“Kitty, that’s exactly what I’ve been trying to tell you.” He gripped my hips and thrust forward, filling me completely.

He swallowed my moan with his mouth, kissing me deep as he moved within me with hard, powerful strokes that sent pleasure radiating through my limbs and wound it tight at my core. “You feel so fucking good,” he said against my lips, kissing me again when my whimpers became keening cries.

Our bodies strained as we moved together, both giving and taking, clinging and saying good-bye. My muscles tightened as the pleasure built to a peak, and I tried to fight it—to make this last as long as possible—but Jackson reached between us and stroked me exactly like I needed. He knew my body, my cues, my needs the same way I knew his.

I swirled my hips in time with his thrusts, and he groaned, our kiss breaking so we could breathe but our lips staying close enough to brush as we fought for air—for time. Everything within me tightened, drew back like an arrow, and as I felt him swell within me and his thrusts lost that steady rhythm that meant he was close, I kissed him again, pouring into it everything I felt but couldn’t say.

And then we were there, falling over the edge together in an orgasm that blew apart my body and my heart. He caught me, just like he always did, pulling me against his chest before my body fell limp, then stroked me through the aftershocks of the bliss until the last waves drifted away.

I buried my face in his neck as he stroked my back in long, soothing sweeps. Slowly, like the trickle of winter air through a drafty door, the cold truth of the reality that waited for us sank in.

He kissed me softly, then slid free.

I’d never felt so empty in my life.

He tucked himself away, then cleaned me up and helped me back into my underwear, and what could have been awkward was just incredibly sad.

“I love you.” He cradled my face and took another chunk of my soul with the look in his eyes. “Do me a favor and check in on Fin once or twice while I’m gone?”

I nodded. How could I not? I loved her.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“This doesn’t change—”

“Shh.” He kissed me quiet, then smiled. “I know. And I love you, anyway. Three months, Morgan.” He kissed me hard and deep, then ripped his mouth from mine and strode for the door without looking back.

I sank to the floor as the first tears fell. Please, God. Don’t take him. I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t take Jackson, too. I wasn’t capable of living in a world where he didn’t. It wasn’t possible.