He kissed me, and tasted me, and hummed against my mouth. Rocking against me, craving me, pulling at my skin as he lifted my other leg and pushed my knees against my chest so he could press himself into me even deeper. I moaned and shifted, unable to keep quiet while he positioned himself so he was entering me at different angles, working his hips until my nails were digging into the skin of his back. My fingertips were buried deep into his sweaty skin, but I could still feel his muscles bulging and sliding beneath them.
Travis’s thighs were rubbing and bumping against my backside. He held himself up on one elbow, and then sat up, pulling my legs with him until my ankles were resting on his shoulders. He made love to me harder, then, and even though it was a little painful, that pain shot sparks of adrenaline all over my body. It took every bit of pleasure I was already feeling to a new level.
“Oh, God . . . Travis,” I said, breathing his name. I needed to say something, anything to let go of the intensity building up inside me.
My words made his body tense, and the rhythm of his movements became faster, more rigid, until beads of sweat formed on our skin, making it easier to slide against each other.
He let my legs fall back to the bed as he positioned himself directly over me again. He shook his head. “You feel so good,” he moaned. “I wanna make this last all night, but I . . .”
I touched my lips to his ear. “I want you to come,” I said, ending the simple sentence with a soft, small kiss.
I relaxed my hips, letting my knees fall even farther apart and closer to the bed. Travis pressed deep inside me, over and over, his movements building as he groaned. I gripped my knee, pulling it toward my chest. The pain felt so good it was addictive, and I felt it build until my whole body tensed in short but strong bursts. I moaned loudly, not caring who might hear.
Travis groaned in reaction. Finally, his movements slowed, but they were stronger, until he finally called out. “Oh, fuck! Damn! Agh!” he yelled. His body twitched and trembled as he pressed his forehead hard against my cheek.
Both out of breath, we didn’t speak. Travis kept his cheek against mine, twitching one more time before burying his face in the pillow under my head.
I kissed his neck, tasting the salt on his skin.
“You were right,” I said.
Travis pulled back to look at me, curious.
“You were my last first kiss.”
He smiled, pressed his lips against me hard, and then buried his face against my neck. He was breathing heavily but still managed to sweetly whisper, “I fucking love you, Pigeon.”
CHAPTER NINE
Before
Abby
A buzzing pulled me out of a deep sleep. The curtains kept out all but the slivers of sun bordering them. The blanket and sheets were hanging halfway off our king-size bed. My dress had fallen off the chair onto the floor, joining Travis’s suit that was scattered all over the room, and I could only see one of my high heels.
My naked body was tangled with Travis’s, after the third time we consummated our marriage we passed out from sheer exhaustion.
Again with the buzzing. It was my phone on the nightstand. I reached over Travis and flipped it over, seeing Trent’s name.
Adam arrested.
John Savage on the list of dead.
That was all he said. I felt sick as I deleted the messages, worried that maybe Trent didn’t offer more because the police were at Jim’s now, maybe even telling their dad that Travis might be involved. I glanced at the time on my phone. It was ten o’clock.
John Savage was one less person to investigate. One more death for Travis to feel guilty about. I tried to remember if I’d seen John after the fire broke out. He was knocked out. Maybe he’d never gotten up. I thought of those frightened girls Trent and I saw in the hall of the basement. I thought about Hilary Short, who I knew from calc class, and was smiling as she stood next to her new boyfriend near the opposite wall of Keaton Hall five minutes before the fire. How long the list of the dead really was and who was on it was something I’d tried not to think about.
Maybe we should all be punished. The truth was, we were all responsible, because we were all irresponsible. There is a reason why fire marshals clear these kinds of events and safety precautions are taken. We ignored all of that. Turning on a radio or the television without seeing the images on the news was impossible, so Travis and I avoided them when possible. But all this media attention meant investigators would be all the more motivated to find someone to blame. I wondered if their hunt would stop with Adam, or if they were out for blood. If I were a parent of one of those dead students, I might be.
I didn’t want to see Travis go to jail for everyone’s irresponsible behavior, and right or wrong, that wouldn’t bring anyone back. I had done everything I could think of to keep him out of trouble, and I would deny his presence in Keaton Hall that night to my dying breath.
People had done worse for those they loved.
“Travis,” I said, nudging him. He was facedown with his head buried under a pillow.
Uggggghhhhh, he groaned. “You want me to make breakfast? You want eggs?”
“It’s just after ten.”
“Still qualifies as brunch.” When I didn’t respond, he offered again. “Okay, an egg sandwich?”
I paused, and then looked over at him with a smile. “Baby?”
“Yeah?”
“We’re in Vegas.”
Travis’s head popped up and he flipped on the lamp. Once the last twenty-four hours finally set in, his hand emerged from under his pillow and he hooked his arm around me, pulling me beneath him. He nestled his hips between my thighs, and then bent his head down to kiss me; softly, tenderly, letting his lips linger on mine until they were warm and tingly
“I can still get you eggs. Want me to call room service?”
“We actually have a plane to catch.”
His face fell. “How much time do we have?”