Firm. Thick.

Mine.

I grabbed his cock and moved over him. One adjustment, and I sank down on him.

“Fuck,” he hissed through his teeth as his eyes clamped shut a second. His hand flexed over my ass. “You feel so damned good.”

I was almost shattering apart, just feeling him surge up inside me.

The sensations. The pleasure. They slammed through me, almost violently from the abruptness and so quickly after I’d already peaked. Then he began moving over me, his mouth tasting mine, and I went with him.

Together.

Our hips rolling back and forth.

His hand cupping my breast, holding me, squeezing, his hips digging up.

He was hitting my wall.

I could only hold on.

Pleasure seeped into every inch of me, coating my insides. My second climax barreled through me, even more powerful than the first, and I was a trembling mess as he pushed in one last time, his hips rotating, grinding to touch every angle inside, and then he jerked, coming inside of me.

He groaned, collapsing on top of me, his body relaxed.

Chapter Thirty-Five

We’d taken a shower together and dressed in lounging clothes. Reese pulled on the same sweats he’d worn after his first shower, but I wore leggings and the sweatshirt he’d given me at camp. We’d ordered food in, and the delivery guy had just dropped off our salads, plus two sandwiches for Reese. I’d answered the door this time, preferring to keep Reese to myself, just for a bit longer.

Grant and Sophia were coming back.

I didn’t know when, but I guessed we had another hour, maybe two depending on how long everyone decided to talk after dinner.

Reese asked, “When are you hoping to see Damian?”

I paused in spearing some lettuce with my fork. “Are you serious?”

He put a forkful of salad into his mouth, nodding. “Yeah.” Swallowing, then taking a drink of water, he put the bottle back down on the table. “That’s a big deal.”

I felt a heaviness settle over my shoulders. It weighed me down, but I knew this was the time. This was the moment I would say it all.

It wasn’t even about Reese. It was about me. I finally could, for some reason, so I needed to. If I didn’t now, I didn’t know the next time the words would come to me, because sometimes grief closes you up and doesn’t let you open. Sometimes grief controls you, and not the other way around.

I set my fork down and scooted all the way back in my chair, assuming my normal position: feet up on the chair, arms wrapped around my knees. But I didn’t hide my face. I watched Reese right over the top of my knees, resignation taking over me.