My core screamed for release. This wasn’t fair. He promised me something he couldn’t deliver. He was the one to grab me. He was the one to bring us to this point with no conclusion.

I twisted beneath him. “Yes you can. I want to come together. I don’t care if it doesn’t last long.”

I didn’t think he’d obey. But with a furrowed frown, Arthur pressed his hips into me.

Once.

Twice.

My vision glazed over. Yes. Something built incredibly fast. It gathered and congregated. It hovered hard and determined in my belly. Yes.

Arthur stopped. He inhaled as if he’d run miles. His face shone with sweat. “Cleo … wait.”

No, don’t do this to me. “Don’t stop.” I bit his ear. Needing this orgasm, needing to feel connected to him—to let go of our tension through pleasure—I grabbed his ass and sank my nails into his flesh. “Take me.”

He cursed and lost control. He thrust into me, pressing me deep into the sofa.

He dropped his walls and gave in.

We rode each other as if any moment one of us would disappear. We claimed each other. We adored each other.

“Yes!”

His strokes lost all sophistication and turned downright dirty.

I loved it.

With each stroke, I panted faster and faster. I was so focused on where we joined, his lips on my neck, hands on my breasts, and cock driving inside me that everything else ceased to exist.

My release began with a pleasure-pain I’d never experienced before. Building, building. Seeping energy from my cells and centering them in one part of me screaming with feeling.

Arthur grunted. Skin slapped against skin.

And that was it.

I screamed and shattered. I was delirious with sharp spasms, swept away by passion, completely besotted in the way he made me explode.

I didn’t hear the agonizing moan from Arthur.

I didn’t see the whitewash of his skin.

I was far, far away.

I was spiraling into bliss.

I was self-obsessed, self-absorbed, self-consumed as my lover slipped away from me.

I didn’t notice.

How did I not notice?

Arthur never did come with me.

His elbows buckled, his body crumbled.

And he fell into unconsciousness.

Chapter Fourteen

Kill

I’d died today.

I hadn’t meant to. Not that anyone meant to die. I’d drowned at the beach when I’d lost my footing and became a wave’s plaything. I wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for my brother. He’d been the only one there. Despite our strained relationship, he’d risked his life to bring me back to shore. He’d given me CPR. He’d saved my life. I owed him. But Cleo didn’t like my newfound tolerance for my brother. She’d tried to warn me. Tried to distance me from my family. But they were my family. I couldn’t turn my back on them. —Arthur, age fifteen

“Will he be okay?”

Will who be okay?

“He’ll be fine.”

Who will be fine?

“I told him last night to avoid rigorous exercise. The swelling in his brain hasn’t diminished enough to raise his blood pressure to such extremes.”

“It wasn’t planned … it sort of just happened.”

A sniff, then a condescending quip. “Yes, well. Next time, don’t let him break my rules and no sex.”

Sex!

Everything came tumbling back. Shit, the last thing I remembered was the sensation of champagne bubbles building at the base of my spine. That feeling was common and known: I was about to come. My heart was racing. My thoughts were spinning. My cock was thrusting.

And then … nothing.

What the hell happened?

The pain inside my skull invaded the rest of my body. My neck throbbed with crippling aches. I felt as if squeezed with a vise, my back crippled with aches. I felt as if someone had taken an axe to my spinal column.

Cracking open my eyes, the lounge came into focus, along with the smell of cooking, stickiness of sex, and nausea of concussion.

My limbs took a while to register ownership, and I twitched as I came fully awake. A blanket over my hips tickled as it began to slide downward.

Snatching it quickly, I cupped the area of my body that’d gotten me into this mess.

Doctor Laine’s warning last night came back.

“You’ll be fine if you take it easy. Rest. No exercise or stress. Take these tablets three times a day with food and drink plenty of water.”

I’d always been stubborn; ignoring doctor’s advice was a forte of mine. Pity it’d backfired so completely.

Tilting my head on the pillow, I assessed who was in the room with me.

“Holy fuck.” I grabbed my chest, trying to keep my heart from seizing as Cleo and Doctor Laine suddenly loomed over me from the back of the couch. They had twin expressions of concern.

“Ah, good, you’re awake.” Doctor Laine bent over and pressed cool fingers against my clammy forehead. “You haven’t been out for too long, so you shouldn’t suffer anymore side effects.”

I flinched away from her touch, scowling. “How long?”

“I got here within ten minutes of receiving Mrs. Killian’s call.” She looked at Cleo. “So, what? About fifteen minutes would you say?”

Cleo nodded. “No more than that.” Her hair crackled with static, her cheeks painted with worry. “Arthur, do you remember where you are?”

At some point in my snooze, she’d slipped on a black knee-length dress. Everything about her yelled sex—from her wild hair to her pink and kiss-swollen lips. My eyes drifted to her chest; her breasts were braless, taunting me with pebbled nipples.