Burn Down the Night (Everything I Left Unsaid #3)- Molly O'Keefe Page 0,103
from shoulders to feet. His knees split my legs, pushing me open, and he braced himself on his hands, one on my ass and the other against the wall. I felt his thumb touch my asshole and I came harder, a second wave lifting me up and out of myself. I screamed into the pillow.
I heard him telling me how good I was like he was down a long hallway. How hot. How perfect. Dark praise that filled me up as he hammered into my body. And then he was coming and I touched myself again, riding my orgasm out with his until we were both done.
I was breathing hard, my hair in my face. I blinked; the room seemed different though it wasn’t.
It was me that was different. Like I’d been set down on the other side of something.
He pulled out and I flinched, my body too sensitive for any more touching. Even his breath against my spine was too much. Him being in the bed was too much.
All of it. Everything was too much.
He got off the bed and went to the bathroom and I tried to organize myself into sitting up, but my body was having no part of it.
When he came back into the room, I pretended to be asleep. Because there was no conversation after that. He chuckled and climbed into bed with me, pulling the covers over our bodies.
“I know you’re awake,” he whispered. “And that’s cool. But sooner or later, we’re gonna talk. I’m not going anywhere, Joan. I’m here.”
A coward, I kept my eyes shut until I knew he was asleep. And then I opened my eyes and stared at him and let myself wonder. I let myself pretend that I was someone else and he was, too. And maybe we’d met at a bar one night. I smiled, imagining him playing pool and maybe I’d pretend to accidentally bump into him or some shit. And then I’d have to buy him a drink for screwing up his shot and then he’d buy me one because the chemistry between us was thick. I would let him take me home. And the sex would be good. Kind, even. We’d kiss with our eyes open because we didn’t have all these ghosts and secrets and skeletons we were terrified of revealing.
We’d go out for breakfast and to the movies. We’d argue over what to watch on TV and who would make dinner.
It was a whole life we could have—if only we were different people.
Because I was awake and the room was so quiet, I heard the buzz and rattle of my phone in my purse in the other room. I eased out of bed and ran quietly into the other room, fishing through my purse, throwing stuff on the ground in order to answer it before it stopped ringing.
It was an unknown number and I swiped hoping I wasn’t too late.
“Hello?” Silence. “Hello?” I was just about to hang up when I heard it. The choking whimper and then a voice.
“Olivia?”
Only two people in this world called me by my real name. And this wasn’t Aunt Fern.
“Jennifer?”
“Yes! It’s me. Olivia. I need help.”
Chapter 26
Max
I woke up quickly. Yanked up and out of a dream so fast I was sick to my stomach.
Something was wrong.
Before I even opened my eyes I knew Joan wasn’t in bed with me, that when I reached over to check the sheets, they’d be cold. And I knew before I eased out of bed and checked the rest of the condo that she wouldn’t be there. Her garbage-bag luggage and her phone—all gone.
I had known, despite the sex, despite the secrets we’d told each other, despite how badly I wanted her to stay, I had known in my gut she would leave.
It was the truth I didn’t want to look too hard at. I liked pretending.
Standing in an empty and dark apartment that still somehow managed to smell like her, I realized how stupid it had been to think we would do this shit the normal way.
Some people had self-destruct buttons that had to be pushed. And I’d known that about her the second I saw her.
And I didn’t know if my anger was so sharp because it felt like grief. Or my grief was so sharp because it felt like anger. But I was a mess of it. A seething, hurting, angry mess and I wanted to tear down the walls.