Page 53 of The Secret Play

He backed me against the hallway wall, ripping at my clothes, kissing and licking the latest bit of exposed skin.

The moment he stood, I shoved him across the hall, taking my own toll on him by pulling away the clothes that had the audacity to be in my way.

I dropped to my knees and took him in my mouth, and he cursed under his breath, slapping the wall behind him before digging his fingers through my hair to rock me back and forth down his length. But he growled and pulled me off of him, bringing me to my feet in a hurry.

By the time we reached the door, his hands were on my waist, pulling me closer, and my heart was pounding so hard I thought it might burst.

I didn’t know who landed first, but suddenly, we were on my bed and tangled up in each other. His teeth grazed my nipples in turn, one after the other, as he made his way down my body. But I ran my fingers through his hair and pulled to signal what I really needed.

He climbed on top of me, and just before he thrust in, he paused, catching himself. His voice was ragged with need. “Condom?”

I gently shook my head. “Birth control.”

With that, he hooked a hand under my hip and lifted me as he plunged deep. My head dug into the pillows as I unleashed a cry, baring my throat to him. He licked me there as he pumped into me again and again. I took his face in my hands and brought him to my lips. Whatever this was, making love, fucking, something in between, I didn’t know, but I needed it. Needed him.

Orgasms didn’t seem to matter. I craved this connection with him more than any of that. When I came, mewling, he chased my orgasm harder, longer, faster, driving it through my entire body. I was lost in them, and he found me, kissing me to bring me back to life after every crashing wave.

When he pulled out and turned me over, it wasn’t like the other times. He slid back in from behind, but this time, he caged me in his arms, pulling me up onto my knees. Like he couldn’t be close enough to me. I understood the feeling.

I would have done anything for this. Would have begged for the honor.

Somehow, we ended up with me on top and his hands gripping my ass to drive us. He sat up against the pillows, and we shared breath. Our kisses had turned my lips raw, and I couldn’t stop. Never wanted to stop. When he was close, his body went tense, and I murmured, “Just like this.”

His sounds turned beastly before he kissed me as he came deep inside of me. He held me tightly, still kissing me as his body jerked and twitched in me. Eventually, our breaths slowed, and we separated—me to clean up and him to do the same right after. Once he was back in bed, I drifted off to sleep, too blissed out to recall much of anything beyond what we’d just done.

Sometime later, I woke to the sound of dishes clinking together. And I was alone in my bed.

I wrapped a robe on and found Casey by the sink washing the last of the dinner dishes. The tension that had been muted by passion came rushing back. He was quiet, his movements slow and deliberate.

“I should go,” he said finally, drying his hands on a dish towel.

I nodded, wrapping my arms around myself as I leaned against the counter. “Okay.”

He looked at me for a long moment, his blue eyes clouded. “We’ll talk soon.”

I nodded, incapable of speech at the moment.

He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door, but something about the way he lingered in the entryway made my chest ache. I wanted to call out to him, to ask him to stay, but the words caught in my throat.

He raced back to me, cupped the back of my head in his hand, and kissed my forehead as if kissing my lips was somehow too personal after what we’d done.

When the door finally clicked shut, the loudest silence followed.

I sank onto the floor, burying my face in my hands and sobbing. My heart was still racing, my skin still warm from his touch, but everything had gone cold and sick inside.

When I finally stopped the worst of the sobbing and stood up, my gaze landed on the sink—and the small object sitting on the edge.

It was a silver ring, thick and worn, with faint engravings on the inside. Casey always wore it on his thumb. He’d once told me it had belonged to his father, a constant reminder of the man who’d shaped him into the person he was today.

My heart clenched. He must’ve taken it off while washing the dishes and forgotten to put it back on in his rush to leave.

I reached for my phone to text him, only to find the battery completely dead. I groaned, plugging it into the charger before sinking back onto the couch.

The house felt unbearably empty without him. I traced my fingers over the edge of the ring, the cool metal grounding me even as my thoughts spiraled. Had I made everything worse by following him outside, by not giving him the space he needed? By taking him to my bed?

I thought about the way he’d kissed me, the way he’d held me like he was afraid to let go. But I also thought about the look in his eyes when he left—the pain, the uncertainty.

“I love you,” I whispered to the empty room, the words feeling hollow without him there to hear them. I curled up on the couch, the ring still in my hand, and let the silence swallow me whole.

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