Текст книги "Burn It Up"

Автор книги: Cara McKenna

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Chapter 13

Casey used the guest bathroom while Abilene was downstairs. As he scrubbed his face with a cold washcloth, he had to wonder, did the Churches think there was something up between the two of them? Miah wasn’t naive, and Christine was a bloodhound about that stuff. He returned to the bedroom and shut the door as silently as he could, cheeks warming.

Abilene had returned and was leaning over the crib. As she turned, she pressed a finger to her lips.

He nodded. They might talk all night or wind up fooling around again, but either way it would be going down in whispers. He didn’t mind. And he honestly didn’t mind either way, what sort of “hanging out” this might be. If all she was after was a warm body against hers and a decent night’s sleep, he could be that.

He’d dedicated so many years to taking, he’d forgotten that it could feel this good, providing. Maybe he’d never even known it, before her.

I turned into my old man after all. The one vow he’d ever made to himself, he’d broken. He’d run off when things turned grim at home and called it freedom. In reality, it had been cowardice.

Well, fuck all that.

“How you feeling?” he asked softly.

Abilene shed her jacket and rooted through the dresser, pulling out pajama pants and a T-shirt. “Good, I think. Dazed, and still a little scared, but good. Could you turn around a sec?”

He went to stand over the crib, studying Mercy’s peaceful, fat little face while Abilene changed.

Her shyness didn’t bother him. He’d had lovers who liked to keep the lights off during sex, partly, he guessed, because he was attracted to girls who were a little bigger than average, and maybe a little more self-conscious than average. He’d been with brazen girls, too, skinny and curvy alike, but the shy ones prevailed, looking back. Opposites attracted, he supposed.

“All set,” she said.

She was climbing under the covers when he turned around. Uncertain what she might be after, he sat on the other end of the bed, content to talk. He squeezed her foot where it tented the blanket. “Anything in particular you need?”

She shook her head. “It’s just nice to have you here, with all this stuff running through my head.”

“I can stick around until you fall asleep, if you want. Maybe talk about something super boring, to help you get there quicker . . . ?”

“You could maybe stick around for the night. If you want to.”

Casey swallowed, his ever-hopeful dick growing curious about the invitation. “I could.”

She sat up, hugging her knees. “If this drama with James calms down after the meeting, I guess everything might go back to normal. You can sleep in your own bed again. I can start looking for a place.”

“You know the Churches don’t mind if you stay on for a few more weeks.”

“Yeah, Christine said so. It’s awful nice of them.”

“And I’m happy to help you move again.” If you could even call it moving. They’d gotten everything, including the baby’s stuff, from her old place to Three C in just one carload each. It had taken all of three hours from the time he’d showed up to help pack to when she’d folded the last of her clothes into the borrowed dresser.

“You get a place of your own,” he said, “and we’re going to need to hook you up with some things. Furniture, microwave, TV . . . Not that I’m one to talk. My apartment looks like a squat.”

“We can go Dumpster diving together,” she said.

“Deal.”

Neither spoke for a long moment, though both gazes lingered until Abilene bit her lip, looking away.

“What?” he asked, and gave her toes another squeeze.

“Are we . . . Did you want to do more than hang out, maybe?”

“I told myself yesterday was a one-off,” he said, but when her face fell, he hurried to take it back. “Only so I wouldn’t get my hopes up about it ever happening again. I mean, I don’t see the harm in it. But if you thought it was a bad idea . . .”

“Not if we both know where we stand. What do you . . . What does it mean to you?” she asked. “Be honest.”

“I like you,” he told her, point-blank. “I’ve liked you from the second I saw you. I liked you when the hormones made you a psycho, and I like you at three a.m. with baby puke in your hair. I think you deserve better than me, and more than I can promise anybody, but I won’t pretend like I don’t want to be with you, in whatever way’s on offer. What about you? What does us fooling around mean to you?”

“I’ve just missed feeling all those things, I guess. And in a selfish way, with everything as scary as it has been, I want it even more, if only to feel something nice for a change. Mercy’s small now,” she said, gaze drifting to the crib. “She won’t remember any of what’s been happening—not the moving around, not any of this business with James, not anything that’s changed between you and me. In a couple years I’m going to have to be careful of how close I let men get, so it’s not just me who’d be in danger of getting attached.” She looked back to Casey. “But for right now, I think it’s okay.” She sounded different, since that phone call. Even tired and rattled, her voice was as strong as he’d ever heard it. “Right now,” she said, “I think it’s what I need. I don’t need promises of forever; I’m up to my eyeballs in commitment already. But to feel like more than just a mom for a few nights, for however long it might last . . . ?”

He felt his pulse spike.

“Can we be that way?” she asked softly. “Just make each other feel good?” Her gaze moved down his body, lighting a fire in his belly.

“We can be whatever way you like.”

“Come over here, then. Remind me what I’ve been missing out on.”

Casey stood from the bed, peeled off his socks, ditched his hoodie. He kept his jeans on and climbed under the covers.

“Can I hold you?” he whispered.

Her reply had an edge to it that he’d never caught before. Mischief. “You can do anything you want.”

Casey swallowed, blood pumping quicker. “I want to kiss you, then.”

She shifted to lie on her side and he did the same. As his mouth met hers, he eased his knee between her legs and drew her close by the waist. He wouldn’t rush her, wouldn’t get pushy, but it felt nice, taking even these small liberties. Made it feel like she was his. His to touch as he desired, his to cater to. He cradled her head, thumb tracing her ear, and kissed her deeper. A surprised huff of a breath from her nose tickled his cheek, and he gave her more of his tongue. Let her feel his hunger. Let her know she stirred more than gentle feelings in him, more than affection and deference. Deeply, darkly primal urges.

She wanted him back. He felt it in the way her fingers gripped his shirt, and he could hear it in her breaths—tiny mewling noises now, helpless little notes of wonder. He slid his hand to her butt and tugged her closer as his hips began to move.

She broke their mouths apart, already panting.

“All right?”

“I can’t believe how . . . how much you make me feel.” She swallowed audibly. “Up until yesterday, I’d forgotten what it was even like, wanting somebody this way.”

Casey felt something similar, something he couldn’t quite articulate. He’d never set his entire sex drive aside, but this . . . This, he hadn’t felt in ages. He’d wanted women, and badly, but not the way he wanted Abilene. This felt big. Felt huge to a man who’d gotten in the habit of settling for the best offer available.

There had been no yearning in his life in recent years. No wanting, aching, waiting, and finally tasting. Only stumbling into beds and lives. Until now.

“I know what you mean,” he whispered, and kissed her lower lip. “You’ve gone a long time not wanting like this. I’ve gone a long time not feeling this.”

“Feeling what?”

“Everything,” he said, the answer meaning nothing, yet so much. He climbed on top of her. Her thighs hugged his waist, urging him to move, and with two short strokes, his jeans were a straitjacket.

He’d never pressure her to do anything she wasn’t ready for, but he couldn’t hide what he desired, either. “I want you,” he whispered. “So bad.”

“I want you, too.”

“Tell me,” he said, rubbing against her, slow and light, “that someday, we’ll go there together. That I can touch you there. Or use my mouth. Or be inside you.”

She softened beneath him, legs going slack. Those blue eyes were bright even in the near dark, and her stare stilled his hips. “Why not tonight?” she asked.

In a breath, Casey was overheated. “Tonight?”

“If you have condoms, that is.” She looked shy at that, and he had to smile. He’d seen her give birth, yet she was still embarrassed to say condom in front of him.

“I think I do. Can you hang on a minute?”

She nodded.

Casey prayed the den would be empty as he slipped out the door. As he stepped onto the landing, he found he wasn’t in luck—the TV was on, volume low, and Christine and Don were sitting together on the couch. He wondered how flushed his face must be as he started down the steps.

Christine looked over as he neared. “Needing the couch? Our show’s nearly over.”

“No, no. Just my shaving bag.”

“Shaving bag?” Don asked, chuckling. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten what a razor was.”

“Don’t get excited—I just need my toothbrush.” He crouched before his duffel and dug for the nylon pouch, thinking he might just escape without interrogation until—

“How’s Abilene doing?” Christine asked.

He got to his feet. “Pretty good. Relieved, I think.” And let them assume he was sequestered in her room for moral support, please and thanks. “The baby’s taking it easy on her tonight, at least.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Yeah. Anyhow, see you tomorrow.” And with that, he hurried to the steps. He stopped in the guest bathroom, thinking he might as well brush his teeth, swerve and avoid the lie. As he did, he poked through the inside pockets of his shaving bag and found precisely one condom. He couldn’t even remember whom he might’ve been seeing when he’d bothered to pack it, but it wasn’t expired so he beamed a little thank-you to that forgotten woman. He spat and rinsed and stole back into Abilene’s room with the plastic square clinging to his sweaty palm.

She sat up as he entered, expression expectant.

He flipped the condom up between two fingers like a playing card, a little sleight-of-hand trick he’d taught himself when he was ten.

“We don’t have to use this,” he said firmly, setting it on the side table, “if you think you’re not ready. It’ll just be here, in case you decide you are.” He undid his belt and pushed his jeans down.

“I’m ready.” She welcomed him back under the covers. “Just nervous.”

He edged close, locking their legs together. “What about?”

“My body just doesn’t feel the way it used to, before the baby.”

“Ah. Well, I made you come yesterday, right?”

She nodded.

Casey got back on top, bracing his arms at her sides and his knees astride hers, hovering. Smiling. “You hadn’t expected you would,” he prompted.

“No.”

“Did it make you feel like you got your body back, just a little?”

She thought about it. “Yeah, I guess it did.”

“And maybe whatever happens tonight will get a little more of it back.”

“Maybe.”

“Abilene,” he said, his face so close to hers, their noses touched. “There’s nothing I want more right now than to make you feel good. Whatever that looks like, I want to do that. Be that for you. You willing to let me try?”

Another nod.

“Can I touch you?”

“Okay.”

He kissed her, lightly at first, deeper, then pulled away to settle between her legs on his knees. She let him undo the bow of her drawstring and ease her pajamas away. His breath grew shallow at a moment’s peek between her legs. No panties, just her, obscured by the shadows. He could smell her, as well, if faintly. Christ, he’d forgotten that scent. His cock went from pulsing to pounding in a single heartbeat. He stroked her from her calves to her thighs, loving the feel of her. Soft skin, soft flesh, everything perfect, right down to the little Band-Aid on her knee. When she twitched, he made the touch firmer.

“Better?”

“Yeah. Sorry, I don’t know why I’m so—”

“Don’t apologize to me again.”

She bit her lip, as though she’d nearly apologized for apologizing. “Or else what?”

“Or else something mean,” he said softly, still stroking her legs. “I dunno what yet, but something awful. Maybe I’ll sing to you.”

She smiled. “I like your singing.”

“When have– Oh, to the baby.”

“And in the car. You sang along to ‘My Sharona’ last time you drove me to town. You didn’t know half the words, but I like your voice.”

“Well, I’ll cook for you, then. I cook the worst eggs you’ve ever tasted,” he promised, squeezing her ankles, calves, thighs, hips. “You want them burned and rubbery, or all snotty in the middle?”

“Gross.” The word was barely a breath, as his thumbs ran along the creases of her uppermost thighs, close enough for him to feel the soft tease of her pubic hair. She sucked an inhalation as though shocked or tickled, and Casey made the touch firmer. He planted his knees wider, opening her legs in turn. Her calves were cool at his hips, telling him precisely how hot he was burning for her. His mouth felt dry, cock already hurting from neglect. He let his hand inch closer, closer, until his thumbs found the plump swells of her outer lips. Their collective breath came up short.

He laid the length of his thumb along one edge of her sex and slowly drew the other down the seam, then up. As he brushed her clit, she jolted, grasping his upper arms.

He went still. “You want me to stop?”

“No. It just . . . zapped me.”

“Okay.” He curled forward to kiss her belly through her shirt, hands still frozen. “If anything’s too much, just say.”

“I will.”

He traced both thumbs along her outer folds this time, down and back up. A softer buck answered when he glanced her clit, chased by a sigh.

He smiled to himself. He knew there were men—men like his brother, he bet—who’d find all this waters testing too much work to bother with. Guys who didn’t want to pick the lock, preferring to just go charging through like a battering ram. Casey, however, enjoyed picking locks, both figuratively and literally. Loved a challenge. He loved figuring a woman out, discovering what could melt her nerves away, what could leave her begging for more.

He bet most anybody who hadn’t slept with him would assume he was the battering-ram type, which was fair—he was pretty blunt in most aspects of his life. But in his old line of work, and in bed, he was a perfectionist. An artist, as Emily had called him. He wasn’t jacked like Vince, or freakishly good-looking like Duncan, or any kind of small-town royalty like Miah. He wasn’t even a great person, he suspected, but he was a damn good lover. And he’d stay on his knees all night, taking it stroke by stroke like a painter, if that’s what it would take to figure Abilene out.

“That feels nice,” she whispered. Her eyes were shut, her lips parted.

He took the touch deeper, finding her wet. His breath hitched; his face warmed. His cock ached, dying to get inside her.

“Feels nice to me, too.” Deeper still, until his thumb was slick from her. He rubbed her clit—small circles at first, then lighter flicks. He got his other thumb wet and touched her with both, in tiny symmetrical strokes like parentheses. Her legs tensed and squeezed and a soft moan hummed in her throat.

Bingo.

He gave her exactly that, playing around until he knew how much pressure to use, exactly how slow she liked it. Slow was good—he loved when a woman needed it slow. Seemed like they came for ages when you coaxed it out, instead of a fast and frenzied rush.

Abilene was getting close—he could tell from how stiff her clit was, and how her lips had grown swollen. From the smell of her.

“Can I use my mouth?” he whispered.

“Yes.”

He moved back, dropping onto his forearms. He slid one hand under her ass and eased her thigh wider with the other. He took her in with a long greedy breath, and sighed his satisfaction right there against her pussy.

There was a lot to be said for deprivation where sex was concerned, and aside from the odd glance of his nose, he ignored her clit to start. He pressed kisses along her seam, licked her lightly, then deeper. He hadn’t tasted this in far too long. So long she could have been his first, for how exotic it felt.

He gave it to her like that for long minutes, until her fingers were in his hair and her belly was quivering with little gasps. When her legs tensed, he eased them wider. He didn’t hide his own excitement—he moaned as loudly as he dared and let the odd sigh steam her skin.

“Casey.” The hands on his head were growing plaintive or bossy, fingers tugging at his hair.

“What do you need?” He knew but wanted to make her say it.

“Higher,” she murmured.

He had no doubt she was too shy to say “clit” but no matter. Maybe given time, she’d learn to get demanding. Casey liked few things more than getting ordered around in bed, especially by shy girls. He rewarded her with a long, slow lap of his tongue, all the way up and over her clitoris.

She gasped, grip tightening. He gave her another stroke, another, and crept that hand on her thigh up closer, closer. Close enough to run his thumb along her wet lips, then dip inside. Another gasp, and it was all he could do not to free a hand and touch himself. His dick was a screaming frustrated beast.

He closed his lips around her clit, working it with his tongue as he eased two fingers inside her. Was she thinking about what might come next? About his cock? Was she thinking of him at all, or of whatever mysterious fantasies hatched inside women’s heads when they were inching toward orgasm? He didn’t care, as long as he was the one getting her there. He worked his fingers in and out, reminding her of what she hadn’t felt in over a year, teasing himself with what he hadn’t done since last spring. Imagined how sweet it’d feel to sink inside her, right here, and slowly, torturously, edge himself to a body-wringing release.

Her hips told him when he’d found the right speed and pressure—they rolled subtly, seeking his tongue and the thrust, mimicking sex. He wanted to groan, to swear, to tell her how fucking hot she was; he didn’t. He kept up the pleasure until her motions grew sharp and urgent, until her hands trembled, and he let her hear his desire in the moans rising up from his throat, humming against her pussy. He wished he could see her face as he had yesterday when he’d made her come, beautiful and wild and disbelieving.

He got her voice instead, whispering his name. That sound rang through his head as he brought her to orgasm, his hips pumping in time with hers, cock dying to be where his fingers were. As her body stilled, he did the same with his mouth and hand, and sat up. He rubbed her legs, memorizing her expression. The cheek lit by the weak light was pink, and her lids were half shut. She looked dozy and dazed.

“I do good?” he asked.

A smile broke through her stupor. She nodded. “You did real good. You did perfect.”

Better than you’ve ever had it? A question whose answer was none of his business, though he hoped he could guess.

And he hoped for more than that.

He got his legs between hers, and tucked his forearms up against her ribs. Kissed her.

Excitement rolled through him, a fever sizzling in its wake. He kissed her neck, shifted so their bellies and hips pressed tight, so she could feel how bad he needed this. “Being inside you was all I could think about when I was doing that.”

“Me, too.”

Another flash of heat, and he groaned into her skin. His hips were already moving, stroking his cock along her pussy, his shorts dragging against her wetness, so fucking hot. “I can’t wait.”

“Then don’t.”

He pushed up on straight arms and looked to the table, but she already had the condom in hand. As she opened it, Casey got his shorts off, knelt, primed himself with a light stroke—no need. He was as hard as sin, already wet himself. Her gaze took it all in with a hunger he hadn’t seen in those blue eyes before. Made him feel fucking huge.

He took the condom from her and rolled it on. Fuck if that didn’t feel good in itself, after so long. The promise inherent in the cool caress of the latex.

His hand was shaking as he guided himself to her lips, every cell pulsing in time with his thumping heart. He eased into her with a single, slow push.

“Fuck, you feel incredible.” He could only shut his eyes, sink down on his elbows and press his face to her neck. It had been so long since he’d felt this. So long since he’d been invited here. And he’d wanted her for ages. “You’re so warm.”

She tensed. “I’m not . . . I know I’m not as . . . since the baby.”

He cut her off right there, propping himself up to hold her stare, and began to move, easing out, then back in a little deeper. “I’m not thinking about the things you’re not, honey. You’re warm,” he told her again. “And wet. You’re perfect. You’re the best thing I’ve felt in my whole goddamn life.”

She bit her lip, a smile dimpling her cheeks.

“And you’re gorgeous. You just tell me if anything doesn’t feel good.”

“Nothing.”

“Then tell me if anything feels amazing.” Whatever that might be, he do it again, again, a hundred thousand times until he felt her quaking beneath him.

Of course in reality, he had to doubt if he could last that long. Already the pleasure was mounting, tight and low, spurring him to go faster, deeper, harder. He held back, not ready for it to be over. He focused on the subtler sensations, like Abilene’s hands. They were soft, her palms cool on his ribs. Focused on her eyes and the way they moved up and down his body, curious and hot.

He groaned—louder than he meant to, then froze for a couple breaths, straining for a sign that he’d disturbed the baby. None came, and he eased back into the moment. Back into this beautiful woman.

“Can’t tell you how bad I’ve wanted this. And for how long.”

She stroked his arms with hungry hands. “Me, too.”

“Here.” He pulled out and moved to his side, urging her to do the same. He needed her face close, her mouth near enough to kiss. They scissored their legs and Casey got back inside her, shoving one arm beneath the pillow. God yes—that face, right here. He kissed her lightly as he found a good angle, held her thigh tight to his hip. Everything felt right. Nobody on top, the two of them on par. He slid his hand up her side beneath her shirt. As the top rode up, she seemed to curl in on herself, face pressing against his neck.

How she didn’t realize her body was exactly perfect, Casey couldn’t understand. All he could do was show her how he felt. “Take your shirt off. I’ve seen this,” he added softly, rubbing her belly through her tee. “I’ve done more than just see it.” He’d come on that soft skin yesterday.

After a moment’s hesitation, she’d worked the shirt up and off. She still had her bra on, and as much as Casey was dying to see her breasts, he didn’t press. He sealed their bodies close and drove deep, slowly, again and again. “You’re so fucking soft,” he whispered.

Her mouth was at the base of his throat, words warm and private. “You aren’t.”

Casey chuckled, kissed her forehead. “No, I’m not. That’s what you do to me.” He held her ass, tugging her tight to him, and he pushed as deep as he could go. It was so good, he felt a groan roaring up from his chest. It took everything he had to hold it in. “Fuck. Kiss me, honey.”

The way he held her, she couldn’t reach his mouth, but her lips teased his throat. Her tongue, a little rasp of her teeth. He shivered at that tiny taste of aggression from this sweet, hesitant girl, and let her hear how it excited him. She gave more, and his hips rushed. February was gone—their bellies and thighs were slick, the room like a sauna. He wanted to stay here tonight, sleep in this bed, keep the smell of their two bodies and this sex fogging his senses as he dropped off to sleep beside her.

He buried his face in her hair and moaned. “You’re gonna make me come.” It might be his body driving into hers, but that mouth on his neck was making him crazy. “Say my name.”

She did, her breath hot on his skin. He could only moan in reply, and turn everything over to his dick. His hips were pounding, sloppy and fast, frantic, chasing relief.

She whispered it again. “Casey.” Her hand was on his arm, gripping, thumb stroking. She was excited. Maybe not near the brink, but turned on—no mistaking it. He imagined next time, imagined her coming on his cock, saying his name, begging him not to stop. Or perhaps just her hands on him, her breath rushing, her eyes closed. He fantasized about all of it, until he felt that tether inside of him snapping, aggression and urgency going slack as the pleasure dropped him into free fall.

“Honey.” He was half on top of her, hips racing him home, body slapping. He’d forgotten how it felt. How fucking good it was, losing it inside a woman, face-to-face. He crested from need to ecstasy and to marrow-deep relief in one long, wringing rush, then came down slowly, reeling.

Her hold on his arm softened, and he realized he might be squishing her. He eased out and rolled onto his back, folded the condom into the shorts he’d tossed on the floor. The sheets were cool on his shoulders and back, and he shoved the covers down to his waist, burning up.

“Goddamn.”

Abilene turned over and laid an arm along his chest. He closed her hand in his, pressing it to his heart so she could feel it pounding. He side-eyed her. “You trying to kill me, honey?”

She smiled. “Never.”

His laugh came out in a soft rush of breath. “Jesus, I guess I needed that.”

“You deserved it.”

He shook his head, thumped their hands atop his chest. “No. Nobody’s entitled to sex. Nobody owes sex. You just have to be happy when it falls in your lap.”

“And are you happy?”

“Fucking ecstatic.” He squeezed her fingers, then drew them to his mouth and kissed them.

She snuggled closer, locking a leg over his. “Good.”

“Tell me that’ll happen again.”

“I sure hope so.”

Better add condoms to the shopping list.

“You sleeping in here again tonight?” she whispered.

“I want that if you do.”

“Of course I do. But people are going to catch on soon.”

“So let them. I don’t care. Do you?”

She didn’t answer right away.

“Abilene?”

“I don’t know if I care or not. It’s just that . . . We agreed this can’t be anything serious, is all. I wouldn’t know what to tell people, if they asked.” She didn’t sound fretful, merely puzzled. “What would you tell them?”

He considered it. Imagined Christine grilling him over morning coffee. “I think I’d probably say that you and I are getting close. Leave it at that.”

“Oh.” A pause. “That’s nice. I like that.”

“And it’s true, right?” He turned back to his side, pulling the length of her body to his, splaying his fingers along her back, possessive.

“Yeah. It’s true. This is as close as I’ve gotten to anybody in a long time.”

Close as you were with Ware? James Ware was cut from a similar cloth as Casey’s brother—he was like Vince with no sense of humor, and it was tough to imagine such men letting women turn them soft. But of course Vince had managed it with Kim. They’d been together for months, and weathered some pretty ugly stuff between the casino chaos and living with Vince and Casey’s mom, yet Casey didn’t see any cracks forming between them. So maybe Ware was capable of it, too. Though he preferred to imagine the man had never treated Abilene as he could. That no man had ever lain with her just this way, talked this way.

Such a fucking goner.

Abilene squeezed his hand, then let it go, rolling away. “I’ll be right back.”

“Where you off to?” He studied her naked body before it was swallowed up by her shirt and pajamas, memorizing the soft swells of her breasts, belly, butt, calves.

“Bathroom.” She smiled at him as she smoothed her hair, then slipped out of the room.

Casey stared up at the beams ribbing the sloped ceiling, then shut his eyes. Breathed it all in. Felt the cool air on his chest, the warm covers around his waist and legs.

A thought struck him with such ferocious clarity, he got chills.

Please, don’t let me go crazy.

A few months ago he’d walked through his life with that same prayer running on a loop in the back of his head, but his reasons for wishing it had been selfish. He hadn’t wanted to be pitied, hadn’t wanted to be dependent, hadn’t wanted to lose his mind before he could enjoy the money he’d made, and more recently, before he had a chance to see the bar succeed. Now it felt different. It had begun feeling different ever since he’d kissed this woman, hadn’t it? What else could explain his sudden, impulsive urge on that very same night, the one that’d finally had him ordering the genetic testing kit?

Don’t let me go crazy. Don’t take my life away when I’ve only just started making something worthwhile of it.

Don’t make me have to leave her.

He sighed, eyes opening as the water ran in the next room. She’d be back in a minute. His to hold through the night. His, for now.

His, for as long as karma decided he deserved it.