Infini (Aerial Ethereal #2)(79)

I have a compartment of pain, but if I open it, I’ll be too fucked-up to even get on stage. She knows this. It’s why she’s afraid he’ll break me.

“In short,” Baylee whispers, “he’s a diabolical moron.”

I speak quietly too. “I still can’t believe you’re just now horrified. Should I feel honored or concerned?” I smile at the look she gives me, her seriousness never waning. “Come here, krasavitsa.” Edging close, the curves of her hips meld against the ridges of my body.

She looks up. “You know I’m here for you, Luka.” We used to always have each other’s back. When she was depressed, I was there. When I felt like things were spiraling out of my control, she was there. Our mental issues predate our friendship. They existed when we were together.

They persisted when we separated.

And they’re here right now. Living inside of us. They will rise and fade but never truly go away. There is no quick-fix or cure—but we deal. Every day, we silently deal with it, but facing our demons with support has always been easier than facing them alone.

“I see it,” I say wholeheartedly. I nod to her. “I feel it. You don’t even have to say it, Bay.”

She swallows, this small thread of hurt still strung between us—because we can’t do or say any of this out in the open.

I rest my forehead to hers; I hold the back of her head. She grips my waist, and I can hear her shallow breath. I slip my other hand up her tank top, our bodies grinding instinctively together.

My lips descend to hers, and a breath away, I whisper, “I know how hard you’ve been fucked before.”

Her lips part, and she makes an involuntary noise, like a breathy moan. The sound alone fists my shaft and strokes up and down. My muscles flex, and instead of kissing Bay, I spin her around and clutch her back to my chest.

My arm around her abdomen, other one around her breasts. Pressed this close, she can feel my erection against her, and she curses beneath her breath, panting already.

I suck the nape of her neck, and she shudders in my arms. My muscles constrict, and I harden even more. Without letting go of Baylee, I walk through the next curtain. Into the actual shower. She moves with me, and I only take my hand off Bay to close the curtain.

My lips against her ear, I whisper, “In a minute, you’ll be fucked harder than you’ve ever been fucked before. My cock”—I have to hold her tighter as she trembles more forcefully—“will be buried so deep inside of you, you’ll cry at the feeling of being completely, entirely full.”

“Luka,” she says into another breathy noise.

My nose flares, and I release my grip around her waist and put her palms against the shower wall. She turns her head slightly—I turn her head more with two fingers, and our lips meet, kissing hard and rough and urgent. Like this could all end.

At any moment.

It could be all over again.

I deepen the kiss, and Baylee digs her ass into me—I yank down her sports leggings, and she steps out.

I peel off my shirt, her shirt and bra—my shorts and compression shorts. Both of us naked, my arm snakes around her hip, and my hand dips between her legs. She’s beautiful. Every curve. Every straight line and mound—I love every inch of this girl.

Baylee leans her weight back against me, trusting me. Letting go of the wall.

I kiss her neck, a grunt in my throat, and I rub her clit while I hold her back against my body. Baylee’s head lolls to my chest, eyes shut in pure arousal. Mouth agape.

In my arms, she has no problem getting off. She’s not numb or frozen in fear. But that’s only because she’s emotionally connected to me. She’s hasn’t let go, and this list is making it even harder to do that.

I know now—or maybe I’ve known all along—that we’re just using the list as an excuse to be together. To see each other. Neither of us will bring up the fact that it’s not working. Neither of us will admit the truth.

Because then it ends.

I cover her mouth with my palm. Her noises raspier and louder as my fingers speed up and pulse inside of her. So fucking wet.

She turns her head left and right, overwhelmed. I smile, my heart rate elevating and sweat building just as much on my body as hers. Baylee arches in an orgasm, her moan vibrating against my hand. I suck the base of her neck, and she careens forward, her entire body quivering.

My cock is throbbing, too intensely. I flex my core to keep from coming.

“Shit,” she cries, water creasing her eyes from the climax. She clutches onto my wrist between her legs.

“You’re okay,” I breathe in her ear. “You’re okay.” I cup her pussy and then wrap my other arm around her collarbones. Baylee shuts her eyes, coming down with heavy breaths.

With every muscle fiber, every burning nerve in my veins—I crave to go down on Baylee. More than she can probably fathom, but I’m not touching number four on her list. Once I do, it’s all over.

Our ending will be crueler than Geoffrey could ever be to us. There is no happy ending, so I’m staying in the middle for as long as humanly possible.

Baylee’s head swerves, finding my lips, and we kiss slower. Sensual. I spin her around fully and cup her face. Since she’s on birth control, I don’t worry about a condom.

I draw her even closer, and I hike her left leg around my waist. I’m about to lift her up by the hips, but she presses her forehead to my chest and mutters, “Wait wait.”