Page 93

“Please,” she panted. “I’m—I need you to—”

“I know.” He traced the band of her underwear, the fabric soft where it grazed his knuckles. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

Her head tipped back further and Wolfe couldn’t resist any longer. He kissed his way down her neck, to the bare slope of her shoulder. He nipped and sucked, fingers idly circling around and around. It was as close as he dared.

He moved her right hand up over her breast, brushing her thumb back and forth until she was writhing.

So responsive. So willing to let him move her as he wished.

It made it hard to think, to breathe, to focus on anything at all.

Finally, he slipped their hands below the fabric and touched skin. Avery gasped, legs shaking, and he cursed, lips sinking into the juncture of her neck.

“Oh, Christ, Avery. Yes.”

“Royan,” she begged.

The sound of his name seared through him until he felt the echo of his own heartbeat in his chest. He worked their fingers together, knuckles brushing against the soft heat of her.

Avery rocked back against him, hips circling with the phantom brush of his touch. The trust she offered him was staggering and he shook with the weight of it, teeth scraping up her throat.

“That’s it,” he coaxed. “Make yourself feel good, love. I’ve got you.” He kept her pressed tightly against him, their fingers still knotted together. Avery whimpered, mouth parted, that red lipstick starting to smear. “Just like that. Oh, God.”

Her fingers moved faster and faster and he watched, mouth parted, as she fell apart around him. He wanted to kiss her, drink down her sighs, swallow every single drop of everything she’d just offered him. He clutched her instead, hands knotted in her dress, his forehead pressed to her shoulder. He was winded and he’d barely even moved, but he was shaken to his core.

Avery turned in his arms, dress rumpled and hair a mess.

He kissed her forehead, her nose, her cheeks.

She curled against him, hands knotting in his shirt.

He ran his hands down her back, strength fading. He couldn’t feel her skin now, couldn’t make out the fabric of her dress. He’d drained himself but fuck, had it been worth it.

“Come to bed with me,” she whispered, lips moving through the fabric of his shirt.

He wanted to scream. To rage. To beg anyone who would listen to bring him back.

“Avery—”

“To sleep. Please,” she asked, tipping her head up to look at him. There were a thousand emotions swimming in those pale blue eyes and he caved, folding completely under the weight of them. “I want to lay next to you.”

He nodded, unable to say much of anything else.

He followed her up to his old room, staring at the bed like it might just eat him alive. He listened to Avery bump around the bathroom and plopped down on the bed. The blankets were barely there. The mattress felt like nothing at all. He would regenerate and find his strength again when the sun rose, but for now…

Avery stepped from the bathroom with a clean face and brushed hair, a giant sleep shirt hanging from her shoulders. They stared at each other for a long moment before Wolfe finally patted the empty space beside him.

Avery slipped under the covers and curled right into him, forehead pressed to the side of his neck. He wanted to scream because he couldn’t feel it. There was no warmth, no hum.

He was truly a ghost once more.

“I—” Avery began, then paused.

His throat tightened painfully, because he knew.

“I thought I’d be the worst thing to haunt this place,” he confessed into the dark. “But it will be you, Avery. Your touch. Your warmth. I will be driven mad by the memory of you—forever desperate for one more moment in your presence.”

She shuddered against him and Wolfe felt something fall against his skin.