Page 17

Chapter seventeen

Patrick

The equipment’s not what I pictured. I guess I thought it would be… shinier? More medical? It looks worn, but sturdy enough.

Tools are arranged neatly, each one exactly where Levana must’ve left them. Stainless steel scalpels are lined up in a tray. Tubes lie coiled like sleeping snakes, some still spotted with faint pink smudges that didn’t quite scrub away. There’s some kind of pressure gauge too, fixed to a squat metal machine—I think that’s the pump, the thing that pushes the chemicals in, drains the blood out.

I try to build the steps in my head, filling in the blanks where I can. Start with the face. Yeah, that makes sense. Clean them up, get them looking peaceful. Then… what? Does the machine go first or last? Does she fill them up with chemicals and then fix their features, or the other way around?

There’s a metal table in the middle of the room, narrow and cold-looking, with little channels carved into the edges—drainage, I guess. A body could lie here for hours while she works. I imagine her standing just there, gloves on, her hair tied back, her face set and serious.

I expected it to feel strange, actually being in a room like this.

It’s not the one Alexander was embalmed in—I remember that one from the tour Gordon gave me, all that time ago. Things have been rearranged since then, shifted around.

Maybe that’s why I don’t really feel anything at all.

I move to the shelf beside the table. Small brown bottles sit lined up, some labelled, some not. Formaldehyde, I assume. Something else marked ‘dye.’ Cotton rolls. Plastic eye caps. Little things you’d never think about, things no one ever talks about.

On the shelf below, I spot a tray of long, thin needles with twisted wire attached. I know what those are for. She’s mentioned how she sutures the mouth closed with thin, invisible stitches, looping them through the gums so the lips stay shut, so that—

“Jesus Christ!” Levana’s voice cuts through the room.

I spin around to see her standing in the doorway, one hand gripping the frame.

“Patrick? What the hell are you doing in here?”

“I missed you.”

“Yeah, that’s fine, but you could’ve waited in the break room,” she steps forward. “You’re not allowed to be in here, Patrick. There could’ve been a body in here.”

She didn’t say she missed me too.

“Yeah,” I say, glancing back at the table. “But there isn’t.”

“That’s not the point,” she snaps, still flustered. “It’s… this room isn’t for guests, alright? It’s not safe, it’s not… Jesus, you can’t just wander in here.”

“I wasn’t wandering. I was curious.”

Her eyes narrow. “Curious?”

I gesture vaguely toward the bottles, the machine, the needles lined up in their tray.

“Well, you work here, but I’ve never actually seen any of it,” I say. “The autoclave, the chemicals, the stitches. I just wanted to see what it all looked like.”

“Well, you’ve seen it now.” She walks past me to straighten a tray on the counter like I’ve somehow disturbed the balance of the whole room just by standing here.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

“You didn’t freak me out,” she says. “You just shouldn’t be in here, okay?”

“Okay,” I say, touching her arm lightly. “I get it.”

Her hair’s tied back, loose strands curling against her neck. Her cheeks are flushed. A pair of gloves are tucked into her pocket, sleeves still rolled up from whatever she was doing before I got here.

Fuck , she’s beautiful.

And I miss her. I miss her so much.

She hasn’t been the same since she told me about the pregnancy scare. Not as soft, not as open. She doesn’t let me pull her in close without hesitating first. She’s been quieter, distracted, like she’s stuck in her own mind. I think he’s getting to her. Ruining things. Interfering where he doesn’t fucking belong.

I still remember the way she broke down when she told me what happened. The pain. The tears. How small her voice was when she said she’d taken a test.

Shit, I was beaming from ear to ear on the inside.

Until she’d told me it was negative.

And then she apologised. She actually apologised. Like she’d done something wrong. Like the idea of carrying my child would’ve been a burden to me. Like I wouldn’t have given anything for it to be true.

Fuck. That broke something inside me.

I’ve tried to spend even more time with her since.

More time curled up on the couch, in her bed, or just sitting in her kitchen while she talks about work or the weather or anything that means I get to hear her voice.

But unfortunately, that time also includes him.

Elliot.

I let it slide at first because she said it was temporary.

But a few days turned into a few weeks, and now it’s been three months.

Three months of drinking coffee from her mugs.

Leaving his jacket over the back of her chair.

Sleeping on her couch like it’s his.

He’s too comfortable, and I’m done playing nice.

I’m done watching him inch closer every time I turn my back.

Done watching him make her laugh when that should be me.

Done feeling her drift like she doesn’t even notice it’s happening, like he’s pulling her further away one low-voiced joke at a time.

I don’t want to share her anymore.

And I don’t have to.

I want Levana to myself.

Swollen and soft beneath me. Carrying something that’s ours. Something he’ll never touch.

Something that makes her truly happy.

Something that ties her to me, forever.

Fuck this.

Before I can stop myself, I grab her waist and kiss her.

She startles, her whole body stiffening beneath my hands.

For a second, I think she’s going to push me off. But she doesn’t, she tugs me closer, parting her mouth under mine.

“Patrick,” she gasps against my mouth, pushing lightly at my chest. “Not in here.”

“Where then?” I ask, kissing down her jaw, along the side of her neck.

“We can just… We can just go to my house.”

“Nope,” I growl, tightening my grip on her. “Not waiting.”

“Please, Patrick. Elliot’s there right now napping, but I can ask him to leave for an hour—”

“Don’t,” I cut in. “Don’t fucking mention his name. Especially when my tongue and hands are on your body.”

I bite down just beneath her jaw, and she gasps, fingers curling into my shirt.

“It’s either in here, where the door locks, or we go to the chapel. Your choice.”

“Patrick, please, no,” she pants. “Let’s just—let’s just go.”

But her fingers are still curled in my shirt, and when I press my thigh between her legs, she grinds herself into me.

“Fucking choose, Levana. I’m getting impatient.”

Her hand slips down between us, and she cups me, wrapping her fingers around me through my slacks.

“Clever girl,” I rasp. “Very fucking good choice. Now lock the door.”

I spin her toward it, pushing her until her hand hits the wall. She fumbles for the lock, twisting it shut just as I step in behind her, grabbing her hips and pulling her ass against my cock.

“Well done,” I murmur, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Now, you’re gonna stay right there.”

Before she can say a word, my fingers hook into her waistband, and I yank her pants down in one sharp motion, baring her ass to me.

I sink to my knees behind her and spread her apart, fingers digging into her soft skin, holding her exactly where I want her.

“Fuck,” I groan. “Look at you.”

I lick my lips and drag my tongue over her asshole.

“Oh my god,” she breathes, her voice shaky. One hand lifts from the door like she might stop me, but instead, she pushes back, grinding herself back against my mouth like she’s starving for it.

Her forehead thumps against the door as I lick her in slow, deliberate circles. Then, I slide my hand underneath my chin, inbetween her legs, finding her pussy.

I push two fingers in, hard and fast, and a ragged cry tears from her lips as her hips jerk against my hand. I don’t let up, I fuck my fingers into her fast and relentless, curling deep as I press my tongue harder against her, licking her like I can’t get enough.

“Fuck,” she gasps, her body rocking helplessly above me.

She’s about to come, I can feel her pulsing around my fingers.

Not yet.

I stop and push myself up before grabbing her by the hips and spinning her around.

In less than a breath, I’m yanking her sweater up over her head and dragging her bra away until her bare skin is exposed to the cool air. Her nipples tighten instantly, and I can’t help but drag my thumb across one.

“Patrick, this is completely inappropriate.”

“You say that,” I murmur, backing her across the room until the backs of her legs hit the embalming table. “But you’re panting, squirming… and those pretty thighs are pressing together like you don’t even realise you’re doing it.”

She shudders, then drops back onto the table with a gasp, her spine arching against the cold metal. Her hips lift instinctively, tilting just enough to chase my hand as it glides up the inside of her thigh.

“Yeah, ” I murmur, dragging two fingers over her clit. “You fucking love this, don’t you?”

I press harder, rubbing tight circles until she gasps, head falling back.

But I want more.

I pull my hand away and grab her thighs, spreading her wide, forcing her open until there’s nothing left for her to hide.

Then I stop. Just stare.

I can’t fucking blink.

She’s flushed and messy, her wet pussy glistening in the sterile embalming room light.

Sweet Hell.

I force myself to breathe, dragging a shaky hand down my face as I step back, moving toward the sink.

“Patrick? What are you doing?”

I don’t answer, just reach for a clean cloth and shove it under the tap, dousing it in freezing cold water.

She doesn’t move as I walk back to her, just watches me with wide, uncertain eyes. She’s nervous, unsure of what comes next. But she’s still waiting. Still wanting.

I press the wet cloth to the skin just above her navel, and she gasps, stomach jolting under my hand.

“Easy,” I murmur, dragging the cloth upward, over her ribs, then her chest.

Her breasts are flushed, nipples already tight and sensitive. I press the icy cloth against one, watching her back arch at the sharp sting.

Her hands twitch against the table like she’s torn between pulling me closer or pushing me away.

I lean in and blow across the wet skin, and her nipple tightens even more beneath the cool air.

“I need you,” she says on a breath.

I drag the cloth lower, wiping her down in slow strokes like I’ve got all the time in the world, watching as goosebumps skitter across her skin.

“I need you more,” I rasp, letting my fingers linger against her skin a little longer.

“But…” I pause, stepping away from her, crossing the room. “I’m going to have some fun with you first.”

I move toward the shelf where the embalming tools are laid out—sharp scalpels, curved scissors, gleaming instruments meant to cut, drain, and prepare. I drop the cloth down, and my fingers skim along the sterile tray, tracing the handles.

I grab the pair of forceps, turning them between my fingers. They gleam under the harsh light, and I can feel her watching me, hear her suck in a sharp breath.

“Relax,” I say with a smirk as I stalk back toward her. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

I drag the forceps down her body, starting at her collarbone. Her breath stutters, chest arching slightly as the metal teases her skin. I trail it down her sternum, lingering over the curve of her ribs, then lower still, over her stomach, tracing the dip of her waist.

She lets out a whimper.

“Shh,” I whisper. “Let me give you what you need.”

I pause between her thighs, letting the forceps hover, barely touching her. Her hips twitch, caught between retreating and pressing closer.

A smile threatens to break free, but I swallow it down as I drag the blunt end right over her swollen clit with just enough pressure to pull another soft noise from her lips.

“Oh, you love this,” I murmur, watching her bite her lip, her hips rolling as she tries to chase the sensation. “So fucking needy.”

I open the forceps, framing her clit between the cool metal, then squeeze the handles tight.

“Ohhh… fuck,” she moans out, fingers clutching the table like she’s holding on for dear life.

I bring my other hand up and roll the pad of one single finger over her clit in lazy circles until she’s writhing beneath me.

“That’s it. Good girl. Just like that.”

I tighten the forceps and her thighs tense as she rocks helplessly against the bite of the metal and the steady roll of my finger, chasing every bit of sensation I give her.

“Can’t hold back, can you?” The words rasp out low and rough. “Let go. Come for me, Levana.”

I gather more of her wetness, rubbing it over her swollen clit, faster and faster until her whole body trembles, and she shatters, a moan tearing from her as she comes, hard, body writhing beneath me.

Her cries taper into softer, breathier moans, each wave of pleasure rolling through her a little slower, a little weaker, until they melt into shivers.

I remove the forceps, and she slumps back against the table, breathless and boneless, her chest heaving like she’s still trying to catch up with what just happened.

She reaches for me, but I catch her wrist before she can touch me.

“No.” I guide her hand to her chest, pressing her palm flat against her sternum. “You’re gonna fold those hands right here…”

Her other wrist is caught just as fast, dragged up and pinned in place until her fingers are locked tight. “And you’re gonna keep them there.”

A shaky breath slips free, but she listens.

I reach into my pocket, pulling out a condom with a quick flick of my wrist before undoing my belt. The leather slips free with a hiss, then snaps, cutting through the stillness of the cold, clinical space like a whip.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” I mutter, rolling the condom on and dragging my cock over her pussy.

“Patrick,” she gasps, arms moving like she wants to touch me.

“Levana, no.” I warn. “Arms. Down.”

Her breath stumbles but she locks them tight again.

“Stay just like that,” I press forward, pushing the head of my cock against her entrance, teasing her with every slow inch.

“Fuck,” I growl, gripping her hips as I bury myself deeper. Her body jolts, the table clanging beneath her with the impact.

“Feel that?” I rasp, grip tightening as I drag her back onto me. “Feel how deep I am?”

The table creaks beneath us, metal groaning with every sharp thrust, and her fingers move again, instinctively lifting from her chest like she’s reaching for me, but I grab her wrist midair.

“You’re gonna stay right where I put you,” I growl, slamming my hips forward, driving her into the cold steel. “And you’re gonna take every—fucking—inch—”

“I’m—I’m gonna come—” Her body clamps down tight, pussy pulsing around me as she twists beneath my grip.

“Look me in the fucking eyes,” I grab her chin, forcing her gaze to mine. “Don’t you fucking look away.”

The moment those blown pupils lock onto mine, her body breaks apart, walls clenching down hard, pulsing around my cock like she’s trying to drag me even deeper.

“Fuck… fuck…” I groan, the pressure pulling me under. My hips slam forward, grinding deep as I come hard, liquid fire rushing down my spine.

I lean my forehead against hers, riding it out, breaths tangling before I press a soft kiss to her lips.

Reluctantly, I ease out of her, hand trailing down her thigh before I grab the base of the condom.

I pause for a second, fingers tightening around the latex as I slide it off. My gaze flicks to the faint glisten at the tip, the way some of it’s smeared across her inner thighs.

My stomach tightens.

Not all of it stayed where it should’ve. But that’s okay.

I knot the condom lazily, barely bothering to check for leaks—but I know. I know . The tiny punctures I made are there—a dozen pinpricks scattered across the tip, barely visible, but enough to let me give her exactly what I’ve been desperate for.

I glance back at her. She’s still sprawled on the table, flushed and wrecked, her chest rising and falling in slow, uneven bursts, too lost in the aftermath to even notice what I’ve done.

She hasn’t noticed any of the times before either.

I can’t even count how many times that’s been. It’s all blurred together at this point.

Perfect.

“You okay?” I ask, dragging my fingers down her thigh, wiping away the evidence, and soothing her in the process.

She hums softly, eyes half lidded as she shifts beneath me.

“Yeah,” Her voice is thin, breathless. “I’m good.”

A satisfied smile tugs at my lips.

You’re gonna be more than good.