Ava Gray - Skin Tight

Why past tense? Because she’s gone… or he thinks I am?

Søren went on, “Please know I love you, and I always will. The doctor assures me this is best-that I’ve waited past any reasonable hope of recovery. He says you suffered irreparable brain damage and you exist in a persistent vegetative state. I’d rather believe you’re dreaming, and it’s so lovely there that you don’t want to come back to the real world, not even for me. So… I’m going to let you stay. Farvel, min kære. Sikker rejse.”

Mia could take no more. She walked the last few paces and stepped into the room, where she stood by the door, drinking him in. He had his back to her, bent over his daughter’s bed. The child looked impossibly small, adrift in white sheets and wires. Søren kissed her brow and then straightened.

She couldn’t speak; it was as if his grief had closed her throat. Instead she watched as he tapped the call button. A doctor would come to unplug the machines, now that he’d finished saying farewell.

Something gave her away, a movement, a breath. He spun, and then the call box slipped from his fingers, clattering to the floor. His face was incredibly stark, more than she’d ever seen it. Lines etched his mouth; shadows cradled his eyes. And his eyes-his eyes blazed with incandescent need.

“You’re not here,” he said hoarsely. “You’re not. I’ve finally gone mad.”

That was why he hadn’t answered. He hadn’t even been looking. “But I am here. Søren… you thought I was dead?”

I was afraid you were, too, but I wouldn’t let myself give up. Not on you. Not ever.

He ran toward her then and wrapped her in his arms, running his hands up and down her back. “I was supposed to keep you safe. I didn’t. God, Mia-”

His kiss scorched her lips, passionate to the point of pain. When they broke apart, she felt him trembling head to toe. She flattened her palms on his chest, feeling for the reassuring thump of his heart.

“I told you before… I can look after myself. I’m not fragile… I don’t need saving. I don’t want a hero. I just want-more than anything-for you to love me back.”

“Jesus. I do. I do. I wish I’d told you when we were in Tennessee. You’re in my heart so deep, it would take a scalpel to get you out.”

“How… sweet,” she said dryly.

“How? How are you here? I was there, Mia. I saw the flames coming up the elevator shaft. They charbroiled that bastard Rowan.”

She shuddered, thinking about all the people who hadn’t gotten out. “I caught a ride up with some folks who staged a prison break shortly after I got there. I thought you might’ve been caught down there.”

Shortly might be an understatement. Those had been some long, awful hours. But he didn’t need to know that. She knew him well enough to realize he’d shoulder the guilt.

He shook his head. “I never made it. I got to the facility as it imploded.”

“I’m so sorry. I’ve been desperate to find you.”

“I didn’t believe in miracles. I do now. And I do believe you’re the cleverest woman in the world. Only you could’ve gotten out of there on your own.” His icy eyes reflected the most monumental pride, paired with tenderness, longing, and devotion, tangled into an inextricable emotion she’d call love.

Mia smiled. “I only asked them to hold the lift.”

Before he could reply, a man in a white coat tapped on the open door. “Are you both ready?”

She’d almost forgotten. But Søren laced his fingers through hers, telling her silently to stay. “Go ahead, Dr. Geddy. It’s time.”

Mercifully, it was quiet. There was no drama in the moment, just the sense of rightness and acceptance. Once it was done, the physician covered Lexie with a sheet and escorted them from the room. There were arrangements to be made and a few more papers to sign. Mia held his hand while he took care of these final details.

There would be no funeral, just a quiet scattering of ashes. He didn’t need a marker to remember Alexis Frost; Mia knew his daughter would live forever in his heart.

Afterward, he held her in the silent hallway, burying his face in her hair. If he wept, she didn’t feel it, but she sensed he felt easy with the decision. It had been past time to let Lexie go.

He confirmed that with a quiet “I’m glad it’s done.”

Mia wound her arms around his waist and marveled at the change in him. Before they left, he introduced her to Beulah, the woman who was-and wasn’t-his mother. She was a charming lady, who didn’t seem fazed to receive a woman she’d thought was dead.

“It’s so lovely to meet you,” she said when Mia pressed her lined hand between her palms. “He deserves to be happy.”

She gazed at Søren over the top of Beulah’s head. “He does.”

He answered the unspoken question. “She knows, Mia. She always knew.”

That revelation prompted an hour-long visit, wherein Beulah told amusing stories regarding the lengths he’d gone to, maintaining the fiction. “He’s a good boy,” she finished. “Do right by him.”

“I will,” Mia promised, and followed him out.

Outside, the cicadas sang in the trees. The night was hushed otherwise, still and expectant. He gazed down into her face. “I can’t wait. I’ve been staying in a hotel nearby, so I wouldn’t have to make the drive from Virginia. There was nothing keeping me there. Follow me?”

“Always,” she said softly.

They took separate cars. Once they made it to his room and closed the door behind them, Søren yanked her shirt over her head. Mia skimmed out of her pants and then helped him. Undressing was clumsy, overeager, and an incredible tease. Søren pushed her back on the bed, and she fell willingly.

His hands skimmed her bare skin, creating delicious goose bumps. There was reverence in his touch now, coupled with relentless need. For a long moment, Mia gazed up at him, reveling in his harsh beauty: the curve of his mouth, the sharp blade of his cheekbones, eyes that shone like night-kissed ice.

Søren kissed her then, long, lavish kisses that sank into her bones, breaking her and making her into someone new. Mia rose up in his arms and gave a little push. He fell back willingly, letting her swarm over him with lips and teeth and tongue. He moaned and arched, welcoming her onslaught with softly growled endearments.

She bit him lightly on the ear, earning a shudder. “I don’t have any protection. I’m on the pill, but it’s not one hundred percent.”

“I don’t care,” he breathed. “I’ll take my chances.”

“Are you sure?” In answer, he pulled her atop him. She settled, thighs framing his hips. “I guess you are.”

He lifted up, rubbing against her heated flesh in long strokes. “Now. Take me, nothing between us this time.” It was both a plea and a demand. “You’re mine, and I’m yours. I won’t lose you again. Oh, God, Mia, you’re my breath and bone. You’re the song I sing.”

Aching at how his intensity focused wholly on her, she curled her fingers around his shaft, steadying it, and eased down. She had little experience in this position, but he didn’t seem to mind. A moan escaped her at the feeling of his hard cock seated to the hilt. Her thighs tensed, and she bore down.

“That’s so, so good,” she muttered.

The rhythm blossomed in the sweet and heated push-pull of his hips driving upward while she sank down. As she rode him, Søren cupped her breasts, thumbing her nipples to aching nubs. He whispered to her, orders both erotic and shocking. Eyes locked on his, Mia complied; she touched her fingertips to her clit, and wicked pleasure sang in her veins.

“Make yourself come. I need to feel it.”

The way the tension spiraled tighter and tighter, she didn’t think it would be a problem. She strummed her clit, riding him harder. Her breath shifted from gasps to sobs as arousal stole her thoughts. When the orgasm tore through her, Mia knew only the fierce blaze of his eyes and the heat of his hands.