Page 189 of Red Zone
Her hair fans out on the pillow, her lashes wet from unshed tears, her chest rising and falling fast.
I take my time peeling her out of the rest of her clothes, my hands dragging slowly over her hips, her thighs, the delicate slope of her stomach. Every inch of her feels like something I need to memorize.
Her skin is warm and soft. She shivers under my palms, her breath catching when I press my lips to her collarbone. Then lower.
I kiss my way over her breasts, down her ribs, and across her stomach, feeling her fingers tangle in my hair as I go, until she lets out a quiet little whimper that makes my chest tighten.
When I finally slip her underwear down her legs, I swear I have to close my eyes for a second just to keep from falling apart right then and there.
She’s beautiful.
So fucking beautiful.
I come back up over her, kissing her deeply, our bare skin sliding together as she wraps her legs around my waist and pulls me closer.
The feeling of her under me, arching into me like she’s been waiting for this as long as I have, makes everything else—every doubt, every consequence—fall away.
Her hands roam my shoulders and my back, her nails dragging lightly down my skin as I grind against her just once, enough to draw a gasp from her lips.
I reach for my wallet, tearing the foil packet open with shaking fingers, and she watches me, her chest still heaving, her cheeks flushed.
When I finally push into her, slow and steady, her breath hitches and her eyes flutter shut.
“Look at me,” I whisper, my forehead pressed to hers, my voice hoarse.
Her eyes open, wide and glassy, and I hold her gaze as I move in and out of her.
Her hands clutch at my shoulders, legs tightening around me, and her lips part on a quiet moan that I swear sears itself into my memory.
We find a rhythm together—slow at first, then deeper, harder, until she’s gasping my name softly and I have to bury my face in her neck just to keep myself together.
Because those three words are right there, burning at the back of my throat.
I love you.
But I bite them back.
I press my lips to her neck instead, breathing her in, holding her close like maybe if I hold her tight enough, I won’t have to let her go.
When it’s over, both of us sated and breathless, I stay there for a long time, still inside her, our chests heaving in sync, her fingers lazily tracing circles on my back.
But when I finally pull back and see the tears still in her eyes, my heart twists.
She tries to wipe them away, shaking her head.
“Hey,” I murmur, brushing my thumb over her cheek. “Don’t cry. I wasn’t that bad, was I?”
She lets out a shaky little laugh through her tears, but it cracks halfway, and she just shakes her head again.
And that’s when I know I have to leave.
Because if I stay, I’ll say those words.
And if I say them, I won’t survive hearing her say she can’t say them back.
So, I press one last kiss to her forehead before slipping out of bed.
I dress quietly, my back to her as I tug my hoodie on, forcing my hands to stay steady.
