So sorry for the late late late update. Real life got in the way and I had lost my muse for a lot of things. I hope you enjoy this update and please telle me what you think.

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MERCEDES

It would be impossible not to notice him. Danger and confidence and reckless disregard for pretty much anybody and anything emanate from him like a stink. Or, for every female in the immediate vicinity, like a perfume. I'm sure that tickle at the back of my throat is Taryn's pheromones. They might choke us all. I don't even have to look down the bar at her to know she's sitting up and taking notice. I wouldn't be surprised if she were preening like a cat. But I could also understand it. He's pretty… compelling. He's tall. Every bit as tall as Sam. The fact that he's wearing a black leather jacket and sunglasses into a club in the middle of the night only makes him stand out that much more. But it's not only that. It's not just one thing. Or ten things. It's everything about him. There's no way this guy could hide. Not in the biggest crowd could he go unnoticed. People step away from him as he walks through the room. I don't know if it's fear or reverence, but something causes them to give him ample space. I'd guess his hair is chin length. Maybe shoulder length, but pulled back into a ponytail as it is, it's hard to tell. The color is like pale straw, lighter on top than underneath, which makes me think he works out in the sun. Often. His chin is covered with a thick, light brown goatee. Between that and the sunglasses, most of the details of his face are obscured, but there's something about him that seems vaguely familiar. I wonder if he's been in the club before. Not dressed like this, of course, but maybe in regular clothes. Without stopping, he walks straight to Sam's office and disappears inside. It's like there's a pause after he's gone, as though his slow, powerful walk across the room left a slight concussion in its wake. But after about thirty seconds, everyone returns to last call as if nothing happened. But I'm more curious than ever.

SAM

I'm glad I'm sitting when he walks in. I'm also glad I'm not eating or drinking when he walks in. It would be a shame to make it this far and then choke and die from seeing the long-awaited visitor walk into my office. And recognize that he's my twin brother. Cam. "What the fu—" My first thought, my first feeling is profound relief. Joy even. My brother isn't dead. He's very much alive. And standing right in front of me. His hair is longer. And blonder. His face is familiar. I'd recognize it anywhere, of course. Even with the lower half covered in a dark blond goatee, it looks just like mine. Only harder. Much harder. I feel the presence of him in a way that no other person on earth feels it. We're part of each other in a way that most siblings don't experience. It's different being a twin. I think, on some level, I've always known he wasn't dead. I never felt him leave, never felt him die. I never felt his absence like he was truly gone. But what does this mean? What the hell is going on? It takes me only a few seconds to put the pieces together.

Dad.

"Dad knew. He knew all along and didn't tell me."

A slap in the face. A sucker punch to the balls. A reality check that reminds me there really isn't anyone I can trust. Not completely. I trust Gavin for the most part, but the two people I've trusted the most have both given me reason to question my judgment. My father obviously withheld quite a bit from me. I don't know why, but I'm damn sure going to find out eventually. Once I make sure Mercedes is safe…

Mercedes.

She's the other person I've trusted with a lot. She hasn't betrayed that trust, but she's been withdrawing over the last day or two and it concerns me. I know she has a lot to overcome and deal with, but now isn't the time for that. It's too dangerous for her to decide suddenly that I'm not trustworthy and then bolt. It could mean her life. What that means to me is that either I must convince Mercedes she can trust me, that I'd never hurt her, or I have to leave her alone. She can't be safe if she doesn't trust me. And I can't trust her if she doesn't trust me.

Cam's words bring me back to his mysterious reappearance. "Yeah. We all had our reasons for making the choices we made. You included," he says pointedly.

He's right, but that doesn't take the sting out of being the only one kept in the dark. My temper rises, but before I lay into Cam, Gavin shifts, reminding me that I'm not alone with my brother. I glance at my bar manager and best friend, who is looking back and forth between Cam and me. His expression says he's a little confused, but not as much as I might've expected.

"I'll explain all this later," I promise.

Gavin narrows his eyes and then starts to slowly nod. "No, I don't think there's any reason for that. I think I'm up to speed." He gets to his feet and steps over to Cam. "Gavin Gibson. I don't suppose we've met before."

I'll be damned. He did figure it out. I "met" Gavin as Cam once to add some legitimacy to the farce. If Gavin had ever had any suspicions about the identity, he'd never mentioned it. But then again, knowing Gavin, he'd probably keep it to himself in case he needed it later. I guess in this business— well, my dad's business— everyone has their secrets. And their weapons. I nod to my friend. No point in holding anything back now.

I turn back to Cam, crossing my arms over my chest. "So, are you gonna bring me up to speed?"

Cam watches me. It's in this moment, not when I first saw him and saw how different he looks, that I realize he's changed. He's more like me— the old me, the rebellious me, the bad boy— than he ever was before. Only he's much more dangerous than I ever was.

"I didn't come here to catch up on the last seven years. I came here because Dad sent the message. It must be time to get down to business."

"What's that supposed to mean?'

"I've got leverage."

"So do I. But they know I have it and they're making unacceptable threats, threats I can't risk calling them on." He stops to watch me again. It's like he's trying to get inside my head. And when he finally speaks again, it seems like he might've been successful.

"Who do they have?"

"A girl I know. Someone they think is important to me." A slight frown flickers across his forehead, but then it's gone.

"Someone they think is important to you?" I nod. "But she's not?"

I shrug. "It's complicated. But there is one who is important to me. And they know about her, too."

He nods slowly, taking it all in. "Well, I have enough incriminating evidence to change everything if we use it right."

"Then why haven't you used it before now?"

"Dad. He wanted to wait. He was afraid of putting us in more danger. That's the only reason he went along with any of this. He's spent the last seven years in prison to protect us, not because he didn't have a way out. He's known all along he holds all the cards. He was just scared of the consequences of using them, of screwing up and killing someone else."

"So the books…"

"Were only part of it, yes. But it has kept you safe all this time, so it was worth it. To him."

To him. I don't know what to make of that last part. Does Cam resent me? I don't see how or why he would. He's known the deal all along, while I've been operating under only bits and pieces of information. He's known the truth. I've known mostly lies. My temper ratchets up another notch.

"Man, if you've got something to say, say it. I'm getting tired of this shit. I don't take kindly to people messing with my life and only telling me half-truths and part of the story. You can either come clean or hit the door. I'll figure out another way. Without you and… whatever it is you think you've got."

After a few seconds, Cam's lips turn up into a small, cold smile. "At least you're not a total pussy."

I see red. I've had about enough of all this— this life, this deception, this game. I take a step toward Cam, fully intending to plant my fist right in the center of his face. He smirks like he'd welcome it, like he'd welcome the opportunity to trade a few punches with me. But Gavin steps between us. "If I had to guess, I'd say there are more important things than your pissing contest right now. Focus, mate. Focus. For Mercedes, if nothing else." His eyes are as calm as the shallow blue waters they so closely resemble. Within a few seconds, the wisdom of his words and the person behind them cools my temper. Mercedes. "This isn't over," I grind out through my gritted teeth.

Cam nods once, his smirk still firmly in place. For a fraction of a second, I feel another surge of the desire to beat that smugness out of him, but it's gone almost as soon as it arrived. "We'll find time later. I look forward to it."

I can see by the hungry look on his face that he does. I don't know what he must be angry about, but I really don't care, either. I need him for one thing and one thing only. Then he can take his ass back to wherever he came from and we won't ever have to see each other again.

"Well, if you think I'm going in there without knowing what you've got, you couldn't be more wrong. This is going down my way. Period."

Cam's laugh is a short bark. "I don't give a shit about saving your friends. Or your girlfriend. I've been waiting for seven years to take down the people who killed Mom and stole my life. I can wait a few more days. I've got my own agenda."

"I don't care what you do as long as it doesn't interfere with my plans or put anyone I care about in danger."

Cam's lips thin. "You don't care, huh? You don't care that someone blew up our mother? You don't care that someone framed our father? You don't care that he's spent years in prison to protect us? You don't care that somebody took our lives and pissed on 'em, then set 'em on fire?" Cam laughs derisively. "Oh, that's right. You wouldn't. You've been the beneficiary of all our family grief, haven't you, you son of a bitch?"

"What the hell are you talking about? How have I benefited? You mean by pretending to be my perfect brother, by living his perfect life and having to put up with the assholes someone like him would associate with? You mean by spending years grieving the loss of every single member of my family? You mean by visiting my only living relative in a guarded room with glass between us twice a month for seven years, and working day and night to figure out a legal way to get him out? Is that what you mean?"

Cam takes a step toward me. I see Gavin flinch like he's ready to step in again; he didn't move far away to begin with. But Cam stops.

"That sounds a hell of a lot better than spending the last seven years on the run. In hiding. I gave up everything— who I was, what I wanted, all I ever had— to honor my father's wishes. To keep him safe, to keep you safe. I got to sneak into town a few times a year to see my brother living my life. Free. Happy. Alive. While I had to stay dead. Running guns with smugglers. Stuck on a ship. Every day, for months at a time. I'd trade lives with you any day of the week."

"You can have your life! I never wanted it. Everything I've done, I've done for Dad. Don't think you're the only one who's suffered, Cam."

We stare each other down. We're at an impasse. I'd never admit it, but now I can see why he'd be angry. We've both suffered, both paid for mistakes that weren't ours. But maybe the end is in sight. Maybe it's finally time to be free of the past. Finally.

"I know you boys have a lot to talk about, but it has to wait. We've only got a few hours to get a plan together. What do you say we put the bullshit aside and get down to business?"

I look to Gavin. His expression hasn't changed from the pleasant one that he always wears. Sometimes it's hard to believe he's deadly. But he is. He just hides it well. That probably makes him even more dangerous.

"You're right. We don't have time for this." I glance at the clock on the wall. "It'll be time to close soon. I'll have to bring Mercedes back and fill her in on some of what's going on."

"Do you think that's really the smart thing to do?" Cam snaps.

"Yes, as a matter of fact I do. She needs to know. She has a right to know. Her life is in danger because of me. Because of us. Hell yeah, I think it's the smart thing. The more cooperative she is, the better."

Cam rolls his eyes and shakes his head. Obviously, he disagrees. But, again, I couldn't care less. He doesn't have to agree with me; he just has to give me what I need to make sure Mercedes's safe. Permanently. Then I don't give a rat's ass what he does.

MERCEDES

Strange huge men keep disappearing into Sam's office, so when the bar closes, I'm a little nervous about going back there. But I go. I don't really have much of a choice. I'm in way over my head. As I reach beneath the bar and grab my purse, I hear the door to the office open. A sliver of light pours out onto the floor and I hear voices. Low, deep voices. My stomach curls into a tight knot. The door opens farther and Sam's big body blocks most of the light. His eyes lock onto mine immediately.

"Are you done?" I nod. He turns back and speaks to someone behind him, then emerges to walk across the room and lock the front doors. I watch him, afraid to move. Without my work and all the customers in the bar, the tension is sliceable. How did I get myself into this mess? Before I can formulate some kind of answer, Sam is walking toward me, his face hard and intense.

"Let's go back to my office. There are some things I need to tell you."

My pulse picks up and dread runs through my veins like ice water. Sam meets me at the cutout at the end of the bar. When I step out in front of him, he puts his hand at the small of my back and guides me to his office. I can feel the warmth of his palm through my shirt, and it comforts me. I ease through the door to find Gavin in Sam's chair behind the desk and the tall stranger with the ponytail across from him, his back to me.

Gavin looks up and smiles. "There she is." I smile in return, although I'm sure it's tight. My face feels like it might crack from the tension. In just a few short hours, Sam will be going to get Marissa. Who knows what will happen then? Acid sloshes in my belly and saliva pours into my mouth. I close my eyes and take a slow, deep breath.

When I open them, the stranger is rising to his feet. He turns toward me, leaning back against the desk, and crossing his arms over his wide chest. He's taken his glasses off. And it makes all the difference in the world. My heart skips a beat as I look into the familiar green of Sam's eyes. Only they're not Sam's. Not exactly. Sam steps around in front of me to stand beside the stranger. As I look from one to the other, I don't need to ask who the stranger is, but I do need someone to explain to me how he's here, how he's standing in front of me when he's supposed to be dead. Sweet Jesus! This is even worse than I thought!

"Cam," I say quietly, trying to sound calm when I feel anything but.

He smiles, a gesture that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Very good." He looks to Sam. "At least this one has a brain."

I don't know what that's supposed to mean, but I can't worry about it right now. I just want to find out what's going on, what's expected of me, and how we can all get safely out of this crazy and surprisingly dangerous dilemma. Everything else will just have to wait.

"You look pretty good for a dead guy."

"My brother's done a great job of keeping me alive, don't you think?"

There's no mistaking the bitterness in his tone.

"I suppose so. You don't seem too happy about that."

"Why would I be happy that someone is pretending to be me?"

Temper flashes in his eyes. It gives me pause, but only a little bit. For some reason, with Sam close, I'm not afraid of him. I might be otherwise, but right now, I feel brave.

"Why would you not be? You got off easy. You have a law degree that you didn't have to study for, a job you didn't have to work for, and a life you didn't have to earn. Sounds like Sam has done the hard part." I glance at Sam. He's watching me. He smiles. It's wide and pleased. Smug almost. He winks one twinkling eye at me, and I feel the heat rush to my face. He must be happy that I'm standing up for him.

Cam straightens and takes one step forward. My first inclination is to back up, even though he's not that close to me. But I don't. I hold my ground.

"That might be true, especially if you don't have a damn clue about what my life was like. Like if you didn't know that I had to give up my entire identity and go to work for criminals on a smuggling boat. Or if you didn't know that I could only come to shore once every few months. Or if you didn't know that I had to sneak into town wearing a disguise, only to see my brother living a great life. My life. Yeah, I can see where you'd think I'd be grateful."

Guilt washes through me. I don't know what to say. I look to Sam, who is watching Cam, his face set in hard lines. I glance at Gavin, who seems bored with the whole conversation. Then I glance back to Cam, who suddenly looks broken and bereaved behind his stony mask.

"I'm so sorry," I confess sincerely. "I-I didn't know. I just assumed…"

Cam's laugh is a short snap. "Yeah, well you know what they say about assuming."

He steps back to resume his position against the desk. I don't take any offense at his words. He has every right to them. Both he and Sam have gotten the shaft and I feel incredibly sorry for both, for what they've suffered and what they've lost, for what they've had to go through for a man who made all the wrong decisions.

"Maybe after this, you won't have to hide anymore," I say softly. Cam stares into my eyes. I can see that he wants to believe that's true, and my heart squeezes painfully.

"Maybe. Maybe one day I can have the freedom, the job, the life. The girl."

I don't know if he means me per se, but his look is so intense, it makes me blush, anyway. He's so much like his brother.

Sam moves to stand at my side. When he speaks, his voice is strained. "If we do this right, maybe we can both have our lives back. And you can find your own job and life and girl." Sam slides an arm around my waist. I want to smile at the possessive gesture. Men and their silly posturing!

Obviously, the conversation needs a new direction. The tension is killing me!

"So, have you figured out what to do about tomorrow?" I hear Sam sigh. Uh-oh.

"I think so." He moves away from me to pace to the apartment door and back, his head bent in thought.

"Well?"

"Cam has some… information that we can use as leverage after handing over the books for Marissa."

"What kind of information?" There's a pause, during which it feels like everyone in the room is debating the wisdom of answering me. I disabuse them of that notion right away. "If you're thinking of keeping me in the dark when I'm one of the ones in their crosshairs, you really need to think again. You need my cooperation, right? I mean, I could go right to the cops and that would change everything, right?"

I hate to make such a threat. I think Sam knows I'm just bluffing, but the others don't. There's no way they could. It's Gavin who speaks up first.

"Just tell her, mate. You're the one who says she can be trusted."

I won't lie. It makes me very happy that Sam has told them as much. It also makes me feel guilty for the misgivings I've had the last couple of days.

"The afternoon of the accident, Cam was coming back from the store with supplies for the trip. He stopped on the dock of the marina to video a couple of girls lying on top of a yacht, sunbathing topless. He accidentally caught the triggerman on tape."

"Triggerman?"

"Yeah, the guy who detonated the bomb."

I gasp. "Oh, shit!"

"Exactly. They'd have killed all of us if they'd known Cam had it. I think Dad was right to hold off for a while. Something like that is very dangerous."

"So you're going to hand over the books and then what? Use the video to…"

"Keep us all alive."

"But how? It'll be just like the books all over again, only they'll know who has it, who to go after." I feel sick. I can only imagine the kinds of torture they'd employ upon loved ones to get their hands on evidence as damning as a video.

"Not exactly. There's something else at play. Dad had me send two messages. Cam was one. We haven't heard from the other one yet. Cam thinks that the video used in conjunction with this other… player might be enough to get us out of this forever."

"Forever? How exactly?"

"By eliminating the threat."

"What's that supposed to mean? That sounds like you plan to kill somebody."

"No. Not us." I look between the faces of the three guys. They're all very serious.

"Surely you're joking." Not one of them even flinches. "You can't really be considering this." Still nothing. My head spins. It's just like the movies. But it's so much worse in real life.

For a few seconds, it seems surreal. I can't wrap my mind around being involved in something like this. I mean, this is… this is… Sam moves in front of me and bends until his face is inches from mine.

"Mercedes, these are bad men. And I don't mean they've robbed a liquor store. These men are killers. Murderers. And they won't stop if they think for one second that any of us poses a threat. Or could get them something they want. This is real. And it's serious."

I search his eyes. I guess, considering the conversation, I'm looking for a monster. But I don't find one. I see only the guy I've been falling more and more in love with. I wonder if it's too late to turn back now.

"What are you asking of me?" His eyes never leaving mine, Sam straightens.

"Give us a minute, guys," he says to Gavin and Cam. Quietly, they make their way from the room. Sam takes my hand and leads me through the door at the back of the office, into the kitchen of the apartment area.

When he releases my hand, I lean against the cabinets to keep from falling over. My heart is pounding so loudly I wonder if Sam can hear it. Sam's back is to me. I see him run his fingers through his hair and I hear him sigh again.

"I'm asking you to trust me, Mercedes." He turns to face me. "Trust in what you know about me. Because I know, if you stop listening to your fear, you know who I am. Deep down. You know me, Mercedes. You know me."

His voice is sincere. His expression is urgent. I close my eyes against his face, his handsome face, the face that haunts both my waking and my sleeping world. I open them again when I feel warm hands cup my cheeks. Sam is a breath away, his eyes oceans of midnight, drawing me out into the deep.

"It's me," he says softly. "Stop listening to everything else. Remember the way you feel when I'm kissing you and touching you. Don't think with your head. You know me. And when my lips are on yours, you trust me."

As if to make his point, he dips his head and brushes his mouth over mine. Sparks fly between us. As always. "You trust me, when my hands are on your skin." He runs his palms down my arms and then over to my waist, where he pushes them up under the edge of my shirt. Chills break out down my back. "You trust me when you turn your mind off, when you just feel." His hands move farther up, skating over my ribs to cup my breasts. His thumbs brush my nipples, and then he squeezes them through the thin material of my bra. I catch my breath. "See? You aren't thinking. You're just feeling. You're feeling me. Right now, you trust me. You know I'd do anything for you, that I'd never hurt you. You know you're not like the others. I know you know that. And that you want me. Just like I want you."

He's right. He's right about all of it. And I do want him. I always have. In a way, it makes no sense that I'd want him right now considering what might be happening in the next few hours. But in a way, it makes perfect sense. If things go wrong, this might be the last time I see Sam, or get to be with him this way. That thought brings with it both panic and abandon. I swallow the words that want to rush out, words about love and devotion, words that have no place in this moment. They deserve to be spoken when there's no pressure and no distress. And that's not now. But we still have tonight. So I'll show him. I'll give him everything else I have.

"Tell me you want me," he commands softly, his voice a low growl. I don't hesitate. Reaching up, I drag my fingertip along his perfect plump lower lip. "I want you."

"Tell me you trust me."

"I trust you."

He exhales, his warm breath fanning my face. "Now tell me you want me to touch you." His hands are still, unmoving over my bra. But I don't want them to be still. More than anything, I want them to move.

"I want you to touch me."

His eyes are pure heat, searing mine. He watches me as he pulls the cups of my bra down. His palms are rough as they glide over my nipples, making them pucker. He pinches them between his fingers, and lava pours into my core. I bite back a moan.

"Tell me you want me to lick your nipples, to suck them into my mouth." His voice is like black velvet. It slides over my skin like a tangible thing. "I want you to lick my nipples." I'm already breathless as he pulls my tank over my head. His eyes are back on mine as he reaches behind me to unhook my bra. "Finish," he demands, refusing to give me what I want until I spell it out. "I want you to suck them into your mouth."

Bending his head, Sam flicks one nipple with his tongue, then draws it into his hot mouth. I thread my fingers through his hair, holding him to me. He sucks on one, biting it lightly, before he moves to the other to give it the same treatment. When he lifts his head, there's fire in his eyes.

"Tell me to unzip your pants." Even though I can barely speak, I don't hesitate. "Unzip my pants." In one quick movement, he flips open the button and unzips my pants. "Tell me you want me to put my fingers inside you." His voice is hoarse and his hand is resting just a few inches away from where I want it most. The anticipation of feeling him is almost too much to bear. "I want you to put your fingers inside me." Turning his palm toward my body, he slides his hand into my panties and pushes two long fingers inside me. My knees go weak and I reach behind me to hold on to the countertop for support. Sam closes his eyes and moans a little.

"You're so wet. Do you know what that does to me?" I nod. "Yes." I know because I feel it, too. "Tell me you want me to taste you." Slowly, he drags his finger in and out of me. My hips move with him. "Taste me." Pulling his hand free from me, he raises one glistening finger and slips it into his mouth. I'm mesmerized. "That's the best taste in the world," he says. "Tell me you want a taste, too. I want to watch you lick my finger." More heat rushes between my legs. "I want a taste, too," I breathe obediently.

Sam bends and, with one quick jerk, pulls my pants down to my ankles. As he rises, he pauses to press his lips to the outside of my panties, kissing me. I want to beg him to stop there, but before I can speak, he's taking my breath away with his wicked fingers. Pushing my panties to the side, Sam thrusts two fingers inside me, burying them deep and bringing me up onto my toes. He crooks them within me as he massages my clitoris with his thumb. He looks up and his eyes find mine again. Slowly, he straightens and brings one finger to my lips. His eyes drop to my mouth as I open it. He drags his wet fingertip over my bottom lip, then looks back up at me. "Lick." I lick my bottom lip, tasting the salty sweetness there. "So good," he whispers before he slides his finger into my mouth, rubbing it over my tongue. I close my lips around it and suck until I hear the air hiss through his gritted teeth.

"Tell me you want me inside you."

"I want you. Inside me. Right now," I pant desperately.

I can't take my eyes off his. Even as I hear the sound of his zipper, our gaze is locked together. I reach down to push my panties over my hips just before Sam grabs me under the arms and puts me up on the counter. The granite is cool against my butt, making me long for the heat of his body. Still watching me, always watching me, Sam pulls one shoe off my foot, then eases my pants and panties down over it, freeing one leg.

"Spread your legs for me."

I do as he asks. His eyes on my moist, sensitive flesh make me feel even hotter, even wetter. Sam wraps his fingers around his shaft, stroking it slowly from base to tip, making my muscles clench in anticipation of him filling me.

"Now tell me what you want."

"I want you inside me."

"What do you want me to do there?"

"I want you to come in me, to come with me."

I hear his moan just before he lets his desire off the leash. It seems that one moment he's inches away; the next he's touching me. All over, everywhere at once. His hands are in my hair, at my breasts, on my back. His lips are on mine, at my ear, on my neck. His tongue is teasing mine, teasing my nipples, teasing my navel. Then his hands are sliding under my hips. The world tilts when he picks me up off the counter. Just as my legs wrap around his waist, he enters me, pulling me down onto him, seating himself so far inside me that it steals my breath. As my head falls back on my shoulders, I cry out. I can't help it. I'm lost to everything but Sam. I barely hear my own voice. It's like a soft echo of what's going on between us— a tornado of sensation and heavy breathing, a hurricane of lips and tongues and teeth and fingers. I hear Sam's breath in my ear. I feel his body inside mine. I feel the air rushing over my skin as he carries me to the bed. Then there's a firm mattress at my back and a warm body on top of mine. He's moving inside me, hard and powerful, each thrust deeper than the last. The buildup is too much, the pleasure too strong. My body feels like it's coming apart at the seams. Just before I squeeze my eyes shut, I see Sam come up onto his knees. I give myself up to feeling as he spreads my legs wide and rubs my most sensitive part with his thumb, all the while driving in and out of me. And then I'm toppling over the edge. The first wave of my orgasm makes me dizzy. I hear Sam saying my name over and over. I open my eyes to see him arch his back and pound into me with a recklessness that bursts in my body like a shower of fireworks.

The walls absorb his groan as his pace slows to longer, more languid strokes. His body still pulses within me. Then, with one final thrust, he collapses onto me.

We rest together, drifting back down to earth. His breathing is heavy in my ear. When it becomes less labored, I feel the first press of his lips against my neck. It's one of a thousand tiny kisses he rains over my throat and my face. When he lifts his head, his eyes meet mine. I'm not sure what they say, but I think my heart understands.