Page 62 of Obliterated
How it was always supposed to behim.
Him. Me. Here.
Our bodies grind together, slick with water, with sweat, withneed. Every drag of my fist rips another sound out of him, sharp and helpless, like he’s unraveling against me. His arms lock tight around my neck, his whole body trembling, clinging like I’m the only thing holding him up.
Our tags knock together between us, his silver against my gold, clinking with every movement. The sound is sharp, metallic, a reminder of everything that’s supposed to keep us apart. Instead, it just makes me hold on tighter.
“Max—” His voice is wrecked, broken open, begging and beautiful.
“I’ve got you,” I rasp, grinding harder, twisting my wrist just enough to push him over the edge. “Let it go, Kee. Just fucking let it go.”
He cries out, my name breaking on his tongue as he shudders, release spilling from him. He clings tighter, shaking apart in my arms.
That’s all it takes. The sight of him unraveling, the sound of him breaking for me. It rips me open, drags me down with him. I groan into his mouth as I come, hips stuttering against his, spilling hard.
We’re a fucking mess. Breathless, shaking, clinging together in the tub, water sloshing over the sides and onto the tiles.
But for once, I don’t feel hollow after.
For once, I feel like maybe the fire in my chest found somewhere it belongs.
Kieran doesn’t let go. Even after the last tremor shakes through him, even after the water cools off around us, he clings tight, face buried in the crook of my neck. His breath is hot against my skin, ragged, uneven, like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he loosens his grip.
I hold him there a moment, my hand smoothing over the back of his head, fingers tangling in wet strands of gold.My Kee.Then I shift, slow, steady, rinsing him clean. I wash it all from his skin, every trace of the fight, every shadow of what he did tonight.
“Easy,” I murmur against his temple. “You’re fine.”
He doesn’t answer, just clings tighter. So I scoop him up, his body limp with exhaustion but still gripping at me like I’m the last solid thing in the world.
The room is cold, the floor slick underfoot, but the big bed waits—massive, soft with blankets I’ve dragged up here over the years, a fortress against the dark. I dry us both off quickly, lowerhim onto it, pull a blanket over us both, and sink down beside him.
Kieran curls in instantly, face still hidden against my throat, heartbeat hammering against mine. I wrap an arm around him, pull him close, and for the first time in too fucking long, this house feels warm.
Chapter fifteen
Kieran
“Yeah,thiswon’tdo.”
We’re back at the resort. And fuck, I didn’t want to move when I woke up in his arms this morning. It was warm, safe. His lips pressed to the back of my neck, teeth nipping at my skin.
The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes with a lazy smile was that view: cliffs, endless ocean, orange streaks splitting the sky wide open.
And him behind me, touching me all over. Those wicked fingers sliding over my chest, tracing down my abs, wrappingaround my aching cock and working me over the edge again before I’d even found my breath.
This time he was slower, less urgent—savoring. Like he knew these quiet hours were stolen, that we’d have to crawl back to reality soon, and he wanted to burn every second into us.
And shit, the way he pressed himself between my ass cheeks, rolling his hips in time with his fist, grinding out his own release across my lower back while I spilled over his hand—it didn’t just make me come, it made mesoar. Like I’d been unshackled, lifted, broken open in all the best ways.
It was perfect. Too perfect. Dangerously perfect. The kind that makes a voice in the back of my head hiss,don’t trust it, don’t trust this. Because nothing stays that good. Not here. Not in this world. Not ever.
After, he filled the tub again for me, while he cobbled together breakfast out of whatever he’d stashed there. He did it like it was nothing, like sharing his hidey-hole—his secret—wasn’t the biggest godsdamn deal in the world.
And I still couldn’t believe it. That I was there. That he let me in. That I got a piece of him no one else has ever touched.
Now we’re back. We had to. I try not to feel too much remorse about ending Goatee’s life; he would’ve done horrible things to me, but staring at the carnage that is my room does twist up my insides. And “room” feels generous when it looks like a slaughterhouse.
There’s blood every-fucking-where. The walls, the ceiling, the curtains. Apparently if you stab a body over and over, things get messy. Very messy.
