Page 97 of The Ache That Stayed

She climbed into bed fully clothed, still muttering under her breath, and killed the light, drowning us in darkness. Except for the thin sliver of moonlight crawling across the floor toward my feet. The storm had eased, but the rain hadn’t stopped.

I sat on the armchair, breathing hard, every muscle tight.

Her scent was everywhere.

Vanilla. Rain. Her.

Mine.

I’m not fighting that anymore.

The blanket rustled. And I heard it: The sound of a zipper and soft whisper of denim sliding down skin.

She’d taken off her jeans. Bare legs tangled in sheets. Bare thighs pressing together. Did she take off the cardigan too? And is she bare under her blouse?

Fuck.

My cock jerked so hard I thought it would tear through my jeans. She was barely a foot away, half naked, and I couldn’t even touch myself. Or her.

My jaw clenched so hard I thought my molars would shatter. She was killing me. Every small movement from the bed felt like another test of whatever restraint I had left. Then she let out a shaky breath.

“Roxanne,” I ground out.

She settled deeper into the pillow and pulled the blanket up to her chin like she was innocent. I spread my legs further apart on the armchair to make more room for my aching cock.

She was so close. Close enough to breathe her in yet far enough that I didn’t do something we both know she’ll feel tomorrow in her bones.

“Sleep,” she ordered.

A lie.

Neither of us was sleeping tonight. Not with this between us. Not with the way everything had changed. Not when she was half naked in the dark, and I was an arm away with my fists clenched. Not when every breath between us feels like a match pressed to gasoline.

I closed my eyes, trying to steady my breath.

Failed.

Because the only thing I could think about was the way her jeans slid off her legs… and the way she bit back a gasp when the cool air hit her skin.

I swallowed hard. This was torture.

This was hell.

This was her.

And I somehow knew this was only the beginning.

CHAPTER 25

Roxanne

Darkness surrounds me.

Not the kind that creeps into corners and waits to swallow you whole. Not the kind that claws at your spine and makes you afraid to breathe. But the kind that shields.

The kind that… protects.

Darkness has always been kinder than light. Darkness is a friend. In the dark, I can disappear. I can fold into myself and become nothing—no shape, no sound, no body for anyone to touch. In the dark, I don’t exist. And if I don’t exist—neither does he.