I squeezed his hand back, silent thanks for his comfort and devotion. Then I carefully leaned my head on his shoulder and tried to forget about the pain that the morning had brought me. The lives it had changed.

We sped south in a car full of love and death.

“Hold still,” Camden instructed.

He had an alcohol soaked cloth poised at the corner of my head, ready to sting the shit out of me. The pain that came with healing.

We were in a gas station bathroom, the floor sticky with unknown fluids, the walls crawling with winged creepy crawlies that would occasionally make a go for the bare light bulb before falling to the floor. I was sitting up on the sink and Camden was trying to treat my wounds while he had the chance.

We had driven pretty much nonstop all the way from Aguascalientes until just outside of the border to Guatemala, 12 hours in one stretch. During the drive, Javier hadn’t said a single word, only stared out the window as the landscape of his country rushed past us. Dom and Este did all the talking, telling us the plan for the next few days as we went into the jungle. Apparently we were meeting another “friend” of theirs in Guatemala City who’d be joining us.

No one talked about what happened to Violetta or who was shooting at us. I assumed it was Travis and I guess from their silence the assumption was right. There was nothing to say, I suppose, except that his people wanted us dead and they were a lot more clever than I had given them credit for.

“Ow,” I moaned as Camden gently pressed the cloth to my head.

“Sorry,” he said, eyes soft as he gazed at me.

I watched him as he did this, wincing through the pain. He dabbed it on my cheekbone where I had another large gash that hurt if I smiled. Luckily, there wasn’t much to smile about.

“How are your eyes?” I asked him.

He paused, cloth in hand, and peered at me inquisitively. “What do you mean?”

“Can you see me?”

He went back to stinging the wounds. “I told you I can see you clearly from up close.”

I swallowed hard and swung my legs up and down, suddenly very aware that as I sat on the edge of the sink, I was pretty much straddling him. “Do you like what you see?” I asked quietly. My words sat in a fine haze over the room, my chest constricting from the silence.

His mouth dropped open, lower lip full and inviting, his pink tongue moving in his mouth, trying to make words that would not come.

“Am I still beautiful to you?” I whispered, feeling my heart slowly leak open. I was raw and wounded and in his hands.

His face crumpled, such vulnerability in its strength. The cloth dropped out of his hands and into the sink and he sucked in his breath before saying, “Ellie Watt, you’re more beautiful than you’ve ever been.”

And then his lips, his soft, full, warm lips were on mine, sending sparks up my face, to the back of my head, trailing down my back like brushes from angel wings. His mouth was greedy and mine wanted, needed, craved more. He made a fist in the back of my hair and I grabbed onto his, tugging it until he moaned, the intoxicating sound of his lust filling my mouth, my throat, my lungs. I couldn’t get enough, I was afraid I’d never get it again.

It was wrong, it was wrong, it was wrong to be doing this with him, in here, when the whole world was dying out there, but I didn’t care. I loved him and I needed him more than I ever needed anyone. I loved him and love had to be good in this life full of bad.

He put his lips to my collarbone sucking and biting and making me forget everything, the worries coming off of me like the tank top I quickly pulled over my head and shed to the floor. He cupped my swollen breasts with his hands, his thumbs teasing my nipples until he pulled back the bra and exposed them to the humid air, pinching them with his teeth. I cried out from the pain, the beautiful pain that rocked through my body, making every centimeter of my skin feel absolutely alive. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was living, breathing, present. Here.

“Please don’t stop,” I begged him between groans. “Please don’t stop.”

“Baby, I’m just getting started,” he said, voice husky with unadulterated lust. He went for my neck, licking in long smooth strokes that set off nerves all the way down to my clit, racing across my body like shooting stars. My legs spread wider for him, wrapping around his waist, tugging him close to me, desperate for friction.

He pulled away and quickly pushed my legs together. With a hard tug he undid the zipper of my jeans and I quickly kicked off my hiking boots. He pulled down my jeans and underwear, the sink cold against my ass, as I reached for his belt, fumbling to let him loose, like if I didn’t free his cock fast enough, I’d lose the opportunity forever.

When my legs were bare and wide for him, I brought him in closer with my calves, hooked securely around his back. The belt finally came free and his pants dropped to his ankles with a single snap of a button.

And here we were, naked from the waist down, his cock hard as concrete and silky soft against my opening, his hands gripping my shoulders as if I would try and escape. But there was no escape for me, I was in this deeply and I needed him to be in me just as deep. If he couldn’t feel something for me in his heart the way that I did, then he could feel something in his balls. I would take what I could get, even here, in this dirty gas station bathroom, because I never wanted Camden more, never needed him more, than I did right there.

“Ellie,” he whispered, pressing his hard ridge against me, rubbing ever so slightly. The pressure on my clit made me wetter than water. I felt myself spreading open, eager for him, feeling so fucking empty and hollow until I had him inside of me.

I grabbed his face and kissed him, my mouth wanting more than he could give me, my tongue coaxing his until they melted into each other, that insatiable thirst that was plaguing me once again, driving me to devour him, consume him.

He took my lip between his teeth and pulled back on in, biting down in sweet sinful pleasure.

“Ellie,” he whispered again and I reached down for his cock, stroking it smoothly, every hard, long inch of him. The illicit grunt that came out of his mouth, the way his eyes rolled back in his head, those gorgeous eyes of his, caused my hormones to flare up into overdrive.

“Just fuck me,” I told him, my mouth sucking on his soft earlobe. “Just fucking love me.”

He hesitated and pulled back, looking like I slapped him in the face.

“What did you say?” he whispered hoarsely.

“Please,” I said, one hand a fist around his cock, my other hand digging my nails into his back. I was wrapped up in layers and layers and he was at my core, at my middle. This was me and I was in his hands and he had me exposed to the bone. “Please.”

His eyes raged with lust, then he kissed me so hard, my head slammed back against the mirror on the wall. He took his cock out of my grip and pressed the wet, smooth tip against me. With a single thrust, he entered me, sharp and fast. His size, his wonderful fullness, had me gasping for air as pain rocketed through my limbs, my insides tensing until he pounded me again and again, until he became a part of me and I couldn’t have imagined life without this, life without anyone else. This was the puzzle piece, the part that made my heart stop hurting, my soul stop bleeding. With each thrust of him up to the hilt he filled me with hope. He erased the death. He gave me life, if only for that moment, when we were joined as one, and I was a better version than the girl I was before.

It didn’t take me long to come, my fingers pressing hard into his ass as I almost slipped off the cold sink, my head still rocking against the mirror until I was afraid it would break. But it was only me breaking open from the inside, raw and vulnerable and ugly and beautiful all at once. He started moaning, his thrusts slowing down while my body spasmed me to new heights. And as I came, as the world was colors and I saw stars and felt unbreakable, unstoppable, the rush of emotions took over and buried me under them.