I gritted my teeth, stopping myself from pressing in farther, hands digging into her hips. She was so tight. So hot. “God, I love your body,” I breathed, my eyes greedily taking in the view. As my gaze slipped up her back past her shoulder, it snagged on hers. Her face lay sideways, pressed to the pillow, cheek flushed, mouth slightly parted, eyes soft—watching me. Her fingers clutched the bedding, knuckles white.

“No rules,” she whispered. “Just let go. I’ve got you.”

“Ah, fuck,” I breathed. “I know.” I slipped forward. “I know you do.” And she did. That was the most terrifying thing. I switched to French. “I’m worried I won’t be able to stop wanting you,” I admitted, knowing she couldn’t understand, and hissed as the feel of her enclosing the length of me swept up my body and down my legs. Pressure grew in the base of my spine. I gritted my teeth and withdrew, letting myself slam forward. Knowing, trusting, that she could take it. Again. Again. Words fell from my lips, but I wasn’t cognizant of them. It took all my effort to try and stave off the explosion that was building. She’d started by meeting my thrusts, and now she braced herself, back arched, offering what I was taking. Sweat beaded and pooled, rolling down my temple and splashing on her skin. She still watched me. I could feel it. I didn’t want to look. I didn’t want to. I thrust harder, punishing myself for my weakness. Punishing her for it. Making myself wait. Finding the last of my control from the very depths of me. Admitting to myself I was taking advantage of her attraction to me. Of her love for my daughter. And hating myself for it. Because I knew if I opened my eyes, hers would be telling me it wasn’t just sex, and it wasn’t just two days, and there were rules. And we were going to smash everything down. Including ourselves.

My eyes snapped open. She was there to meet me with everything I already knew. In that moment, something inside me snapped free. I wished we were face to face, my body cradled in hers as she took me in. I sank down, my chest to her back, hands slipping down her arms and entwining with her fingers, the need for connection overriding every argument I had. I rocked my hips, rolling out and thrusting back in. The angle had changed and she cried out and pressed back, seeking more. I buried my face in her hair and let her surround me. I was giving in to it. Giving in to her. Letting go like she asked.

I couldn’t.

I shouldn’t.

This way lay utter destruction. I’d been down this road before, and I wouldn’t go again.

But my body wouldn’t listen.