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I wrap my legs around his back, driving him deeper. He takes my weight in his hands, and doesn’t stop. With each thrust, he shoves me against the wall. His golden hair flops over one eye, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t care how dishevelled he’s becoming. I’m not the only one falling apart.
Ambrose feels amazing. I am so full of him. Heat surges against my skin as his strokes build the aching pressure in my belly once more.
“You are all I’ve ever wanted. This moment, right here. I never want it to end.”
“It doesn’t have to.” I grip him tighter, my body moving with his as he slams into me.
The fire between us flares even hotter than before, and our two silver cords twist and swirl together as they wrap around us.
He’s all I see and hear and smell and feel. His eyes are wide open, and even though I know he can’t see me, I am sinking in their azure depths, swimming in the secret, hidden parts of his soul.
Ambrose’s lips find mine, and his kisses swallow my moans as he takes me deeper until I’m nothing but wild, enchanted sensation.
We come apart at the same time. His teeth scrape my shoulder as he leans against me, and my body slackens under him, my legs dropping to the ground.
It takes us several moments for us to catch our breath.
Ambrose’s arms circle me and he pulls me down. We both lean our backs against the Witches’ Monument, our legs and arms tangled together, our sweat-slick bodies still hot to touch.
“I just earned my goth credentials,” I say. “Sex in a cemetery is right up there with driving a hearse, sleeping in a coffin, and panicking at a disco. Dani will besoproud.”
“What does sex in a cemetery have to do with an architectural period?” Ambrose sounds confused. His cheek rests against mine, and my heart stutters.
“Never mind.” I turn my face toward the owl, who has moved to a tree on the edge of the cemetery to serenade us with hoots. “Hey, that owl is watching us. Get lost, you pervert. You’d better not be hooting about my breasts.”
I shake my fist at the owl, and Ambrose laughs, his whole body trembling.
“Bree, I love you.”
Shit.
Those words turn my blood to ice.
Ambrose turns to me, his lips parted in a slight, hopeful smile, his eyes sparkling like the ocean.
I scramble for something to say. “The sex was amazing, Ambrose. You don’t have to tell me you love me to get me to sleep with you again. I’m yours any time. Seriously.”
“I’m not saying this to manipulate you,” he says earnestly, his finger stroking along my cheek. “It’s truly how I feel.”
I know.
Me t—
I swallow.
Several frayed heartbeats pass.
“I can’t…I can’t say those words back,” I manage to choke out.
“I know. It’s okay. Really, it is. To be here with you, under the moonlight, it’s more than I could have ever dreamed. You are enough for me, Bree, and whatever you feel for me, itisenough. But one thing that being a ghost has taught me, it’s that tomorrow could be too late for the important things. The things that truly matter. I want you to know what I feel for you, because this love is like a song inside me that’s bursting through my skin. I have fallen, so hard and so fast that I have toppled over a cliff, and you are my parachute.”
I can’t be your parachute,I think, as I hold him, as the moon streaks cold and lonely across a starless sky.I’m the one who’s falling apart.
30
Bree
“Bree, your boyfriends are here,” Mum calls from downstairs.
