Page 22 of Gray’s Surrender

I give her deep strokes, no impact and no race. The room fills with our breathing and the soft sound of skin meeting skin. Her mouth moves against my throat.

“I want this,” she says. “I want you.”

My whole body locks. Meg draws back enough to see me. No demand in her face. No fear that I won’t say it.

“I know this is fast,” she adds. “But I also know what I want.”

The truth has been sitting under everything since she walked into my kitchen. I love her. Her sharp mouth, her own life and the way she demands the truth before she offers trust.

“I’m in this too.”

The answer is rough and simple as her forehead touches mine. I hold her closer and keep moving, every slow thrust more exposed than the roughest moment in my garage. Meg clenches around me again. Her fingers dig into my shoulders. The pressure turns unbearable. I come with her wrapped around me and my face against her neck, surrendering the last effort to stay separate. Neither of us moves for a while.

Then Meg slides from my lap. I lift the blanket, and she settles against my side, her head on my chest.

“You’re frowning,” she says.

“Thinking.”

“Well, that’s dangerous.”

“You’ll be sore later.”

“Totally worth it, though.”

I touch the loose hair at her shoulder. “Stay until morning.”

“I probably couldn’t get back to my room without someone seeing me anyway. Or worse still, without Tank seeing me.”

“Was going to tell him.”

“Were you?”

“Before Monday night.”

“That leaves a not very generous window.” She kisses my chest. “I’ll stay until five. Hopefully, no one will be around that early.”

For four hours, she sleeps in my arms while the compound stays armed around us. At five twelve, the door opens. Meg has pulled on her shorts and shirt and I wear only jeans, no shoes. We step into the corridor together just as Tank comes through the door at the far end. Mud streaks his boots from the north road. His cut is damp, his face tired and hard. He looks at Meg, then the open door behind us and understanding lands.

“Not here,” I say.

“Garage.”

Meg steps between us. “Tank, come on. It’s five a.m.”

“Garage,” he repeats. “Meg, you stay here.”

“Like hell I will,” she replies in defiance.

We take the rear stairs and cross the yard. Dawn has not cleared the trees. The garage is empty except for three bikes and the tools left ready for the run. Tank closes the door behind him. Before I can register what’s happening, he hits me once. The punch catches my mouth and turns my head. I stay on my feet and don’t lift my hands to hit him back. I just take what’s coming to me. Meg swears. “What the hell, Tank?”

He looks at her. “He knew better.”

“He knew you wouldn’t like it. That doesn’t mean you get a say.”

“He’s my closest brother.”

“And I’m your adult sister. Neither gives you ownership.”