Page 81 of Hide From Me

She fists my hair, grinding down on my tongue as her thighs tremble around my head. I don’t stop. I don’t even blink. I live in this moment, worshipping her like a religion. My jaw aches, but I don’t give a fuck. I want her to fall apart in a place she thought she’d never belong.

And when she does—shuddering, gasping, eyes wild—I press a kiss to her core and look up at her through heavy lashes.

“You signed?”

She nods.

“Good girl.”

I climb back into the seat beside her and pull the NDA from the tray. She watches me tuck it back into the folder, her chest still rising and falling fast.

“What the hell did I just agree to?” she pants, laughing breathlessly.

I kiss her temple.

“Nothing important.”

It's a lie, and she doesn’t even realize it, but she will.

Soon. Just not now.

Twenty

Raylen

01-21-2026

Australia

“You can put your arm around me, you know,” Moe purrs near my ear as I cling to the door of the rental car like it's a lifeline.

“Shut up. Shouldn’t this have passed by now?” I grumble, shoving weakly at his chest. I want to admire the quaint little white house with the wooden picket fence, but my head’s pounding and my legs are threatening to fold underneath me.

“It’s just jet lag, baby. It'll go away,” he says with a laugh, leaning casually against the white pickup with our bags in hand like he doesn't have a care in the world.

“It’s miserable,” I mutter, slapping the door for emphasis. “The world’s ending. The ground’s about to crack open and swallow me whole. I’m going to fall into a black hole and never return.”

I push off the door dramatically, stumbling onto the sidewalk and bracing against the little waist-high fence like it might save me. The garden’s overflowing with so many damn flowers that the scent makes my nose itch, and a bug zips past my ear, sending me into a frantic swatting motion, convinced I’m about to get stung for trespassing.

A large palm settles on my lower back. I want to squirm away from it—really, I do—but I let it anchor me, let the heat from his hand calm the part of me that’s still spiraling.

“I love it when you get all dark and twisty,” he whispers, and I roll my eyes, but my gaze drops to the stepping stones underfoot. I can’t help the grin that tugs at my mouth as my toes bounce over each one.

“There’s the little ray of sunshine. Like it?” he asks with a laugh, and I freeze in front of the door like an idiot. Of course, I like it—but now he probably thinks I’ve never seen anything beyond my house, Laura’s, and the diner. Which… okay, maybe not entirely false.

“I’ve hardly seen anything yet to say if I like it or not,” I mumble, grabbing for the handle only to find it locked. Out of pure stubbornness, and a hint of embarrassment, I don’t budge from my stance. Not even when he slips his arm between me and the door, sliding a green key into the lock like he owns the place.

“Then tell me what you want to see,” Moe says as he pushes the door open. I step inside first, nudging his arm aside with my chest like it’ll prove something. The space is open—bright, clean, baby-blue walls, white furniture, windows everywhere. It’s almost too perfect, like a vacation rental meant for someone else's dream.

“Or don’t,” he adds when I don’t respond.

I honestly have no clue what to say. What do people usually do in new places? Sightsee? Hike? Find a museum? I just want a bathroom and a minute to breathe without a swarm of smells, lights, or the weight of being so far from everything I know.

As we pass the first room, I peek in and find the curtains drawn. A candle flickers beside a jar of candy on a pristine dresser. A stack of gray blankets sits at the foot of a massive white bed. There’s no TV, which sucks because I’d love to melt into that mattress and binge garbage reality shows.

“There are too many spiders in Australia,” I mutter. “I think I’ll just hide in here so they don’t eat me.”

We stop in front of the next door, and thank God, it’s a bathroom. I exhale in relief, but when I turn around, Moe’s still standing behind me so I narrow my eyes.