Page 89 of Grimoire Girls Expulsion

I used to read this deck like a newspaper. I'd turn a few cards and know what was coming and how to cheat it. Now they just lie there on the tile being cards.

The floorboards creak in the hall.

I know it's her before she comes in, because I'd know her footsteps anywhere. She's in one of Atlas's flannels and a pair of black leggings, her feet bare, her hair in a knot on top of her head that's coming down on one side.

My dick notices before the rest of me has decided whether I'm even in the mood to be cheered up—my dick has never once in its life waited for a vote. She doesn't turn on the light. She just sits down on the cold floor across from me, cross-legged, her knees against mine and the spread of cards between us.

"You've been gone."

"I'm right here." I turn over another card and give her the grin. It comes up fine; I've had years of practice.

"You've been gone for a month, Felix. I can feel it. We all can."

I turn over another card. The queen of hearts. Of course it is.

"I'm the one who's kind of useless," I tell her. "Everyone else in this house is holding something up. I'm holding a nickel."

"That's bullshit."

"I saw her in the courtyard, Ev."

It comes out of me harder than I mean it to, and the grin goes with it. I can feel it go, like a coat sliding off my shoulders onto the floor, and I don't bother to pick it back up.

"I saw it, and I didn't know what I was looking at. I used to be the one who knew. I'd look, I'd tell you which way to turn the car, and I'd be right. Now I'm just... here. And you're reaching for me every night out of habit, because I was actually useful once."

She doesn't argue with me. Instead she reaches over and takes the deck out of my hands, gently, like taking scissors off a kid, then squares it up on her knee and sets it face down on the tile beside her, out of my reach. She sweeps the cards I've dealt into a pile, flips that face down too, and puts it on top.

Then she gets up on her knees and climbs into my lap.

She settles there with one knee on either side of my hips, her weight warm on my thighs, and takes my face in both hands. Her palms are cold from the floor, and her thumbs are rough, the skin dry and cracked from all those nights on the common room floor.

"I'm not reaching for you out of habit. I'm reaching for you on purpose. Can you tell the difference?"

"No." It comes out as a croak.

"Then I'll show you."

She kisses me.

It's soft at first, just her mouth on mine, barely moving, and I feel it come down the bond. With Ren, her want and his pour in and out of each other until they're one big mess. With me it comes down beside me, separate and clear—her wanting me, bright as a bell, sitting right next to my want for her. It's like getting dealt two winning hands at once.

I put my hands on her hips and kiss her back like I'm starving.

Because I am. All this time not answering, and I'm fucking starving. When I open my mouth she opens hers, her tongue sliding against mine, tasting of the peppermint tea she drinks when she can't sleep, and I make a noise into her mouth that I'd be embarrassed about if I had any shame left. She tilts my head back against the cabinet door to kiss me deeper, her fingers sliding into my hair and holding on.

She pulls back just far enough to bite my bottom lip, hard enough to sting. "I missed you." Her breath is warm against my mouth. "Asshole."

"Fair," I admit.

"Every night, Felix."

"I know." I kiss her again, slower, and she lets me. "I heard you knocking. I heard every one."

She kisses me until I can't feel the cold coming off the tile anymore, and I kiss her back until her breathing goes ragged, until she's making little sounds into my mouth and shifting her weight on my thighs. Every time she shifts she drags right over my cock through denim and cotton, and I have to grip the cabinet behind me to keep my hips still.

When I get my hands up under the flannel, her skin is warm and soft, and she isn't wearing a damn thing under it. I find that out with both palms at once and nearly lose my mind.

"You came down here with no bra on. That's premeditated."