BEAUTY BECOMES YOU

Skye Warren

Copyright 2013 by Skye Warren

Smashwords Edition

With the end of semester approaching, Erin and Blake decide to lay low. After all, they have all the time in the world after that. Except Blake’s future at the university is up in the air and trouble is brewing back in Erin’s hometown. When the couple is tested, they will have to trust each other to forge their own sexy ending.

Beauty Becomes You is a novella in the Beauty series. Don’t miss the first installments, Beauty Touched the Beast, Beneath the Beauty, and Broken Beauty, available now.

CHAPTER ONE

Blake stared down at his drink, trying to force his sluggish mind to wake up. His throat was dry. His whole body ached, as if reminding him he was no longer young and couldn’t afford to act that way.

Footsteps came from behind him. He turned slightly. Ah, there she was. Erin. Beautiful Erin with a smile far too bright for this time of day.

She sat down on the stool next to his. “Hey, stranger.”

“Do I know you from somewhere?”

“We may have met. I think you taught one of my college courses.”

“Did I? So tell me, how’d I do?”

“Oh, excellent. You got five chili peppers on the professor rating site.” At his raised eyebrow, she explained, “That means you’re hot.”

He snorted, swigging the remainder of his apple juice. “Now I know you’re lying.”

“Well, I think you’re hot.”

Even though she was just being kind, something panged in his chest. She meant he was beautiful on the inside, or she’d just gotten used to the way he looked, and it was more than enough for him. It would have to be.

With an exaggerated wink he said, “Back atcha, babe. Now what do you say we take this somewhere more comfortable, like my place?” He looked around at his kitchen from the breakfast nook. “My God, we’re already here.”

“Very convenient,” she said solemnly, her eyes twinkling.

“I thought so.” He buffed his nails on his shirt, because… well, hell, wasn’t that what smooth talkers did? He had no idea. It had been a hell of a long time since he’d been to a bar, or really, anywhere that wasn’t home or work. He vowed to change that as soon as possible. Once the semester was over and finalized, he’d take Erin out to dinner and dancing as often as she could bear.

He must have looked like an idiot—a sleepy idiot with no one to blame but himself for keeping her up all night. She didn’t seem to mind, judging by her saucy grin. She slipped off the stool and circled him. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her legs. Her bare legs, almost completely exposed beneath the hem of his rumpled dress shirt. She must have picked it up off the floor before coming downstairs this morning. And goddamn, she wore it better than he did.

She ran her fingertip over his shoulder. “Weren’t you going to take me upstairs and show me something?”

Christ, had she actually said this kind of thing at a bar? The college guys would have been eating out of her hand. Or any guy, really. He was eating out of her hand. Fuck.

He cleared his throat. “Well, I suppose I could show you my thesis. I’ve been told it’s very impressive.”

Her lush breasts pressed against his back. He shut his eyes, holding back his groan. His thickening erection tented his sweatpants.

Her breath coasted over the back of his neck. “Is it long?”

The thesis.

“Long enough.” Tugging her wrist, he pulled her around to stand between his knees. “And very hard.”

She laughed softly, gaze wandering lower. “I bet it is. Did the committee drill you on it?”

“Let’s just say I’m not one to back down from an oral examination.”

He’d meant to go down on her, to lick and suck her body, to role play a sensual test, but she knelt in front of him and every thought, every teasing quip flew out of his brain. He could see the shadow between her breasts through the low V of the shirt she wore. Her eyes were heavy lidded with arousal. She tugged the band of his sweatpants down, releasing his heavy, full cock into her palm. She held him up, as if testing his weight. Her palm looked small and pale beneath the ruddy girth of him. Delicate fingers wrapping around pulsing, hungry flesh.

“Erin.”

“I know,” she whispered. “It hurts, doesn’t it?”

Jesus. Every night she grew more sure in her feminine power, and every day he fell further in love with her. The bonds gripped him tightly, but he never fought them. Here, with Erin, was exactly where he wanted to be.

She knelt between his legs. He brushed the hair back from her face, enjoying the silvery play of sunlight on the crown of her head. Her position was sensual, but when he looked down at her, the emotions he felt far surpassed the physical. Her position was submissive, but he was the one at her mercy.

With a wicked tilt of her lips, she fisted his cock and brought him to the brink, pump after groan-inducing pump. Just when he was sure he’d blow, she stopped, leaving him on the knife-thin edge of pleasure and aching need. Her hand remained still, holding him up as she leaned forward.

Her lips pressed the slippery head in a chaste kiss. The velvety caress made his hips cant forward. He sighed in helpless denial. She was killing him, slaying him, and he wouldn’t have stopped her for anything. Her tongue darted out, sending molten pleasure to his balls. She sucked him in shallowly, holding the head in her mouth and sucking hard. He swore every crude, vulgar word he’d ever heard in the military, his fingers white-knuckled on the edge of the stool.

She glanced up at him. The sultry knowledge in her eyes mesmerized him. His veined shaft disappeared between her stretched, pink lips. He wanted so many things. To make her take him deeper. To hold her head. To own her. But his love for her wrapped around him like butter-soft chains, holding him back and keeping her safe.

A new, subtle pressure had him clenching and rising up to meet her mouth. She’d worked a finger down below where he couldn’t see—but Jesus, he could feel. Sparks down the seam of his balls and up underneath. How could she bear to touch him there? He wanted to make her stop, to force her to rub him there faster and harder. The barstool may as well have been glued to his palms. He couldn’t move them. Couldn’t stop her, couldn’t make her do a damn thing. This was all her: wicked intent and lavish attention.

Slowly, her finger slid back farther, to the waiting pucker of his ass. His whole body strung up tight. He clenched his jaw to keep from crying out no and stop and God fuck yes. Flames licked his balls, and he rocked in a rhythmic motion, desperate for relief.

As her finger explored forbidden territory, her eyes held a question. Do you like this? And they held something else, her answer. She liked this, and he was filled with gratitude. Flushed with pleasure. He would probably go up in smoke any second now, but God, the burn felt so sweet.

Circles.

The thought pierced his lustful haze. She was making circles right there with the tip of her finger. He followed the sensation of tiny spirals at his most vulnerable point. She sucked him in deep, making his eyes roll back. Her grip at the base of his cock tightened and then slid along the shaft. Her finger at his back entrance pressed inside. The smallest degree of entry, and he was lost. Climax swept over and consumed him. He shouted something broken and base while he poured his orgasm on her tongue. Shudders wracked his body as he stared down at her. His entire body clenched tight with pleasure before relaxing in sweet contentment. She lovingly licked the last traces of seed from his cock.

Finally releasing himself, he unclenched his fingers from the stool. One hand shoved into her hair and gently pulled her to him. He kissed her with an open mouth and greedy tongue, tasting himself inside her. His body was sated, but not his desires. He had wanted to taste her, and judging from the way she shivered in his grip, she wanted that too.

Feeling wild and desperate, he glanced around the kitchen. Through the open-air entranceway, he saw the armchair in the living room. Not a very comfortable piece, but the padding would protect her. He wanted to make her come so hard her liquid spilled onto the cushion. He felt feral, wanting to mark the furniture with her scent, her sex.

“Follow me.” Feeling grim and unkind, he pulled her over and sat her down. A little more roughly than he needed to, but it set the tone. She needed to understand. This was how it would be, him leading and her placid. It was the only way he could worship her properly, because if she spoke a single word, he’d obey.

He spread her legs, placing them over each padded arm of the chair. It was bondage without a foot of rope. The more he pleasured her, the tighter her legs would bind her here. Of course, she could always relax and stand up herself, but she wouldn’t. The dark amusement in her eyes said she understood the game, she accepted it. Her parted lips and quickened breath said she didn’t give a damn, as long as he gave her what she needed.

The folds of her sex glistened in the faint light. He speared his fingers through the moisture, relishing the slickness. So lovely. And his, all his. He dipped into the wet heat. His cock stirred again, ready to take its rightful place. No. Not this time. He quested farther north, to the place where softness bundled together, where gentle pleasure tightened into nerves. He stroked her clit, and she shuddered.

“Blake.”

She sounded lost and beautiful. What was he doing to her? Should he stop? Leave her alone? He couldn’t.

“Stay quiet,” he said. “Keep your hands on the chair. If you speak or move, I’ll stop.”

He leaned forward to breathe in the earthy, sweet scent of her. Fuck, he went crazy for this. The first taste had him rock hard. The second made him groan with fevered longing. Her sex was plump and swollen, slippery against his lips. He found the well of arousal with his tongue, drawing out more liquid and drinking it down.

The familiar musk of her transported him to another world, where time could never intrude. He had an eternity to lap her folds and suckle her clit. He lashed her with his tongue, pulling stuttered breaths and harsh inhalations, but she was so good. So obedient. She remained almost silent, almost still.

He glanced up and lost a heartbeat at what he saw. Her unfocused eyes had glazed with unshed tears. Her parted lips trembled. He had meant to draw this out, to make her wait and maybe return the favor by exploring the tight pucker beneath. But he couldn’t stand to see her in this kind of sexual agony.

Pressing two fingers inside, he found the roughened spot that made her buck. His lips closed around her clit, sucking her hard. Her whole body grew taut. Her hips bucked against his face. The sensual violence grew too hard, too much, until he skated his free hand, still damp from her juices, along the tender insides of her thighs, a feathery caress to push her over.

She cried out her release as wetness flowed over his lips and down his chin, coating the chair just like he’d imagined. He helped her back down with slight licks and soft kisses. When her body slumped against the back of the chair, he picked her up and held her until the trembling subsided.

Her breathing evened out, and for a minute he thought she’d fallen asleep. Her voice sounded drugged when she spoke, slurred and breathy. “Did I pass?”

It took him a minute to connect the dots to their teacher-student fantasy at the start. “Very much so, sweetheart. You are my best student.”

She huffed a laugh. “I better be your only student when it comes to oral examinations.”

“My one and only.” He kissed the top of her head and let his lips linger there, reveling in the silky strands of her hair. His one, his only. His everything. In a matter of days, it would be permanent. Safe. In a matter of weeks, it would be real.

* * *

She went to the bar and took a swig of Blake’s drink, wishing for a moment that the amber liquid were indeed alcohol instead of juice. She turned and froze at the sight. He had sat down in the chair where she’d just been. He was naked, one ankle slung over the other. Strong hands that could be impossibly gentle hung loosely on either side of the chair. He leaned his head back against the chair, eyes closed. His expression was so peaceful, she couldn’t help but stare. Her face flushed when she realized he must feel proof of her excitement beneath him. She might have been more embarrassed except she was distracted by his next words.

“I think we should stop seeing each other until the end of the semester.”

She almost fell off the stool she’d sat on. “What?”

He leaned forward, looking solemn—and frustrated. “Look, I did handle Melinda. That’s done. But talking to her made me feel…well, guilty. Like I might be taking advantage of you, even if I didn’t mean it. I should know that intentions aren’t the important factor. It’s my actions.”

“You’re not taking advantage of me.” She felt shocked, hollowed out. And somewhat offended. As if she were a child incapable of making her own choices.

He grimaced, seeming to read her thoughts. “I don’t mean it like that either…but intentions don’t really matter. You have every right to be mad, but I hope you’ll understand.”

She was silent, hating that she did understand. She loved his integrity, and that’s what she was seeing now.

“I hated facing this decision,” he said. “Either way, I would lose you. I had to choose the one that would only last for a little while. Let’s do this for a few weeks. Until the day of the Faculty Ball. By then class will be over, grades will be in, and your thesis will be finished. And we’ll have forever after that. Trust me, Erin?”

Her heart swelled. Of course she trusted him. And forever… well, she would do just about anything for forever with him. Even give him up for a few long weeks.

“I do,” she said, then cleared her throat, embarrassed by the matrimonial sound to her words. “I do trust you. We can handle this.”

His smile was pure relief.

“Do you want to come home with me?” she blurted out.

One eyebrow raised. “Now?”

“I meant my hometown. Come home and meet my mother. It will be better than having her meet you here, where she’ll…” Swallowing, she looked around his kitchen. The thick crown molding and stainless steel appliances. “Well, she might judge you based on your house.”

Standing, he stalked toward her. God, completely naked. Why couldn’t she stop staring?

Reaching behind her neck, he pulled her in and kissed her flush on the nose. “Did you just invite me to meet the parents?” he teased. “This must be serious.”

She nodded, grinning. “Well, there’s only one parent. But yes, I’d say it’s serious.”

“Glad to hear it, because I’m serious too. And I want you to move in with me.”

Her breath hitched. She glanced around the stately home. “Here?”

“That was the idea. Unless you don’t like it. Then we could look for someplace else together.”

“No, it’s not that. I love your house.” Something held her back from saying yes. Being under his control, financially, physically. She’d struggled and studied and worked her whole life so she’d never have to answer to a man. Even though she knew he’d never hurt her, it was hard to give up that dream. “I just meant…I spend all my time here anyway.”

His expression was soft and painfully understanding. “It would be different if you were with me, every day. Every night. But it’s okay. You don’t have to answer now. After the semester. It can wait.”

Her sigh held relief and gratitude. “Thank you.”

“I won’t rush you, because I need you to be sure. Once you’re with me, I’m not going to be able to let you go.”

She shivered at the dark note of possession in his voice. After her exams, she’d be able to think straight. Then she’d tell him yes, wouldn’t she? She couldn’t imagine telling him no. Her love for him posed a greater threat than a domineering man ever could. Blake had gotten under her skin and buried deep in her soul. There would be no going back from this. She was looking over a ledge she knew she would jump over, gauging the distance. If she were honest, she was already on her way down.

“Just promise me something,” he said. “I may not always be near you, but I will never be far away. If you’re ever in trouble or need something, you let me know. Promise me.”

She melted, her heart a puddle. “Oh, Blake.”

He gave her a crooked smile. “Nothing is too small. You need a light bulb changed or find a spider in the shower, I’m there.”

“Okay, okay,” she said with mock forbearance, even though she found it sweet as hell.

Her old boyfriend, Doug, had only been interested in her when they were together. And her mother, as wonderful as she was, had enough to manage with her work that she didn’t concern herself with how Erin did on a day-to-day basis.

Especially lately, when she couldn’t even seem to take a phone call.

Just as quickly, he turned the topic to safer ground. “So, it’s been a long time since I met any parents. I’m not even sure what that entails.”

She grinned. “Better mind your manners.”

He put a hand to his chest. “I’ll be on my best behavior. She isn’t going to put us in separate rooms, is she?”

“I doubt it, considering there’s just the one bedroom beside hers. Though I suppose we could always make you sleep on the couch.”

“Can’t blame her. I have the worst intentions where you are concerned.” He grew serious. “It can wait until after the summer semester, right?”

“Yes, of course. The drive is too long to make in a weekend trip anyway. We’ll spend a few days there. Plus, if you don’t mind, we should take your car. I don’t think mine has that many miles left in it.”

“I don’t like you driving that thing.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s fine.”

He frowned.

She turned away to hide her smile, secretly pleased at his protectiveness. In a minute, he was right behind her, bending her over the barstool.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me, young lady?”

“What are you going to about it?” she taunted him.

“Something wicked. That’s what you were hoping for, wasn’t it?”

Yes. But she protested feebly, “We just did that.”

He pressed down on the small of her back. His fingers played along the inside of her thighs, roaming higher. “If I’m going to be without you for three weeks, I’ll need something to tide me over. So let’s see. At least once a day, usually. And I won’t see you for…far too many days. Think we can make it all up now?”

She huffed a laugh, but her eyes widened when he didn’t laugh too. He couldn’t be serious.

“I agree,” he said conversationally. “That many times in a single day seems excessive. Five ought to do it.”

Even five times was a lot…she’d get chafed. Wouldn’t she? Unless she was very, very wet. “You wouldn’t really.”

He bent to her ear, whispering, “Watch me.”

CHAPTER TWO

Two weeks until the end of semester

Tears streamed down Erin’s face by the time Cary Grant kissed Deborah Kerr in monochrome, finally discovering why she hadn’t met him that fateful night at the Empire State Building.

“If anything had to happen to either of us…why did it have to be you?” Cary Grant said in heartbreaking tenor on the television. She watched the emotional exchange in unabashed tears.

Late night TV sans cable didn’t leave many options, but when she’d seen An Affair to Remember in the listings, it had resonated with her. The lovers had been apart for six months, whereas she hadn’t seen Blake in seven days. So, okay, maybe she was being overly dramatic. But even though they’d seen each other on the sly over the semester, she longed for a time when their relationship could be public.

And permanent.

“If you can paint…I can walk. The world can turn upside down…if…”

The music played, and Erin used another tissue to blow her nose. God. What a movie. The world can turn upside down. Yes, she knew something about that. Everyone did, if they’d ever been in love. It turned the world upside down and sideways—and only Blake looked right to her. Only he stood beside her.

She couldn’t continue down this line of thought. It would make her too sad, and she was already weepy from the movie. She surveyed her snack food leftovers with dismay. A big mess. She could clean other people’s houses, no problem, but her tiny apartment always seemed to fill up with junk. With a press of the remote, the TV flicked off, plunging the room into darkness. Problem solved.

A scratching from the door told her someone was here. She’d never given Blake a key, but her heart still fluttered as if it might be him. In the dark, she rolled her eyes at herself. She had it bad for him.

Courtney slipped inside the apartment and locked the door. She had crept halfway to her bedroom when Erin spoke.

“Had a good night?”

Courtney squeaked. “I thought you’d be asleep.”

“Couldn’t sleep. I was just watching a movie.”

“Oh, well.” Courtney stood there awkwardly.

Erin narrowed her eyes suspiciously. What the hell had gotten into her roommate? Her stance looked faintly guilty, like a teenager caught out for the night, even though neither girl had kept tabs on the other. Wait a second…

“You got back together with Derek, didn’t you?”

With an embarrassed sound, Courtney flopped onto the couch beside her. “Yes. Okay. Is that so bad?”

“Yes,” Erin replied. “No, that’s not what I meant. I mean, you can do what you want. No one can judge you for your choices, least of all me.”

“But you don’t approve.”

Well… no, she didn’t. Derek was a bit of a douchebag. He didn’t appreciate Courtney; he just called her when he was bored. “I just think you can do better, that’s all. You’re gorgeous, you’re smart.”

“He’s a good catch,” she said defensively.

“I know,” Erin agreed, knowing there was no way to win this fight. If she trashed Derek, she’d push her friend away.

With a flurry of plastic wrappers, Courtney dug around in the mess on the coffee table until she found the popcorn. “I know how he comes off. And maybe I could do better, but…”

“But?”

“But not everyone can find someone who’s perfect. A soldier, a professor. He’s kind to you, he’s crazy about you. You basically hit the boyfriend jackpot.”

A slow smile spread across her face. “Yeah. I did, didn’t I?” Abruptly her smile faded. “Oh man, now I really want to see him.”

“Girl, you have it bad.”

Erin groaned, turning her face into the lumpy throw pillow.

One week until the end of semester

Blake stretched and blinked watery eyes at his laptop screen, blinding in the dark room. In the days since he and Erin had cut contact, he had written twenty pages of a grant. The kind of grant he would write if he were to join the university as a full time faculty member. He thought it was pretty good too. He was excited to share it with Erin. That would have to wait until the semester was over, and he could see her again.

Fuck, he missed her. Already his concerns about their relationship had dwindled low, but this separation had squashed any lingering doubts.

Once, he had needed her. He’d leaned on her strength and followed her light. Now, he knew that he could live without her. It was dry and boring and cold, but he could do it. He just didn’t want to. His desire for her had been cleansed of desperation and depression. Now there was only love, pure and resplendent. And currently, without her presence, hollow.

Shutting the laptop screen, he forced himself to return to bed. The sheets were rumpled and cool against his bare skin. He’d gotten into the habit of sleeping naked with Erin. He continued doing it, even if the velvety cotton and faint lingering scent of her left him hard. Again.

He closed his eyes and tried to sleep. It was already three a.m. He’d have to wake up in a few hours to head to campus. She would be in class, completely untouchable. Why had he agreed to this separation again? No, he’d proposed it. Idiot. Something about being careful in the homestretch. He wasn’t sure. He couldn’t think with his dick throbbing and full. Jesus.

He slid a hand to his heavy erection, gingerly rubbing the sensitive flesh. He should take care of this. No big deal. It hadn’t been, before Erin. Now his dick protested the callused palm, which suddenly felt like sandpaper. His dick wanted the soft, smooth lushness of Erin’s body, but too damn bad.

Just get it over with.

Shuttling a hand up and down, he let his eyes fall shut. He imagined that, instead of a dark room, sunlight streamed through. Instead of tangled sheets, a damp towel lay slack around his hips. And instead of an empty house, Erin had arrived to clean his house that day months ago.

He would never really know if he had secretly, subconsciously planned for her to find him, naked and touching himself. He would never know if she had gone to his room looking for him, instead of working downstairs as she normally did, because she wanted it too. But he had been utterly exposed that day, and when he’d realized she had seen him climaxing and calling her name, he’d been mortified—and beyond aroused.

Of course, then he’d been more worried about scaring her off. But now, alone and wearing nothing but fantasies, he allowed himself to imagine it differently. He hadn’t climaxed, but instead had noticed her while he’d still been fucking his fist. She hadn’t run away; no, she’d come closer with a wicked tilt of her lips. She’d knelt between his legs on the bed and taken over with her hands, her mouth.

When he tried to protest, she shook her head and pressed his hands to the bed. Stay still. He shuddered but obeyed, suffering in ecstasy while she teased him. In reality, his own hand delivered a swift and biting caress to his pulsing dick, but in his fantasy, it was her hot mouth, her nimble hands, and most of all, the knowing glint in her eyes that pushed him over, sending warm ejaculate across the plane of his stomach.

As he caught his breath in the aftermath, the splatter from his climax cooled into a decidedly unsexy substance. He sighed and retreated to the restroom to wipe his body clean. He was going to have long, hard days until he could see her again. And when he did? Well, tying her to the bed was looking better and better. Days and months and years of pleasure. Forever of it.

CHAPTER THREE

Three days until the Faculty Ball

The hallways changed in the minutes before class started. Stragglers who had been chatting after their last class cleared out. Latecomers rushed to find their rooms before the ancient bell rang. This building held mostly graduate courses. There was, of course, no official penalty for tardiness to class, but showing respect was part of the game.

At least, it was for most of the professors. Blake didn’t seem to play the same game. He never seemed to mind when folks rushed in late or had to leave early for something. She’d almost never seen him annoyed, not at the class and not at her, something that was a huge relief after worrying for so long.

Her old boyfriend, Doug, hadn’t been an angry person, but he’d always had an offhand criticism. She’d been young and stupid enough to accept them, to change for him, thinking she wasn’t good enough. She’d subconsciously expected the same from Blake, who was so far above her.

After weeks, months of being with him, she had begun to relax. He wasn’t going to cheat on her. He wasn’t going to tell her she wasn’t good enough. He already knew her mom cleaned houses, and he was fine with it. He hadn’t been prejudiced—no, that had been her. Internalizing the hurt and betrayal her mother had received, distrusting those with more money, more power. But she wasn’t her mother, and Blake would never hurt her.

The reminder of her mother formed an uneasy knot in her stomach. It had been a while since her mom had called. Not an unheard of amount of time, but unease niggled at her. And the last time they’d spoken, her mother had seemed distant on the phone. She’d mentioned being in pain, something about her knees bothering her. Was it worse than she’d let on? Erin stepped into an alcove and hit the speed dial. It rang five times before going to voicemail.

“Hey, Mom, it’s me. Just calling to check in and see how you’re feeling. You’re okay, right? Call me back.”

Frowning, she slipped the phone into her bag. She’d have to try again later.

Slipping into the classroom, she waved to her friend Bailey as she made her way to the back of the room. The two of them were always the quietest ones during class discussions. She refrained from speaking too much so as to avoid giving away anything about her and Blake. Sometimes she would contribute under her breath. Bailey would hear and respond just as softly. Once, she’d worried he had a crush on her, but he never asked her out or made a move at all, which relieved her.

“How was it?” she asked, referring to the visit from his mother this past weekend. He’d mentioned it in the past few classes with typical young bachelor dread.

“Great. She declared my house a pig sty and decided to stay at a hotel.”

She snorted. “Well, what can she expect with three roommates?”

“Exactly what I said. Though I might have made it worse before she showed up.”

“Bailey!”

“I couldn’t have survived, Erin. She’s planning on staying in town until the final scores come back. That’s almost a week.”

“Three days,” she corrected grimly. Three more days until she and Blake were together again. “Then we’re both free.”

He gave her a curious look. “Do you know where you’re going yet? What you’re going to do?”

“I have a few applications out,” she admitted. It felt strange to confide in Bailey and not Blake, but maybe it was better this way. She had applied to places near Blake’s house, and she didn’t want to imply promises she couldn’t keep regarding moving in with him.

“Cross your fingers for me,” she said. “What about you? Any plans?”

“Actually I was thinking of doing a tour of Europe. Find myself or something like that, before I have to decide which major I actually want to use.”

“That sounds awesome. Both the traveling and the double major. I didn’t know you’d done that. What are they?”

He blushed. “I got the idea from Ayn Rand. To learn about physics and philosophy. The physical world and metaphysical one. Combined, it’s everything there is to know.”

She grinned. “That sounds ambitious.”

“Yes, well, now that I have the degrees, I’m sure the enlightenment is coming any day.” He rolled his eyes in a sweet, self-deprecating way. “I’ll just hold my breath.”

Her attention was snagged as Blake entered the room. He looked fresh and happy. She tore her gaze away to refocus on Bailey.

He was looking at her strangely. “Don’t let him slip away.”

She blinked, her smile faltering. “Who?”

“You know who.” His gaze flicked to the front of the room, where Blake fielded a question from two animated students.

“How did you—?”

He shrugged, his smile wry. “I would have made a move myself, but it was clear you were taken.”

Her breath caught. “Bailey…”

“It’s okay, Erin. Just…hang onto it, that’s all. If he makes you happy. That’s all there is. Being happy.”

She swallowed. Her smile felt fragile—and already cracked. “Is that your advice as a physicist or a philosopher?”

“Both.”

In a move so familiar she ached with it, Blake flipped the chair around and sat down facing the class. His elbows rested on the back of the chair, his wrists hung loosely. The whole room became quiet with respect well-earned.

He’d done such an amazing job. So much more than she could have imagined. He was intelligent and thoughtful and passionate, yes. She’d known that much. But his real strength had been teasing out their intelligence. Testing their thoughts and bringing their passion to the fore.

She was going to miss this class. The energy, the way she lit up when he spoke. The way he lit up when he really got into it, as if he’d found himself in the sharing of knowledge.

“Today is our last meeting,” he said. “So I want to run-down the schedule real quick. Your final papers are due to me at midnight. Because of the abbreviated schedule for summer, I have to turn in grades in a very short amount of time, so don’t be late. It won’t be a question of my giving you an extension or extra credit. Once I turn in grades next week, even I can’t change them. Got it?”

A round of nods and some shifty eyes followed his pronouncement, probably by folks who’d be up late working on the paper. Anticipation strummed through her. The grades were due on the same day as her thesis…the same day as the Faculty Ball.

And the next day she’d get to see Blake again.

“Today is our last meeting,” he repeated, his manner turning thoughtful, “so I also want to tell you how incredibly impressed I am with you all. How grateful I am that you put up with me as I bumbled my way through my first class. How much I believe in each of you.”

Erin bit her lip to keep from sighing out loud. Glancing around, she saw embarrassed flushes and bright eyes. God, he’d turned a classroom full of cynical co-eds into an after school special.

She loved him. She was in awe of him.

“Albert Einstein once said that imagination is more important than knowledge. I’m sitting up here, as your professor, because of things I know. That’s knowledge. You’re sitting in front of me because you have the initiative, the ambition, and the creativity to do something with it. That’s imagination. What you have is far more important than what I can do up here. You trump me.”

A poignant quiet rang out in the room.

“Can anyone tell me what Einstein’s Nobel Prize was for?”

Everyone was silent. She wasn’t sure. It was in physics, she knew that much. Her science education was limited to ping-pong ball experiments in her high school AP class. But Bailey had majored in physics. She snuck a glance at him.

Bailey wore a reluctant look. He never spoke in class, but it seemed he couldn’t let the question go unanswered. “The photoelectric effect, which led to the discovery of quantum physics.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Blake said. “Can you tell us what it means in layman’s terms?”

Bailey leaned forward. Clearly this subject interested him. It drew him into the discussion he’d so long avoided, and in a sudden flash of insight, Erin wondered if Blake had done this on purpose. The one student who’d resisted participation, besides her, and Blake had hit upon a subject important to him.

“In the old days,” Bailey explained, “matter was made of particles and light was made up of waves. But during experiments with ultraviolet light, they determined that wave theory didn’t account for certain behavior. Einstein was the one who suggested that light was, in fact, particles as well.”

Blake nodded. “There were physicists and scholars with full knowledge of how things worked. Knowledge wasn’t enough. It would never have been enough to make that leap. Only imagination was enough. Bailey, how can you tell whether something is a particle or a wave?”

“You can’t. If you measure it as a particle, it’s a particle. If you measure it as a wave, it’s a wave.”

“In fact, it goes a step further. If you want to examine an electron, you must basically throw a photon at it, thus changing its course. It’s called the observer effect. Science 101. And we’re scientists too, just on the social scale. Can you think of an example of the observer effect in the social sciences?”

“When reporters embed themselves in a military unit,” someone offered. “That unit might behave differently under scrutiny, thus affecting the outcome of their missions.”

“Excellent. What else?”

Another raised his hand briefly before speaking. “Kids have to take standardized tests in school. At first it was to measure their progress, but now teachers have to teach specifically for the test.”

“Yes, right. The act of measuring has affected the primary source.”

“The help,” Erin offered blandly. “The presence of a maid might change the behavior of the household members.”

His lip twitched. “Very much so.” He paused, looking distant. “This is the last day of class, so I need to tell you that you are all activists. Each one of you and every person you pass on the street. Even if you sit back and hope someone else will fix the problem. You can’t ignore the problems in the world. Your inaction is action. If you see the problem, if you’re observing it, you’re already having an effect. The only question is what that effect will be.”

“I’ve always been a fan of throwing photons, myself,” one boy quipped, and there were snorts and chuckles around the room.

Blake smiled, but it was tinged with sadness. “This is our last class. And so what I want to tell you, the most important lesson I can teach you, is to respect the people who disagree with you. They are the ones who challenge you. And even if you are right, so are they. If you measure it as a particle, it’s a particle. If you measure it as a wave, it’s a wave. Both sides are right. Respect that. Learn from it. Find the common ground, because that’s where the true answer lies.”

CHAPTER FOUR

The day of the Faculty Ball

The thesis defense took two hours, which was longer than she’d been expecting. The reactions were amazing. Everyone on the panel had asked thoughtful, curious questions about her research, her assumptions, her methods. She had expected to feel interrogated, or worse, accused. Instead she’d stood in front of these professors, these experts and thought leaders, and felt like an equal.

It was heady and terrifying. Grades were in, and the panel would make their recommendation. She wouldn’t find out the results until later; however, she wasn’t worried about either. She had worked her ass off on both her paper for Blake’s class and her thesis. She knew in her bones that they were good.

Melinda caught up with her in the hallway. “Erin, can I speak with you a moment?”

Dread sank in her stomach. The woman had been very quiet during the defense. She had asked a few questions which were direct but not cruel. Erin had hoped that would be the end of it.

Taking a fortifying breath, she turned to face the other woman.

Melinda grimaced slightly, as if she knew about Erin’s discomfort—and felt bad about it. “You were great in there. I’m serious. You handled yourself well. You were on point. And your work was stronger than a number of doctoral papers I’ve seen.”

“Oh, thank you,” she said cautiously, waiting for the shoe to drop. Waiting for the “but…” that would bring it all crashing down.

Melinda sighed, leading her through the doors into a small courtyard. “I need to apologize for the things I said the other day. It wasn’t right, and I knew it, but…” A small laugh. “I guess, of all people, you would understand what I lost. Who I lost. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Erin ducked her head. “I thought you were the one who left him.”

“Yes,” she admitted. “I’m not proud of that. But he wasn’t like this before. He was withdrawn and angry, and I wasn’t sure he’d ever go back to the way he was. His scars were part of it, but you and I both know they go deeper than that.”

Erin pursed her lips. She wasn’t about to perform a psychological analysis on Blake, especially with Melinda as her partner.

“Can I go now?”

Melinda laughed softly. “I can’t fault you for that. If he had to end up with someone else, at least it’s someone who truly cares about him. Well, I won’t keep you. I just wanted to apologize and tell you that I won’t be a problem from now on, between you and him.”

Erin weighed the sincerity of her words and found she believed them. Still, she wasn’t inclined to be generous with the memory of her humiliation still strong. The woman had basically accused her of being a prostitute. “I accept your apology, but just so you know…you couldn’t have caused a problem between me and him. Not anymore.”

Glossy lips twisted into a wry smile. “You’re probably right about that. He’s loyal.”

And he’s mine.

The force of the words shocked her. At least she managed not to say them out loud, as she made her escape from Melinda. But privately, her confidence in him, her possession surged impossibly strong. He was hers. Hers to love. Hers to keep.

She burned with desire to see him right now, to kiss and make love to him until the world outside faded to black. However, he had the Faculty Ball tonight. She could survive a single night without him, couldn’t she? It would be a near thing. They’d be together again tomorrow. They’d have forever together tomorrow.

At her apartment, she found Courtney packing. The room had disappeared between a mountain of clothes. A huge piece of luggage sat open and empty. From the haggard look on Courtney’s face, things had not been going well.

Erin paused at the door. “What happened?”

“What happened is that Derek and I are going on a trip.” She frowned, examining a pair of puffy pants. “And I have nothing to wear.”

“Where is he taking you, the tundra?”

“Close. Colorado. We’re going to do some late skiing. He’s booked a suite in a lodge. Isn’t that the sweetest gesture?”

“But you hate the cold.”

“Yes, he must have forgotten that.”

“And aren’t you afraid of heights?”

“Right. I should be okay if I stick to the bunny slopes, right?”

Erin had no idea. Skiing had certainly never been part of her family vacations, which had mostly consisted of her mom and her at the beach for a weekend. She suspected even a baby slope would be big enough to terrify the girl who shut her eyes when they crossed over a bridge.

“Will you hate me if I say this is a bad idea?”

“No. Because you’re right, and it is a bad idea.”

“But you’re doing it anyway.”

“I love that you get me. I mean, really understand me. You’re a great friend.”

“Hmm,” Erin said, wondering where this was going.

“Like the kind of friend who would help me pack and figure out what to bring.”

Erin stared dubiously at the mountains of clothes. Tank tops, miniskirts. They had their work cut out for them, but it was just the distraction she needed. The thought of Melinda all dressed up at the Faculty Ball with Blake was enough to get her blood racing. She believed what she had said to Melinda. There was no way Blake would stray. However, if he happened to glance over and wonder briefly about what he had lost, he would only be human.

“You’re on,” she said, digging in. She ended up pulling everything out of her closet, as well, matching outfits so she could look cute for their renewed relationship, as well as warm enough not to freeze to death.

Hours passed, and Erin lost herself in the chatter with her good friend. She would miss this when she moved in with Blake. Except she hadn’t agreed to that.

So when Courtney asked her about re-upping the lease, Erin said quickly, “I’m not moving in with him,” and immediately blushed. As soon as she said the words, she knew they were a lie.

Courtney raised her eyebrows. “Want to bet?”

She knew the truth. Even Blake probably knew it was inevitable. Everyone except Erin understood. She’d put him off. Not now, later. We’ll talk about it later.

Now was later, and God, she wanted to be with him. Night and day. Forever and ever, amen. This must be serious, he’d joked. With the worry of school behind her, she was damned serious.

“Okay, I might move in with him. And maybe even…I don’t know, marry him. Does that sound crazy?”

“Of course you’re going to marry him. See, when you find a boy who you like, and who you want to have sex with, you have to do the right thing by him. Otherwise he starts to wonder if you’re just using him for his body.”

Erin snorted. Blake loved when she used him for his body. But that was a good idea. Maybe she could pop the question. It would be worth it just to see the look on his face. Not right now, but soon. Maybe then she wouldn’t feel so guilty about not answering him right away about moving in.

She helped Courtney stuff the luggage full and then sat on it so they could zipper it shut. They loaded her friend’s car together and hugged before she got inside.

Courtney frowned. “Sorry to abandon you so soon after your defense. I meant to take you out for drinks to celebrate.”

“I don’t mind, sweetie. You have fun. And bring back lots of stories.”

“Always. And I’m still taking you out for drinks when I get back. We’ll get a cab together and get totally wasted.”

The sadness clamped Erin’s stomach as she waved goodbye, and she realized that at least part of her hesitancy was leaving Courtney. She’d been an amazing friend. They would still be friends, but the roommate bond ran deeper. They talked all the time. They knew each other’s secrets. Now it would be her and Blake. Yes, she wanted that, but she would still miss her friend.

Her cellphone trilled from inside the apartment. She almost sprinted to answer it. Her mother hadn’t returned a call in days now, and Erin was beyond worried. The number on the screen wasn’t her mother’s. Disappointment tightened her stomach.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Erin Raider?”

The officiousness of the tone drew her to full alert. “Yes, that’s me.”

The woman proceeded to introduce herself as the head nurse of the urgent care ward at Lakota County General Hospital. A wave of dizziness swept over Erin, but she gripped the phone tightly and held on.

The nurse’s voice was sympathetic. “I’m calling to inform you that your mother was admitted into our care after suffering a major heart attack.”

Fear gripped her. A heart attack? Her mother was an older woman, but she was strong and healthy. Or she had been. Oh God. The world lost focus as she took in the rest of the information. Her mother was alive and in recovery. She was sleeping now and most of the time, a side effect of the medicines she was on. Yes, Erin would be able to visit her mother if she arrived before visiting hours were over.

Erin’s thoughts came wild and unordered, matching the state of her room. Her clothes were strewn across the floor and bed. She grabbed a few tops and a pair of jeans and stuffed them into her backpack. In a sort of trance, she walked to her car and slipped her key into the ignition.

Nothing happened.

She took out her key and tried again. The engine turned over and then stalled. Her old, trusty rustbucket had finally given out and at the worst possible time. She tried three more times, but the car had well and truly given up.

Feeling sick, she struggled to focus. The most important thing was to get to her mother. She could deal with the repairs later. But how could she get there? The drive was four hours away. The one time she’d had to take the transit bus from her city to the college, after Doug had left her, the trip had taken twice that long from all the stops in between.

Her mind spun, running through all the options she had and coming up empty. She didn’t mind being alone, not really, but times like now, it did hurt. Except she wasn’t alone.

Blake.

He would know the answer. He’d asked her to find him if she needed him, and she did.

She suddenly couldn’t wait to be near him, to lean on his strength and feel his embrace. Any attempt to shield herself had been in vain. She was already his, under his domain and beholden—and it was exactly where she wanted to be. It had nothing to do with where her body resided. In times of fear and worry, her heart turned to him.

* * *

Blake took a swig of his cocktail. The sweet syrup clung to his tongue and the liquor burned his throat, but drinking still beat mingling. He’d already had to tell the story of his scars twice, and he wasn’t eager to tell it a third time.

He gave a scrubbed version, of course. The real thing wasn’t fit for the string quartet or the gowns of the Faculty Ball, though that fact didn’t deter them from asking. His scars were so interesting, they said, as if it were the best compliment—and to a group of strident intellectuals, perhaps it was. They took his refusals as modesty first and rudeness second, until he’d resignedly told some whitewashed account of what had happened.

“There you are.” The slurred words came from behind him. Jeremy Mosely, the dean of his department and his boss for the semester, approached unsteadily.

Blake wished he could stand the signature cocktail well enough to get drunk. “Jeremy. Good seeing you.”

He grinned. “Hah, I know you’ve been avoiding me.”

Even sloshed, the man was smart. “Sorry. I’ve been a little distracted.”

“Not too distracted. I heard your semester went great.” He looked smug. “I know you’re thinking about renewing your contract. I’ll give you a few days to think about it before I do the hard sell on you.”

Damn, the man was right again. He had been considering it…once he and Erin were settled. Once she moved in with him. If she moved in with him. He took another drink, wincing at the sickly sweet flavor.

“Disgusting, I know,” Jeremy continued. “I have a secret stash, if you’re up for it.”

“I was thinking of heading out soon.”

It was ten o’clock. Not exactly late, but he wanted to get to bed at a reasonable time and see Erin in the morning. He had a full suite of activities planned for her that would require most of the hours in the day and most of the surfaces in his house.

“No, come on. The night’s still young.”

“Maybe, but I’m not.”

“Please, you’re the youngest guy in the room. A couple of guys were going to the faculty basement. Bet you never heard about that when you were a student here.”

Curiosity nudged him. “Okay, what’s the faculty basement? And if you tell me whips and chains, I’m definitely not going with you.”

Jeremy snorted. “Well, it’s going to sound boring compared to that. It’s a recreation room for professors. Sort of a members only type of thing. There’s nice furniture, good liquor, and a pool table that’s been here since the university’s inception.”

“Huh.” This he did want to see. He’d always had a soft spot for the school, ever since he was a wide-eyed freshman. It amused him to realize there were new things to discover in a place he’d been for so many years. Blake eyed the room, catching a few curious glances his way as he did. “Let’s go.”

They rounded up a couple of tenured professors that Blake had met before and headed two buildings over and downstairs into the basement. He had promised Erin, and himself, that he would try to rejoin society. That meant more than clocking in and out of a job, whatever it was. It meant the rare social occasion like this. He looked forward to the time Erin would join him at parties like this. If he was going to sneak out of the party early and into some dimly lit recess, he’d far rather be doing it with her.

Inside the faculty basement, there were thick leather armchairs that made him feel like wearing a smoking jacket. The other guys started up a game on the green felt pool table in the corner, but Jeremy came to sit by him. There was something he wanted to talk about, but Blake could be patient. He accepted the offered glass of whiskey and a cigar.

Jeremy settled in opposite him and was quiet for a moment. “I heard you and Melinda Jenkins used to be an item,” he said.

Blake raised his eyebrows. “What of it?”

“Just wondering if there’s anything still between you two.”

Christ. First his goddamn battle scars had to be story time for the group, now he’d been lured by alcohol to talk about his past lovelorn humiliation. Being back in society was a laugh a minute.

“No. It’s over. Very much so.”

“Good to hear it.”

Blake raised his eyebrows. “Why, is there some sort of policy against intradepartmental dating?”

Jeremy laughed shortly. “I hope not. I was thinking of asking her out.”

“Oh.” Well, that put a new spin on their shared nightcap.

A sideways glance. “So, what do you think?”

“About you and Melinda? I think nothing about that. Whatsoever.”

“You must think something. You think she’s too hot for me?”

“The thought hadn’t crossed my mind.” At least he could be honest about that.

“Well, come on. Give me something here. I was just about to make a move when I found out about you two. When I realized I might have invited my biggest competition inside. I heard she talked to you, too.”

Hmm. He trusted Melinda’s word not to spill about him and Erin, but it would be best not to stir this pot too strongly.

He pretended to think about it. And then he actually did think about it. Mosely was a smart guy, and he seemed ambitious enough. Melinda could help support him. Blake was no matchmaker, but it wasn’t a bad setup.

He shrugged. “What the hell do I know?”

“Thanks, man. Real encouraging.”

A surprised laugh burst from him. He supposed he really had been out of the loop for too long. He’d forgotten how to be a friend.

“Shit. Sorry.” He leaned forward, staring into his drink. The sight of amber-colored liquid reminded him of his morning with Erin a few weeks ago, and God, what a morning that had been. He couldn’t wait to repeat it. Preferably every morning from now on.

Forever. The thought should have scared him, being a standard fare red-blooded male. But the thought of not forever, of losing her, was the real threat. He would make it official and ask her to marry him, but he might scare her away. Asking her to move in had already been a big step, and she hadn’t said yes yet. She was still young. He felt vaguely guilty tying her down. Just not guilty enough to stop.

Besides, he knew better than anyone that putting a ring on her finger wouldn’t guarantee anything. It hadn’t with Melinda. All he and Erin had to offer each other was one day at a time. For the first time, he thought it might be enough.

“You should ask her out,” he finally said. “Even if it doesn’t work out, at least you’ll have given it a chance. It’s better than not living.”

The other man studied him. “That sounds like the voice of experience.”

“It is, and you were one of the people who helped bring me back. I owe you for that.”

Jeremy clapped him on the shoulder. “Then come to work for me. A permanent position. The board will approve it in a heartbeat.”

Ah, it seemed they’d arrived at the hard sell portion of the evening. What the hell, he’d known what his answer would be. Teaching was too damn fun. So was living, he had found.

He took a swig of the expensive liquor. It went down smooth. “Then I accept.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Feeling frantic and dizzy with worry, Erin dialed and redialed Blake’s cell phone. He wasn’t picking up at home either, but she took a chance that he’d fallen asleep quickly. The cab fare was thirty dollars just to get from her apartment to his empty, dark house. Damn. The Faculty Ball had ended at eleven and it was already midnight, so where was he? She had a flash of panic. What if he were hurt? What if he’d had something to drink and he’d been driving and… no. Calm down. That was the kind of thing that happened in movies, like in An Affair to Remember. Blake was fine. If he did drink, he was probably waiting somewhere until he sobered up enough to drive.

His office, she realized. He might even be there to finish up paperwork or clear out his books. It was the type of thing he might do, avoiding socializing under the pretense of some work task. Especially if things had gone poorly. Damn, now she was worried about that too. Her worry was strung up tight like the string of a bow, pulled back and ready to fire. If only she had a damn target.

She returned to the waiting cab and shut the door. “Campus, please.”

“You got it.”

The fare ticked higher as they retraced their steps back toward the university. She’d check the office. He had to be there. Because if he wasn’t, she had no idea where he could be, and she had no other plan.

“Any chance you guys go out of town?” she asked the cab driver.

“Sure. Where you headed?” When she told him the name of her hometown, he plugged it into his GPS. “That’d be a flat rate trip. Looks like $450 to get you there.”

She almost groaned. Four hundred dollars? Her bank account had that much—but barely. She’d wipe it clean and have nothing left to fix her car with when she got back.

When they arrived at the campus checkpoint, she hurriedly paid him, hesitantly adding a tip from her meager stash. If she ended up taking the bus, that would deplete her cash reserves entirely, and it would be tomorrow by the time she arrived. The cab drove away, leaving her in a cloud of smog. She didn’t have a ride to the bus station now either. She was running out of options.

The buildings appeared deserted as she walked quickly by. Moonlight bounced off the pale stone surfaces. She had been here a few times at night for study groups, but now, after the summer semester had ended, no one lingered. She had no idea where on campus the Faculty Ball was being held, but that was probably for the best. Even desperate, she knew better than to crash a party and potentially expose their relationship.

The wide metal doors she normally used to get inside that building were locked. She circled around and found a side door open. Pushing it open, she blinked into the darkness. It didn’t take long to figure out that his office was also dark, and empty. He wasn’t here. It had been a thin hope anyway.

Feeling a knot of fear for her mother, she wandered outside and sat down on a bench. The grounds were picturesque on the historical campus. Gorgeous lawns and famous statues. She didn’t see any of it. Ancient oak trees and architectural features blurred in front of her.

This was her nightmare. Knowing her mother needed her and being unable to get there. Three hundred miles felt a continent away. And even once she arrived, she wouldn’t be able to do anything useful. She wouldn’t be able to fix her mom’s heart. She wouldn’t be able to pay the medical bills. Useless.

Helpless.

A trill of laughter from around the corner caught her attention. Then a male voice answered. Damn, she recognized that voice. Wiping her eyes, she sat up straighter. Please, let him walk past. Tonight luck had abandoned her completely. Her old boyfriend Doug wandered nearer, half dragging an unsteady girl. Other voices bounced off the walls farther away, and she knew they were his friends. Doug always preferred to travel with a group, even when he was with his girlfriend—which had been her, once upon a time.

“Erin? Is that you?”

Damn. She tried to keep her voice from wavering. “Hey. What’s up?”

“What’s up is I’m happy to see you. Goddamn, Erin Raider.” He sounded genuinely happy to see her, and not even drunk. She wondered if he had drawn the designated driver short stick. He turned to the girl on his arm. “Go join the others. I’ll catch up in a minute.” She wandered in the direction of the voices, her stilettos sticking in the lawn.

Knowledge pierced Erin’s worried haze. “Wait, what are you doing here?” she asked Doug. “Don’t tell me you came back for grad school?”

He snorted. “Nah. It’s one of my friend’s brother’s birthday so we hit the bars nearby. I’m just along to keep the little kiddos from hurting themselves.”

From somewhere, she found the levity to tease him. “You’re the chaperone? What is this world coming to?”

“That’s what I said, but according to them, I’ve lost my edge. I’m all responsible and grown up and boring now.”

“Welcome to the club,” she said dryly.

He sat down on the same bench, reclining on the opposite corner. “So are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

He gave her a look of reprimand. “We dated for a year and a half. Which, for me, was practically a lifelong commitment. I think I can still tell when you’re upset.”

Strangely enough, she could read his emotions easily as well. His hair was shorter now, almost a buzz cut instead of the floppy hair she’d loved to run her fingers through. He seemed taller somehow, though it didn’t seem possible he would have grown. His posture was relaxed but expectant. She read his body language, his face, even without having seen him for years. Familiarity was a strange thing, muted with time but never turned off.

“My mom had a heart attack,” she admitted. “I was trying to get back there tonight, but my car broke down and then…” She didn’t really want to get into the specifics of her roommate being out of town and her secret boyfriend being a professor here. She shook her head. “It just isn’t working out. I guess I’ll have to stay. Maybe I can get a mechanic to repair my car in the morning.”

“On a Sunday morning? Not likely. Let me drive you back.”

She stared at him. “Back home, I mean. The four hour drive.”

“I know what you meant. I’ll take you there.”

“I can’t put you out that way.”

He looked away. “I owe you that ride anyway, even if it’s in the opposite direction. I’ve always felt bad for ditching you.”

She opened her mouth to reassure him. No, it’s okay. I understood. But she didn’t. She hadn’t understood how she could have meant so little to him because of what their parents had or hadn’t done. Because of something outside of her control.

Sighing, she said, “It was a long time ago.”

“It’s never too late to repay a debt. Let me drive you there.”

Temptation tugged at her. In a manner of speaking, he did owe her this, so she wasn’t just inconveniencing a stranger. And she really wanted to get home. Was her mother awake now? Was she afraid or in pain? Erin could only hope that the hospital care she received was expert, but what if her mother needed someone to advocate for her? Erin needed to be there, and she had no other way to go. No one else to take her. She glanced at her phone. Still no return call from Blake.

Would he be pissed about Doug taking her? Would he suspect that she’d been cheating on him? No, she couldn’t believe that. He’d understand when he found out that her mother was ill, when he heard that her car had broken down. When he saw the twelve missed calls from her. He had to understand. She’d make him understand.

“Okay,” she said on a resigned breath. “I appreciate it. And if you want, I can drive there, so you can sleep on the way.” She offered this even knowing he would refuse.

And he did. “Did I ever, in all the time you knew me, let another person drive my car?”

A reluctant smile touched her lips. “It’s late. You must be tired.”

“Never that tired. Not even for you, Erin.”

“You always loved your car,” she said with a touch of fondness.

“Even more now,” he promised. “This one I paid for myself.”

It took almost an hour for Doug to shepherd his friends back to their place and retrieve his car from a parking lot near the clubs. She watched her phone, hoping Blake would see her missed calls. She had begun to worry about him as well, but she had to trust he was safe. She also had to trust that he wasn’t just ignoring her or off with Melinda. Old worries couldn’t touch her now. Faced with failing her mother, with losing her, she had no energy for baseless fears. Blake was kind and loyal, and she wouldn’t doubt him. She only wished that he were here.

As Doug pulled to the curb in a sleek new Audi, she dialed Blake’s number one last time. This time it didn’t even ring, going straight to voicemail.

“It’s me. I got a ride back, with Doug.” She wasn’t sure how to describe him, and she certainly didn’t want to say that guy I told you about who broke my heart. “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine. I’ll see you when I get back.”

As she stepped into the low floor of the car, she realized the assurances were more for herself than him. Everything would be fine, with her mother, and with him. With herself.

“You okay?” Doug asked, concerned.

She forced a smile. “I will be.”

* * *

“Fifteen in the corner.” The familiar thud and reverberation of his stick told him he’d shot true. The striped orange ball tipped over the lip of green felt and tumbled in.

His opponent was George Evans, professor of Greek Archaeology. Evans shook his head. “Goddamn. Are you hustling me, Morris?”

Blake snorted. “I wish.”

Though his game had definitely improved. The first shot had been embarrassing. The cue had ricocheted around the table, somehow managing to miss every single goddamn ball.

His eye had escaped the blast unscathed, but his depth perception had still been affected. Something about the way the skin formed around it, or rather didn’t form, made a subtle difference.

This was his first time playing pool since the explosion, his first time being around people in a social setting. These men, privately, were kinder than the ones who’d questioned him at the party. They made no comment on his ineptitude and still included him. Slowly, he learned to compensate for the change. Even when he suspected the others were tired, he’d wanted to continue playing. To keep improving. To finally learn to deal with his injuries instead of avoiding them.

He circled the table and nodded to the side pocket to signal. Bending at the waist, he lined it up. There was his usual aim, the straight line between his stick, the cue, and the glinting side of the black eight ball. But that was wrong. If he made this shot, the cue would skate past the eight ball entirely and probably end up in the corner pocket, costing him the game.

He tilted the stick a few degrees. He preferred to change his aim rather than angle his head, he’d found. Now it appeared as though the cue would hit the eight ball dead-on, sending them both in a useless arc across the table. He pulled back and made the shot.

The cue brushed the eight, changing its course enough to head for the middle. The eight ball rolled slowly into the side pocket and landed with a clink against the other balls.

“Good game,” Evans said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I mean that. You’re welcome to come back and kick my ass anytime. At pool, that is. I’ll wipe the floor with you about Knossos anytime.”

Blake chuckled. “I have no doubt.”

They’d had something of a debate about the ancient Greek citadel. Blake had been less informed than his opponent, and it had felt damn good. Evans had given him a few recommendations for journal articles to read as well. There was something exhilarating about talking with someone, the connection. The energy in the room.

Evans brushed the chalk from his hands. “I’m going to head out, actually. Don’t know if the missus has been calling while we’ve been down here, but I figure I ought to head home nonetheless.”

Blake waved him off but stayed near the pool table instead of joining the other men for a cigar. Something about Evans’s words niggled at him. What if Erin had called him? He pulled out his phone, relieved to find the screen blank. No missed calls.

Then he noticed the bars were missing. No signal either. Don’t know if the missus has been calling... Damn. These old buildings had horrible reception to start with, and they were in the basement. For all he knew, this was some sort of old bomb shelter.

He ignored the men in the corner and took the stairs up to the building. Still nothing, and he didn’t stop walking. Pushing outside, he waited impatiently for his phone to regain signal. Like the piece of dumb machinery it was, it continued to show no signal, and like the dumb outdated guy he was, he didn’t know how to tell it to check again.

A sudden sense of panic overtook him. Irrational. Erin knew where he was tonight, and they already had a plan to meet tomorrow. Still, he couldn’t deny the warning bells going off inside his head. Instinct had kept him alive and relatively safe all this time. Even the painful scars were a blessing when he considered the alternative. He’d learned to trust those damn bells.

He pressed the button to restart his phone, but he didn’t wait for it. He strode in the direction of his car. It was late anyway, time to go, and he would apologize to the guys later for leaving so abruptly. He needed to check on Erin, to make sure she was okay. Because the bells told him something was wrong.

He was halfway to her apartment when his phone decided to buzz and beep at him. His heart dropped from his chest. Thirteen missed calls. An unlucky number, he thought uselessly. All from Erin. What could have happened? He’d missed her. He’d failed her. Grimly, he pressed the voicemail button to find out exactly how.

CHAPTER SIX

Erin woke up with a start. She turned to her mother, who was sleeping peacefully, the machines beeping softly. Someone had dimmed the lights since she’d last been awake, leaving only a soft lamp above and a soothing blue from the machine monitors. Squeezing the limp hand she held, Erin turned toward a soft scuffing sound.

A nurse gave her a sympathetic look. “I’ve gotta kick you out before the nurse shift changes. You can come back in after she’s been seen by the doctor.”

“Oh. Right.” Erin knew they had snuck her in against the official visiting hours. She was so grateful for the nurses’s tired smiles and gentle words. The doctor, too, seemed kind and knowledgeable. Even the room was welcoming, more like a modern styled bedroom than a hospital room—if she didn’t count the bed. At least her mother was receiving excellent medical care. Her pallor still scared Erin. Her mother’s eyes had fluttered open for a few minutes in the middle of the night.

“Erin,” she’d murmured. “You came.”

Desperate, Erin had spoken urgent words of love and apology, but her mother had drifted back to sleep without another word.

Erin stood, wincing at the twinge in her back. The metal and plastic chairs were not the most comfortable for sleeping, but she wasn’t about to complain. She forced a sleepy smile as she gathered up her purse and luggage.

Doug was propped up against the wall, an empty cup of coffee dangling from his fingertips. He straightened as she came out, rubbing his eyes.

“How is she?”

“I told you to go home and get some sleep,” she scolded softly. “But she seems well. Stable, they said. Right now it’s just the medicine keeping her sleepy, but they said it’s best she doesn’t move around too much anyway.”

His expression was sympathetic. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine.”

He studied her. “No offense, but you look awful.”

“Now why would that be offensive?” she asked dryly.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

“It’s okay.” She scrubbed at her face. Surely he was right anyway. Worry and lack of sleep probably imprinted dark shadows under eyes. Her hair felt unruly and knotted to the touch. “You really should head home, though. I can take it from here. You don’t have to wait for me either. In town, I mean.”

“Then how would you get back?” he protested.

She waved a hand. “I’ll figure it out, now that I have time. I’m not sure how long I’ll need to stay here, so there’s no point in you hanging around for this. And wouldn’t you miss work? You’d better drive back today.”

Doug had sped on the open night roads, pulling into the hospital at four thirty in the morning. She glanced at the clock now, surprised to see it was already eight.

“No, I—” He paused, unaccountably at a loss for words. “I want to be here. To help you, if I can. I’m not asking to start anything right now. I know it’s not the time. But if sometime in the future, you and I were to…”

“Doug, what about the girl you were with?”

“She’s just a friend,” he said dismissively. When she raised an eyebrow, he amended, “With benefits.”

She shook her head. He would never change—not that she’d been waiting for that. She doubted they would have worked in the long term, even if there hadn’t been the horrible situation with her mother and his parents.

He seemed to follow her line of thinking. “I’m sorry about what happened when you came. I had no idea that would happen. And then when it did, I panicked.”

She stopped with him with a hand on his forearm. “I understand. I did my share of panicking. It was a bad situation.”

His nostrils flared slightly. He looked away. “I know your mom didn’t steal,” he said tightly.

It was as close to an admission as she would ever get, and more than she deserved, really. It wasn’t their fight, it was their parents’. Maybe they could fight it—fight the precedent, she thought wryly—except they weren’t together anymore. Never would be again. What she had with Blake was so much deeper than anything she’d experienced before. She wanted Doug to find that with someone else. Neither of them deserved to settle for each other.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

His expression was earnest. “You don’t have to decide now. I just wanted to tell you—”

Whatever he was going to tell her was cut off by sharp footfalls and a commanding masculine voice. She looked up at the counter, and like a dream, Blake was there. He spoke quickly to the nurse on duty, who pointed in Erin’s direction. Blake turned, his gaze burning bright with concern and love and something else. Something territorial that made her heart skip a beat.

“Blake,” she whispered.

The space closed between them. His gaze never left hers.

“Ah,” Doug said from beside her. “I see my position here has been made redundant.”

Only then did she realize that her hand was still on his arm, how it might have looked as they sat close together. How it might seem that she had accepted help from Doug. For a bleak moment, panic overtook her.

Until Blake arrived and gave Doug a brief nod of acknowledgement. She fell into Blake’s arms without understanding the mechanics of it. One moment she was sitting on the hard-backed chair, the next she was encased in a warm, solid hug and this, this was what she’d so desperately needed last night. Almost as much as, even more than, the ride to her hometown. She had needed his strength, his support.

“Is she okay?” he asked against her hair.

“Yes, I—no, but—” And then all semblance of composure crumbled under the onslaught of his kindness. Tears sprang to her eyes, thick and hot. They wetted her cheeks and his shirt. Her breath couldn’t find a rhythm; it jumped and froze in erratic disarray. The sounds she made scared even herself—choking, gasping, sobbing and helpless with it.

Helpless, like she’d never wanted to be. Like she was. Like she wasn’t when he was near, because his broad embrace sheltered her. He steadied her.

It wasn’t the four hour drive that had confounded her as much as the knowledge that her mother was sick and she could do nothing to fix it. That hadn’t changed when she’d arrived at the hospital, and it didn’t change now that Blake was here. But he made the helplessness more bearable.

Her life was filled with opportunity, with joy. Her school, and soon to be her work. Her love for Blake. Her few but close friendships. But even the happiest song had a low note. And in deep, rumbling disquiet, she held tightly to him, finding refuge and temporary silence in his arms.

* * *

They weren’t sure what her mother would be up for eating, so Blake grabbed five different options, along with full meals for Erin and himself. All of it balanced precariously on the two-foot cafeteria tray. He stood in line behind a heavyset woman with short grey hair. When the person in front had finished paying, they both shuffled forward. The grey-haired woman set her salad bowl down beside her plastic container of pudding and a bottle of water. She fumbled in her coin purse as the young, bored-looking lady at the cash register rang up the total to just over eight bucks.

More fumbling. “I forgot…ah, something on my salad. I just need to—”

As if realizing her excuses were falling on deaf ears, she quickly piled her items back into her arms and stepped away from the cash register. The lady at the cash register gave him an expectant look. Wordlessly, Blake slid forward and began to lay out his items for the lady to ring up, but he kept an eye on the grey-haired woman. She did return to the salad bar and added a spoonful of ham, as if committed to the lie now. It was clear to the cash register lady and to himself that she hadn’t had the right amount of money. She surreptitiously returned the water bottle and the pudding to their proper places before returning to the end of the line.

He leaned forward and spoke to the cashier in low tones. “I’d like to leave money for the bill behind me.”

Understanding lit the young woman’s eyes. “I can do that.”

“And if you could…” He grimaced, trying to think of a way to make it less like charity. He didn’t care; he wished he could leave more, but he suspected the grey-haired woman would mind. “If you could say it was a chain, all morning, people had done it, one after the other.”

The corner of her lip tipped up. “That’s sweet.”

He shook his head but didn’t answer. It wasn’t sweet or special to give away what he had in spades. It was a trust fund. Even what little he had earned as a soldier and his short stint as temporary professor was built on the back of a wealthy upbringing and no student debt. He understood his privilege, and though he enjoyed the finer things in life—like brandy and a game of pool, for example—he wouldn’t make a mockery of it.

Piling the bags and drinks in his arms, he passed the gift shop. Balloons. Damn it. Or flowers, at least. He always forgot. He was no good at this hospital stuff. His body had broken out in a cold sweat when he’d arrived in the parking lot, and a vice had clamped his throat when he’d walked inside. Still, his step hadn’t even slowed. He’d known Erin was inside. He would walk through the halls of hell for her, and he figured a hospital qualified as such. Gritting his teeth, he took the elevator up to the seventh floor.

It had been a relief to leave for a little while. He’d driven Erin to her mother’s apartment so she could shower and pick up a few necessities. The apartment was small, modest. Erin’s room still held swaths of pink reminiscent of a happy and hopeful teenage girl. It was the kitchen that had struck him most of all. His own kitchen was ridiculously large with an island and a wine fridge. This kitchen had been barely able to hold two people standing side by side. The small wedge of a countertop was covered with mail and keys and pens. There was no microwave. Whether in his family’s expensive home or in the bachelor pads of his Army buddies, there was always a microwave. Here there was simply no room for one. No TV dinners. He imagined a teenaged Erin cooking something small and light on the stovetop—soup or noodles. Not a bad life, but it was a splash of cold water on his face.

In the hallway, the ceiling was weighted down by something unknown, turned yellow and black. The toilet in the bathroom actually tilted at an angle. The whole apartment was falling down, in shambles, but his thoughts kept returning to that kitchen. An old magnetic picture frame held a picture of a childhood Erin with a huge grin and no front teeth. He imagined her pride in her home, her mother. He imagined someone ridiculing her, finding that weakness and using it to twist the knife.

He understood better why Erin had doubted them as a couple, what she’d doubted in him—and herself. She might judge you, she’d said about her mother, but what she’d really meant was that she herself had judged him. Ironically, his biggest fear, his face, had been nothing to her. Not even a hurdle. She’d been worried about status, about money, and he couldn’t care less. He’d rather give it away, give it to her, than let it stand between them. The barriers keeping her from him were crumbling now, slipping under their own weight—already gone.

After she’d had a chance to shower and change, they’d returned to the hospital, where she had rushed upstairs and he’d lingered downstairs to grab lunch. His footsteps slowed as he approached the hospital room. Nervous about something? he mocked himself. It appeared no matter how old he got, meeting the parents would always hold uncertainty. And, he had to admit, these were hardly ideal circumstances.

Knocking shortly on the door, he pushed inside. Erin’s mother, Sophia, was struggling with her pillow, sitting up in the hospital bed. Erin was nowhere to be seen. After a moment’s hesitation, he set the food down and went to help her. Making a small soothing sound, he tucked the pillow behind her and helped her lean back. She calmed under his slight touch, and he withdrew quickly. Not quickly enough.

“I remember you,” she said without opening her eyes. Her hair was darker than Erin’s, her face more weathered, but he could see the resemblance in the shape of her nose and the set of her mouth.

“We met earlier. I’m Blake.” Erin had insisted on introducing him this morning, but her mother had been too drowsy to register much.

“You’re her boyfriend. The one she didn’t tell me about. Why didn’t she tell me?”

Oh, he had plenty of guesses and none that he would say out loud. “We haven’t been seeing each other that long.”

“Long enough. I saw the way you looked at her. You love her.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Don’t ma’am me. You’re too old for that, and I’m not old enough.”

He allowed a small smile. “Sorry.”

She peeked an eye open at him. “What’s wrong with you that you’re so bad? And don’t tell me your scars. I wouldn’t even have known if she’d mentioned you over the phone.”

He cleared his throat. “I think she was worried you’d have a problem with my financial state.”

“Are you unemployed?”

Technically, he had been. Not anymore. Neither of those had been the problem. “My family is wealthy.”

Silence. Then, “I see.”

“That’s not going to be a problem, is it?”

“I hope you don’t think you’re going to throw your money around and get what you want.”

The only thing he wanted, he already had in the form of her daughter. Did twenty bucks in the cafeteria line count as throwing it around?

“No.” He bit his tongue to keep ma’am from coming out. It wasn’t a slight to her age, just a sign of respect that had been drilled into him in the military.

“Or making demands on Erin—”

“Of course not,” he cut in smoothly.

“Well.”

“Well,” he repeated. “I assured her that I’d win you over with my charm. Since I don’t have any charm, we’ll have to come to an understanding instead.”

She paused. “Are you threatening me?”

“I would never presume to.” At least partly because he had nothing to threaten her with. In fact, he wanted to get along with her, he hoped to. But he wasn’t going to let anyone get between him and Erin, not even the woman who’d raised her.

Her expression was mildly pissed off. And amused. He’d seen that exact smile on Erin, and it meant he was off the hook. Of course, that didn’t prove anything. Erin liked him a lot better than this woman did.

She managed to look intimidating from her supine position. “It’s no business of mine what’s in your bank account, but if you hurt her, I will find you.”

He let the threat hang in the air. She was short and slight. At a disadvantage financially and socially. There was nothing she could do to him, and they both knew it, but the intensity, the worry in her eyes squeezed a fist around his heart. He understood how much she cared for her daughter. He appreciated that she’d raised her to be strong, and smart, and confident. Now that was his job. His responsibility, his privilege.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, because she’d given him an order and he swore to follow it. He would have done it anyway. Nothing was more important to him than Erin’s safety and happiness. But if it set her mind at ease, he let his resolve show in his eyes. She studied him—his direct gaze, his disfigured skin. She didn’t flinch, but then he already knew Erin had come from tough stock.

“You’ll do,” she finally said.

Well, at least that part was worked out.

Now they needed to make sure she was discharged and healthy. He also needed to speak privately with Erin, to somehow make it up to her that he hadn’t been around when she needed him. And to double-check that she knew he hadn’t been cheating during that time. He had a full day ahead of him, basically.

Turning to the plastic bags, he began to pull out options. “We have Jello. Yogurt with granola topping. Tapioca pudding.”

She stared at him, unimpressed. Wordlessly, he found the container with his own loaded cheeseburger and flipped it open.

With a relieved sigh, she accepted it. “You and I just might get along after all.”

* * *

The county hospital was an old building that, if Erin were honest, was better suited to a prison than a hospital. Its rectangular shape bled inward with concentric rectangular hallways. She stood on the outmost ring, where thin, barred windows drew afternoon light onto the grey rubber floors.

“Ms. Raider.”

Dr. Parkins had grey hair, an ever-present clipboard, and a kind smile. What the building lacked in charm, the people made up for with their thoughtful care for her mother.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes, definitely. I’ve just been in to see your mother. Her condition is improving and we’re moving forward to the recovery phase.”

Relief swept through her. Her mother had seemed good during lunch, even making light conversation with Blake, but she was glad to have it confirmed. “That’s wonderful. When can she go home?”

“She can be discharged as soon as tomorrow, but she’ll need a high level of support. She shouldn’t be up and walking around for another week or two.”

“I understand,” she promised. “I’ll stay with her.”

After a few more instructions, the doctor started to walk away.

“Um, Doctor?” She felt weird asking him this, but she’d made two full circuits around the hospital and hadn’t found what she needed. “Can you tell me where the restrooms are?”

He smiled kindly. “They’re on the other side, near the elevators. But there’s a smaller one down that hallway, third door on the right.”

She made her way down the small offshoot hallway and came in sight of a large, thick window with no bars. It overlooked the city, in all its glory—or lack thereof. She could recognize many of the old buildings downtown and even the stadium of her high school, which was larger and taller than the school’s building. The mostly flat skyline filled her with a sense of nostalgia for a simpler time and a smaller world. Now that she’d seen what lay beyond, she knew she’d never move back to this town. Still, she felt gratitude for the mostly happy childhood it had given her.

A few chairs were lined up against the wall, and unlike those in the main waiting area, these were empty. She passed a utility closet stacked with white sheets and what appeared to be hospital gowns before finding the restroom.

After, she washed her hands and studied herself in the small mirror. No surprises there; she looked exhausted. She felt exhausted but also pleased. Her mother was well, even though there was her recovery to oversee. Blake was with her, even though they still needed to talk privately. Things weren’t perfect. Even better, they were real.

As she stepped outside, she almost averted her gaze when she noticed someone else in the hallway. Then she paused.

“Blake?”

He turned at the sound of her voice. “What are you doing back here?’

He had been looking out the large window, his body drawn in lines of tension, leaning toward the window as if he could break free. His eyes were clouded with something dark and unsettled.

She gestured vaguely. “The restroom. Are you okay?”

“Of course.”

But he wasn’t. She took a step forward. “You know, with Doug. Nothing happened.”

He turned to look at her. “I know. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I know I have to make that up to you.”

“No. It’s not like that. I just didn’t want you to doubt me…” The way she had doubted him once.

His smile was wry. “I was playing pool, if you were wondering.”

“I did wonder…but I wouldn’t have accused you of anything. I trust you.”

It sounded so simple, but she felt her surety reverberate through her bones. He wouldn’t have cheated on her. He wouldn’t do that to her; he wouldn’t even do that to himself. Cheating, at all, would be beneath him.

“Do you want to go back to the waiting room?” she said, reaching for him.

“You go. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Okay,” she said, but she didn’t move. Couldn’t move. She had a memory of watching him stare out the window, of feeling his inner turmoil well in the air around him. Only this was worse. More acute.

She frowned. “You’re tired. I’m sorry. I’ve been inconsiderate. You should go back to the house.”

He shook his head. “No, I’m fine. I want to be here for you.”

Though he must be tired, she doubted that was the real problem. She stepped closer, noticing the light sheen of sweat on his forehead. The stubble on his jaw simply made him more handsome, but the shadows under his eyes gave him a vaguely haunted look.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered.

He waved dismissively. “It’s nothing. Just…hospitals. They have this effect on me. I’ll get over it in a minute.”

Her heart sank. He must have had horrible memories from hospitals. Once, very briefly, he’d explained some of the treatment he’d gone through after the explosion. The skin grafts and reconstruction. Weeks in an enemy torture chamber and then months under a doctor’s scalpel. God.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t think.”

He cut her off fiercely. “It doesn’t matter. I’m sorry you even had to see me like this. That’s why I came out here. It’ll pass.”

“You shouldn’t have to go through it alone,” she said softly. She couldn’t take away his waking nightmares, but she could hold his hand.

Turning away, he muttered, “Just go.”

“I can’t do that.”

Taking his hand, she led him into the small linen closet and shut the door.

“We shouldn’t be here,” he said as he leaned against the wall. Clearly he’d been holding it together for her sake, and for the sake of anyone watching. Even she felt relieved to see him relaxed, so she could only imagine his discomfort. Easing him, even for a moment, was well worth the risk of discovery.

He stared at her through slitted lids. “What now?”

The challenge in his voice raised her chin. He wanted to push her away, she could tell, but he wouldn’t. He was incapable of leaving her any more than she could leave him. She brushed his lips with hers, enjoying the way he released a pent-up breath. She feathered light kisses from one corner of his mouth to the other before he caught her bottom lip between his teeth. He tugged her, tilting her off balance. She fell into him, but he was prepared; he caught her. He slipped his tongue into her mouth and took over the kiss, deepening it, alighting her with dormant arousal.

The thickness against her belly reminded her that it had been weeks since they’d made love. They would have today, if this hadn’t happened. No doubt they would have been ensconced in his bedroom, lounging on his bed, starving but with no desire to make the trek downstairs for food.

She put her hand to the ridge in his jeans, rubbing firmly. He sucked in a breath.

“What are you doing?”

She smiled against his mouth. “Following through on a promise.”

With long, even strokes, she worked him through the denim. A slight flush of arousal crept up his neck. Between the time apart and his emotional upheaval a few minutes ago, he was already at the edge, releasing soft grunts on every slide of her palm. She squeezed softly, enjoying the way his eyes had gone from tormented to a very different sort of anguish.

Her hand sped up until he was panting against her collarbone, his hips rocking gently into her hand.

“Erin, baby. You have to stop.”

“I know. You’re right.”

She dropped her to her knees and unzipped his jeans. His cock fell out heavy, the head already glistening.

“Please.”

“I know,” she repeated in a whisper. She took him into her mouth, sucking off the pre-cum and licking it up. She paused with her mouth encircling the head while her hand stroked the iron-velvet length of him. His stuttered groans drifted down to her ears, telling her how hard and fast he needed it. Very hard and fast.

Carefully, she worked him in deeper until the spongy head touched the soft cleft of her throat. She eased him out and then in again—farther in until the head pushed through the circle of muscles. His hips jerked suddenly and she gagged slightly. Before he could pull away or reconsider, she set up a swift pace—but she needn’t have worried. He tightened his fingers in her hair, asking for more, needing it.

His other hand was clenched tightly, his knuckles white. She reached for him. As soon as her fingers touched his, he opened his fist and held her hand. Their fingers tangled together, grasped each other, connected in a way more intimate than her mouth on his cock.

“Erin.”

That was the only warning he could manage before he shot warm, salty fluid into her waiting mouth. She swallowed down the copious amount, more than usual. With a shudder, he released one final spurt onto her tongue before sighing back against the wall. Lovingly, she licked up any traces of his cum from his cock before righting his clothes.

Her eyelids felt heavy, her sex throbbing for attention, but she wouldn’t ask for anything, wouldn’t expect it. This had been a gift.

She’d never understood the way some people could say “just sex” as if it didn’t mean anything—sex had always meant everything. It meant trust and respect. Here, now, it meant love. If anything, it was too much, overflowing with emotion until she had to avert her face just to manage.

He turned her chin toward him. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?’

She shook her head tightly.

For a moment, he was still. She felt his gaze studying her, but she couldn’t have said anything. Finally he straightened and turned her so her back was against the wall still warm from his body. Without a word, he unbuttoned her jeans and tugged them down.

“Blake,” she protested. “We couldn’t.”

He raised a sardonic brow but didn’t reply. Of course, they had just done the opposite. Her objections seemed silly in that context, but she had done that out of comfort, both for him and for her. And besides, logistically it was far easier to perform on him than on her. But he had it covered. His hand slipped beneath the elastic band of her panties and down into her wet folds. She gasped at the contact and grabbed his wrist.

His other hand lifted the hem of her T-shirt and tugged down the cup of her bra. Cool air washed over her breasts, tightening the nipple. For a moment, he simply stared.

“Gorgeous,” he murmured, and she felt gorgeous. It was more than the word; it was in his expression and his hands. She felt worshipped. Cherished.

He sucked her nipple into his mouth, worrying the taut flesh with his tongue until she felt a gush of wetness slicken her where his fingers played. He teased her other breast while his fingers found a quick and maddening rhythm. Her mouth fell open and a sharp cry escaped her.

“Shh.” He put his hand over her mouth, muffling her helpless sounds while he drove her higher and harder.

Her hips swiveled onto his hand in a desperate bid for release. It eluded her, until she sobbed against his mouth. From the corner of her vision, she could see her breasts move as her hips undulated. They drew him, his gaze, his mouth. He couldn’t stop touching her and licking her. She couldn’t stop rocking in excruciating pleasure. They were locked in shadows of arousal and agony, one bleeding into the other and then back again.

Finally he tore himself away from her breasts. He placed his lips above her ear, murmuring words of sex and longing. You’re so beautiful. So sexy. So wet all over my hand. I can feel how hot you are there, how tight, can you? Do you wish it was my cock inside you, filling you up? I do.

Her cries grew louder, and his hand clamped down tighter. Tears of need slipped from the corners of her eyes until he found the words to push her over. This sweet cunt, pretty cunt. It’s mine. This and all of you. You know that, don’t you? Now come for me. Let me feel this hot little cunt come all over me. And it did, her muscles clamping down hard as an explosive climax swept through her and left her breathless and wrung out.

As she slowly returned to earth, he pressed light kisses across her mouth, mirroring the comfort she’d given him. With short strokes, he calmed the quaking, shivery muscles of her sex.

“There,” he murmured. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

She marveled at how easily he had turned the tides. How quickly he had turned his own reward into hers. She’d wanted to bring him comfort, but his happiness was too tied up in her own, tightly woven threads she never wanted to unravel.

When he pulled away from her, he licked her juices off his fingers. She stared in hopeless fascination. Tilting her head back, he kissed her deeply, pushing her own musky flavor onto her tongue and, she knew, tasting the salt of his own release.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Blake paid and carried out the two bags of heart-healthy meals from the grocery store. A small complication had kept Sophia Raider in the hospital for two more days than the doctor had predicted. Erin had refused to leave except for brief showers, driving herself to exhaustion with the few hours of sleep she caught in the waiting area—but no amount of persuading convinced her otherwise.

He felt relief that both of them were in Sophia’s home, sleeping. Erin had given him a list of low cholesterol meats and whole grains to replace the cheap noodle packs and high-sodium soups currently stocking the kitchen. With little money and even less time to cook, Erin’s mother had a pantry full of high-sodium foods. That had to change now, and it would, especially with Erin there to cook for the next couple of weeks. They hadn’t discussed beyond that yet.

Had she ever planned to return home permanently? If so, no wonder she’d been uncertain when he’d asked her to move in with him.

Quietly, he let himself into the back door using the key Erin had lent him. The upstairs was still quiet, so he set about putting the food away. Despite the dinner hour, he suspected the two women would sleep through the night, which would probably do them more good than a bite of food. He himself was bone tired and chugged down a glass of apple juice before climbing the stairs.

He took a pit stop for a hot shower in the hallway bathroom before finding Erin’s room. They hadn’t really discussed whether he was allowed to sleep with her, so he preferred to assume he could. She was sprawled on the bed, naked. Almost naked. Above the hem of the sheet, he could see the beige tone of her panties. Her jeans and T-shirt lay in a pile beside the bed. His chest swelled with tenderness.

Stripping down to his boxers, he climbed in behind her. Her hair fanned across her pillow, reflecting the dim light like a still lake at midnight. Her even breathing was too quiet to hear—and yet he felt each soft exhale in his soul. Pale lashes fluttered against her cheeks as she dreamt. She was, in all ways, the epitome of peace.

When he’d first met her, he’d been sure he never deserved contentedness. He was too broken, too shameful, too horrified by what had been done to him and what he’d done in return. On the day before they’d been rescued, Joe had stopped responding to external stimuli completely. Blake had kept his hand on Joe’s wrist, feeling the weak pulse and waiting for them both to die.

When the SEAL team had shown up, mayhem had ensued. A saner man would have laid low until they had neutralized the threat. But Blake was out of his mind with grief and pain. He’d gotten hold of a gun and shot as many of his captors as he could find, until an American soldier had gently but firmly disarmed him.

How could he come back from that? He couldn’t. He’d never planned to, but the damned doctors were persistent. They’d pounded away with their surgical meat tenderizers until his body was functional again, but it had taken Erin to revive his heart. She’d done more than that, she’d become his heart. Wherever she went, whatever she felt. It was lovely and excruciating.

The delicate base of her neck peeked from her outswept hair. The line of her spine was sinuous as her body twisted in sleep. Shadows pooled at the base of her back where the sheet ruched against her skin. His fingers twitched to trace the soft muscles and gentle lines, but he didn’t want to wake her.

She stirred anyway, moving restlessly. Her face turned toward him, eyes still shut. He tried to soothe her before she came fully awake.

“I’m here. Just sleep.”

As her body turned over, soft breasts pressed against his arm and drew his low groan into the air. His body responded, cock thickening, heart pounding. He felt the same carnal urge to claim, to mate, to please her. But above that sang a new melody, one he recognized as ancient—the desire to care for her. To nourish her, body and soul. That secret wish had imbued his actions at the grocery store, feeding her. And now as he ignored the demands of his body to let her sleep. Small gestures for feelings that ran impossibly, unendingly deep.

She flung her leg over him. Her calf touched his erection, and she stilled, coming awake enough to realize his condition.

“Never mind,” he murmured. “We won’t do anything. Just rest.”

She didn’t, though. With sleepy strokes, she fumbled beneath the sheet until she grasped his cock in her small palm. He made a coarse sound, his whole body stiffening. Her eyes remained closed as her soft, clumsy caresses drove him insane. He wasn’t even sure she was totally awake, even when she slipped her panties off beneath the sheet. He was two seconds away from pushing her away when she slid over him and centered her core above him. His mouth went dry as he stared at her breasts swaying slightly with her motion. Her nipples were dark brown and puckered with arousal, or the cold.

“Erin? Are you sure?”

The sound she made was muffled and indistinct, but it told him what he needed to know. Shh, it said. I know what I’m doing. Let me take what I need. He was, would always be helpless to refuse her. His arms fell to his sides, trembling with the effort not to hold her, touch her, make her move.

By tiny degrees, she slid down over him. The heat of her felt electric, sending shocks of pleasure through his balls and up his spine. He gritted his teeth and resolved not to come. She was exhausted, wrung out emotionally and physically. She needed comfort, not the rough, greedy fuck his body required.

Her eyelids still fluttered softly, lashes brushing her flushed cheeks. She draped her body over him, pressing her breasts against his chest. He allowed his hands to hold her then, to stroke her sides in uneven, soothing gestures—though it was really him being calmed, a backward caress. She rolled her hips, setting up a sleepy rhythm that had him ready to shoot in three subtle strokes. Heat raced down his spine. The need to come felt like pinpricks all over his skin, but no, he wouldn’t. Not while she needed him, not yet.

She nestled her nose under his chin, resting her face against his neck. Despite the torrent of sensation in his cock, he felt her breath against his skin. He rocked his hips up to her, meeting her on every stroke. Better than anyone, he knew about the bone-deep relief that could accompany sexual release. He would give that to her, even if it killed him. Use me, he thought. Take me. Fuck me.

He forced himself silent, and she was quiet, focused. The only sound was skin pushing together, her cunt sucking him in and the insides of her thighs over his hips. He couldn’t see straight, could no longer think with the intensity of her sex surrounding him, her slight weight blanketing him. He was lost in a haze, a fog of pure bliss.

He felt her orgasm clench around his cock. Her hips slowed to a stop, shuddering on a final, lingering thrust. He didn’t have the fast friction he needed to come, so his cock remained hard and throbbing within her. She stopped moving and made a contented sigh against the side of his neck. He realized she had drifted off to sleep again. With him still intensely aroused.

Tense, and drowning, he could still feel the velvety walls of her around his cock. Just thinking about her made his cock flex. But she was completely still over him, her breathing steady and slow. Gingerly, he moved her just enough to slip his cock from her slick heat, wincing at the cool sandpaper sheets on his sensitive flesh.

He couldn’t bring himself to push her off him, though, even if it meant she’d sleep more comfortably. He swallowed, forcing back his desire and failing. It was going to be a long night, but even if he could, he wouldn’t have changed a thing.

* * *

Erin woke up with a long, lazy stretch, hearing the gentle clink of pans and dishes in the kitchen. Rumpled sheets twined around her ankles, leaving a bare expanse of bed beside her. Which meant Blake was out there with her mother. A jolt of alarm went through her; what would they talk about? Would they get along? Her worries quickly dissipated. Blake was the most competent, charismatic man she’d ever met. She suspected he could charm a bird out of a tree if he put his mind to it, or in this case, charm a wary, protective mother into giving her blessings.

After throwing on jeans and a T-shirt, she stumbled into the kitchen to find Blake standing at the stove and her mother chatting away with a conspiratorial smile. Oh yes, the overprotective bird had most definitely left the tree.

“Telling all my secrets, hmm?” Erin asked, sitting at a place that had been laid out with a chipped plate and glass of orange juice.

“Of course not,” her mother denied, the barely suppressed amusement belying her words. “Just that time in fifth grade when you had discovered Robin Hood.”

Erin groaned. “Oh God. That’s even worse than I expected.”

“What? It’s cute.”

A smile played at her mother’s lips. It was good to see her enjoying herself, even if it was at Erin’s expense. “Can we just show him pictures of me as baby instead? That would be less embarrassing.”

“You were adorable with your hair pulled up into that felt green hat. Those neighborhood boys didn’t know what to make of you. You should have seen them staring.”

“That is not a compliment, Mom.” She sneaked a glance at Blake, who watched the byplay with undisguised amusement.

“I’ve heard there was a bow and arrow,” he added, his voice teasing.

Her mother sighed with pleasure. “The arrows had glittered feathers glued on.”

“Okay, look,” Erin said, finally rising to her own defense. “They were taking money out of the community center’s donation box. It’s not right. You can’t fault my motives.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Blake said solemnly. “Not with you armed and dangerous.”

She narrowed her eyes, promising retribution when her mother wasn’t in the room, but the effect was ruined by her grin. Oh well, it had been funny. Not at the time, when she’d been sure that injustice could be cured with a curved stick and some twine. And somehow, it had worked, because like her mother had said, the boys had been too freaked out by her Robin Hood routine to really argue the point. They’d never touched the donations box again. Though she’d learned later that good intentions and bravery weren’t enough.

The thought stopped her cold. When had she become so jaded? During high school, with Doug? She wasn’t sure, but none of that was true. Good intentions and bravery were enough. Maybe that was what had drawn her to Blake. He embodied both ideals. Not even fire could stop him; his scars were testament to that.

He seemed to recognize the change in her mood, because he sobered. The playful light in his eyes gave way to a studied concern. Without taking her eyes off Blake, she spoke to her mother, who was sipping the last dregs of her coffee.

“If you’re done here, I can set you up on the couch. You can watch some TV.”

Her mother huffed. “I don’t need help to make it to the living room.”

“All the same, I’ll walk you there.”

She set her mother up with pillows and a glass of water too. Even with the doctor’s blessing, she worried for her mother. And despite the urgency to return with Blake, she planned to stay until she was sure her mother would be fine on her own.

Her mother leaned on her arm as she stood from the table and crossed the short distance, proving that Erin was needed here for the time being. She found a blanket for her mother’s feet and also a few beloved books for her to look at. She told herself she was just taking care of her mother, but at least partly, she was distracting her. A burning, aching need had formed inside her—to talk to Blake, to hold him, and she couldn’t very well do that with her mother looking on in the small space.

The television roared with laughter and voices as a morning talk show flickered on and captured her mother’s attention. Erin bustled back into the kitchen under the pretense of cleaning up to find that Blake had already done so. He cooked, he cleaned. For her sick mother. God, if she weren’t already in love with him…but she was. Completely, whole-heartedly in love.

He glanced up from the sink of soapy water. “What is it? Why are you smiling?”

She went to stand behind him, wrapping her arms around his solid waist and resting her head against his back. “Just imagining doing this in your house when I get back. In our house.”

He tensed in her arms. “Erin.”

She laughed at the note of warning in his voice. “Unless you’ve changed your mind about me moving in with you.”

“You know I won’t. There’s no need to rush.”

“Good, because it will probably be a couple of weeks until I can come back. I want to stay and make sure my mom is okay.”

He turned around and pulled her in for a hug. His hands were wet and slippery on her arms, her hair, and she didn’t care.

“I can stay with you,” he murmured. “And get a motel room if I’m getting in the way.”

“Of course not. You need to go back and prep for the fall semester.”

“How did you know I was accepting the job?”

“Well, I wasn’t sure,” she admitted. “But I am now.”

He huffed a laugh. “Very nice, my little socialist.”

She groaned, remembering the Robin Hood story. “You’re going to actually call me that from now on, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely. And I might need to see a costume. With tights.”

“Fine, but you’re playing Maid Marian.”

He shrugged. “As you wish.”

She laughed. He probably would go along with that or anything. His masculinity could hardly be threatened when he stood there, so strong and solid, smelling of soap and a faint musk she could recognize in her sleep. And had recognized in her sleep, she realized, thinking of last night. A blush stole up her cheeks.

His gaze honed on the color, and he bent to nuzzle against her neck. “Were you serious? You’re coming to stay with me?”

“I couldn’t joke about that,” she said honestly. It meant too much. She felt too much. And she’d resigned herself to the fact that it wouldn’t change anytime soon. Love had turned her into a raw, exposed nerve, and the only choice left was to seek the shelter of his embrace.

Tension ran through him, though he was silent. For a long moment, he said nothing, pressing light kisses down her neck and across her shoulder. “I’m grateful,” he said thickly, and she knew she wasn’t the only one who needed shelter. She wrapped her arms around him, barely spanning him at all, but she felt him shudder. Her eyes half-closed, she blindly sought his mouth, finding it warm and firm against hers. She was in a daze, but he guided her, commanded her, until she found the sweet rhythm of their kiss and knew herself to be home—with him, holding him and being held.

“Wait for me,” she whispered.

“Forever,” he murmured. “I’d wait for you forever. Though if you came back sooner, I’d make it worth your while.”

She laughed softly before tugging him closer for another kiss.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Three weeks later

Despite the number of times Erin had undressed in Blake’s bedroom, it felt strange to do so without his solid, sexy presence. The draft from the air conditioning raised goose bumps on her skin. The slim light from between the closed curtains painted yellow light across her bare skin as she shucked her skirt and top. She paused with her thumbs tucked into her panties. Was she really going to do this? For all she knew, she’d look ridiculous splayed out on the bed. Blake hadn’t, but then his body was hard, masculine, and completely unyielding. Hers, she admitted ruefully, was soft. He seemed to like her curves, but that didn’t mean she needed to display them.

No, what was she thinking? He was far more on display every single day—to strangers, no less. And on that unlikely afternoon when she had caught him masturbating, he had exposed himself to her. His pleasure, his body. His heart. It was only fair she return the favor.

She toed off her panties and unhooked her bra, letting it fall to the floor amid the other puddles of clothing. Half-bending, she almost picked them up to fold them…stalling, of course. Even determined, the urge to delay, to hide, tugged at her. But Blake could pull up at the house any minute. She couldn’t reproduce the element of surprise, considering her repaired car was out front. But she could make the vulnerability real.

Climbing onto his bed, she settled herself back, feeling unaccountably raw. Her nipples pebbled in the chilly air even while her face heated with embarrassment. When she slipped trembling fingers down to her sex, she found her lips dry and curled up tight. Swallowing hard, she shut her eyes. Clearly this required a little imagination. What had he been thinking of that day? She remembered now. Her mouth, his cock. She’d sucked him in that little fantasy, and goddamn, it worked for her too. She loved the taste of him, the shape of him, the little ridge underneath, perfect for hooking her tongue around and making him shudder. Imagining it now, she touched two fingers lightly to her clit, warming herself up through contact alone. No pressure, no friction—just touch.

Letting her mind drift, she fell deeper into the fantasy. The hair on his thighs abraded the sensitive outer curve of her breasts as she knelt between his legs. His hands shifted restlessly through her hair, clenching and releasing as if he couldn’t decide which to do. He groaned on every stroke of her lips down his slippery cock. His whole body drew up tight when she angled the point of her tongue into the slit, and she could almost taste the salty pre-cum.

She imagined him finding her. Would he be surprised? Or maybe not. The things they had done were far dirtier than fondling her clit or pinching her own nipples. And yet, a shaky feeling had begun in her center, warning her, berating her. Don’t put yourself out there, it said. Wait. Just wait. For what, though? She’d never quite understood. For the man to make the first move. For her mother to direct her safely through life. For Blake to decide she was strong enough to stay.

Well, screw that. Her relationship with Blake may have started awkwardly, and mortifyingly, but she had always been an equal participant. Her mother may have raised her, but these past few weeks, Erin had taken care of her. And she hoped Blake didn’t doubt her anymore, she truly did.

But the important thing was that she knew she was strong enough to stand beside him, whatever problems he might face. His physical injuries, which still pained him. The PTSD which probably always would. And the incipient self-doubt that would always lurk in the shadows of this powerful, confident male. She could handle any of it, all of it. She had done so for their entire time together, and she’d never been happier. And she knew, without ego or artifice, that he had never been happier either.

Love wasn’t a lightning strike, a sharp point with a definite beginning and an inevitable end. Love was a shelter from the storm, respite from her fears and relief from the reality of his pain.

The air around her shifted, but instead of cold, her skin grew warm. Little sparks on her nipples and aiming down to her core let her know she was being watched. The sense of contentedness that entered her body let her know who it was. Her sex grew slicker under the regard, but she kept her eyes firmly shut. This was for him…and for her. A wintry undercurrent of shame made her arousal burn hotter. Soft footfalls on the carpet drew closer.

A gentle caress touched her lips. “Beautiful,” he said.

Above all, she knew him to be honest, and the fact that he found her beautiful, the fact that he found her mouth or face beautiful when her whole body was exposed to him, made her heart clench. A tear leaked from her closed eyelid. He caught it with his finger and traced its path back up her cheek.

“Don’t be sad,” he said, and she heard the sadness in his voice—an ineffable sorrow for what he had seen, for what he had been through. If there was anyone who understood suffering, it was him. And yet, he seemed to derive more joy than anyone she knew. He found it in her body, in her company. He found it in books and teaching. He found joy in living again, and her love for him was boundless, expanding.

“Oh, Blake,” she said, too choked up to say anymore. Her tears fell in earnest then.

He released himself; at least, that was how it felt to her. He scooped her up and cradled her. She didn’t fail to notice the nudge of his arousal, but he wouldn’t use it until he knew she was okay. She was okay. Better than okay, which spilled over into sadness and then back again in an eternity knot of powerful, life-affirming emotions. One couldn’t be separated from the other. She couldn’t have known love without heartache. He couldn’t have found solace without pain.

“Don’t cry,” he murmured against her hair. “What was this about? To show me that you want me, that you care. I know that, sweet girl. Don’t you think I know that? You show your heart in every expression, and it’s beautiful to see.”

Somehow she found her voice. “You can’t talk like that and expect me not to cry.”

His chest expanded on a quiet laugh. “There’s my girl.”

She turned her face into his chest, her cheeks wet and slippery against his shirt. Fumbling, she tugged it over his head, desperate to feel him, skin-to-skin, nothing between them. His body felt sharp after the long absence, the rigid planes of muscle, the hair tickling her tender skin. She shuddered against him, leaning closer, aching to feel him harder, more deeply. And thank God, he seemed to understand; he seemed to need it too, holding her flush against him, almost bruising her, needing her.

He turned them over, so she lay on her back, the sheets cool against her skin. His mouth held her down, his hands explored her, caressed her all over, and then he began to move down. Nipping kisses down her neck and in the valley of her breasts, gentle kisses over the curve and suckling at the tip. Then he trailed lower, as her belly quivered beneath questing lips.

“Blake,” she said, in warning, in plea.

“Just take it,” he murmured. “Be good for me,” and she was lost and lax in his arms. Her legs fell open, letting him explore the insides of her thighs. He made a small sound of pleasure as he felt the wetness at her core. Possessive fingers dipped into the moisture and spread it across her swollen flesh. He drew damp circles around her clit until any traces of reserve had fled. Spearing her, he pulled more of her arousal to the entrance. He removed his hand from her, and with damp fingertips, drew a heart on the low flat of her belly. She smiled in her sensual haze and reached for him. He caught her hand in answer and sucked on the tip of her finger, sending shocks down her center. Then he ducked his head to lick up the mess he had made of her—her belly first, his tongue mapping the shape of the heart. Then lower, down to the outer lips, then inner. He roamed to her clit, which had grown too sensitive, and she jumped, startled, entranced.

“Please,” she groaned, not sure what she was asking for. Relief or respite, more or less. It all blended together in a miasma of desire. “Blake.”

“You can take it,” he said, softer now, encouraging. He pushed her legs up, farther and more firmly than he usually did. Her knees pressed against her chest, capturing her, exposing her. His eyes burned with a hungry light as he stared down at her.

“Please,” she repeated.

Keeping both hands on her thighs, he bent to place hot, open-mouthed kisses against her sex, sucking and licking until she squirmed. But he held her too tightly to move much or escape—and thank God, because she didn’t want him to stop, not really. She wanted more and harder. Her secret muscles clenched in silent question, begging to be filled, but empty as he teased her clit to oblivion.

“You’re mine,” he muttered, his breath a phantom caress against her sex. “I won’t let you go now.”

Yes. His. “Please.”

He chuckled darkly. “You’ll have to learn patience. Well, we’ll have a lot of time to practice.”

Then he put his mouth to her clit and her whole world went black, with stars bursting behind her eyelids. Before she recovered he entered her, thrusting roughly, without rhythm or finesse, so perfect that tears slipped down her cheeks. She came two more times before he became rigid above her, still rocking as he poured himself inside her. She accepted it all. His come, his sweat. His love.

He leaned on her, breathing hard. She caught him when he wanted to roll off, mumbling something about being heavy. He was heavy, and perfect, and she wanted to feel that lovely weight forever.

“Marry me,” she whispered.

He stiffened. After a moment, he pulled back, searching her expression, her eyes. “What?”

She smiled. “You heard me, Professor.”

“Did you…did you plan to ask me?”

Admittedly, it was unconventional. Other couples arranged champagne and fancy dinners. “I thought we should start the way we meant to go on. Or go on the way we started.”

With sex. Masturbation, to be specific. But more than that. With an attraction so deep they had to act on it. With respect so strong they’d been careful and mindful and joyful every step of the way. Unconventional, unique, or just freaking weird—she didn’t care. This was the way their relationship had started, his moment of vulnerability a gift to her, and she’d wanted to propose to him and return the favor.

“Well, Professor?” Her heart started to beat faster.

A slow smile spread over his face. “Erin.”

Which wasn’t an answer, really. She raised an eyebrow.

“God, you’re beautiful.” He reached over to the side table.

Still not an answer. “If you’re going to grab a sex toy right now, I might have to rethink my proposal.”

But he didn’t have a sex toy, judging by the little black box. If she’d thought her heart was beating fast before, it was nothing compared to now. He opened it to reveal a sparkling princess cut diamond with small, even diamonds circling the band. Her heart stopped.

The words came to her in a rush: If you can paint…I can walk… If he could move past his scars, return to the world, the very least she could do was move past her own fears and trust him not to leave. The world can turn upside down… And it did.

“Yes,” he said simply. “I’ll marry you.”

He did more than answer her; he asked, with the ring that had been stowed away in his side table drawer…for how long? Happiness squeezed her throat, robbing her of breath. She had to force the words, to feign levity or she’d never be able to speak at all. “Now, I said no sex toys. But I have to tell you, that right there is very sexy.”

His mouth curved in a self-satisfied little smile. “I think it’ll look great on you. Wearing nothing else.”

“Oh, so this was all a ploy to get me naked,” she said, clearly teasing since she was already naked and so was he.

“It seems to be working,” he said, slipping the ring on her finger. It sparkled in the dim evening shadows, reflective even with barely any light. But no glittering facets or sleek metals could compete with the stark, painful beauty of the man in front of her. The man she loved.

* * *

Blake lingered in the hallway, watching Erin flip a page in the newspaper. His body tightened at the sexy sight. Sun streamed in through the bay windows, glinting golden off her hair and illuminating the lines of her body within her white dress shirt. His dress shirt, although she still wore it much better than he ever would. The top buttons were undone, allowing him a glimpse of the curve of her breast as she bent her head, intent on her reading.

She glanced up and smiled. “Good morning.”

“Morning.” He wandered into the breakfast nook, feeling reluctant to disturb her. As if it were her room, her house. And God, it was.

She’d agreed to marry him, which meant all this was hers as much as his. A sense of contentment filled him at the thought. He’d be able to take care of her. And, he thought wryly, he’d be taken care of in return.

He didn’t slow until he reached her, standing beside her chair, tilting her chin up to look at him. He brushed his thumb over her lips, loving the way she shivered in response.

“You’re happy,” he said. A statement, a question? He wasn’t sure.

“Too much.” She smiled shyly. Was she blushing? “I’m not sure what I did to deserve this.”

Jesus, she killed him. Humble and proud, kind and fierce. A study of contradictions in a beautiful package he would never get tired of worshipping. Like a magnet, his lips sought hers; he bent to kiss her, leaving them both breathless.

Sometime during the onslaught, her hands grasped his bare shoulders. He was wearing only his dress pants from last night, picked up off the floor. It seemed they could only find a full set of clothes between them—and no underwear. No bra, that much he could see. Damn, he was going to have a hard time leaving her in peace today. And every day. Especially considering the ring that sparkled on her finger. His ring. The sight of it filled him with possession.

With peace.

“I’m not going to let you go now. You know that, don’t you?” He didn’t know why he was always warning her. Even now.

Maybe because he knew she wouldn’t balk.

She grinned. “Do you think I’d let you go either? Not a chance. So get comfortable, mister.”

Ah hell. No way was he leaving her in peace today. He pulled her from the chair, flush against his body, molding his hands to her curves. “God, I already am.”

He kissed her again, debating whether they could make it upstairs to the bedroom. But then she kissed him back—actually nipped his lower lip—and he stopped thinking at all. He surrounded her, body and heart; he sank into her, finding refuge in her sweet acceptance and limitless love.

There were no boundaries on what he would do for her. He would climb mountains, slay dragons—but all she’d ever asked of him was a promise. And so he had always been hers, before he’d even known it, stumbled upon in moment’s base weakness, claimed by a whole-hearted acceptance, and made new by a love he would work to deserve each coming day.

THE END

Thank you!

Thank you for reading Beauty Becomes You! I hope you enjoyed Blake and Erin’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

I very much appreciate anything you can do to spread the word, including leaving a review or sharing this book through Amazon’s lending program.

Yours,

Skye Warren

BELOW THE BELT

"...what an absolutely dynamite heroine" - Rage, Sex & Teddy Bears

Martial arts champion Abe Montgomery is dead-set on winning gold at Nationals. Paris Rivera has sworn off men and martial arts. When these two meet, the chemistry is explosive.

Abe may dominate on the mats, but he's fallen hard for Paris. The fight of his life looms ahead, not only for his dreams but for the sexy woman he soon can't live without.

"This book is sweet and spicy! Romance written in a realistic way. No fairy tale endings. No promises that can't be kept. Just straight up emotion and honesty." - Have You Heard Book Reviews

Excerpt from BELOW THE BELT:

Abe ran his hands down her sides, accustoming her body to his touch. He tasted her skin up and down the side of her neck—kissing, licking, nipping, and then starting over again.

She threaded her fingers through his hair, lightly tugging, sending pleasurable shocks through his body. He palmed her breast in appreciation, gently squeezing the warm weight. Her soft sounds drove him crazy. Go slow, go slow.

She reached down and cupped his erection through his pants. He drew in a sharp breath. He loved that she’d come out of her shell, but if she touched him now it was over.

He pushed her hand away. “No, not yet. Let me take care of you.”

To prove his point, he ran his hand to the bottom of her dress, then up, tracing his fingertips along her bare leg. He groaned when he reached the thin wet strip of her panties—a thong. Pulling the fabric aside, he stroked his fingers through her intimate folds. She bucked and gasped as if he’d shocked her. But he felt the shock in his fingertips, and his cock.

He pushed his thumb through her dampness until he found her clit, fondling her without the finesse he had learned so carefully. This whole thing was moving too quickly, almost outside his control, and he was only grateful that she seemed to be keeping up.

He shoved his fingers inside her like he wanted to do with his cock. Pressing against her clit with his thumb, he tacitly asked her to come. His hands were too rough. He was acting like a big, clumsy idiot, but she bucked up against his hand, seeking more. She panted, tightening her body. Then she came. She tightened around him, but he was watching her face in awe, as wetness coated his fingers.

When the last of the aftershocks had rocked her body, he withdrew his fingers, then pulled her in close and held her to him. He breathed in the fresh, feminine scent of her, holding back his own release to allow her time to recover. Despite his throbbing arousal, Abe found pleasure in just holding her.

“Who are you, really?” she whispered.

“I’m no one,” he murmured, his face buried in her silky soft hair. “No one special.” It was the truth. He’d grown up too poor and too stupid to be anyone. No matter how hard he fought, he was just another loser from Podunk, Nowhere.

“Oh yeah?” she challenged softly. “A two time national medalist and forerunner for the male heavyweight competition is nobody?”

Abe lifted his head.

“Yeah, I recognized you,” she said.

She didn’t understand. It wouldn’t be enough. Not any of it, not ever. His throat tight, he gave a short shake of his head.

“Oh, Abe,” she said. God, what was that look in her eyes? He wanted to look away from it, but he couldn’t. “You’re someone special. I see it.”

The line wouldn’t come—the one that would make this whole conversation a joke, instead of the truth. He always laughed it off, or fought it off, no matter what came.

Not this time.

She’d come out of nowhere and blindsided him, but he couldn’t figure it out just then. Not with his lust driving him insane. It was like the tunnel vision in the middle of a fight, when he couldn’t hear or even see, but just moved on pure instinct.

“Lie down,” he ordered. “I need to get inside you.” What the hell was wrong with him? He needed to keep it together. His legendary control, his focus, was all shot to hell.

Thankfully, she did lie down on the ballroom carpet, and even better, spread her legs in acceptance. If she hadn’t, he would have been liable to do something stupid—like beg.

He pulled his wallet out of his pants, ripping through it until he found the condom. Tossing the wallet to the floor, he undid his pants and rolled the condom on. He thought he heard something—voices maybe. It didn’t really matter. They wouldn’t come in here.

He just had to fuck her. Everything would be okay if he was in her, feeling her heat, riding her to completion.

“Abe,” he heard her say, as he knelt before her.

“Almost there, baby,” he mumbled. Jesus, he was so fucking close.

His cock nudged her opening. He pushed inside, tried his best to go slowly, but failed. The heat of her surrounded him, and he closed his eyes in pleasure. But instead of soothing him, it only made him want her more.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “Need you too bad.”

“It’s okay.”

And he took her at her word, because that’s all he could do. His cock slammed home once, then again. He didn’t have a hope in hell of making her come again, not when he was this close and this out of control. He could only drive into her relentlessly, roughly, reaching for something he couldn’t name. His body clenched as his orgasm slammed through his body. His arms crushed her to him as if she could help him now, probably hard enough to leave bruises.

He collapsed on her as the last shudders racked him.

“Abe,” she gasped beneath him.

You’re crushing her, asshole. He rolled onto his back beside her. “Sorry,” he managed to get out.

“People are coming,” she whispered urgently.

Shit. He heard it, too, now that his brain had finally clicked back on. Voices, close by and coming closer.

Abe scrambled to his feet, peeled off the condom and tucked himself inside his pants. He barely had time to yank Paris behind him before the doors crashed open. He blinked rapidly, momentarily stunned by the hallway light and raucous laughter.

“Mierda! Abe is in here.”

Oh fuck, no. He knew that voice. Rafael.

His vision focused. Even worse, all the guys were there, with girls Abe had never seen before hanging on them. This was not good. Paris grabbed his arm and peeked around, but he pushed her back firmly behind him. He didn’t want her to be a part of this. It was too late.

“Room’s taken, boys.” He tried to play it cool, as if he weren’t holding a soggy condom in his fist. Ignoring the squirming, his other hand held Paris behind him.

Blake staggered into the room, clearly wasted. “Oh, come on. I think you’ve got room for a few more in here.”

“I mean it, guys. Get out.” Abe used the same voice he used when he led training—stern, commanding.

But the dumbass kept coming, trying to peer around Abe.

“Or are you worried she won’t want you anymore if she sees us? I see how it is. Can’t have that. Abe Montgomery never loses a bet. Never loses anything.”

Christ, the fucking bet. Maybe Paris hadn’t—

“What bet?” Paris asked, stepping out from behind him.

Want to read the rest? Below the Belt is available now.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Skye Warren writes unapologetic erotica, including power play or erotic pain and sometimes dubious consent. There’s struggle in the sex. There’s pain in the relationships. Her books are raw, sexual and perversely romantic.

Visit Skye’s website for her current booklist:

www.skyewarren.com

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Other Books by Skye

Wanderlust

Below the Belt

Dark Erotica Series

Keep Me Safe

Trust in Me

Hear Me

Don’t Let Go (late 2013)

The Beauty Series

Beauty Touched the Beast

Beneath the Beauty

Broken Beauty

Beauty Becomes You

Fem Dom Series

Sweetest Mistress

The Dystopia Series

Leashed

Caged

ISBN: 9781940518008

BEAUTY BECOMES YOU

Copyright © 2013 by Skye Warren

Cover design by Book Beautiful

All rights reserved. Except for use in a review, the reproduction or use of this work in any part is forbidden without the express written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Table of Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

ABOUT THE AUTHOR