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Five steps in—he fucks me against the wall of the stairs.
Fourteen steps in—he fucks me again.
When we finally make it to his bed, I’m close to passing out.
We give and take in equal measure.
We don’t fight for control.
We give it.
We take it.
And I savor it.
His taste.
His touch.
Then I lock it away because this will end, and if by some miracle I make it out alive, I will pull the memories out to help me breathe.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“You know we’re eventually going to have to leave this bed?”
He groans against my throat, nuzzling his head in the crook of my neck.
We woke so tangled in each other, I wasn’t sure where I ended and he began. Sleepy eyes met, and like all the times before, we were all over each other.
It’s not healthy. We’ve created our own vacuum inside this house.
He grabs my hip, pulling me closer. He’s hard again.
How?
“You know, for an old man, you’re insatiable.”
With just the vibration of his laugh against my skin, I’m wet. He has that effect on me.
But I’m sore.
Everywhere.
And my body needs a break, even if I don’t want one.
I yelp as he slaps my ass.
He leans on his elbow, cupping the side of my face before he runs the ends of my hair through his fingers.
He’s silent for a moment, deliberating.
“What?” I prompt.
“Does Amy get her red hair from your father?”
“Oh.” I wasn’t expecting that question. “Am…No. She gets it from my grandma on my mother’s side. My father’s hair is the same color as mine.”
He nods, still lost in his thoughts.
