“Good. Then please hurry up.”

“Whatever the lady wants.” And he thrust.

“Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.” My body stretched and softened, my slickness easing his way, but not enough so that I didn’t feel incredibly, wonderfully, and totally taken.

“Jesus. So fucking tight.” He shifted his grip so one big hand wrapped around each of my hips and his fingers dug into my butt cheeks. “You good?”

I nodded, almost beyond speech. I managed to get out, “Good. So, so good.”

“You ready for me to move?”

“Yes. Yes. Please.”

“That’s my girl. Now let’s see what we can do about those orgasms I promised you.”

If I could ever have an out of body experience, I think I’d want to watch Con Leahy as he lifted and lowered me onto his cock, fucking me with sure, swift strokes. His piercing must have been a magnet for my G-spot, because with every thrust, it dragged along the promised land until my inner muscles bore down.

His groan filled my ears. “Ease up, woman. I’m already trying to hold out so I can fuck you proper before I lose my shit.”

I fought to relax my muscles, and he kept on with his proper fucking as I said, “It isn’t my fault…that you have a…magic…cock.” As soon as the word ‘cock’ left my lips, my head dropped back, and another orgasm tore through me.

“Oh my God!”

And still he didn’t stop. His thrusts continued, pounding into me, sending me over the edge twice more before he finally slowed and groaned out his own climax.

“Holy. Fucking. Shit.”

As if on cue, the water lost its warmth, and we both jerked. Con pulled me out of the stream.

Voice rough, he said, “Fuck. Guess you lost the chance to take a real shower. Sorry about that, babe. I should take better care of you.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, as my heart flipped.

How long had it been since someone wanted to take care of me? I couldn’t let myself get used to it.

And just that fast, reality intruded.

Con was still inside me, but that didn’t keep everything that had happened tonight from crashing down. The blissful haze of orgasm dissipated. I guess his penis wasn’t that magical after all.

“Put me down, please.”

“What? What’s wrong?” Con’s gaze sharpened.

“Just put me down. Please.”

He pulled out of me and wetness gushed from between my legs. Con lowered me to my feet and reached outside the shower to grab a washcloth off a bamboo bench stacked with fluffy white towels. Running it under the spray, he offered it to me. “Sorry, it’s cold now.”

Given the twinge between my legs, cold was actually welcome. “Don’t worry about it.”

I cleaned up, and then accepted the towel he offered. Wrapping it around my shoulders, I huddled in the shower, shivering. And not in the mind-blowing orgasm kind of way I had been only minutes earlier.

Yep. Reality sucked.

“Let’s get you a robe.” Con wrapped a towel around his waist, and my attention dropped to the pile of sopping wet cotton of the scrub bottoms.

They reminded me of the destroyed Alexander McQueen cocktail dress I’d stuffed in the trash in the emergency room. The one I’d worn while I’d crawled across a parking lot and watched a boy get shot trying to protect me. And I’d just had mind-blowing orgasms in a shower while he was lying in the ICU.

Yes, the sex had been life affirming. Maybe even life changing, if I were so inclined. But right now, I couldn’t see beyond the giant wall of guilt that slammed down between Con and me.

“Do you have any extra clothes?”

He nodded, slowly, studying me.

“You okay?” he asked.

For the briefest moment, I considered lying, giving the answer I’d given so many times before. I’m fine. But right now, I couldn’t muster the will to offer up that BS line. Because right now, I wasn’t fine.

“No.” The word came out on a raw, ragged breath.

“Shit.” Con tilted my chin up. “Did I hurt you?” His body vibrated with coiled strength. “I know I—”

“No.” I shook my head. “It’s not you.” Tears pooled in my eyes, and I was too tired to hold them back.

“Whoa, honey.” He caught a sliding tear on his thumb. “You gotta clue me in here.”

I sniffled in a decidedly unladylike manner. “Trey. We just…and he could be dying.”

Con stiffened and glanced toward his phone. “Not to say that every minute I was inside you, I wasn’t totally focused on you…but if that phone had gone off, I would’ve been diving for it.”

“But—”

With a shake of his head, Con reached out and grabbed another towel off the stack and used it to rub down his chest. “No buts. If you think Trey would’ve begrudged us what we just did, then you don’t know much about kids like him.”

Swiping at my tears, my brow furrowed.

Con registered my confusion. “Not how you’re thinking. How many buddies do you think he’s laid to rest because of drive-bys and other random-ass gang shit? Guaranteed it’s a bigger number than you’d think.”

I still wasn’t following.

He continued, “When you grow up knowing that age eighteen and a high school diploma are no certainty, you take what you can and appreciate the shit out of it while you have it. Because you might not get another chance.” Gesturing between the two of us, he added, “A second chance like this? Probably unheard of.”

It made a sick and sad sort of sense.

Even so, it didn’t completely alleviate the guilt I was feeling. Or the scary idea that it could just as easily be me lying in the ICU tonight.

Con checked his phone. “You going to work today? Because if you are, you better try to grab a few hours of sleep, and then you’re going to need to get home to change.”

I thought about what was on my calendar for the day. A meeting or two about the building project. Grant application review. Working on next year’s budget. Any other day I would’ve found those things to be critical. But right about now, they were nothing that couldn’t wait until tomorrow.

I shook my head. “I’m not going to work, but a couple hours of sleep would be good. Then I want to head back to the hospital and sit with Ms. Vincent.”