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I kneel in front of him, every ounce of me wanting to tell him—no, to show him—how I feel about him. “What did you do to yourself?” I ask and cuddle up next to him. He flinches a bit as I accidentally nudge his wounded arm and wrap my hand around him. His uninjured arm pulls my waist to him, and I melt into him as I always do. “It’s just a scratch, baby,” he tells me. “I’m out of practice. I’ll get that fucker next time.”

I frown, tracing my finger around his wound. It’s all funny to him, but he doesn’t understand how wrecked I will be if he leaves me. He cups my cheek, giving me those puppy eyes and lips. “Micah’s worried about nothing. I was fine; I just needed a break. We could have kept going.”

No, Micah made the right decision by returning. One scratch, one drop of blood can be lethal here.

He presses his lips to my hairline. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ve gone through worse.”

He has—we all have. But we survived it.

“Micah wouldn’t let me see you,” I say, peering up at him.

His hand teases the edge of my sweater. “Micah’s protective. And as I told you, he was freaking out. He wasn’t thinking straight.”

He seemed clear-headed to me, while Nigel and Ezra seemed anything but. They have an animalistic husk, a scent about them that makes my blood run cold.

A similar feeling starts overcoming me—a drive, a need. I lean up and kiss Maison’s neck, then move to his lips as I peer up at him and smile. His pupils flare as he arches both eyebrows while I slip my hands on his abs, just above his waistline.

Naomi’s sudden laughter cuts into my ears, causing me to watch the entrance. They are only twenty feet away—not one of them a friend. I’m still a stranger to this group. I pull off him, remembering Nigel’s threats and the hold on me while my feelings for Maison deepen every second I’m here.

“Stay with me, baby. Ignore them.”

“I can’t,” I breathe.

“Just focus on me.”

My pulse quickens as I turn my attention back to him, his eyes only on me. “We’re not even in our own shelter.”

He smiles and his lips quirk into a grin. “So?”

I don’t want to know the weight behind that question. How many girls they’ve shared? I immediately push Olivia out of my head. I can’t focus on a dead girl or her significance to the guy I’m about to sleep with.

Right now, I don’t care. I almost lost my chance to experience Maison the way we both deserve. One more day isn’t guaranteed anymore.

So I sit up and pull off my sweater—his hockey sweater I’ve kept close to me from the moment he gave it to me—and strip off my sweats.

Just my lace underwear and tank top now.

I undo my ponytail and let my hair flow down over my chest, which is now rising and falling with quick breaths.

I’ve only done this once. It was quick and dirty in a cheap motel, which was worse than the ground we are about to fuck on. He left me to go home to his wife shortly after.

I push that out of my mind, too—this is Maison. All my attention is on him.

I straddle him and squeeze my legs together, having zero intentions on leaving this shelter tonight. Micah will have to sleep in ours, or those woods he favors so much, and Naomi can bounce over to Ezra.

Maison stares up at me, his chestnut eyes unblinking as he bites his bottom lip. His eyes drift to my bouncing breasts. “You lead, baby,” he whispers. “What do you want me to do?”

I reach for his hand and move it over my chest, and he teases my nipples, which have turned into little bulbs against my shirt.

He reaches up and pulls off my tank top, all while gripping my hip with his healthy arm. His fingers teasing, tickling. I lean over him, and he licks and sucks on each breast. “Are you sure?” he asks as he pulls his mouth away while I grind my clit over his erection.

I lean in and press my lips over his. “I’m sure.” I’m absolutely certain.

He flinches as my arm slips over his wound.

“I’m sorry.” I ease off him.

He pulls me back, his lips delve into mine, his tongue soft and playful. After a moment, I say, “I can’t lose you, Maison… you’re all I have here.”