Mason wasn’t sure who stared at him out of Ava’s eyes.

It didn’t sound like her.

But it was her. She was slipping away and begging for help.

He could only imagine what it felt like to lose your shit, and now he had a front-row seat, watching it happen to Ava. His first instinct had been to pull back, give her space, and find her help. But the longer he looked into her eyes and heard her pleas, the more he knew she needed something to hang on to. Right now. She was moving away, and he could feel her disconnecting from him.

Or am I moving away from her?

He’d been low before. He’d seen other people in the depths of despair, but what he saw in Ava’s eyes went beyond that. The knowledge of her twin’s attempted suicide had ripped open a place in Ava’s soul that’d been patched together too many times. He’d known she’d repaired it in the past with tape and thread and tears. But could she pull it back together again?

What can I do?

He kissed her, letting his heart take over for his brain, and it felt right. Rarely did his feelings overrule his logic but this was the time for it to happen. She greedily pressed upward into his kiss, sliding her icy hand under his shirt again and tugging him closer. He pulled back slightly to look in her eyes but they were closed, and her hands frantically worked to open his buttons and push his shirt off his shoulders.

This wasn’t going to be leisurely, lazy lovemaking. Or quick and lively lovemaking. Or passionate and heartfelt.

This would be sex.

She’d closed her eyes because she needed to feed from her other senses, seeking something to break through the numbness.

He could give her that.

He kissed her deeply, working off his jeans and underwear with help from her quick hands. She panted under his mouth, her fingers constantly touching him everywhere she could reach. Shifting under the sheet and thin blanket, she pressed her hips up against his, and he understood her need for pressure and weight to make her feel grounded. He slid the covers out of the way, lay on top of her body, and heard the intake of her breath in pleasure. Her hands moved to his back, pressing him harder against her, and he heard her nearly sob.

“Don’t be gentle,” she begged. “I need to feel everything.”

He didn’t argue. There was a time and place for gentle. Not right now. He shoved her bra up over her breasts without unhooking the back, and she gasped as it yanked at her nipples. He watched her eyes, but they never opened. She turned her face to the side, breathed hard and nodded. He massaged her breasts, increasing the compression, and she nodded again. Leaning down, he took a nipple between his teeth, and she ground her hipbones into his stomach and exhaled noisily.

Part of him wanted to stop, tuck the covers back around her, and spoon-feed her chicken soup. She was broken and raw. Nurturing wasn’t his strong suit, but he could do it for the people he loved. At this moment, nurturing would send her deeper into herself. He moved his hand between the two of them and hooked a finger on her panties, sliding them down her legs. He nipped at her breast again, carefully watching her reactions.

She was in need.

He gently cupped her, slipped a finger between her folds, and discovered she was wet.

All rational thoughts shot from his brain.

His mind no longer cared about giving Ava what she needed. His single thought was about burying himself deep inside her heat. She turned her head, tipped it back, and breathed heavily through opened lips. He positioned himself and gave a single hard upward thrust as he brought his lips down on hers and felt her shudder in relief. She wrapped her legs around his waist and ground against him.

“Please. Harder.”

He traced the inside of her mouth with his tongue as he thrust into her over and over, losing himself in her wonderful tight slickness. Ava begged him not to stop. He barely heard her. He’d let go of any compulsion to hold back and prolong. Right now he simply wanted release and his frantic efforts to achieve it satisfied her need to feel something.

It worked for both of them.

Ava turned her head to nestle her face into his neck, feeling the rasp of his midnight shadow rake her cheek. Mason gave a second shudder as he lay spent on top of her. He’d hurt her. Several times. First with the teeth on her breasts, and then the relentless pounding had left her feeling raw between her legs. She welcomed the tiny pulses of pain flickering in both areas.

She almost felt grounded. He’d started to roll off but she’d held him in place. “Not yet,” she’d whispered. She needed his weight pressing her into the mattress. She felt protected, secure. No longer walking a tightrope. But she wasn’t ready to let him move away. She was terrified the unstable sensation would return.

Baby steps.

The vibrations under her skin were gone, but something was still off. She felt drugged, still slightly removed from reality. Each time her brain started to wonder about Jayne, she ruthlessly yanked it back. Think about anything else. Beaches, warm water, sunshine.

“Better?” Mason asked.

“Yes.”

They lay in silence.

“You scared me,” he said.

Her heart twinged. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I was terrified. I still am.” Fresh hot tears streamed down to her pillow.

“You’ve been through a lot in the last few days. Hell, you’ve been through a lot this year.”

She said nothing.

“I’m not sure where you are,” Mason said slowly. “I mean—”

“I know what you mean. I don’t know where I am, either.” More tears. She angrily brushed her cheeks, frustration welling in her throat.