Page 95 of No Good Fight

“Are you ready for me, Alex?”

Her whimper of need and the nod I feel more than see is the only answer I need.

I slip my fingers through her silky folds, teasing. She makes a sound into my neck that nearly empties my head, but I hold on to the point of this with both hands. Alex asked for the dark back. She asked me to keep going. She asked not to be left begging at the edge of something she chose.

And in this moment, I swear that I will never leave her on the edge, ever.

I touch her slowly at first, learning the difference between the tremor fear left behind and the one my hand earns while giving her pleasure. When I find the right pressure, her hips roll forward, demanding more friction. Her grip in my hair tightens. Her breath catches, then breaks against my jaw.

I almost slow down.

Her hand catches my wrist, not stopping me, anchoring me. “Ryder.”

“I’ve got you.”

“Then keep going.”

I do.

Her body bows into mine, thighs tightening around my leg, mouth finding mine because not kissing isn’t an option. I keep my fingers moving through the darkness and hold her with my other arm when her rhythm starts to fall apart.

She’s not quiet now. Every little gasp, every broken piece of my name, every desperate press of her body into my hand feels like a door being forced open from the inside.

“Good girl,” I murmur before I can stop it, then still for half a second because I don’t know what that phrase does for her or if it pushes her past an imaginary boundary.

All I know is that she’s my good girl, and I want her to take everything from me.

Alex bites my lower lip and rocks harder against my fingers. “Don’t you dare stop.”

The relief hits so hard I almost laugh. Instead, I kiss her and give her exactly what she asked for.

Her orgasm builds under my hand, not rushed, not stolen, not held out of reach. I feel it in the way her stomach tightens beneath my forearm, the way she buries her face against my shoulder, the way her whole body locks around the pleasure instead of shrinking from it. When she comes, she says my name like she’s furious with me for making it that good, and I hold her through every second until she softens against my chest.

Lights blink on in the hallway while she’s still shaking with pleasure. After a few minutes, she draws in a long breath and lets it out against my neck. “That was mine.”

My arm tightens around her in the smallest way I can manage. “Yeah, Allycat. It was.”

She stays there until the weight of her turns heavy with exhaustion. When I carry her upstairs, she doesn’t joke or argue or tell me to let her go. She keeps one hand curled in my shirt and her face turned toward my chest, trusting me to know the way through a house I suddenly understand will never have enough lights to erase what was done to her in the dark.

I put the flashlight on the nightstand before I climb into bed with her. Alex turns into me immediately, one thigh sliding over mine, her cheek settling against my chest. Within minutes, her breathing evens out, and the storm starts to loosen its grip on the windows.

I don’t sleep.

The bedroom faces the back of the house. From where I’m lying, I can see the yard beyond the glass and the faint reflection of Alex curled against me. Downstairs, the monitors are running again. The report is filed. The new equipment is ordered.

I keep my hand spread over Alex’s back while she sleeps, feeling each breath move beneath my palm, and stare at the window until the first gray wash of morning cuts through the rain.

By sunrise, the answer I didn’t give Alex about what comes with the next gap is clear.

It’s me. I’m what stands between Preston and Alex.

18

ALEX

Ryder’s breathing heavy, almost snoring against my neck when I wake up.

That shouldn’t feel like a discovery worth obsessing, but it does. His arm is heavy around my waist, his palm spread over my stomach beneath the blanket, holding me against him without trapping me. His face is turned toward the back window, even in sleep, like some part of him stayed pointed toward the fence all night. The flashlight he put on the nightstand sits beside my phone and a glass of water I don’t remember asking for.