Page 120 of Bitter’s Sweet

Bitter freezes.

So do I.

His eyes meet mine, and something frightening passes through them. Not regret. Recognition.

He heard himself.

He knows exactly how much that sounded like more.

I could save him. Make a joke. Pretend I did not hear it.

Instead, I touch his cheek.

“Then kiss me.”

His eyes close once. When they open, he looks wrecked.

Then he kisses me.

The next thrust is harder. So is the one after it.

Something in Bitter breaks loose.

Not his care.

His control.

He fucks me harder, one hand gripping my hip while the other catches mine against the mattress and laces our fingers together. The intimacy of that nearly frightens me more than the roughness.

I squeeze his hand.

He looks down at our joined fingers like they betrayed him, then at me.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you trust me.”

My heart kicks.

“I do.”

The words hurt him.

I see it happen. His face changes like I drove something sharp between his ribs.

Then his mouth comes down on mine and the sex turns desperate.

He drives into me harder and deeper, body moving with mine until the bedframe starts knocking against the wall. His hand releases mine long enough to grip my thigh and push it higher, opening me for the next thrust.

I cry out.

“That good?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.”