Hours later, Holly’s asleep and I’m coming out of my skin. Part of me wants to wake her up, take her from behind or pull her down on top of me.
Or tell her how you’re flying apart, I think. I’m sitting up in our bed, but I feel like I’m flying a thousand feet above us. It’s Landers and Parish and Arch, and hell, it’s everything.
Then Holly murmurs in her sleep and rolls over, one arm sliding across my lap. There’s the most relaxing heat radiating off her. It makes my heartbeats slow.
Wake her up, I think, and then immediately after: You’re an asshole if you do.
I used her hard. Of course, she used me too and the memory almost makes me smile. Too bad it can’t make me sleep. I ease out from under her arm, taking two limping steps before finding my stride. I barely make it to the bedroom
