Page 85 of Unlocked Dive

I could kiss him forever, and it would never be enough.

By the time he rolls off me, he’s half-hard again, the little demon, but he lets me drag him into the glass-walled shower, and his hands are gentle when he pushes me under the hot spray and washes me clean.

“Are you sore?” His fingers graze my hole as he presses against my back, resting his chin on my shoulder.

“A little. But it’s a good sore.”

His chuckle tickles my ear. “I knew you’d like it. I’m glad I got to be your first.”

“I am too.” It would be so easy to stay like this, warm and drowsy in the half-space between sated and aroused. Echo pleased and playful, even if I know it’s partly a mask. If I close my eyes, I can pretend Gabe never happened to either of us, and our futures aren’t half a world apart. “I’m sorry I made you wait so long.”

“Everything with you is always worth the wait.” He sucks the water from my pulse and slips his arms around my chest.

“Even the truth about my relationship with Gabriel?”

He goes still, then pushes away and turns to grab the hotel-sized shampoo bottle from the shelf.

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

“We have to talk about it sometime. If not tonight—”

“Why? I don’t make you listen to me talk about my exes. You want a list of all the guys I’ve fucked?”

“None of your exes are related to me. None of them tried to destroy my body and my career. We can’t keep acting like it doesn’t matter, just because this”—I wave a hand between the twoof us—“feels good.”

“Likeyou’vebeen doing for months?” He runs angry hands through his sudsy hair, eyes narrowed and accusing.

“Exactly,” I sigh. “Look where that got us.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining ten minutes ago when you were coming all over my cock.”

“I’m notcomplaining, I—”

He shoves me out of the way and steps under the spray, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. Shutting me out.

“Echo,” I try again. “Please talk to me.”

“Fine.” He shakes the water from his hair and reaches for the door. “But not here. I can’t do this naked.”

The words are clipped, but the raw admission chills the last of my lingering afterglow.

The man who’s taunted me with his nakedness since the first week I met him.

ButI think we might be out of weeks.

36

Echo

Byrd sits on the edge of the bed in a pair of gray sleep pants that should be illegal, watching me pace the bedroom with his hands folded in his lap. Even pulled into one of its casual knots, his damp hair spills the occasional droplet onto his bare shoulders, andwhy the fuck does he have to look so good when he’s about to break my fucking heart?

I know he thinks he needs to tell me everything, even if I don’t want to hear it. Maybe I’m the pervy priest and he’s the altar boy, and my punishment for his seduction is to hear his confession and absolve him of his sins.

But I’m nota priest; I’mEcho.

And ithurts.

More so because Byrd has never really hurt me before today. He’s always been the one filling the cracks.