Pulling out of her, I let go of her wrists and, using my grip on her waist, I flipped her onto her stomach. I moved over her, pressing my chest to her back as I slid my arm under her waist, lifting her hips. I entered her in one stroke, nearly undone by the tightness I felt.

There was no rhythm to how I moved then. My hips pounded into hers, and I kept going, almost as if I was trying to get myself in there so deep there would be no way of extracting me from her, so fucking deep that there was no her, no me, just us. She was so tight, so wet, and so perfect.

Sweat dampened and slicked our skin. The fleshy sounds our bodies made drove me to the brink. Shifting my hand under her, I found the tight bundle of nerves, worked her until she clamped down on me.

Release powered down my spine, raw and all-consuming, blowing my head right off me. Intense. Couldn’t breathe around it. Couldn’t feel anything else. Only at the very last second, I pulled out and folded my arms around Josie, sealing her body to mine as I came, cradled against her, my face buried in her neck. The world fell away for those precious moments, dropped off and stayed there as our hearts slowed and our bodies relaxed into each other.

“Seth,” she murmured, turning her head to the side. A couple of moments passed. “Are you . . . are you okay now?”

I closed my eyes. Everything would be. I spoke, my voice rough. Empty. “Yes.”

Josie tensed under me and then she looked over her shoulder. Concern pooled into her gaze. “Seth, we need to talk. They’re saying that you’re a—”

“Shh,” I murmured, shifted us onto our sides, until her back was to my front and my arm around her waist. “I just want to hold you right now. Please? We’ll . . . we’ll talk later.”

She was stiff against me for a moment. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

I lied. Add that to the list of fucked-up things I’d done, but she curled into me, pressing her cheek against my chest with both of her hands gripping my arm. Like she was trying to hold me there. Like she already knew on some unconscious level what was happening.

I held her until she fell back asleep.

I held her until I was no longer sure I could walk away.

I held her until it physically fucking hurt to ease her out of my embrace.

Leaning over her, my gaze roamed over her face. My hand shook as I carefully brushed the long, damp strands back from her cheek. I committed every square inch to memory. The natural arch to her brows. The height of her cheeks and the full, pouty bow-shaped lips.