Page 118 of Cold Hard Truth

His cock pulses in my hand and his nails dig into my scalp. He’s barely holding on, and I want to be the woman who has the power to break him. Who gets the pieces he doesn’t hand to anyone. I want to be his first, his last, his forever.

Sage pulls me off his cock and tips my head back. I’m panting and my mouth is wet from spit. He leans forward and claims it with his. Shoves his tongue in like he did his cock. Like he needs every part of him to be inside me.

I suck on his tongue, and he groans, hesitantly pulling back.

“Strip.” He reaches for his pants and shoves them down further.

I’d like to talk back just to see what he’ll do about it, but his dark eyes rove my body and I’m at the mercy of his commands. Standing, I pull my shirt overhead and slowly strip for him. I’m already not wearing a bra, and my nipples peak as I watch him stroke himself.

Sage makes me feel truly beautiful, every curve—or lack thereof—he worships.

Peeling off my pants, I climb back into his lap and strip his shirt off him. I need his skin. His palms, his teeth. I need him to sink in and not let go. It’s feral, desperate. And as he grabs my hips and shoves me down on his bare shaft, I scream with my soul tearing out of me.

My hips circle, and he holds me over him so he can thrust up. Our chests press together, and I dig my nails into his shoulders. Pleasure and pain. There’s never enough to satisfy me. I need more.

I need everything.

He fucks me until he snaps, and then he’s twisting us around to slam my back into the couch so he can fuck me harder. He hooks his arms under my legs and takes me with every ounce of his body—of his heart.

I tip my head back to scream, and he steals it.

He takes me like it’s the first time or the last time or the only time.

Like it’s everything either of us needs.

His pelvis grinds against my clit and I shatter. My body begs for his cum, and he gives it to me. The life we could have had, and maybe we still should. Whether I think we’re allowed to or not.

He releases into me and slows his thrusts, even if they still hit me just as deep. With each hard hit of my core, I shake all over again. He draws out my climax, and I grab his face, forcing him to kiss me.

I want him in all the versions of the life we could have had.

I want him in all the versions of the man he is or was.

And I want him to have all of me.

Sage hovers his mouth over mine, and I can’t breathe at his touch, but my heart still races.

He kisses my forehead, then tips his to it. “I need you.”

“I need you too.”

“That never changed. Didn’t matter how many years went by. I always needed you,” he admits through heavy breaths. “I always will.”

“Same,” I reply, kissing him. “It’s fate.”

“Fate,” he repeats, and I think he might actually believe it.

38

Lyla

I wrap my wethair up in a bun and make my way down the staircase. All the same pictures still hang on the wall that did years ago. Photos of Sage and his sister. Some with his dad, and a couple with his mom.

Reed looks so much like her. Even more so now that she’s older. And as I stare at the images, I’m sure I was right about what I saw in her. There’s a light that’s missing from Reed’s eyes now, and she wouldn’t say what’s causing it. But it gives me a sinking feeling in my gut.

At the bottom of the stairs is a picture of all of us as kids.

It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a photo of Ellie, and it has my stomach in knots. People think that just because we were twins and looked nearly identical, a mirror would be the same as seeing her face. It isn’t. Her soul doesn’t live in my eyes, and her presence doesn’t exist in my bones.

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