Her breath hitches. I can see it in the stuttering movement of her back. She can’t do this stuff alone. “That would be nice, Savannah. Thank you.”

Putting an arm around her shoulders, I pull her in for a tight hug. When I turn back around, Murph’s eyes are on me, slightly hooded and heavy. He’s thinking something, and if his expression is any indication, his thoughts are about as appropriate as mine were just a few minutes ago.

This human, gentle side of Savannah does things to me. She’s sexy as fuck, sure. But I find myself getting dangerously close to seeing her as something more. As mine.

The last thing I need to do right now is get in a serious relationship. My mind is all sorts of fucked up, and maybe it always has been. Maybe I’ll never be healed enough to be right for someone, to be the best choice for her. I thought I could live with that. I always have, but now seeing Savannah lean against the kitchen counter, sticking her ass up in the air like that like she’s inviting me to do something about it, has me second-guessing everything.

When I excuse myself from the kitchen table and walk down the hall toward the garage, I feel her following me. Only a few steps behind, as soon as I’m through the doorway and we’re alone, I pull her against my body. She lets out a gasp that sets me on fire.

Her arms cling to my neck as I push her against the wall, feeling her soft, warm body against mine. Everything between us is electricity, too powerful to touch, too bright to ignore.

My hands slide under the elastic band of her leggings, and suddenly I’m overcome. My mouth leaves hers as I drop to my knees and yank her pants to her knees, burying my lips between her legs. She lets out a gasp followed by my name, desperate, pleading.

“Say it again,” I moan against her.

“Murph,” she breaths, her hands digging into my hair.

Somewhere in the periphery of my mind is that nagging reminder of every reason we should not be doing this. Of every fucked up thing that’s happened this week. This year. My entire life.

But once again I shove it away as my tongue dives between her folds, finding that one spot that makes her legs tense and her grip tighten.

“Murph, oh god,” she cries.

Maybe I’m going too fast. It feels rushed, but it takes the edge off, and I’m not even the one getting off. I just want her to feel half as wound as I do. And I do not let up.

I press my mouth against her harder. Kiss her faster. Tease her more. My teeth nip at her, sending shock waves through her that have her quivering. I just want her to come undone.