Chapter 26 #2
I shake my head, already kissing him again.
I can’t hear this. I won’t. If I let him finish the sentence, it becomes real.
My fingers curl into his hoodie, anchoring him to me like I can keep him here by force of will alone.
The waves crash behind us, distant compared to the frantic thud of my heart.
Our kisses deepen, heavy with everything we’re refusing to say.
Don’t go. Please. I love you. I don’t know how to survive without you.
His hands slide under the hem of my sweater, then stop. He pulls back again, breath uneven now. “This doesn’t change anything,” he says, jaw tight. “I still can’t be with you.”
“I don’t care,” I whisper, voice breaking. “I don’t care what happens tomorrow. I just need you. Tonight.”
His gaze searches my face like he’s looking for a reason to stop. For strength. For distance.
I don’t give him any.
I kiss him again, harder this time. I’m aware, dimly, that I’m pushing. The thought should make me stop.
It doesn’t.
Don’t do this to me again, please.
His kisses suddenly become more aggressive, and I tug my shirt off between them. His gaze darts between my eyes, forcing me to understand the seriousness of this night. That he’s still resigned to his decision.
I need you. I need you for the rest of my life.
We shed clothes clumsily, desperately, until the firelight paints him in flickering gold and shadow. We sink into the sleeping bag, the nylon cool for only a heartbeat before his warm and solid weight settles over me. I wrap my legs around his waist.
I can’t let you die.
He breaks the kiss, breathing hard against my lips. “Baby,” he whispers. The word is full of pain. It’s breaking my heart.
“Stop,” I pant against his lips. “Just…stop talking.”
His control begins to fracture. I feel it in the way his hands tighten. He swears under his breath, forehead pressing to mine like he’s bracing himself. “Fuck,” he rasps. “You’re not listening.”
“I am, Jude,” I say softly. “I just don’t care.”
Something in him finally gives. The hesitation disappears from his touch, like he’s finally stopped fighting the current and let it pull him under. His mouth finds mine again, no restraint left now. And I know, even as relief floods me, that I’ve crossed a line I won’t be able to uncross.
I need him to feel it—to remember me, even if this destroys us. He kisses me back just as fiercely, one hand cradling my jaw, the other sliding down my body, lighting sparks in its wake.
His fingers find me soaked, and I shudder when he sinks two inside me. Pleasure erupts, my body responding despite the anxiety fluttering in my chest. My nails dig into his shoulders as his muscles flex, working me open for him. But suddenly, guilt crashes into my mind.
I shouldn’t be doing this when he was assaulted last night.
“Wait,” I whisper. “I’m sorry, I’m being too aggressive—”
He stills for just a moment, dark eyes clashing with mine. “It’s fine,” he says quietly. “I want this. That’s the difference. I always want you. I never want her.”
My heart squeezes.
He pulls his hand away, positions himself, and I gasp as he presses against me. “Look at me,” he commands.
I do. My eyes lock with his hazel gaze, dark and burning in the firelight.
He fills me slowly, inch by inch, a relentless, breathtaking stretch that steals my breath.
It’s a perfect, overwhelming fullness that borders on pain.
My fingers clutch at his bare shoulders, the muscles there tense with the effort of his restraint.
“Okay?” he asks, his forehead resting against mine, our breath mingling in ragged puffs.
“Yes,” I gasp. More than okay. I’m drowning. He’s all I am. All I can feel.
He moves then, setting a slow, deep pace.
Each thrust is almost worshipful. Our fingers lace together above my head, pinning my hands gently to the sleeping bag.
His mouth finds mine in soft, open kisses that deepen with every slow, rocking drive of his hips.
The world narrows to the heat of his skin against mine and the occasional cool gust of ocean wind.
My body begins to coil. It’s too much. It’s not enough. I can feel every ridge, every pulse of him inside me. I whimper against his mouth, my hips lifting to meet him, begging for more without words.
“I know, baby,” he breathes, his voice thick. He releases his grip on my hands to cup my jaw, his thumb stroking my cheek as he looks down at me. His rhythm changes, just slightly. His thrusts become deeper, more angled, and he brushes a spot that makes my vision blur.
“Jude—” My voice breaks.
“Let go, Emma,” he whispers against my lips, his breath smelling like mint and something fruity. “I’ve got you. Just let go.”
The pressure inside me snaps. I cry out as the orgasm detonates.
My back arches off the sleeping bag, my body clamping around him in frantic, pulsing waves.
I feel him lose all control. His thrusts turn hard and ragged, pounding into me, chasing his release.
He buries himself with a final, brutal drive, groaning as he pulls out and comes on my stomach.
He collapses onto my chest, face buried in my neck. For a moment, the fear goes quiet. For a moment, he’s here. Mine.
But quiet is dangerous.
Panic slams back into me. So I press at his shoulders until he rolls onto his back with a soft, startled grunt. What am I doing? I can't stop.