Page 75 of Undertow

I don’t even know. I don’t get to ask that question.

Idon’twant, that’s the problem. I want to dissolve. To evaporate. To finally give up and?—

“Shaw?”

I stall at Julia’s greeting, numb as she approaches. I can’t feel, can’t think while she studies me in the silence. Her smile fades. Does she see? Is she finally starting to understand what the rest of them know? That I’m a ghost. No one sees me. No one wants?—

I flinch when she slips her arms around my waist. Her cheek presses into my shirt as she pulls tight, choking out the dark with just the smallest flicker of light. I close my eyes, breathing in her floral scent like it’s my oxygen.

The only air that will keep my dead lungs heaving, my fractured heart beating.

I can’t do this anymore. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.

I clench my eyes shut against the pain. The memories. Every horrible thing I’ve done. Every horrific thing done to me. My entire existence is a giant weeping abscess of human filth.

My trembling hands lift to trap her against me and capture her beauty for one fleeting second of relief. I just need to breathe for a second.

Please, just the smallest gasp of air.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

Her hold tightens and I know she doesn’t understand my apology. The moment she does is the moment I lose her.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” she says softly, nestling into me.

Everything. I have everything to be sorry for.

But I don’t say that. I can’t. I only close my eyes again and let the warmth of her touch flash through the hollow caverns inside me. I used to fill it with words, but even those have been failing me lately.

She pulls back to see my face, and this time when soft hands frame my head, Iwantto be touched. To be owned. Seen and forgotten all at once.

I rest my forehead on hers.

“Julia,” I whisper. Just her name is enough.

There’s still a soul inside me. There has to be because she found it. If I can just…

I lean in, desperate for a connection. To feel life. Vibrance.

I find her mouth, soft and warm, so eager for mine. She tastes like mint and permanence.

I need more.

I fist her hair, backing her toward the wall as my tongue sinks past her lips, seeking hers.

She gasps when I press into her, grinding for harsher friction. It’s still not enough as her palms push down my back and grip my ass to fuse us together. She pulls tight, rolling her hips over and over, scraping mine in sweet agony.

Fuck, it feels good.

I tug her hair to expose her neck and sample the warm, sweet skin. She moans when I push into her again, aching for relief. But there is no relief. Not with her. Not like this.

I grip the backs of her thighs and lift her into me, bracing her against the wall. Her legs tighten around my back. Her hands thread in my hair as she drives our wet, violent kiss. We volley for the lead, tilting and adjusting in a fruitless attempt to consume each other.

“I want to see you,” she gasps. “For real this time.”

I know what she means, and I’m too far gone to protest. After setting her down, I step back and rip open my shirt.

“You too,” I say, tracking her every movement.