I’m pulling at straws. And she’s naked beneath me. My hands ghost over her satin skin. Perfect.

In the dark, I trace the topography of her body with my fingers and lips, kissing my way down her graceful neck, along her collarbone. I take my time on the little places I’ve often overlooked—the center of her chest where I can feel her heart beating, the soft, fragrant curve along the side of her breast.

The skin on her inner arm is like fine silk; she shivers as I run the tip of my tongue in patterns down to her elbow. Libby sighs my name, her fingers combing through my hair and massaging the tight spots on my nape. Beneath me, her thighs are parted wide, her body pliant. The wet heat of her sex press against my chest, calling my attention.

I slide farther down, licking and nipping my way along. I love the way she squirms. I know how much she gets off on the anticipation of me reaching my destination. It’s a little game we’ve played many times: how long can we draw it out, touch each other and yet not touch those places we want it the most.

I press my lips against the hard curve of her hipbone, my arms wrapped tight around her waist. Fuck. No one knows me better than this woman. And I’d bet my life I know her better than anyone on Earth. And I’m sending her away. She’s going. It’s so fucking wrong, it’s choking me.

I try not let it show. But I can’t stop the tremor running through me.

“Killian?” her vanilla cream voice slides through the dark.

Tell her. Tell her what she is to you. She’s your lodestone. You have a fucking map inked on your body, but you are completely lost without her right next to you. Tell her.

I suck in a breath and surge down. My mouth finds her slick, swollen flesh, and I latch on, feasting like it’s my last meal.

Libby gasps, her body arching off the bed. In the gloom, her skin is a pearly cream, her sweet little tits pointing up and shaking as she writhes. I hold her hips down and eat her out with no finesse, just greed. And she whimpers and cries.

Good. Remember that. Need it. Crave it. I know I will.

I don’t let her come. Not yet. When she quivers against my tongue, her clit swelling, I lift away. Libby cries out, her arms reaching for me.

“Shhh,” I whisper, crawling over her. “I got you.”

Her damp breasts cushion my chest as I settle over her, needing that skin-to-skin contact. The throbbing tip of my cock finds the slick notch of her pussy, and I push in, no hesitation—a little mean about it, even. We both need that.

The first thrust is always the most painful. Because it never fails to punch me in the heart, the fucking perfection of her, the tight, hot, wet clasp. Like home. Yeah, she’s my home. My everything.

She never shies away from me, but raises her hips, spreads herself wider, as if she needs to take every inch I can offer. Her legs wrap around me, her hands grasping my shoulders. “Killian.”

We move as one, pulling apart, sliding back together. It’s slow torture. Every time I ease back, I feel cold. Every thrust in, I want to grind myself there, imprint myself from the inside.

My arms bracket her slim shoulders. In the dark, I find her. Her eyes glint as she stares up at me, and we slowly undulate. Her air becomes mine.

Tell her. Beg her not to go.

I dip my head and kiss her, kiss her until I don’t feel anything but her mouth, her body. Kiss her until I can’t think about tomorrow.

I’m probably crushing her. There isn’t any space between us. But she’s wrapped tight around me, not letting go. Her lips consume me, her sweet pussy milking my dick as she comes. And I want to shout. It can’t end. Not yet.

But then I’m coming too, so hard my body shakes. I don’t make a sound. I can’t. I’ll be begging her if I do.

I fall asleep wrapped up in her, my fingers clinging so hard to her shoulders that my knuckles ache.

In the morning, she’s packed before I’m out of bed. The sight of her bags settles like lead in my gut as I pull on a pair of jeans.

“You’re leaving now?” I ask, stating the obvious. But, Jesus, she’s fast.

Libby shifts on her feet, as if she’s already imagining walking out the door. “Your plane leaves tonight, anyway. Scottie got us a flight out early.”

Right. Because he’s now the one she plans things with. He’s her manager. He should be planning her life right now. He does the same for me. A green tinge of jealousy clouds my vision.

“Okay, then. I guess you gotta go.”

Libby nods and grips her rolling suitcase. “Have a safe flight.”

“Yeah, you too.” Fuck, we’re already talking like strangers.

She glances at the door and a small smile tugs at her pretty lips. “Seems we’re destined to always be leaving each other.”

So stay. Tell me you can’t live without me the way I can’t live without you. But she doesn’t. And I don’t either. I should. My heart tells me I’m a fool not to tell her how I feel. But I’ve pushed and cajoled Libby too much already. She needs this, and I refuse to stand in her way just because I’m hurting.

If you love someone, you set them free. Isn’t that how the saying goes? That, if it was meant to be, they’ll come back. Doesn’t help me for shit right now, though.

“Well…” I make an abortive move to go to her just as she leans in to hug me. We meet in the middle, our lips brushing, her nose bumping into mine. It’s quick, almost impersonal. It fucking sucks.

“Call me,” I tell her.

Her gaze is on the floor. “I will.”

One last awkward hug, and then I step back, stuffing my hands into my pockets. I’m not proud of that, but I know I won’t be able to let her go if I don’t distance myself first. I don’t watch her leave, just turn away and head for the bathroom. But I hear the door click and the hollow sound of an empty room loud and clear just the same.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Libby

As I board my plane, I’ve realized two things: I let Killian go without a fight. And he did the same with me.

At the time it all felt very self-sacrificing. Now I feel as though I’ve swallowed razor blades. Why didn’t we just talk to each other? Why did’t I put up a fight? Why didn’t he?

Self-doubt is not my friend, and it’s whispering in my ear. Did Killian regret putting so much on the line for me? Getting his band and himself in hot water again because of me?