Page 138 of Almost Ravaged

As hope takes flight in my chest once more, I lean farther out of the tub, eager to get closer.

On a whisper, I ask, “Will you at least kiss me again?”

Noah blinks, the concern in his eyes transforming into something more heated.

Rising up to his knees, he shifts forward and cups my face with both hands.

And with all the hope and passion and resounding affirmation I need, he kisses me.

Chapter forty-eight

Mercer

It feels as though I’ve barely drifted off when the stomach-swooping sensation strikes. The falling sensation is so vivid and intense it takes my breath away.

I snap my eyes open, but I lie stock still on my side.

I’m in my room at the orchard.

I’m okay.

Remarkably, I’m not alone.

Beside Sawyer like this is exactly where I want to be. It wasn’t a surprise when she climbed into my bed without hesitation. What shocked the hell out of me was when Noah appeared, freshly showered and in clean clothes. He came down to join us, fully committed to the aftercare of the woman we ravaged tonight.

Sawyer is between us, sleeping on her side, facing me.

Noah is on her other side, lying flat on his back, snoring softly.

He and I have shared a bed countless times throughout our lives. But never quite like this.

As children, we would sleep in his bed in this very house when I’d come for sleepovers.

As a teenager, I made all sorts of poor decisions and reckless choices, and in turn, Noah felt as though he had to sleep at my side to ensure my breathing remained steady and I didn’t choke on my own vomit.

I can’t count how many times we’ve ended up in bed together over the last eighteen months because I didn’t want him to feel alone.

He’s not alone now, I marvel.

Despite the means feeling unnatural and forced, I’m proud of what we accomplished tonight.

Maybe I pushed him too hard, but I broke the fucking seal.

If he can avoid drowning in his own self-loathing or feeling like he betrayed Meg’s memory, tonight will have been a success.

I pushed him.

I pushed and pushed and pushed until he snapped and gave in to what we all knew he wanted.

But that wasn’t the only significant triumph of the night.

There was that moment, upstairs in the bathtub.

I was certain there was no getting through to him.

He was in full shutdown mode. Despondent, lost in his own head.

The life had gone from his eyes, leaving an apathy I know all too well.