I shift onto my back and half sit up against the wall behind Naomi’s bed.

She curls up against me like a kitten.

Her head rests on my shoulder, her hand on my stomach, and—

I wince.

I’m satisfied. Elated. I fucked hard. I came hard. I loved every second of it.

But I’m also in pain. A stabbing pain low in my belly that picks away at my comfort.

I can’t tell Diego. He’d panic. I can’t tell Naomi. She wouldn’t get it. Hell, I can’t even admit it to myself—because we still have fifteen minutes until midnight, and I just need to make it that long.

I need my perfect, unspoiled night.

“I love you,” Naomi says suddenly. And it throws me. Because we haven’t shared those words—not ever—and for her to say them now when I’m grinding against my molars…

It throws me through a loop.

“What?”

I know that’s not what someone wants to hear when they first confess their love. But I need a minute to reorient myself.

Naomi moves her hand off my stomach and settles it on my chest. The pain is less there, and when she looks into my eyes, the throbbing ache is almost completely gone.

I could lose myself in those soft, brown eyes.

“I love you, Otto Stratton,” she says with as much conviction as she can.

And my heart breaks for it.

I need to tell her: I’m not the guy you make lifetime commitments with.

I need to tell her: I just don’t think I’m going to be around that long.

I need to tell her: My kidney’s failing. My body is failing. I’m failing.

I need to tell her: Run.

But Naomi is looking at me. Those beautiful eyes. Those brave eyes. She’s the bravest woman I know. Her body fits perfectly against mine, her breasts against my arm, her pelvis on my hip, my leg wedged between hers. The room smells like sex, heavy and musky, with a hint of the incense she burns. Outside her window, draped with heavy purple curtains on either side, a fresh dusting of snow falls.

In this moment, I’m weak.

“I love you, too,” I tell her.

She smiles. It’s a smile that warms me from the inside out.

She draws herself up just enough to press her lips to mine. When we kiss, it’s slow and gentle, and I feel like I can taste her heart spilling out onto my tongue.

And it might be the most selfish thing I’ve ever said. But right here, right now, it feels right.

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