The pleasure broke me apart like an earthquake. It was, without doubt, the most sudden orgasm of my life, something that started from a place deep in my brain as much as from the stimulation of my nerve endings. I found myself gasping against the jeans covering his thigh, swallowing embarrassing noises down my throat. His cock twitched next to me, precome beading from the tip, and once the first aftershocks had calmed I tried to take him in my mouth again, to show him how grateful I was for the pleasure he was giving me, but it was impossible to concentrate. Giving and taking were hard to combine, and from the curve of his cheek as he smiled against my thigh, he didn’t mind.

It amused him, my lack of control.

“Eli, I can’t—”

“You’re okay, love,” he soothed. “You’re going to be fine. Don’t you like this? Don’t you like to come?”

I whimpered. His hands, large and strong and absolutely filthy, closed around the cheeks of my ass and spread me open. There was a hint of aggression in his touch, an ever-increasing directiveness, and I wondered if he was punishing me for depriving us both of this for weeks, or if he was just that impatient. Then he sucked my clit between his lips, and I stopped wondering anything at all, teetering on the edge of a second, stronger orgasm.

“God,” he gasped. “You really are the sweetest fucking thing.”

In that moment, I wanted him in my mouth more than I wanted to come. And when I moaned around his cock I thought that maybe he felt the same. His breath hitched, his hips arched in a way that had him nearly sliding inside my throat, and when he let out a deep groan, I wasn’t sure what I felt first: the pleasure racking through me once again, or his come flooding my mouth.

We remained there, still, making sounds that belonged to wild creatures for long moments, our descent slow and laborious. And then Eli untangled us, kissed me deeply and gratefully, and laid me down on the bed, one arm around my waist. I felt like a transcendent being made of sensation and heat and the imprints of Eli’s fingers on my skin.

“That was two,” I said, small aftershocks coursing through me. I’d felt this way last time, too. Wrung out. Empty. Like my body was his puppet, something he could mold and shape at will.

Intense, he’d said, but the word seemed all wrong. This was frightening. Dangerous. I needed a moment to regain my bearings and was thankful when he withdrew his arm to cover his eyes. I wouldn’t have been able to take any more closeness.

“Give me a second,” he panted. “I can give you another. Or die trying.”

I laughed, feeling sparkly on the inside. With my cheek pressed against the pillow, I observed this man who could make my body sing like never before. The exhaustion from the sex, the past weeks at work, the stress of being alive and for the most part alone began setting in. One minute, I thought. One minute, and I’ll get up. Make a big obnoxious scene about saying goodbye, since it’s so important to him, and leave this bed once and for all. As far as last times go, this was a good one.

I watched Eli’s broad chest rise and fall to the rhythm of his labored breath. I watched him lick his lips absentmindedly and curve them into a hint of a smile at the taste. I watched him be unmistakably, unapologetically pleased with himself—and then, when my eyelids fluttered closed and the sounds from the streets muted in my ears, I watched him no more.

19

YOU KNOW WHERE THE CLOROX WIPES ARE, RIGHT?

RUE

It was the soft pitter-patter of the rain against the windows that woke me up, and the muted swish of a car riding past the house that finally convinced me to open my eyes. There was no disorientation. I immediately knew where I was, and that the digital clock blinking at me from the nightstand in lime green was Eli’s.

It was ten forty-five in the morning.

The curtains were still drawn. Eli was nowhere to be found. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept so deeply, so uninterruptedly, or so late. Maybe it was the bed—mortuary slab–solid, just the way I liked. The sex, perhaps. I had no clue, nor did I plan to investigate the matter further. As furtively as I was capable of, I gathered the breadcrumb trail of clothes we’d scattered around the bed, and slipped into the en suite.

It was the same gentle mix of cleanliness and chaos as Eli’s bedroom. I peed, rinsed my mouth with some pilfered Listerine, and snuck down the stairs, stopping when I heard noises coming from the kitchen.

Shit.

I’d promised Eli I’d tell him before leaving. Back when I thought leaving would happen in the middle of the night. I was going to have to walk-of-shame this. Embarrassing, but not as embarrassing as Eli knowing how bad I was at sixty-nining.

I headed for the kitchen, ready to keep my goodbyes quick and honest. Thank you for last night, Eli. I enjoyed it. I always enjoy it. It’s starting to feel cruel, the combination of who you are and what you can do to me. Let’s never meet again, okay? But when I took a deep breath and made myself step inside, Eli looked different.

Like a tinier, prettier version of himself. Ferocious brown curls falling onto slight shoulders, eerily light blue eyes, and that halfwarm, half-cutthroat grin. A few inches shorter than me. A girl. Briefly slack-jawed, until her surprise morphed into a smile. “Well, well, well. Look who got laid last night.”

I lifted an eyebrow.

The girl instantly blushed. “Sorry! I didn’t mean you, I would never—I meant my brother! Hi, I’m Maya Killgore.”

The sister. Did she live here? “Rue. Siebert.”

“So lovely to meet you. I promise I don’t usually comment on random people’s recent sexual history, just . . .”

“Your brother’s?”

“Precisely.” She finger-gunned me. “He never tells me shit, so I have to resort to ruthless investigative methods. Is he trying to wife you?”

“To . . . what?” I needed caffeine.

“Are you guys dating, or are you just using his body?”

“Um. The latter.” A beat. “It’s more of a reciprocally beneficial agreement.”

“Nice. Good on you guys.” She seemed sincerely happy. “Where did you meet?”

“I work for a company here in Austin. Harkness recently attempted to acquire us.” And had not succeeded yet. It felt good to remind myself. Softened my guilt, too.

“Holy shit, you work for Kline? You know Florence?”

The shame at hearing Florence mentioned in Eli’s house was so intense, I had to take a breath before saying, “Yes.”

“What’s she like? I picture her as a giant tentacled monster.”

Why did she know about Florence? “She’s a five-three redhead. Untentacled. Not particularly monstrous looking.” To trim the conversation before it could grow its own appendages, I added, “She is a close friend of mine.”

Maya’s eyes went saucer wide, but a second later her pleasant smile was restored. “Would you like some coffee?”

“No, thank you. I was just going home. Is Eli . . . ?”

“He’ll be back soon. I can text him, too.”

“No need.” I’d asked after him. I wasn’t sneaking out. I’d text him once I got back to my place and make up a nonexistent Saturday morning engagement. I man the arugula booth at the farmers’ market. I AquaGym. Did I mention I’m a mother of four? They’re waiting for breakfast. “Thank you, I’ll just—”

The front door—against which I’d nearly engaged in public sex the previous night—opened. The first to come in was the giant dog, who looked even larger and even happier in the daylight. He chose violence, and shook several gallons of rainwater all over the wooden floor, sparing no surface. The second, of course, was Eli. He pulled back the hood of a dark green windbreaker, and when his eyes found me, he said, “I was wondering if you’d still be here.” He was smiling. Half-pleased, half-challenging, half-all-knowing.