Chapter 10: Month's Not Up

I woke up to sunlight and the sound of a camp stove.

The bed beside me was empty, and the grey sheets were warm.

I found a T-shirt of his on the floor, pulled it on and followed the smell of coffee down the stairs.

Cillian stood in the gutted room where a kitchen was supposed to go, in his jeans with his hair wet.

He was making coffee on a two-burner stove set on a pallet, with his back to me.

He had two mugs out. One said World's Okayest Boss, and the other had a chip.

I stood on the bottom step and looked at the line of his shoulders.

"You're up," he said, without turning.

"How do you do that?"

"You walk like someone sneaking out of a bank."

"I wasn't sneaking."

"I know." He turned, and his eyes went down to the T-shirt and up again. "Good morning."

"Good morning."

He handed me the chipped mug.

I took it and stepped closer.

I put my mouth on his chest, right where the scar began.

"Eliza."

"Month's not up," I said. "You said we'd decide at the end of the month."

"I did say that."

"So I'm making use of the time."

I put the coffee down on a sawhorse and went down on my knees on his plank floor.

He said my name again, rougher.

I undid his jeans and took him in my hand, and he was already hard.

I took him in my mouth, slowly, and heard his breath go out of him.

His hand came into my hair and stayed there, and he didn't push.

"Eliza. Christ."

I took more of him and used my hand where my mouth couldn't reach.

He swore, low and ragged.

"Stop," he said. "Stop, I want to..."

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