Marcus
For a long moment, we stay locked like that. Her breath hitches in my ear before she collapses forward onto my chest, heartbeat racing, sweat mixing with chlorine and spilled gin. I can't remember the last time it felt this raw and unfiltered. No staging. No script. Just two people fused by something less than love but a little more than hate.
"I'm sorry I came inside you," I say, not sure whether it's a joke or an apology.
Rebecca doesn't move her face from my shoulder, but I feel her laughter rumble through both our chests. "Too late to apologize now," she breathes, voice rough as gravel.
"You're right," I say, rubbing her bare back with a slow, possessive palm. "I didn't expect to lose control."
She lifts her face, hair sticking to her cheeks, and gives me that feral little grin of hers, lips red from my teeth, eyes daring me even now. "All those speeches about discipline and not being my type, and you're the first one to come?"
