Page 51 of Hell and High Water

“Tell, I need you deeper…” I wrap my fingers around the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss.

And he complies with my request, bending my legs back, my knees to my shoulders and my legs draping over his, folding me in half to drive into me, the angle spreading me wide and opening me to let him in.

Best of all, I can’t move, pinned by his body and his hands locking onto my wrists, completely at his mercy. With a swift pull, he drags himself out, slamming back into me firmly, deeply.

Then it's back to that writhing grind, our bodies never separating as he keeps the pressure pinned between us, tension and friction building to a mind-numbing level. All I can do is cling to him, gripping harder and harder as the charge between us ramps up.

“Tell!” I scream, the only word I can force out to let him know that I’m about to blow a transistor. And it feels like every fuse in my brain fires off at once, popping, rushing, and zapping down every nerve ending, bringing every single inch of my skin to life, my muscles pulsing to our rhythm, my legs and toes locking up as I brace for the fall.

I see him above me, lost in me, his eyes rolling back in his head as he joins my chaotic unwinding, both of our hips bucking in sync, the bed rocking beneath us.

“Hellena!” The sweetest sound slips from his lips, my name singing out in a cry of total abandon.

This is Tell.

This is the man I love.

And just like that, there are no lies between us, no doubts.

Just pure, gasping, sweat-drenched desire, held tight in each other’s arms.

10

ALAYA

I'm no stranger to pain, to hard work.

But sometimes, you forget things.

Like grabbing a hot pan. You’ve known since you first burned your fingers as a kid not to, but it’ll happen again at least once in your life. And you’ll feel like a fuckin’ idiot.

You get distracted. Sloppy.

You get overconfident.

Then you go all in, diving right into a fight like you always have. Balls deep. It’s always worked before. No one sees it coming.

But you forget. You square up against a freight train, only to get tossed like a ragdoll into a wall.

The first guy wasn’t so bad. I got the drop on him, nearly knocked him out if he hadn’t tried to dodge. Fast fucker. Carries himself well.

But like I said.

I forgot just how fucking strong Gavin Rorshak is.

After getting the wind knocked out of me and more than a bruised rib, I blocked out the pain, sprang back into action. I’ve always bounced back.

Daddy taught me how to endure, how to block out the pain.

Even so, I fucked up again, underestimating him, hoping he’d let himself go. Or maybe it’s that I haven’t seen him in so long. That seeing him made me hesitate, made me panic.

He takes my blows like they’re nothing, even though I know I pack a wallop. That’s Gavin.

Always was one of the strongest people I’ve known. Mentally and physically.

Except for that knee.

He tore his MCL in Sudan, ten years back. Cheap shot, I know.

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