His palm covers my mouth before I can even breathe properly.

We are standing in the narrow hallway outside my bedroom. The rest of the house is dark. Mom fell asleep an hour ago. He has me pressed against the wall, one of my legs hooked high around his hip, and he is already moving in short, controlled thrusts that keep every sound contained.

“Not a single noise,” he whispers against my ear. “If she wakes up, this ends.”

I nod under his hand. My fingers dig into his shoulders. The angle is tight and intense. Every time he pushes forward I feel the stretch and the heat building low...