The text comes through a little after five.

Xavier: What do you want for dinner?

I stare at it longer than I should. It’s such a normal question. Simple. Easy. The kind of thing people ask without thinking when they know where they’re going to be at the end of the day. When they already have a place in someone else’s routine.

My thumb hovers over the screen. I could say anything. I could keep it light. Keep it distant. Keep this exactly what we said it would be, contained, manageable, temporary.

Instead, I sit there, staring at the words like they mean more than they should because they do. This is how it happens. Not all at once. Not in some big, obvious moment. In small things. Dinner. Texts. Him showing up without asking. Me expecting him to.

I don’t type anything. Not yet.

“Heading out in a minute.” Mr. Cole pushes back from his desk.

I blink, dragging my attention off the screen. “Oh…. Okay.”

He gathers a few papers, stacking them neatly, movements steady and practiced. “We’ve got that new framing job starting Monday. I’ll have you coordinate with the supplier in the morning.”

“Got it.” I set my phone facedown on the desk like it didn’t just derail my thoughts.

“Travis already confirmed the delivery window,” he adds. “You’ll need to double-check quantities.”

“I can do that.”

He nods once, satisfied. Simple. Clear. Work. Safe. The front door opens before he can say anything else.

“Afternoon.” Travis steps inside with a grin that carries across the room.