Page 79 of Petrify

“I wouldn’t know how to get back.”

“Come here.”

I tell myself that I only obey because the chill is beginning to seep through my skin again. I climb back onto the bed, his eyes watching me appreciatively, landing on my hips, my waist, up to my breasts. He reaches for me, guiding me until I’m seated on his lap.

“Show me something,” he says. I can feel him hardening beneath me. “I want to watch you.” He swallows, his throat bobbing, his long fingers softly trailing up and down my sides, making goosebumps erupt on my skin.

“Watch me?”

“I want you to touch yourself. I want to watch you.”

“It’s four in the morning,” I say, even though desire is sparking low in my belly. “We should get a few more hours of sleep.”

“You can’t possibly think I’d rather sleep when you are on top of me like this.”

The hard length of him is nestled against my center. I lean forward, the movement grinding my clit against him. My breath hitches. “You aren’t still angry with me?”

“I stopped being angry the moment I caught you.”

My cheeks burn. “I’m more trouble than I’m worth.”

His fingers tighten at my waist. “Stop trying to convince me to let you go. It’s not going to work.”

He says this now, but maybe one day…

“Mallary.”

Maybe one day he’ll be sick of me. But right now, I canfeelhow much he wants me.

My hips begin to move almost on their own, chasing the pleasure of his body beneath mine, my hands splayed out against his chest, feeling every one of his ragged breaths. “I’d rather…”

Behind the mask, his eyes are only half open, watching me rock against him. The friction from his clothing, the rigid form straining against the fabric, fitting so perfectly against my clit as I slide back and forth, grinding slowly. The bliss in his eyes is erotic. It shouldn’t be this easy, this good. Not with him.

He’s not even touching me, and I’m electric. I’ve never seen his face, only his eyes, his lips, and it’s enough, especially when he looks at me likethat, pupils blown and so full ofwant. Like if I stop, he’ll die. Like there’s nothing I could do wrong, and he’d still l?—

I’m making a mess of his clothes, the muscles in my thighs tightening. “Do you like this?” I ask.

His lashes flutter. “So fucking much.”

Only a few seconds later, I come. In another life I’d feel embarrassed by how quickly I finish. But not with Baz. I shudder against him, falling against his chest, my hips still bucking against his cock, clenching around nothing and wishing he was deep inside of me.

He’s panting when I cry out, my helpless, pathetic sounds filling the small attic room.

I’ve barely caught my breath when he rolls us over so that he is lying behind me, an arm banded tightly around my waist. My eyelids are heavy with pleasure, the aftershocks still zinging through my limbs. “Let me?—”

He shushes me. “Watching you is enough. Don’t worry about me.”

“But I want to,” I say weakly. The rush of desire gives way to exhaustion.

He holds me tighter, thumb circling my wrist. “Sleep.”

Chapter 40

The Pianist

As I walktowards the kitchen for lunch, I spot Mariane down the hall, her heels echoing off the polished floor with every step. She’s moving quickly, her blonde hair swinging in waves at her shoulders.

I find it hard to imagine her doing anything important all day, but she’s moving with purpose, like she’s running late to something.