Page 62 of Fire Island
Something between my ribs snaps.
Fireworks float overhead as the realization she’s defending me against the town swells.
The ground spins, and I’m lying on Iris’s tiny fucking spare bed. Eve’s warm body is pressed into mine, her ass against myhard cock. A heartbeat passes. I can taste her. Thighs spread wide, my hands the ones holding them back.
My surroundings flip, and I’m on my feet. Brown eyes, lined with silver, look up at me. Her mouth—my cock sunk deep between her perfect pouty lips.
Heady and raw, I groan, out of breath—trees flying past me—so desperate to get to her. My name, a scream, carries on the wind through the forest.
The fishing hut closes in around us, and I can’t fight what aches inside for her any longer.
Then we’re spinning. Happiness exploding from the epicenter we’ve made.
A beat and I’m naked.
Wet.
She stands in my shower, brown eyes pleading. Unable to rein in my control for what I know is the umpteenth time, I take her, slamming her heaving shoulders into the tiled wall, mouth crashing over hers.
Whimpers pour through her lips.
My heart splinters in my chest.
Mo nighean.
I’m choking. Hands reach for me, closing around my jaw. Her lips brush over mine. Dark hair falls around me. I look up to her strung-out face, her need for me etched all over her face.
Tomato juice trickles from my lips. The beautiful dark-haired woman sitting on my lap laughs, her head tipping back. The scene wobbles and...
She’s leaving the dock with Em, who carries her bag. My fucking broken, tattered heart trailing along behind her, leaving its bloody stain in her wake. I can’t move from Firefly’s cabin. I can’t even say goodbye. Air in my tight lungs turning to ash...
I’m suffocating.
Burning swallows me whole. I jolt awake with a painful groan. Sitting on the bed, I stare at some inane point across the room as the last nine months or so flood back into my reality. I?—
Eve, she . . .
Evie.
Fuck.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I cry.
I jump off the bed like it’s on fire, stalking a short distance before turning back. Repeating the route, I run my hands through my hair.
I told her to leave.
I love her.
And I made her promise to leave me.
But . . . she’sstill here.
Tears burn my eyes as the room blurs. I groan.
What have I done, baby girl?
My—
