We were inside a bubble of our own making—one that protected us from what lay beyond those walls. As long as we did not move, as long as we kept to the silence and the soothing hum of our limbs tangled together, then nothing would dissolve that bubble. I had wanted him, it seemed, always. Just then, I had him. My hips still ached. My womb felt full and swollen and deliciously used. Bane had cornered and caught every available sensation I tried to hold back; he’d shaken loose the hold I had on my own control. Letting him know my thoughts, those raw emotions, had not been my plan and still he took them, wrangled them loose until he caught sense of what I’d felt wrapped around his body. We weren’t sleeping. Breaths too labored, too cautious came and went as I rested on top of him, his palm firm and steady on my lower back. For a moment I thought pretending would suffice. Not speaking, not breathing too quickly might make Bane believe I’d drifted off, that our time in the cabin could be prolonged.
