Chapter 16 Sienna's thighs locked tight around me when my fingers dug into the taut fabric of her jeans over her ass. Her breath was hot on my ear, her spine arching into me like she was daring me to move, to get her where I'd intended to go - the bedroom. That was the plan. I just couldn't seem to stop kissing her long enough to execute it. Her fingers curled in my shirt as I nipped at the soft spot beneath her ear, her nails raking over cotton, and when the quietest, whimpered, "Matt," left her lips, I could feel it wrap around my entire body and drag me into hell. She did things to me. Things I couldn't even begin to understand. Things that made me question my thought processes, my ideals, my choices. My head dropped to her collarbone, my fingers tightening their hold on her. Pull it together. This wasn't the plan. None of this was. I'd never factored her into anything, never thought I'd want her in my house, around my kid⁠- Shit. I reluctantly let go of her with one hand and slipped my phone from my back pocket, swiping it unlocked hastily. "What are you⁠-" "Checking if Zach's still at the aquarium," I grunted, flicking over to my tracking app and checking his little dot from the AirTag I'd attached to his backpack. Sienna's head turned toward me, locks of brunette hair falling against my cheek, her breath heating the inches between our mouths. A choked little sound left her mouth as she watched me zoom in on Zach's dot, still at the aquarium, still with the tiger sharks. "You weren't supposed to be like this," she murmured. "It's not fair." My brows furrowed. "What do you mean?" She huffed, the puff of hair fanning across my cheeks. "You were easier to hate when I didn't know you had too many redeeming qualities." I chuckled-a genuine one-and shot a text to Margot that just said, 'take Zach out to dinner please' before I turned my head enough to kiss her again. "Am I meant to apologize for checking on my kid?" I murmured against her mouth, shifting my body to take her weight again as I finally pulled her from the wall. "No," she whispered. "Just... stop making it so damn hard to protect myself." I hated that, hated that she felt the need to, but I knew damn well I was only kidding myself to think I could do this without inevitably hurting her. Her legs tightened around me, her fingers sliding into my hair. She wasn't gentle, and she certainly wasn't hesitant, but she was needy, and God, so was I. She pressed her lips to mine, kissing me like she was daring me to change my mind right now and take her back downstairs, like she expected me to pull back at any second and tell her this was just sex. Fuck. It wasn't. But it needed to be. I carried her down the hall, her weight easy in my arms, her pulse hammering where my thumb pressed against the side of her throat. Every step sent her hips rocking against mine, every ragged breath she let out feeling like another crack in the wall I'd built between wanting and keeping. I should've dropped her onto the bed and taken what I needed. I should've been rough, efficient, controlled. I should've proven to myself that this was just physical. But the moment her back hit the mattress, my hands moved on their own, skimming the curve of her waist, framing her face like she was something delicate, and I didn't stand a goddamn chance. Her lips parted, blown pupils watching me, waiting. I didn't give her words. I couldn't. I didn't trust myself to. Instead, I dragged my mouth down her neck, slow, savoring the way her breath hitched and the way her hands fisted in the sheets. Her skin tasted like salt and something floral, that same scent from the flight enveloping me, and God, I just wanted to ruin her. But then her fingers found the hem of my shirt, shoving it up, her nails scraping over my stomach, and my control wavered. It's just sex, I told myself, even as I caught her wrists and pinned them beside her head. Even as I kissed her like I was starving, like she was the only goddamn thing in the world I'd ever needed. It has to be just sex. Her hips arched up, pressing against me, and a broken sound slipped past her lips, half in frustration and half in surrender. "Matt." It was just my name, just my goddamn name, but the way she whimpered it like she was desperate, like she'd missed me, unraveled something inside of me. I let go of her wrists, my hands sliding down, gripping her hips hard enough to leave marks. "You're killing me," I rasped against her mouth. She laughed, short and breathless, before pushing herself up that fraction of an inch and kissing me like the world was ending. There was no thinking after that. Her jeans hit the floor. Mine followed. My hands moved over her, taking off her shirt, memorizing the dip of her waist, the shiver of her stomach when my fingers skimmed the edge of her underwear. I wanted to take my time, wanted to drag this out until neither of us could breathe right, but when her nails dug into my back, needy, demanding, and urgent, I lost the fight. I lost every fight. The moment I sank into her, she clenched around me like she'd been waiting for it, like we were finally where we were supposed to be. And I let myself fucking believe it. Her thighs tightened around me, her breath hot against my jaw, her body yielding in a way that had far too much to do with trust I hadn't earned. I didn't deserve this. I caught her mouth again, swallowing her gasps, masking my own. "You're-fuck, sweetheart, you're everything," I croaked, my nails digging in hard enough to leave little half-moon indents. I could lie to myself all I wanted. I could call this just sex, just need, just lust. But the way my hands gentled when they threaded through her hair, the way my lips lingered on the flutter of her pulse, none of that was casual. I knew that. She knew that. And when she came apart beneath me, shaking, her fingers clutching at me like she was afraid I'd disappear, I let it happen. Even though I knew I shouldn't. Even though I knew it was reckless. Even though she'd hate me in a few minutes. Because she wasn't just under my skin anymore, she was in my goddamn bones, and I had next to no resilience to keep myself from wanting her enough to fuck up everything.