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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CARMEN
The rest of the day, Hatcher, Cyrus, and I nailed down our plan. If we strike soon, Ghost won’t be expecting it, and we’ll have the upper hand. Tomorrow, I’ll meet with Alexander, then from there, we’ll meet with Bradley. All while Hatcher takes the chip and runs. It will give us the distraction we need, but I’m still not too fond of the idea. Death is a very real possibility at this point, and I’m fucking terrified.
Not only that, facing Alexander with all I know now makes me feel some type of way. Angry, sad, disgusted. Every emotion there is, is bundled inside of me, just waiting to explode.
“Everything is going to be okay, Carmen,” Cyrus says, wrapping his arm around my waist and dragging me from my thoughts.
I shake my head, then push the side of my face further into the pillow. It’s a lost cause to try and sleep, but Cyrus insisted I rest.
“I don’t think it will be,” I reply, turning in his hold to face him.
He moves his hand and uses it to brush the hair from my face. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”
I smile sadly. “It’s not nice to make promises you can’t keep.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Spitfire. I intend to keep it, no matter what I have to do.”
I want to believe him, but all of this could go south in a matter of moments. All it takes is one wrong move, one wrong call, and everything will crash and burn around us.
“Aren’t you scared of death?” I know he isn’t, but right now, I don’t want to argue or debate. I just want him to justify my own feelings in a way—tell me I’m not crazy for fearing the possibility.
Death wasn’t something I even thought about a few weeks ago. I had no reason to, but now it seems that’s all that surrounds me. It’s looming and intrusive in my every thought, always hanging in the back of my mind.
“It’s hard to fear what you are. I am death, Carmen,” he answers honestly.
“You’re more than that.”
The grin he wears so well graces his lips, but this time, it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Kiss me.”
I prop myself up on my elbow. “Cyrus, I’m serious. I’m worried and scared. I have so much going on inside of my brain and—”
He cuts me off by pressing his lips to mine for a moment before pulling away. “I know. Let me help you forget. Just for the night.”
I let out a breath and close my eyes, letting myself sink into the escape he’s offering. His lips move back to mine, pressing against them softly. I open my mouth, and his tongue skates over my own. With every kiss, every stroke of his tongue, my mind silences more and more, until it’s screaming again.
This could be it—the last time you get with him. It reminds me of the very thing I don’t want to acknowledge, so I move more vigorously. I push my hands into his hair and tug him toward me, forcing him closer, even though every inch of space between us is eaten up with our bodies.
“Calm down. I’m not going anywhere, Spitfire. I’m yours all night,” he whispers, moving his lips to my jaw.
I pull away long enough to slip the shirt from my body. Once it’s gone, he gently pushes my shoulder, forcing me from my side to my back, and crawls over me. His hard, warm chest weighs down on me.
“I don’t want to lose you when I’ve just gotten to know you,” I admit, cupping his face in my hands.
“I told you, I’m not going anywhere.”
He doesn’t know that—none of us do—but I don’t voice that thought. Instead, I push it down, burying it in the deepest corner of my mind as he leans back down, anchoring his mouth to mine.
Suddenly, his movements mimic mine. Fast, unsteady, hungry. It’s like he’s having the same realization I am, but neither of us will say it. Because no matter how much we talk, how much we touch, how much we fuck… it will never be enough.
His hands glide down my sides. Once they reach my waist, he keeps one locked on my hip as the other pushes inside of my panties. Two thick fingers stroke me a few times, coating themselves in my arousal before dipping inside of me.
I push myself into the mattress and moan. “Fuck.”
His fingers pump into me steadily, not too fast and not too slow. When he curls them, hitting the sweetest spot there is inside of me, I buck my hips.
“That’s it. Let go, Spitfire. Forget about all the bullshit and fuck my hand.” He pushes the heel of his palm into my mound, letting it put pressure onto my clit.
