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... t’s face is buried in her crotch. Grant’s airways are being constricted by her legs as they wrap in desperation around his head, calves crossed at the nape of his neck. Totally worth it. If he dies, he dies.

Sykora dangles desperately. “Ohmygod Grant—”

“Shhh, babe.” He kisses the flexing tendon of her inner thigh. “Hold on, now. Okay?”

“Are you—oh—” Sykora writhes as Grant tugs her higher. Her thighs clamp around his head. The world goes quiet beneath his quivering blue e ...

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