Page 61 of Never Quite Gone

“Eli,” I gasped, hips shifting, seeking more.

He understood. He always did.

He slicked himself quickly, positioning himself between my legs, his cock pressing insistently against me. I locked my legs around his waist, drawing him in, anchoring him to me. His forehead rested against mine as he pushed forward, the slow slide sending a shockwave through me.

I clenched around him, overwhelmed, overstimulated, utterly undone. He cursed softly, his breath ragged as he held still, giving me time.

“You okay?” he whispered, brushing damp hair from my forehead.

I laughed shakily. “Better than okay. Move.”

He did. Slow at first, letting me feel every inch of him, every pulse of him inside me. Then faster, deeper, our bodies movingtogether in a rhythm older than time. The rooftop faded, the world disappeared, until there was only this—only us.

His hands gripped my hips, his mouth finding mine in a kiss that tasted like forever. His cock drove into me with increasing urgency, the friction, the stretch, theintensityof it unraveling me completely. My own cock throbbed, aching for release, and then his hand was between us, stroking me in time with his thrusts.

I came first, pleasure crashing through me in waves, my back arching, my breath catching in my throat as I spilled between us. The tight clench of my body sent Eli over the edge, his hips stuttering, his breath a broken gasp against my lips as he found his own release.

For a long moment, neither of us moved. Our bodies were tangled, our skin damp with sweat, the night air cooling the heat between us.

Then he laughed softly, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. “Well. That happened.”

I smiled, threading my fingers through his hair. “Yeah. It did.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his expression softer now, unguarded. “No regrets?”

“None,” I said. “You?”

He hesitated, then shook his head. “No. Just… hope.”

I kissed him again, slow and deep. “This time, we have a choice. This time, we have knowledge. Maybe this time, we finally get it right.”

CHAPTER 19

Old Friends

New York, 1850

Ifound William in our usual spot outside Presbyterian's surgical wing, his evening clothes rumpled from another long day at the bank. My brother had been spending more evenings here lately, drawn by something he couldn't quite explain.

“The Vanderbilt account giving you trouble again?” I asked, settling beside him.

“Hardly.” He managed a tired smile. “Though Father's convinced I've lost interest in banking entirely. Can't explain why I'm more interested in hospital renovations these days.”

Through the window, we could see Dr. Monroe working late as usual. Sarah appeared silently beside us, still in her head nurse's uniform despite the late hour.

“Your mysterious headaches again?” she asked William, noting how he pressed his fingers to his temples.

“Strange dreams,” he muttered. “Like memories that don't make sense.”

“At least the renovation plans are proceeding well,” I offered, steering the conversation to safer ground. “Dr. Monroe's suggestions about the surgical wing have been invaluable.”

“Marcus thinks we're all mad,” William said with a short laugh. “Spending our evenings watching a hospital instead of attending the right parties.”

“Speaking of which...” Sarah nodded toward the corridor where Marcus approached, looking impeccable as always in his role as our family's head of security.

“I should have known I'd find you all here,” he said, though his fond exasperation carried hints of deeper understanding. “Lady Astor's ball started an hour ago.”

“Dreadfully dull affair,” William waved dismissively. “All those socialites trying to marry off their daughters. Besides, we're discussing important business matters.”

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