Page 112 of Dissonance

“Lockie.” I don’t know whether to laugh or strangle him. “Dr. Bryan never said sex was off the table.”

“I know what she said. Didn’t stop me worrying.”

I don’t want him to be good. He’s been too good to me already. After nearly a week apart, I want him, want to feel his body against mine, want to confirm that this is it. Us. Together.

I don’t wait, closing the distance. The kiss isn’t gentle as the last five days of fear and distance and all the things we’ve finally said out loud collide at once. My hands slide into his hair, tugging sharply, and I swallow his groan.

His grip tightens on my waist, pulling me flush against him, grinding me over the hard bulge in his pants. His hands map my back, exploring, coaxing, and the low sound he makes against my lips does things to my self-control I’m done pretending it doesn’t. I roll forward, chasing the friction, needing more.

“Thea.” My name comes out wrecked, barely a word.

“Don’t stop,” I breathe against his mouth, rolling my hips, the rough edge of his zipper catching through my leggings.

One hand slides up my spine, the other staying right where it is, guiding, urging, holding me there as unrelenting pleasure builds.

“Take me to bed,” I gasp, needing more. “I need—I need you.”

A sound tears out of him, low and rough. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

I pull back just enough to look at him. His jaw’s tight, eyes dark, all that careful restraint hanging by a thread.

“Good,” I say. “Don’t be careful with me, Lockie. I don’t need careful. I need you.”

That thread snaps.

His mouth is on mine, harder this time, no hesitation left as his hands slide under my thighs, and he stands, lifting me with him. A breathless laugh escapes me as I wrap my legs around his waist and grab onto his shoulders.

“Lockie—”

“You asked for it,” he murmurs against my throat, moving toward the cabin.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” I manage, half-laughing, a little breathless. “I’m heavier now.”

“Not for me.”

There are no more words as he takes me inside and up to the bedroom, not breaking the kiss, not slowing down. The room still smells like fresh paint and clean linen, but it’s gone in a heartbeat, replaced by him. I hit the pillows at the top of the bed before I’ve fully registered he’s put me down, lips parting as he reaches behind him and pulls off his shirt.

I sit up, tugging off mine too, unable to keep my eyes from him as he unbuckles his belt, kicks off his shoes, then lowers his jeans and underwear in one move. Naked and glorious, his fingers curl into the waistband of my leggings, slowly peeling them from my legs, leaving me in nothing but black silk panties.

He prowls onto the bed, one hand bracing beside my head, the other stroking over the fabric, my legs widening.

“Say it again,” he murmurs, the gravelly sound of his voice scattering goosebumps across my skin. “Say you don’t want careful.”

My pulse stutters, and I bite back a moan.

“I don’t,” I say. “I just want you.”

Chapter Forty-Five

Lockie

“Jesus,” I mutter, finding her already soaked through the fabric. Bucking up into my touch, her head digs into the pillow.

“Five days,” I say against her throat, dragging my finger across the damp lace again, feeling her shudder under me. “And look at you.”

“Lockie—”

Her back arches off the bed, hands finding my shoulders, nails digging in hard enough to leave marks. I take my time despite every instinct telling me not to. I drag out each sensation, watching her come apart under the friction, her breath hitching, her hips rolling in that desperate rhythm she can’t seem to stop.