Chapter 5: Sleep Talk

Eli did not pull out.

That was the first thing I understood, lying there with my eyes squeezed shut and his cock still buried inside me.

He stayed exactly where he was, shaking, one hand flat on the mattress beside my head.

"Did she," Clint said from the doorway. His voice was very quiet. "Did she say your name?"

"People talk in their sleep," Lyle said.

"She said it clear."

"People say lots of things clear," Abel said. "My mother used to recite the whole rosary."

Nobody laughed.

Eli breathed out, long and slow, and then, very carefully, he began to move again.

"She's still out," he whispered. "Look. She's still out."

I was not, and every one of them knew it, and none of them said so.

I did not understand why.

I only understood that his hips rolled into me in deep, steady strokes, and my body took him as if it had been made for it.

I came a second time with my face turned into the pillow.

He followed me with a groan he tried to swallow, and held me there until he finished.

Then he kissed my shoulder and eased out, and the three in the doorway came away from the frame.

Morning came, and nobody blinked.

I sat at the breakfast table and said, as casually as I could, "I think I talked in my sleep last night."

Abel slid a plate toward me.

"You do that," he said. "You always did."

"Did I?"

"Since you were six," Lyle said. "You used to give orders. Once you told Dad to marry the mailwoman."

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