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“Me too, Hannah.”
She leans forward, lining my chest with her body and settling her lips against the curve of my neck. “Say it again.”
“Hannah.”
I reach down and fill my hands with her ass, coaxing her to fuck me faster. I thrust up into her, my hips bucking against hers and I lose myself in the moment. In her. In the stupid denial that we can walk away from all this, unscathed and unchanged. But it feels too good to be true. Too much like I’ve come home for good.
“Fuck me,” she whispers in my ear. “I want to feel you for days.”
So I give her what she wants. I sit up, pulling her with me so she’s settled in my lap and I’m still deep, deep, deep inside her. I hold her tight ass and thrust up into her. Her breasts graze my chest and she moans—a long, low sound that will penetrate concrete and plaster. A sound I never want to stop hearing.
A sound that will haunt me.
But I’m lost now, buried inside her. Wrapped up in her. Filling my heart and lungs with her.
“That feels so good,” she pants.
I’m chasing the edge of oblivion, and I reach for the silver bullet that’s still sitting on the covers. With one arm around her waist for leverage, I use my free hand to guide the bullet between us, so it’s hitting her most sensitive spot. She gasps, shuddering at the sudden stimulation. When she explodes, it’s perfect—loud and honest and so fucking hot I can’t help but follow her over the edge. I thrust up into her as deep as I can go, and come hard. My cock pulses and I abandon the vibrator, choosing instead to wrap both my arms around her and hold her as tight as I possibly can.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Owen
HANNAHISASLEEP. I’m standing alone in the ensuite, staring at my face in the mirror. Staring at my shell-shocked expression.
The condom broke.
I didn’t notice it when I pulled out of her, too enraptured with her hazy, smouldering gaze. Too busy falling head over heels for her. But when I came in here to clean up, I saw it. The split latex. The fact that my whole world could be turned on its head with one tiny little rip.
I never wanted to be a dad. I never wanted to have a family.
I can’t be that guy.
I’mnotthat guy.
Fuck.
My heart is pounding like a drum, and the sound of blood rushing in my ears makes me want to scream. I grip the edge of the basin so hard my knuckles are snow white. What do I do?
What if she gets pregnant?
I’m being sucked down a vortex, my thoughts building on one another like an avalanche. I splash my face, but it does nothing. The universe is determined to mess with me, by taking something good and turning it into my worst nightmare.
And what about Hannah? She just made detective. This would not be a good time for her to get pregnant, I’m sure of it. But I don’t know what she thinks about the whole having kids thing. She’s always struck me as a family girl—the way she talks about her dad and her brothers.
Oh God. I can’t do that.
I check on her for a brief moment, not daring to touch her in case she wakes. I dress silently as a ninja, holding my breath each time I take a step. My head is a war zone—and I need space to think. What I also need is to get my head back in the game.
Work always calms me. And the quicker we figure out what’s going on at 21 Love Street, the sooner I can get back to my life in New York.
But what if Hannahispregnant?
I can’t think about that now. Being home has reminded me that I tend to get close to people when I shouldn’t. And even though I live alone in Manhattan, I’ve made friends at work. Like my boss, Logan, and my colleagues, Aiden and Quinn and Rhys. I care about them all.
Maybe it’s time to go someplace new. Start over again and do a better job at not getting attached. The idea of being able to pack up at any time and move on is so freeing—I need to know that I can escape. That I can pull the ripcord.
I’m panicking like a trapped rat.
