The Spiral Down (The Fall Up #2)(58)

“Jesus, Evan,” I breathed before biting his shoulder.

“Faster,” he pleaded, folding his hand over mine, which was still wrapped around his cock.

I attempted to match his rhythm but found it nearly impossible to concentrate. I was going to ruin this for him, but I couldn’t do anything but feel as he moved over me—bottoming out, circling his hips in my lap, and then rising again.

I gave up waiting for his mouth and dropped my forehead to his back as he thoroughly worked me over.

“Yessss,” he hissed as he sank down onto my lap one last time.

Cupping the head of his cock, he caught his release. I was worthless to help him, because as he pulsed with his own orgasm, it sent me over the edge as well.

And I fell.

And fell.

And fell.

And fell.

Until I crashed so hard there was nothing left of me but broken pieces littering his floor.

The sex was off-the-charts, indescribable, ruin-me-for-life amazing.

And that was exactly why my heart shattered into a million shards before I’d even pulled out.

And it wasn’t because I was afraid he would leave or freak out.

It was because I knew I could never stay.

There was no f*cking way possible that had been Evan’s first time.





The world tilted on its axis for those brief moments Henry was inside me. I’d forgotten how good it could be. But, like a flash of blinding color, I realized exactly how black and white my life had been for the last ten years.

It was time to stop punishing myself for Shannon’s mistakes.

And, as if the stars had aligned, Henry was my reward.

“What the f*ck was that?” he panted as I shifted off his lap.

Smiling, I turned to kiss him. Only the absolute horror that painted his face stopped me in my tracks.

“Uh…” I stammered when coherent thought failed me. “What’s wrong?”

He scrambled to his feet, blinking at me as though I’d just maimed him. He hadn’t even removed the condom before he started snatching up his clothes.

“Henry?” I called, standing up with him. I took a step toward him, but he backed away. “What’s going on?” I asked cautiously, thoroughly confused.

He shook his head and started tugging on his shirt.

I lifted my cupped hand in his direction. “Let me clean this up. I’ll be right back.”

He nodded, but it was empty. The shell of the man was standing in front of me, but his mind was a million miles away. And I was clueless as to where he’d gone or, better yet, why he’d left. The sex had been incredible, but clearly, something grievous had happened in Henry’s head.

By the time I returned from the bathroom, he was dressed and pulling on his shoes.

“Where are you going?” I asked in shock.

He didn’t lift his head when he replied, “Home. I need to check on Robin.”

I tagged my jeans off the floor and tugged them on. “Fine. I’ll go with you.”

His head popped up, and the blue eyes that usually ignited me landed on me like a bucket of water extinguishing the coals. “No. I’m good. Besides, I have to leave in the morning.”

“Yeah. I know. I’m flying you.”

He scoffed. “No. You aren’t.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Yes. I am. There is no f*cking way I’m letting you get on a plane with someone else. We discussed this.”

“We didn’t discuss anything!” he roared, every muscle in his neck straining under the exertion.

My mind was spinning from his sudden eruption, but as he darted toward my front door, I knew I wasn’t letting him leave. Not like that.

Catching his arm, I spun him to face me. “What the hell is going on with you right now?”

With a pointed glance at my hand, he growled, “Let me go.”

I laughed humorlessly. “Have you lost your mind? I’m not letting you go. Not now. Hell, maybe not ever.”

His face softened for the briefest of seconds, but he quickly covered it. “There’s nothing to hold on to. You were never mine to begin with.”

The pain was staggering. His words felt like a thousand tiny daggers, each one slicing through me in rapid succession. Unable to formulate a response, I stumbled back from the verbal assault.

“Yeah,” he breathed, taking a menacing step in my direction. “I don’t date gay guys, Evan.”

My name was his kill shot, and for the way it seared through me, it hit right on target.

I wasn’t even sure why I was under fire, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to stand there and take it without a fight.

“I’m not f*cking gay.”

He patronizingly tipped his head. “No? Then what do you call what we just did? And, better yet, what do you call all the times you’ve done it with men before me? Because I know good and damn well no straight man f*cks like that.”

Story of my Goddamn life.

Not gay.

Not straight.

Not enough.

“I never said I was straight, either,” I seethed through clenched teeth.

He snatched his arm from my hold. “You never said anything!”

“Bullshit. I said I wanted you.”

In an eerie whisper, he shot back, “And what guy did you want first?”