Page 85 of Refrain

We lie side by side, catching ourbreath.

We fuck again.

Dawn is painting the sky with streaks of pink and red when I wake up, my head on his chest, his hands in my hair. I know he’s awake, but I’m not ready yet. Not ready to face the world. Not ready to remember the clock counting the hours down.

He told me that he’d be there when I needed him. That promise woke something inside me that I only have one word to name. Ineedhim. I slide my leg over his hip and straddle him in earnest. He’s hard already, nudging my inner thigh. A sigh escapes his mouth, ruffling strands of my hair loose. One of exhaustion? One of relief? The lazy smile that tugs on his lipsgivesme a clue.

Holding his gaze, I reach between us and guide the head ofhim inside me. Three…four times and the sensation never changes. The pleasure never loses its potency. He fills me like nothing else.Perfectly.My body doesn’t strain to accept him. It swallows him, hungry for him in every goddamn way—and only like this can I fucking forget.

I move on him slowly, letting him adjust to the feeling. Once he starts to thrust up into me, I arch my back,braceboth hands on his chest, and swivel my hips, riding him deeper. His hands go to my waist, guiding my pace, letting me keep control. His surrender alone makes me come so hard that I see colors. Reds. Blues. Yellows. Greens.

I keep moving until he groans out his own release and fills me up all over again. I flush with the realization that we haven’t used a condom one single time. And I don’t care. There’s no guilt on my part. Chloe Parker’s yearly exams reinforce the fact that I’m clean. And even if he’s not…

There are worse ways to infect a person. Fates more damning than any disease. I’d take anything and everything he could possibly ever give me, just as long as it means I never have to go back.

“Arno’s been calling me.”

This is when I register the telltale buzz of a vibrating cell phone.

“He’s the only one who would this fucking early.”

With a sigh, I roll off him and onto the cold tile, but he doesn’t move. He just stares up at the ceiling, his expression thoughtful, his arms at his sides. He’s an angel contemplating the depth of his fall, the loss of his wings. The buzzing has trailed off by the time he finally hauls himself upright.

He staggers down the hallway, still beautifully naked. The muscles in his thighs ripple as he stoops for his phone and brings it to his ear. When he finally hangs up and returns to the kitchen, his halo has disappeared. Shadows line his eyes again, feeding off every ounce of light in the room.

“Jose found something out,” he says while he hunts for something on the floor. When his gaze lands over his sweatshirt, he lunges for it and pulls it over his head. “I’ve got to go—”

“I’ll come with you.” I’m already on my feet before he canargue,if he even would.

He watches me fish my panties from the floor, his expression unreadable. Once we’re both fullydressed,however, he holds his hand out to me. I take it, gripping it tighter than necessary. Tighter than I should.

He lets me cling to him as he heads for the door. Beside him, the daylight isn’t harsh and revealing. It’s cold. It’s calm. It paints our skin in shades of yellow and gray, and I have never felt more human.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

ESPI

“Where the hell have you been?”Arno snarls the moment we enter Mulligan’s.

Shit.The set of his shoulders alone backs up the nerves I sensed in him over the phone. He’s awake before dawn, without a bottle to show for it, too. Either the bar’s entire stash of liquor disappeared overnight, or something’s got him riled so badly that even beer can’t fix it.

I don’t spot Francisco behind the bar, either—another bad sign. Arno only leaves him out of shit when he doesn’t want to be put on a leash.

“What’s going on?”

“Well, you would know if you answered your damn phone. I’ve been calling you for five fucking—” He breaks off once he notices the woman in my shadow and his expression falls flat. “Never mind. I can guess what the fuck you were doing.”

He’s gone before I can muster up a comeback, marching toward the center of the bar. Then I realize why he’s so edgy—We have company. I spot the guest of honor seated on one of the stools near the end of the counter. The next second, Arno shoves me back before I even register taking a step.

“Relax,” he grunts while I catch myself against the end of a pool table. “He’s just here to talk. I told you that he found something out.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t think you’d invite him over for goddamn tea.”

Jose put his big-boy clothes on today—a leather jacket and jeans.

“Hola, mi amigo,” he says. He brought a knife along to play with—Arno wouldn’t dare let him bring a gun. Knowing damn well that I’m watching, the bastard twirls it between his fingers, his eyes reflecting hints of silver. “It’s been a long time since our last chat—”

“Don’t,” Arno growls to me. “Don’t give this fucker any bait to help him get off at night.” He cocks his head the same way most men would a gun. His eyes narrow, and my nerves spark, painfully alert. I haven’t seen this version of Arno in a very,verylong time. His eyes aren’t even bloodshot, and there isn’t an open beer can lying around. It’s as close to stone-cold sober as he can get. “You came here to talk,” he says to Jose. “So open your fucking mouth.”

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