Page 74 of Head Over Heels

“Mmm-hmm?”

“I feel empty. I want you to fill me up.”

Oh,God.

Every single last thought flies out of my head.

I seat the swollen head of my cock against her wet heat, and press deep.

At first, she is sleepy and languid and relaxed under me, which is unbelievably sexy. Every time I push into her, she releases a soft little half-moan, and her breasts jiggle. Her mouth is open and her lids are at half-mast, and I think,I could do this all night.

But then at some point, her little half-moans break open into full moans, and her pussy starts gripping and squeezing me again, and she pulls her knees up and pushes her hips up and starts rocking to meet me—and that’s unbelievably sexy, too.

There’s almost nothing Liv can do that isn’t unbelievably sexy.

I wish I’d known sooner, just in case—

But right now, I can’t think about the past or the future. I can only think about heat and wetness, how red her mouth is, how blue her eyes are, how tight she is around me, the rhythm we’ve agreed on without any words, which is perfect, the perfect speed, the perfect depth (all of me, to the hilt, my balls meeting her body on every stroke so it’s like its own caress, sweetJesus). Everything falls away—regret, fear, the forest, the sky, the rough ground beneath her—until it’s just the two of us, and then, when her jaw tightens and her eyes open wider with wonder and I know she’s going to come again, and I let myself tumble over the edge to meet her, even that distinction fades, and for a long, sweet moment, we’re one.

Chapter 38

Liv

I’m missing something. Something important. I’m in a hallway. Long. Vaguely familiar. Lined with bedrooms. Each bedroom, a child. Each child, vaguely familiar. But it’s confusing. The children don’t all belong together. The rooms don’t all belong together. The hallways don’t lead where I think they should lead. I wander. It gets darker. I hear sirens. The police will come and take me away and I’ll never find the thing that’s missing. I hurry, hurry, hurry, but I hear the door downstairs fly open, I hear the sound of voices, footsteps on the stairs, they appear at the top of the stairs, uniformed and faceless. I turn to run but they grab me…

“Liv. Liv!”

I’m struggling. I’m crying.

“It’s me. It’s Chase. You’re okay. You were dreaming.”

I’m panting, sobbing, but I recognize his voice, the comfort of his arms, the tent around us, the woods beyond. We’re camping, and I had a nightmare, and he’s here.

“What were you dreaming?”

“A house. One I know but don’t know, made up of all the places I’ve lived. There are rooms from all my foster homes, and kids from all my foster homes. And then the police come and take me away. I don’t know why; I just know I can’t stay. And it’s important to stay.”

His voice is quiet in the deep dark and stillness. “Do you have it over and over?”

“Mmm-hmm. I have other nightmares, too. But this is the recurrent one.”

It happens, also, to be the one I was having the night Zeke asked me to move in with him. Which adds an extra layer of choking sensation to the panic that always wraps me like a spider’s thread when I wake from the dream.

But I don’t want to think about that. I want to shut out the unwanted images, the bad memories. I want to drown them in my good feelings for Chase. So I turn into his embrace and raise my face. It’s too dark to see, but I can feel his breath moving across my face.

“Liv,” he whispers.

“Make it go away,” I say, and he does.

Chapter 39

Liv

On the way home from our camping trip, Chase teaches me another dumb camping song he learned from his uncle as a kid, and we sing it at the top of our lungs.

Black socks, they never get dirty

The longer you wear them the blacker they get

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