Page 175 of Before You Fell

If this is all he can give me, I will take it for what it is. Something real that happened while we were both trying.

I can love him and still remember where the exits are. And then I will move on with my life, with him still in it somehow, because Phoenix will always be threaded through me.

That is growth.

Ugly growth. Hard growth. But rehab taught me to love myself, too.

The sound of him moving around my kitchen pulls me back into the room.

Phoenix is barefoot in my kitchen, wearing black jeans and a T-shirt for once, hair still too messy, tattooed arms exposed, a drink in his hand.

He brings a glass over, leans down to kiss me, then hands me the glass. It’s quick, almost casual, except nothing about Phoenix’s mouth on mine has been ever casual since the first night he walked me to my bedroom.

My cheeks heat as the memory of that night washes over me.

Phoenix’s eyes sharpen immediately. Of course they do. This man can spot arousal from another ZIP code.

“What?” I ask too fast.

His mouth curves. “Nothing.”

“Liar.”

He moves his lips to my ear. “You just thought about me fucking you.”

“I did not.”

“You absolutely did.” His hand glides along the back of the couch, boxing me in without touching me. “Your pupils went wide and guilty. Very obvious.”

“You’re impossible.”

“You moaned that last night too.” His mouth grazes my jaw. “Right before you told me not to stop.”

I pull back. “Phoenix.”

“Let me fuck you, Wills.”

“My parents will be here in ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes is enough time to make you come,” he says, voice low and filthy. “I have done it in less. Let me bend you over this couch, pull those panties down, and have you shaking before they hit the elevator.”

A knock sounds at the door.

Phoenix drops his head back and groans at the ceiling. “Fuck.” He looks down at himself, his hard cock prominent in his jeans. “How the fuck am I supposed to see your parents with a hard cock, Wills? Seriously. This is a medical situation. I am going to have to go sort this out in the bathroom, or I swear to God the second that door closes behind them I am taking you to that bedroom, and I am not letting you out until I have come at least twice. Maybe three times. Depends how long they stay and how much this ache builds.”

I stand up and lean in close. My hand slides over his cock through his jeans, feeling how hard he already is. He hisses at my touch.

I stroke him through denim, feeling him pulse under my palm, and watch his eyes close for one involuntary second.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “Don’t stop.”

I kiss the side of his mouth, and he turns into it immediately, as his hand comes up to my jaw, hungry for me.

I pull back and give his cock one more slow stroke, causing his whole body to shudder. A low moan escapes him before he can stop it.

“Maybe I’m not wearing any underwear when I open that door,” I say against his mouth, before stepping away from him.

His groan is so pained that it’s almost poetic. He turns away, shoulders rigid, muttering under his breath. “You’re gonna pay for that with my cock, Wills. Every fucking inch of it.”