Page 53 of Piece Us Together

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Page 53 of Piece Us Together

He presses into me then, hot and hard and wet. He drapes over me like earlier. His lips are back to the spot beneath my ear. I feel goosebumps rise on my skin as he whispers, “Love you, love you so fucking much,” while rocking his cock in and out at a dizzyingly slow pace.

“I love you too,” I whisper back.

He shudders against me, the words affecting him like they’re a kink of their own. His hands flex against my hips.

He starts to fuck me. It’s hard. Fast. It’s enough to have my head emptying, pleasure taking its place.

There’s one thing that remains though—something I hadn’t even realized was there until everything else was taken away. Or maybe not something that’sthere, but something that’smissing. An empty spot. An ache.

Hunter should be here.

I flinch at the thought, guilt threatening to swallow me whole.

I had been waiting all day for the other shoe to drop.

I had no idea it’d be mine.

Chapter Fourteen

Maison

Hunter has an event he has to go to at the college Saturday, so we’re scheduled for a Thursday night meet-up instead. It should make things easier, having to go two less days waiting. It doesn’t.

By the time Thursday rolls around, the itch of anticipation is nearly unbearable. Last time went so fucking well. Too well, almost. I’m torn between excitement for a repeat and anxiety that something so good can’t possibly last.

I’d kill for a drink or to be able to go a few rounds with a heavy bag, but we’re only an hour away from having to leave and I don’t think Hunter would be pleased with either of those. I pace around the house before deciding to join everyone in the pool area, figuring it’ll at least be entertaining. It always is when our whole group gets together.

The pool area is thick with heat and chlorine, laughter and chatter bouncing off the walls. I immediately feel itchy when the door closes behind me. I try to shake it off, heading over to where Jake and Ace are lounging in chairs, each holding a beer. My eyes catch on their drinks, wondering if I could get away withjust one. I’ve got plenty of time before we’ll be at Hunter’s. It wouldn’t even be enough alcohol to deter me from driving. If I brushed my teeth good, there’s no way Hunter would ever even know.

Just the thought of the secret has guilt gnawing at me.

I scowl, sitting a little too heavily on the open chair beside Ace. He raises an eyebrow at me. “What’s got you in a mood?”

“Nothing.”

“Sure. Okay.” He rolls his eyes before reaching toward the small cooler between them. I swallow hard when he pulls out a beer and offers it to me. “Drink?”

There’s a voice in my head, telling me to go ahead. Telling me Hunter isn’t the boss of me. It’s all macho bravado and stubbornness. It’s me, the reckless side of me, the side that likes to ruin things.

“I’m good,” I say, forcing myself to look at the pool area instead of the drink. I find Nolan. He has his head tilted back with laughter as Bryce chases him around and Casey watches with Matt braced on his shoulders.

Good boy,a voice in my head says.

I don’t name the voice.

I refuse to name the fucking voice.

It’s not Hunter, okay?

It’s just a fucking voice.

God, I need a drink.

“I could bottle all this laughter,” Ace says, leaning back in his chair again, now drinking the fresh beer I turned down. I look back at the pool. Bryce is on Nolan’s shoulders now. They’re playing chicken. Well, I think they’re supposed to be, anyway. There’s so much giggling and splashing and dance breaks that it doesn’t seem like they’re trying very hard. “I used to picture this kind of thing, when it was just the two of us. Remember?”

I nod. I do remember. We’d sit at the oversized dining table in the safehouse, everything freshly painted and half-decorated, and talk about what it’d be like. Talk about our hopes. Talk about the little things that kept us going over the years. Both of us—most operatives, if I had to guess—used the survivors most of all. Sure, I clung to the idea of peace, of finally having this nightmare over with, of not having to worry about bloodstained hands and lives relying on me, but it was the survivors most of all. Picturing them reuniting with families. Picturing the moment I got to tell someone, “You’re safe now. You’re free.” Picturing the house full of smiles and relief and hope.

Picturing moments just like this.




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