I didn’t let her go.
Couldn’t.
Amber was still beneath me, hair spread wild across the pillow, strands sticking to her damp cheeks, chest rising in uneven bursts, sweat glistening down the line of her throat. The room reeked of us...sex, salt, heat, the slick mess of what we’d already done clinging to the sheets, to my skin, to the air itself. The mattress was damp, sticking to her back, sticking to my knees where I pressed against it.
If she rolled away now… if she rebuilt her walls, if she closed her eyes and pretended none of it had happened, I knew it would cut deeper than any blade. It would feel like being ripped open again, split wide where no scar would ever grow back.
That fear sat heavy in my chest, jagged enough to choke me.
So I kissed her.
Not like before. Not with teeth
