“Matilde’s descriptions of the scenes Rogue and Chickadee perform are gold! When I was on chapter 14 I already wanted to read this book AGAIN!” ~ Nancy VanSpunky

“It’s a slow burn at first but once it heats up, WOW. Be prepared to laugh and possibly cry.” ~ Michelle Healy

“As soon as he set eyes on her, I knew right away I was going to love Rogue. Sibylla makes the emotions, characters and scenes come to life, effortlessly.” ~ Diane Buckner

“This book made me want to take my partner to a kink club asap! The Naughty Pine will have a place of pride on my bookshelf and be revisited many times in the future, I’m sure!” ~ Kelly Cutrone Manley

© 2021, Sibylla Matilde

www.SibyllaMatilde.com

Cover by Darling Cover Designs

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from Sibylla Matilde.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. With the exception of the original material written by the author, all songs, song titles, and lyrics contained in this book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.

To my kink guru because this wouldn’t be half the story it is without you…you can top me anytime.

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Epilogue

Inspiration Playlist

Acknowledgments

Other Books by Siby

About Siby

On the fourteenth anniversary of my first divorce, I went to a kink club.

As I stood there in the small reception area of The Naughty Pine, trembling under my disguise, I wondered for the gazillionth time what I was doing there. My palms were sweaty. My stomach kept doing little whirly things, and I wanted to hurl.

This wasn’t me. I’d grown up sheltered by my own introversion, always too scared to venture out of my comfort zone. I didn’t do wild and crazy.

After all, I’d learned my lesson, way back when I was a naive high schooler under the spell of young love. Once upon a time, when I believed in happily-ever-afters. Before it all came crashing down.

“Relax, girl,” Lissa reassured me with an encouraging smile. “You’re just letting your freak flag fly a bit. If anyone deserves to cut loose, it’s you.”

Standing there by the check-in counter, I sidled up closer to her, as though I could absorb some of her certitude. My friend, coworker, and confidante. My idol. The type of person shy little introverts like me yearned to be, embracing who she was with a boldness I envied. Charismatic and audacious.

Unabashedly risqué.

Cool as a slushy frosé in January, she flashed me a wink and smoothed an errant feather on my masquerade mask. “Take a deep breath. You can do this.”

I tried, but the tight laces of my leather corset only allowed so much, and I swayed a bit in the knee-high, shiny leather boots she’d insisted I borrow. “I feel like I need about half a bottle of Xanax.”

“They wouldn’t have let you through the door if you were all doped up,” she laughed. “It’s all part of the safe, sane, and consensual thing. But trust me, you’ll be fine. I promise. Rig won’t let anyone touch you.”

Rig. Right, I was supposed to be using scene names. I glanced up at Lissa’s boyfriend, whose given name was Dave. He’d always seemed like every other strong, silent cowboy I’d known. A big, gentle teddy bear. His courteous nature and western drawl seemed so ordinary. Conservative even.

Tonight, though, Dave was dark. Dominant. In charge. Dave had transformed into Rig, a scene name apparently chosen due to his phenomenal skill with rope. Something I tried very hard not to think about.

And Lissa was Lava because, in her words, she was hot as molten rock. I’d have given heaven and earth for an ounce of her confidence.

And me? Tonight, I wasn’t meek-and-mild Därah Sanders who never did anything taboo. I was at The Naughty Pine, bravely exploring the dark little corners of my imagination. I was Chickadee. Lissa—er, Lava thought it was an adorable scene name. Something perky. A perfect fit for my curvaceous, petite stature. Her words, not mine. At thirty-three, I was a bit on the chubby side and exhausted by life, by trying to be everything to everyone around me.

While perky seemed like a stretch, being named after a fat little bird wasn’t far off the mark. Definitely more accurate than some sort of bunny or kitten.

Rig accepted a wide wristband from the pretty girl signing us in and held it against a lamp. As he pulled it away and stepped toward me, I realized it glowed bright green in the low light. He slipped it over my wrist and tapped the thick black lettering that clearly read NO.

“This will allow you to mingle, but you don’t touch or get touched. Anyone gets feely, we tell the monitors and they’re out.”

I momentarily wondered if I was imagining it, but no. His voice actually had deepened since we walked through the door. An air of command emanated from him, which made me a little lightheaded. “Monitors?”

“They’re similar to bouncers.” Lava gave my bare shoulder a comforting squeeze. “They’re stationed all over to make sure everyone is having a good time and step in when things seem unsafe or non-consensual.”

Well, that was reassuring…ish.

The pretty little receptionist appeared at my side with a clipboard and a pen, holding it out for me to take.

“Confidentiality statement,” Rig explained. “Some members don’t wear disguises, so there’s a substantial risk to their identity if things were to get out in the public. We need to protect our folks.”

I glanced at Lava, who gave me an encouraging smile that did little to ease the anxiety rising in my throat. My head spun as I scanned the legal jargon, making it incomprehensible. In the end, I somehow managed to scribble a jittery version of my name on the line.

Good lord, what was I doing?

With a deep breath, I forcefully reminded myself…I was living. And it was about darn time.

I closed my eyes and inhaled as much as the corset allowed, then slowly exhaled through pursed lips.

“Ready?” Lava asked when I opened my eyes again.

No. God, no.

But I managed a shaky nod. “Do or die, right?”

“Ladies first.” Rig pulled back a heavy curtain spanning a wide doorway and held it open for us to cross through to the other side.

Lava clasped my hand and drew me into the massive open space of the main room. It was like stepping into pure sin.

Thick, rugged beams supported dark ceiling planks, and warm wood gleamed in the low light. In each corner of the cavernous room, wide stairs led up to a second floor with banisters formed from gnarled timbers. Multiple raised platforms lined the walls, each framed with angled lighting. A gritty tune swirled through the air, some guy singing almost creepily about shiny boots of leather. The verse reverberated through my mind as I focused on the people mingling.

At first, though, I could only bring myself to look at their shoes.

There were some wild shoes. Lots of spikes and buckles and chains. Lots of shiny leather, like the boots I wore. The song playing suddenly seemed very fitting.

I lifted my gaze higher, blanching at how little some of the outfits covered. There was no shortage of bare skin. Lots of leg. Butt cheeks. Breasts. I shifted my line of sight upward. Many of those milling about wore disguises, but several did not. I didn’t recognize anyone, mask or no mask, although that didn’t surprise me. I was too freaked out to actually focus on anyone’s face.

Lava led the way through the crowd as Rig followed with a total don’t-fuck-with-these-girls vibe that seemed to part the crowd in our path. We stopped at the first small stage, which featured a woman bent over a bench, restrained with her booty all up in the air. Her outfit was made with strips of white tape spaced an inch or so apart. Over her stood a large man dressed in black holding a paddle about a foot long. Riddled with small holes in the shape of lipstick kisses. I watched, my mouth gaping, as he stroked the exposed portions of her skin slowly and gently before quickly raising the paddle and slapping it down hard on her butt.

The sound ricocheted down my spine, and my entire body quivered with guilty excitement. As I watched the flashes of her bare skin flush pink, I backed away instinctively.

I turned and brought my gaze to another platform showcasing two women, one dressed in a glossy black bodysuit, the front of which was mostly unzipped to expose her breasts. Her wrists manacled to a rough-hewn post behind her, she knelt before the other who stood tall in a skimpy cranberry red dress and black stockings.

The woman in red held a device with some kind of neon bulb on one end. She slowly brought it toward the bare nipple of the woman on her knees who suddenly lurched and wailed.

“There, my pet,” purred the lady in red.

“Thank you, Madame,” the tortured woman gasped, her voice desperate and pleading. “Please, may I have another?”

Lava laughed and nudged my hip with hers. “Oh, Chickadee, you look terrified.”

“The violet wand might be a bit much to focus on in the beginning,” Rig nodded. “I think Rogue is offering advice on flogger techniques tonight. We could check that out.”

“Oh, yeah.” Lava took my hand once more. “If anything will get you fired up for this sort of thing, it’s Rogue. He’s a bit of a celebrity here. A true master with rope and whips.”

She tugged me to the back of the room, followed once again by Rig’s protective presence.

Center stage on a larger platform along the back wall stood a young blond man, facing away from the crowd. A naked woman stood strapped to thick, dark timbers in the shape of an X, her wrists and ankles restrained at each end with thick leather cuffs. She writhed against the bonds, curving her bottom out into the gleam of warm light. The man was all decked out in leather and held some sort of long cluster of narrow strips.

A flogger, I thought, as if taking mental notes could keep down the rising panic in my throat. My heart fell a bit. While he did have a slight air of command, he also seemed a bit unsure. Not that I really knew what to expect, but he certainly didn’t exude the self-assurance of a legend.

I shifted, ready to move on, but then caught a glimpse of another man in the shadows off to the side of the platform. His fitted black t-shirt and jeans melded with the darkness around him, and he radiated a simmering dominant presence. I could feel him almost as much as I could see him. With quiet control, he offered his expertise to the blond man.

He was Rogue.

Legend indeed.

The swish of the flogger landing on the woman’s bottom pulled me back into its hypnotic spell. It slapped across her shoulders. Down the back of her thighs. Low moans emanated from her throat. The sounds rippled through my body, warming me. Drawing me closer to the stage.

The guy with the flogger glanced to Rogue in the shadows who gave a curt nod of approval. Every so often, flogger-guy stepped around the big wooden cross, saying something to the woman with a caress of her cheek. It seemed gentle, at odds with the lashes he rained down on her body.

“Why does he keep stopping and talking to her?” Fascination echoed through my voice. I tingled all over, every hair on my body electrified.

“He’s checking in with her,” Rig explained. “Seeing where she’s at.”

His vague response weirdly made sense. It made me covet that intense connection I’d never imagined.

The man smiled and swept the flogger down her legs. Every snap on her skin wrought a tremble from my body, as though those exquisite strokes rained down on me.

I glanced back to the shadows where Rogue stood. He turned his head slightly, sweeping his gaze across the entranced crowd toward me. Heat rose low in my stomach.

Then his dark eyes landed on mine and hardened. He stiffened and took a step into the light. It all happened so quickly, yet in slow motion.

Oh.

My.

God.

Recognition seeped into his features. His jaw clenched beneath his thick beard with a familiarity that exploded through my body. I instantly retreated, physically and mentally.

No, it couldn’t be.

In the beat of a heart, he stepped forward and jumped down from the platform, striding in my direction. The room spun wildly, and my chest constricted.

I stumbled backward and slipped on the hard concrete floor. But before I could fall, I was swept up securely in his strong arms. The scent of his warm skin penetrated my bewilderment.

“Motherfucker,” he breathed. “It is you.”

The solace of his arms had once been my haven. The most serene comfort I’d ever known, discovered in the backseat of his Olds so many years ago. Even in high school, he’d smelled like fresh air and juniper with a warm hint of amber. Rich and thick and deliciously male. Through a few short years of fights and reconciliations, his powerful embrace had always been the end result, no matter what we faced.

Right up until he ripped it all away from me.

I’d never found anything that affected me so much. That I’d missed so much.

My first crush.

My first kiss.

My first everything.

Jace.

In a kink club. Of all the places to run into an ex.

He lifted me, carrying me from the wide-open space, away from the cacophony of the main room. As the world around us quieted, he sat on a firm bed covered in dark, plaid flannel sheets with me in his lap. His large palm cradled my cheek, his thumb brushing against my ear while his fingers sifted through my hair. As I stared up at his deepening frown in wonder, his fingers slipped to the base of my mask and flicked it up to bare my features.

God, I wasn’t dreaming.

Muted voices floated in the air around me, as if I were under water. My lungs ached to expand, but I couldn’t seem to draw in air. Jace’s grip eased. He leaned back, depriving me of his comfort, and I instinctively curled into him, unwilling to leave the long-coveted security of his arms.

Something I’d never expected to savor again.

“It’s okay, honey, just a sec.” With a few tugs of my clothing, the corset strings loosened. Air rushed into my lungs, and his thick arms pulled me back into his solid warmth. Cradled against his body. “Take a deep breath.”

I tried, but it went out so fast and I gulped it back in, choking on it. He palmed my jaw, his thumb grazing my lower lip, and pulled back to lock eyes with me.

“Slow it down.” The dark glimmer of his gaze and calm command in his voice helped my body obey. I drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. And another. “That’s it, that’s right. Smooth and easy.”

The room around me started to fade back in. We were in an area sectioned off with a heavy curtain that’d been pulled almost entirely across the entrance.

I saw Lissa over Jace’s shoulder, her features a mixture of worry and wonder. Beside her, Dave stood guard, also seemingly puzzled and concerned, yet he made no move to step in, as though he knew I was exactly where I needed to be.

A few others shuffled around behind him, barely visible through the gap in the curtain, gathering near the entrance of this private-yet-not-private space. I turned back into Jace, burying my face against his neck.

“Back them away.” His voice rumbled through me. “And pull the curtain closed completely.”

Heavy footsteps sounded, and a muffled fall of dense fabric muted the space even more. A thick flannel throw covered my body with warmth.

“Should I get her something to drink?” Lissa’s nervous touch tugged the soft blanket up over my bare shoulder.

“Yeah, get her some cranberry juice,” Jace replied. Through the blanket, the stroke of a familiar and assertive hand ran up and down the length of my leg. “Drink, honey.” His voice rumbled through me a few minutes later as he drew back once more. “Take a sip, Därah.”

I felt the neck of a plastic bottle touch my lips and opened my mouth to swallow a small amount of the cool, tart juice.

“You know her name,” my friend murmured from above me, her question in a statement of awe. “You know her?”

“Yeah,” he grated back, “I do.”

I peered up at him as he glowered back down at me. There was a definite hardness in his deep brown eyes, but concern, too. He again raised the bottle to my lips, but I straightened and reached for the juice in a belated show of independence. I was starting to feel more like myself and pretty darn sheepish from my reaction to seeing him. Lifting the bottle to my lips, I took another sip of juice.

I’d seen him often over the years, at school activities or when he’d pick up and drop off our fifteen-year-old daughter, Madison. We even used to have dinner together from time to time before I married Brian, like we were still an intact family. We’d managed to rebuild a somewhat weird friendship, despite my feelings of abandonment after he left me so long ago. A friendship mostly for the sake of our daughter, but partly out of simple affection that never really faded.

But I hadn’t been this close to him in such a long time. He hadn’t held me in well over a decade.

He was familiar in so many ways, yet different in others. His frame had bulked up and hardened. He was far from fat, but much more substantial than the boy-turned-man I’d known before, his thick muscles unyielding as he held me. And his eyes, that rich, deep brown that still kept me awake at night, now narrowed in clear irritation.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he growled.

So maybe irritation was a bit of an understatement. He was seriously ticked off. Granted, Jace had always gotten rather growly when he was worried, but knowing that never made it less intimidating.

My mouth moved the tiniest bit, but no sound came out.

“Därah, honey, what the fuck?”

I could barely think. “I’ve never been so mortified in all my life.”

He exhaled in a huff. It was a familiar sound, frustration mixed with a hint of relief as he touched his forehead to mine.

Anytime he’d ever been angry or upset with me, he’d bluster and swear and vent. But eventually, he’d cup the base of my head securely in his large hands and hold me there. For a split second, he’d show the tiniest sliver of vulnerability, reassuring me that the anger and frustration was borne of concern.

“Seriously,” I continued. “Who’d have thought I’d run into my ex-husband at a kink club?”

“Ex-husband?” Lissa gasped. I looked up at her before dropping my gaze with a faint nod. “You were…you two…holy shit.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dave slip his hand into the crook of her elbow to coax her away. “Lava, come on out with me. Let’s give them a few minutes.”

I watched the curtain fall closed behind them, then lifted my eyes back up to Jace’s frown.

His jaw had clenched again. It was the best view I’d ever had of his beard, something he tended to sport every winter since he could grow one. Unlike the beards of younger Jace, it was thicker and longer, but neatly trimmed with slivers of gray dispersed amid the dark auburn. It did things to me it shouldn’t have. I kinda wanted to touch it, to run my fingertips along his exquisite lips. To find out if it was as scratchy as I remembered.

With my chin and my cheek. My lips.

My lips on his lips.

His lips that were still pressed in a tight frown as he inhaled in long, measured breaths.

Crap.

Jace had my corset loose around my waist, and my boobs were barely covered from his vantage point, even with the blanket up to my shoulders. At least it covered some skin, probably my one saving grace of this whole fiasco. I was closed up in a tiny room, which held very little aside from a bed, where I was more-or-less sprawled out over my ex-husband.

My flipping ex-husband.

God, this was mortifying.

“So,” he began with softened eyes, “you wanna tell me what the fuck made you decide to come here?”

“I didn’t expect to run into you here.”

My feeble retort felt hollow, but I couldn’t really whine about getting dragged here by Lissa. I had a little pride.

His frown deepened. “If you’re trying to make it better, saying you didn’t expect to get caught isn’t really the right course.”

“Get caught?” My spine stiffened with annoyance. I wasn’t a child, and he didn’t have any right to tell me what I could and couldn’t do. “That wasn’t meant to be an excuse, and it’s not like I need your permission. Maybe you just don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

“That’s been a problem of ours right out of the gate, honey. You’re not exactly an open book. Now you show up here out of the blue decked out in full-on classic BDSM gear on the fucking anniversary of our divorce.”

So, he remembered. I swallowed back the sudden ache in my throat.

“I want to know why, Där.”

I lifted my chin, feigning courage, and sat up straight. The blanket slipped from my shoulders, and I held it protectively to my front as I sulked back at him. It was unnerving to be showing so much skin in front of him after all this time. “How do you know I’ve never been here before? Maybe I come here all the time.”

“I’d know if you had been here even once, honey,” he smiled, but it was a dark smile that glinted in the low light. “I know you far too well for that little mask to hide you.”

“So you come here a lot, do ya?”

“Yeah, I do.”

A flare of jealousy burned deep in my gut. All the women out there. How many had he—? Ugh. I couldn’t even finish the thought. It made me livid and lonely all at once.

“I can’t believe I never had the faintest inkling you were into this sort of thing,” I mumbled with a petulant twist to my lips. “Were you before? Like when we were together?”

“I’d never been to a place like this until a few years ago. Until…” He looked across the room for a moment. “Malcolm found me hitting a bottle of scotch the night you married Brian. Said he had a better outlet.”

Ugh. Kyle Malcolm, one of Jace’s best buds from high school. One of the cool kids. One of the cool kids who never understood what Jace saw in me.

Then what Jace had admitted really hit me. He needed an outlet and ended up here. The night I’d remarried.

It all suddenly hit a new level. More intimate. More dangerous. Visceral.

“Jace,” I breathed.

“It was bad enough when you were dating, but you married him…” He shook his head as his rough voice trailed off.

“You remarried, too. Not long after I did.”

“I shouldn’t have.” He grimaced and gazed back down at me. “Obviously. It was over before it started.”

“Did you do stuff like this with her?”

“No, I kept it here.”

“You still came here when you were married?”

He nodded.

“Did you cheat on her?” I was unsure if I wanted the answer, afraid he’d say yes. That he’d cheated on me, too.

“Not really.”

My stomach churned. That wasn’t a no.

“How do you not really cheat?”

“I didn’t fuck anyone.”

Hearing that word from his lips in such a blunt manner rattled me. Not that he’d never said it. He said it all the time. But somehow, the way he said it now sounded so raw. So carnal.

“You just tied them up and spanked them.”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I’m good at it.”

Again, my stomach churned. My heart twisted. I wondered if it was possible to develop an ulcer in a span of fifteen minutes.

“Liss—er, Lava called you something. What was it?”

He grimaced. “Rogue.”

“That’s it. She said you’re kinda legendary.”

“I’m good.” The man had some swagger. He exuded confidence in a way I envied, which annoyed me.

“Hmm, and so modest.”

“No reason for modesty with this. I’m really good. Everything from a riding crop to a single tail.”

“A single what?”

“It’s a kind of whip.”

Oh, Lordy. My ex was good with a whip. Not only good, but really good. What do you say to something like that?

He lifted his chin the slightest bit, and the gleam in his eyes intensified. “I’m more than really good.”

Oh, Lordy. Everything about him gave me butterflies in my vagina.

For a long moment, we stared at each other. His fingertips brushed a tendril of hair back from my forehead and traced along my cheek down to my jaw. My skin tingled in the wake of his caress.

He flashed a grim half-smile. “So, what’s your scene name?”

For a split second, I wished I could think of something more glamorous, but I wasn’t so good off the cuff.

“Chickadee,” I finally muttered.

A sensual smile spread across his lips. “That’s adorable.”

“I’m a fat little bird,” I snorted.

“You’re cute as fuck.” His eyes softened. “I never in a million years expected to see you here.”

“I just…Li—Lava was telling me about it and…” I shook my head and shut my mouth before I said something I didn’t really want him to know, like how lonely and pathetic my life seemed. “God, this feels like a really weird dream, like I’m going to wake up and wonder what I ate.”

His attention fixated on my lips, and my mouth went dry.

In an attempt to retain a smidge of sanity, I slid off his lap and drew back toward the twisted timbers of the headboard. The air around us was warm, yet my skin grew colder the farther away from him I moved. I was torn, both craving the strength to pull away, but aching to rest my head over his heart, to soothe myself with its steady beat.

“I’ve often wondered if you’d be into this,” he mused after a long silence.

“I’m not really into it so much.”

He raised a brow.

“I never even knew there were places like this,” I continued a little too earnestly. “I mean, I guess I knew people did kinky stuff, but a place like this?” I dropped my gaze momentarily before looking back up at his amused expression. Clearly, my naïveté was humorous. “Okay, so maybe places like this in big cities, but not here. Not in Montana.”

“There are kinky people everywhere, even in Montana.”

“Lava said she and Rig come here almost every weekend.”

Jace nodded. “I’ve seen them here quite a bit.”

A cold wave of nausea washed over me. “Have you ever…? Like, with her?”

“No,” he smiled gently. “I’m not sure I’ve even spoken to her before tonight. She was Rig’s the minute she walked through the door.”

“Thank God,” I exhaled under my breath, and Jace chuckled. My eyes flew back up to his. “Not that I was jealous, mind you.”

He looked at me like he knew better.

I held up my hand as though I could ward off his suspicions. “Really, that’s not it.” So what if that was totally it?

He folded his arms across his chest and gave a curt nod, clearly unconvinced. So I tried again.

“Jace, seriously. It would be so awkward. I work with her. Like, her office is right across the hall from mine. It’s bad enough even knowing she comes here.”

A deep and throaty rumble rose from his chest, a disturbingly delicious sound that made my vag go all oooooh, even if it was my own jealousy that had brought it out of him.

“Everyone’s got a bit of kink in them, honey,” he finally replied, then lowered his eyes, sweeping them over my blanketed form. “Even you, it would seem.”

“No, I don’t.” I shook my head and pressed my lips together.

His mouth tilted into a devastatingly sexy smirk. God, I’d missed that smirk.

The fact that I’d missed it annoyed me, and I leveled a prickly frown up at him.

“Really, I don’t.”

“Bullshit. I’ve seen how hard you work, how independent you are. I think you’re tired. I think you need someone else to take the reins for a while.”

I shook my head, maybe a bit too fiercely. So what if he was right? I wasn’t going to admit it. I wasn’t a great liar, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

“No, I told you, Jace. This? Coming here? It was not my idea. It was all Lava. She can be crazy insistent, and I have the tendency to cave rather easily.”

“No shit?” His soft, sardonic chuckle filled my chest with a bittersweet ache. Invasive, yet compelling. Tender. More emotion welled up inside me at that moment than had in the last decade. I had to look away, so I traced a stripe in the flannel with my fingertip.

“Where’s Mad tonight?”

His question drew my eyes back up to meet his. “Boys basketball game, so she’s playing with the honor band. Then she’s spending the night with Shelby.”

“So, you don’t have to rush off.”

“No, I don’t,” I mumbled, “but I…”

He tilted his head. “You what?”

“This is a lot to process.” The soft blanket slipped low, baring more of my breasts. His dark glance followed, and I froze. It had been a long while since any man looked at me that way.

The heat in his eyes intoxicated me. My self-control was slipping.

He rested his hands on either side of my hips, leaning into me. The flick of his tongue as he wet his lips made my breath catch in my lungs. The erotic, heady air was like a drug, seeping through my veins and holding me still. Heat smoldered deep in my body. After years apart from this man, I yearned for even the faintest touch of his lips on mine.

“I need to go home.”

Jace’s jaw tightened at my strangled outburst, but he stood and walked to the door, pushing the curtain aside. He spoke in a low voice to someone just outside before returning to sit on the edge of the bed and tilting my chin up with his fingers.

“How are you feeling?”

Part of me wanted him to hold me again, battling with the flood of lonely memories. Fourteen years of burning regret. I leaned back and averted my eyes as they stung with the threat of tears. “I’m good.”

“I’m not sure I believe you, but at least you have some color back in your cheeks.” He smoothed my hair over my shoulder, his fingertips grazing my ear.

The curtain pushed aside, held back by Rig and revealing a subdued Lava.

“She’s doing okay.” Jace stood once more, glancing back down at me. It was completely irrational, but I suddenly felt disposable, like when he’d left me fourteen years ago. I needed to get out of there. Get away from Jace and the downward spiral my mood was taking.

I turned to look at Lava. “I’m not feeling well. I think I’ve had enough for one night.”

She peered up at Jace who gave her a curt nod. Her hand patted my shoulder. “Okay, let’s get you out of here.”

My fingers twisted into the blanket, inching it back up to my chin.

“I’ll call you tomorrow.” Jace’s voice was deep, warming me against my will. I could feel his long, dissecting look, but I couldn’t meet his gaze.

I shook my head. “You don’t have to do—”

“Look at me, my little Chickadee.”

My scene name on his lips hit me like a Mack truck, knocking the wind clean out of me. The command in his tone forced my obedience. When I lifted my eyes to his, the butterflies in my tummy went bonkers.

He cupped my cheek, making me tremble. “I will call you tomorrow.”

“Okay.” There was no other response I could give.

“So,” Lissa cooed as we sat down to lunch the following Monday, eyeing me with a sidelong glance, “tell.”

Up until now, I’d been able to pretend seeing Jace at the club was a crazy dream. I’d dreamed of him so many times over the years since we’d split. In some dreams, I’d railed at him, venting all my frustration and feelings of abandonment. In some, I was begging him to come back. In others, it was like he’d never left. Like he was there holding me tight, tracing his fingertips over my features. Then I’d wake up, remember I was alone, and my heart would ache with regret.

But I’d focused on my daughter’s needs and happiness. On being the best frickin’ accountant I could be. Faking it until I could make it. Burying the sorrow deep inside, thinking someday I could pack it in tight enough so it would suffocate and leave me in peace.

I thought I handled the shock of Saturday night rather well at first. After the whole Jace debacle, Lissa and Dave took me home, Lissa peering warily at me the whole way. After numerous assurances I was okay, they drove off and I mechanically went in, washed my makeup off, and climbed into bed.

But as I closed my eyes, all sorts of wild images began to float freely in my head. Jace’s dark Rogue persona. The flogger hitting bare skin and the rich sound of his guiding voice. The vivid memories all churned in my brain, fighting for space. Twisting through my restless, bewildered mind and teasing me with renewed vigor.

Needless to say, I didn’t get much sleep.

But now, sitting across from Lissa in the little diner near our office, I couldn’t avoid discussing it anymore. Lissa wanted details. And, over the years, she’d become quite adept at coaxing all the angsty feelings from my wretched little heart.

“Well?” she prodded. “Come on, tell me everything.”

I shrugged. “Nothing to tell.”

“Nothing? Nothing at all? You spent half the night in that room with him for nothing?”

“It was hardly half the night, and we only talked. That’s all.”

“Talked?” Lissa shook her head. “What? Is that your kink? If it is, you really need to venture outside your comfort zone.”

“I’m pretty sure I did exactly that Saturday night, Lissa. That whole night was outside my comfort zone.”

“You liked it, though, didn’t you? The Pine?”

I didn’t want to admit that The Naughty Pine had stirred something inside me. Now that the shock of seeing it—of seeing Jace—had worn off, a guilty desire burned in my gut. The thought of admitting the truth, even to Lissa, made my palms sweat. As much as I wanted to deny it, though, I wasn’t a great liar, so I stuck my fork in my salad and took a big bite.

“You did,” she smiled. “You did like it.”

I ignored her and chewed the lettuce that suddenly tasted like sawdust in my mouth.

“What was your favorite part? Come on, you can tell me. I’m the one who dragged you there in the first place. I’m not going to judge.” She waited a moment, then continued when I took another bite instead of answering. “Please tell me he at least spanked you a little.”

I didn’t even look at her. I just shook my head, chewed, and forced myself to swallow.

“What? You had Rogue all to yourself and didn’t even let him spank you? Who would it hurt?”

I stared at her in consternation. “Me. If he spanked me, it would hurt me.”

“Yeah, but good hurt.” Her lips curved into a wicked smile.

“I don’t understand a good hurt. I’ve never experienced it.”

“And you had the master of it in a room all to yourself.” She sighed and sat back in her chair. “God, I’ve heard some amazing stories about him.”

“So he’s totally out of my league, like he’s always been.” I hadn’t really meant to mutter that aloud. My self-deprecating humiliation tended to be more internal.

“What are you talking about?”

I hesitated. Did I really want to dredge up the sordid, bottom-dwelling self-esteem of my teenage years?

No. No, I really didn’t.

But I needed her to understand my reservations. Losing Jace once was hard enough. I couldn’t risk going through that again.

“He was always the guy everybody wanted. He was like a god in high school, captain of the basketball team and starting quarterback. Smart, hot, and popular.” I frowned. “I was a shy math geek who was new in town and didn’t quite fit in. At first, I thought his interest in me was a joke, a bet or a dare from his friends. I couldn’t imagine why he’d ever want me, but for some reason he actually did. Everyone thought he was too good for me, and they were right. It didn’t work out.”

“First of all, no dude is too good for you, so you can knock that crazy shit off right now. You’re smart. Funny. A fantastic mother. And secondly, so it didn’t work out back in high school—”

“It fell apart after high school.”

“Fine, after high school. I’m not saying you have to remarry the guy. You don’t even have to date him, but, hell, let him top you a bit. You’re wound up so tight, always making sure everyone around you is okay. You need to do something for yourself for a change.”

I looked down at my salad, toying with a shred of carrot. “I don’t know, Lissa.”

“Oh, please, I saw you. You may have kept that freak flag under wraps your whole life, but I remember discovering that part of myself, realizing just how right it all was. Därah, you had that same look in your eyes. You were flushed, short of breath. You practically fucking fainted.”

“Only because I couldn’t breathe in that God-forsaken corset,” I muttered, but Lissa completely ignored me and kept going.

“God, and he caught you before you hit the floor. That’s the shit dirty dreams are made of.” She laid her fingertips on my wrist, making me lift my gaze to meet hers. “The way he looked at you…it made me wet.”

I choked back a weak laugh.

“Seriously,” she continued, “I saw it all with my own two eyes, and I bet if you think back, you and Jace got a bit freaky from time to time.”

“We weren’t into spanking and stuff, if that’s what you mean.”

“No, you probably wouldn’t have been at that age. But think back to the hottest times you had with him. He may not have been a Dom, but he must have been dominant, even back then. Commanding. Alpha.”

Her words drew deep dark little memories forth. Unsettling glimpses that had been rejected by my uptight consciousness. A hot flush crept over me as I thought back to the tight pull of my hair as he’d devoured me with a single kiss. The way my body had always melted into him as though I had no will of my own. The overwhelming urge to please him, to hear the satisfaction in his gruff voice as he held me down and ravaged me.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Lissa chirped. “I can tell by the look on your face, so don’t you dare try to tell me that does nothing for you.”

“If you like Rogue so much, why don’t you let him spank you?” Even the thought turned my stomach, and I swallowed back the acidic distaste.

“Oh my God, I would in a heartbeat, but Dave would not be into that at all. He doesn’t like to share his fucktoys with other kids.”

I choked on a bit of carrot, but Lissa only grinned.

“Maybe he could get a few tips from Rogue,” I wryly suggested with a cocked eyebrow, hating myself, but needing to sour the sweet fuzzies fluttering through me after being held by him Saturday night.

She leaned forward and earnestly captured my gaze, speaking in a low, conspiratorial tone. Like she had plans to draw goody-two-shoes me over to the dark side with some kind of Sith power that eclipsed the light of the Force around me. “You should come back this weekend.”

“Oh, my God,” I shook my head, “no.”

“You should. You should try it. Seriously. Your ex is the fucking star of the show there. It’s a golden opportunity.”

“My ex is my ex for a reason.”

“Oh, please. Your ex is your ex because you got married when you were too young to even know yourselves, much less each other, and—shocker—it didn’t work out. But you guys get along so well. I’m not even sure why you split up.”

“Because simply by being with him, I was punching above my weight. I never stood a chance.”

“I think that’s a load of crap. Tell me how you met.”

I rolled my eyes and huffed, but Lissa simply smiled and waited out my pique. True to form, I finally caved, knowing she’d only keep at me if I didn’t tell her.

“He had a summer job doing yard-work when I first moved to Coldwater. He was mowing the neighbor’s grass.”

“Mmm, shirtless? Was he all tan and glistening with sweat?”

Lissa actually described my first glimpse of him pretty well. The memory of him driving a lawn tractor wearing only a pair of baggy shorts, sunglasses, and sneakers was burned into my brain.

“He really was a sight to behold,” I admitted with a twist of my lips, lost in the mental image. “The first time I saw him, I stopped dead in my tracks. Frozen like a pillar of salt on my front porch. Anyway, I ended up pregnant halfway through my senior year. We got married a month after graduation.”

“So, seriously, Därah,” Lissa’s voice jolted me back to present day. She grinned at me as though she’d just solved one of life’s great questions. “Why not have a little fun with him now?”

“There was a lot of hurt and anger that followed, Lissa. At the end, all we did was fight.”

“So lots of makeup sex?”

I glared at her, exasperated.

“What?” There was a light in her eyes. “Angry sex is awesome.”

Okay, time to end the conversation.

“Us splitting up wasn’t exactly my decision.” It was still hard to admit that, even to myself. Even fourteen years later. That jagged wound never really healed up right, and my voice wobbled a bit when I finished. “He left me.”

Her hopeful expression dimmed, and she looked down at her perfectly manicured nails on the table. “I’m sorry, Därah. I didn’t realize that.”

“He moved away for about a year. I threw myself into working ungodly hours and studying for my bachelor’s degree, like if I kept busy enough, I wouldn’t have to think about him. When he came back to Coldwater, my dad and stepmom were the go-betweens with Mad. After a while, it got a little easier to see him and, for her sake, we managed to be friendly. But I can’t bear being so close to him again after everything we went through. It brings all that hurt back into focus.”

“Okay,” she exhaled with a roll of her eyes. “I’ll quit bugging you, but if you change your mind—”

“I won’t,” I laughed before quickly sobering again. “Please, I just need to forget last weekend ever happened.”

Oh, how I tried forgetting that night at The Naughty Pine.

Heck, I tried forgetting everything about Jace.

Well, everything except for our kid whom I loved dearly, even if she was a teenage girl clone of him with her big brown eyes and sardonic grin.

I ignored every one of his calls that weekend, then threw myself headlong into work over the next couple weeks. Accounting was like doing puzzles for me. An escape from the feelings where emotion ceased to exist. Keeping my mind occupied with rigid, hard calculations kept me from dwelling on the memory of Jace’s rigid, hard gaze when he looked over and saw me. The fierce concentration could almost drown out the memories, the mortification. The dreadful, lonely regret.

Almost.

I took on every new account that came through the door and assumed a few others from coworkers who actually had lives outside of the firm. I pushed myself until my body and soul were too exhausted to lay awake at night. I needed to be too exhausted to dream. Dreams only brought memories of Jace back to me.

The first time he spoke to me.

The first kiss.

The first fight.

The last fight.

More like the non-fight we had before he left.

I need to do this, he’d said.

So do it, I’d solemnly replied, swallowing the incredible sense of loss building up inside me. Just go.

And that’s what he did. He packed up his truck and left town.

After three days of agonizing deliberation, I filed for divorce in an immature attempt to force his hand. To get him to fight for me. Not my finest hour, but I was young and dumb and desperate.

And it backfired. He returned the papers with his signature on the line.

He was gone just long enough for me to switch off. To shut him out. To stuff every ounce of feeling deep down in my soul. To build one heck of a wall so I could numb my pathetic heart, making civility possible for Mad’s sake.

After a few years, things got easier, and Jace and I got better at being friends. It hurt as much as it helped, though. Easier meant an occasional smile that made my heart pound. A delicious chuckle that tickled my hypersensitive wanting. It meant being called Där now and then, the way he did once upon a time, his tone warm and deep.

So I’d thrown myself at Brian, a wildlife biologist who’d come to Coldwater to study the snow geese migration. He was good-looking. He liked me. He was a nice guy. He wouldn’t hurt me.

Granted, he certainly wasn’t Jace, and sex with him was bland and underwhelming. I told myself it was okay that he didn’t rock my world, because he was solid. He wouldn’t hurt me. I knew I didn’t love him, but I thought someday I could. I loved that he wanted to take care of me.

But most importantly, I knew if I married him, Jace would back off.

So I did.

And Jace did.

That came back to bite me in the butt though, because Jace moved on too. It started with one hookup. Then another. The gossip flew through Coldwater like wildfire, but I tucked the self-reproach away and ignored the pitying glances and hushed voices.

But then came Stephanie. He didn’t just hook up with Stephanie.

He married Stephanie.

Yeah, I’d already remarried, but seeing them together shredded me. It all happened so fast. In the blink of an eye, he belonged to someone else. The cold reality of it burned through my heart, which proved to be the beginning of the end for marriage number two.

I froze up entirely, pulling away from Brian. All he could do was watch as I became a shell of a person, haunted by the sight of my ex-husband moving on. Realizing I was slowly grinding Brian’s soul into the dirt, I packed up a few meager possessions and Mad and I moved out. Brian stuck around just long enough to finalize the divorce before heading back to Oregon.

After that night at the Pine, bitter regret once again consumed me. I ached for a mental escape, to focus on things I could understand and control. Things I excelled at. So I threw myself into work. Into the constancy of numbers. Formulas and calculations had definite answers, and I went all in until anything and everything else was wiped clean from my brain.

I perched at my desk for hours on end, sifting through receipts and crunching numbers. By the time I left work each evening, my bloodshot eyes ached and my head swam with calculations. Before long, my exhaustion gave way to one doozy of a cold. Finally, at Lissa’s insistence, I left work at a decent hour for the first time in weeks, stopping at Safeway to grab NyQuil and a bottle of orange juice. My throat was killing me, so I chugged back a dose of NyQuil the minute I parked my car in the driveway and sat gazing at the little house I shared with my daughter.

Its simple floor plan consisted of one big open living room, dining room, and kitchen. A door off the living room opened to my bedroom, and Madison’s room was off the kitchen with a Jack-and-Jill bathroom in between. Down a narrow flight of stairs by the back door was a semi-finished basement. The house was small, but Mad and I didn’t need much room. I hadn’t taken much when I set Brian free. I didn’t need reminders of another failed marriage. Of freezing out a man who’d only wanted to love me and take care of me.

The house looked desolate and lonely that night. It wasn’t terribly late, but midwinter and daylight savings meant full darkness before five o’clock. I vaguely remembered receiving a text from Mad saying Jace was picking her up after band practice, and they were going for pizza. She probably wouldn’t be home for another hour or so.

I shut off the car and listened to the quiet. The stillness. Snowflakes gently sprinkled down, dancing sparkles that cascaded through the beams of distant streetlights. I watched as the snow peppered my windshield, each flake melting against the slightly warmer glass. In moments, they began to stick and the glass became foggy, obscuring my bereft-looking home from view. Crystals began to form in the cold air, and I exhaled and watched hypnotically as patterns of frost skated along the opaque windows. Feeling the effects of the NyQuil, I soaked in the serenity of the night, simply doing nothing at all.

It was the opening of my car door that woke me.

That and Jace’s muttered, “Fuck.”

I cracked open my eyes to see him leaning into my car. He looked grumpy.

“Jace?” I mumbled. “What are you doing here? What’s wrong?”

Instead of responding, he straightened and shouted over the roof of my car toward the house. “She’s here, Mad. In her car. I’ll get her inside.” He knelt back down and reached in to unbuckle my seatbelt, then grabbed my keys, grumbling under his breath.

“What’s the matter?” I asked again.

He leveled a fierce gaze at me. “Your daughter was freaked when she got home and your car was here, but you weren’t.”

I frowned, groggy from my inadvertent nap and the NyQuil. “I was here.”

“You weren’t inside. We had no clue you were out here in your goddamn car.”

“You sound angry.” It was like my thoughts became words without my knowledge.

He gave me an exasperated look, clenched his jaw as he breathed in deep through his nose and exhaled forcefully before he leveled his gaze back at me. “Grab your purse and put your arms around my neck, honey.” He stuck one arm under my legs and another behind my back.

“Jace, I can walk.” Yet, I still fumbled for my purse and attempted to put my arms around his neck.

“Don’t care. I’m gonna carry you.”

I shook my head slowly which seemed to fill my brain with a cold fog. “No, it’s okay—”

“Där?” he growled with an escalating frustration evident even to my muddled stupor.

“Yeah?”

“Just shut the fuck up. You’ve got heels on, and, I don’t know if you’ve realized, but there’s a good eight inches of snow on the ground. I’m gonna carry you.”

Ignoring my weak protest, he lifted me up against his chest. My entire car was covered with a thick white blanket. No wonder they hadn’t seen me in there. I let out a long slow hhhohhhhhhh that created a visible, steamy cloud in the frigid night air.

With the arm holding my legs, Jace stuck out his hand to push my car door shut and hit the fob to lock it. He started for the front steps where Mad stood in the doorway, swinging the storm door wide as Jace hauled me up the stairs and inside.

“Hi, honey,” I smiled, feeling a tinge of guilt for the worry evident in her expression.

She frowned. “Jesus, Mom.”

Once we got into the living room and Mad closed the door behind us, Jace turned to speak to her.

“Mad, go into your mom’s room and pull down the blankets on her bed, okay?”

“Yeah,” she replied, pulling my purse from my grasp and tossing it on the couch. She quickly made a beeline to my room as Jace kicked the snow off his boots, still holding me high against his chest.

“You can put me down now,” I offered.

“I’m putting you in bed.”

“Jace,” I began, “I can put myself—”

But his furious glare stopped the words in my throat.

“Honey, it’s below zero with the wind chill, and you were sound asleep in your fucking car.” His bristly growl made me shrink in his arms. “I will put you in bed.”

I dropped my gaze and nodded.

A moment later, he was laying me back against my pillows and pulling my coat from my body as Mad grabbed the extra-fluffy fleece blanket from the foot of the bed. He slipped my heels from my feet, and even my overly groggy, ill, and under-the-influence-of-NyQuil body reacted rather sharply to the firm grip of his fingers around my ankles.

“Mom, are you okay? You look flushed.”

Jace looked sharply at my blushing cheeks, then back up at our kid. “Grab a thermometer, will you, Mad?”

“I’m fine—” I started, but then cut it short when his deep, coffee-colored gaze landed back on me.

Mad didn’t pay me any attention anyway. Rather, she chose to listen to her dad and went in the bathroom to grab the thermometer. As soon as her back was turned, Jace leaned over my body, bracing himself with a fist on the bed by my hip.

“She was freaking the fuck out. Let her fuss over you for a bit. It will help her deal with it.”

It annoyed me, but he was right. Guilt swelled through my chest. A kid shouldn’t have to mother their parent. I gave a contrite nod in response.

“Good girl,” he said under his breath, somehow pulling the air out of my lungs in a rush. I was sick, but clearly not dead. Even feeling like poo and in a bit of a NyQuil fog, I reacted to the raspy approval in his voice. Just like I was sixteen all over again. “What the fuck were you thinking? How long were you out there before we got here?”

I had to think about it for a second before I answered. My brain just didn’t want to function. “I think I got home about five-thirty. What time is it?” I asked, a bit awestruck.

“Quarter to eight. Fuck, Där, you were probably out there a good two hours.”

Passed out in my car. Overcome by exhaustion and cold medicine.

The weight of my own contrition, of what could have happened, burrowed into my soul.

Jace reached down and wrapped a warm hand around one foot, rubbing it and then the other. “Feel that?”

“Yeah,” I whispered.

“I’m glad you at least had a goddamn coat and some warm tights on. Fuck’s sake.”

But then he threaded his fingers back up into my hair, pulling me forward as he tipped his head to touch his forehead to mine. His tell. I melted into his touch, and he held me there for a split second, exhaling deeply.

The slamming door of the medicine cabinet made him straighten and release me just as Mad emerged from the bathroom.

“I can’t find a thermometer.” She looked at me, and I tried to remember if it was something I’d replaced after things fell apart with Brian.

“Crap, I don’t think we have one.” I murmured. “That’s my bad.”

“Shit,” Jace swore quietly. “Okay, Mad, do you guys have an electric blanket or a heat pad or something?” Receiving a nod, he continued. “Go grab it, and then put some water on for tea.”

He put the back of his hand to my cheek, gliding it down my neck to my shoulder under the cowl-neck of my sweater and cussed again. “Motherfucker.” He stripped off his coat and pulled me tight against him, breathing into my exposed fringy bangs.

“Here,” I heard Mad say, followed by some shuffling around as she plugged in the electric throw we kept on the couch for drafty winter nights.

“That’s great, Mad. Perfect. Why don’t you go make her some tea. Not too hot, but warm.”

“On it…” Her voice trailed off as she hurried from the room.

Jace wrapped the rapidly warming throw around my torso tightly, leaving my arms free, then grabbed the blanket Mad had been pulling from the bottom of the bed. He practically swaddled me before he pulled me back against his chest.

The whole time Mad was out of the room, Jace held me. Exhaustion still nagged, but my brain fog started to ease up some. It was like waking up from a vivid dream to find it wasn’t a dream after all, that his arms actually were wrapped around me. Ironically, his warmth made me shiver.

But the beauty of that was him holding me even tighter.

One part of me relished the moment. Just like I had that night at the Pine.

The realistic part of me grew uneasy, knowing all too well it was a temporary blip on the radar that would mess with my head tomorrow.

I mentally told the realistic part of me to stuff it because it was amazing, even if he was furious with me.

Mad came back with a steaming mug of my Tazo Passion tea, which Jace held to my lips. A few sips in and the remaining chill eased more before slowly dissipating altogether. Heat began to ooze through my veins, and my eyes became quite droopy. I managed to stay awake long enough to finish the tea before I gave into sleep against my ex-husband’s warm, solid chest.

I woke up alone in my bed, all wrapped up like a burrito, sweating under the weight of the numerous blankets. My face was pressed tightly against my pillow, and I could almost smell the faintest hint of juniper when I inhaled. It made me want to keep my eyes closed. To stay in that moment, foolish as it seemed, when he’d pulled me tight, his hands rubbing over my arms and shoulders. I wanted to hear his murmurs, asking if my fingers or toes hurt. Telling me to take another sip of tea.

All that brought on by his lingering scent.

Eventually, another scent filled the air, though.

Coffee.

Feeling a little shaky, I climbed out of the mound of bedding and slipped on my cushy dark amethyst robe. I still wore my clothes from the day before, but my body craved an extra layer of warmth now that the electric throw wasn’t wound around my torso. Sliding my feet into my slippers, I quietly emerged from my bedroom to see Mad sitting at the kitchen table eating a bowl of oatmeal.

Only Mad. No Jace.

I wasn’t entirely sure whether that was good or bad, but I didn’t want to dwell on it, either. It was embarrassing enough facing Mad after I’d pulled a stunt like I had last night.

“Hey, sweetie.” My voice cracked ever so slightly.

Mad looked up at me mid-bite. She looked kinda torn for a second, as though she wasn’t sure how to feel about everything that happened either.

“Hey,” she finally replied, her voice wary, somewhat flat and cool. “How’re you feeling?”

“Not too bad,” I shrugged as she took a bite. “Kinda tired and stuffy. Foolish.”

“So you do realize that falling asleep in your car was pretty dumb?”

“Of course I do,” I frowned. “But it wasn’t like—”

“You know,” she interrupted, “you would never let me out of the house again if I did something like that.”

“I would worry,” I admitted.

“Yeah, you would.” She used her spoon to toy with her oatmeal for a moment before looking back up at me. “Could you excuse me from school today?”

I took a few steps closer and lowered myself to the chair to her right. “Why? Are you feeling ill?” An eternal social butterfly, Mad never wanted to stay home from school.

“No,” she mumbled with a slow shake of her head.

“Then why do you want to stay home?”

She chewed at her lower lip and glanced off to her left.

“Mad, what is it?”

“I’d kinda like to keep an eye on you.”

“You’re worried about me?” I asked, and she gave a curt nod. “Mad, I’m fine, really.”

She frowned. “I don’t know that I believe you. Dad doesn’t get too excited without a good reason, and he was checking you for hypothermia last night.”

“I get that I freaked you out, but don’t you think he would have taken me to the hospital if he had any doubt I’d be okay?”

“He was concerned enough to stay until this morning.”

My spine stiffened. “Wait, he what now?”

“He’s the one who made the coffee and oatmeal. He sat there watching over you all night, making sure he could wake you up. He stayed until I was up to keep an eye on you. Me, your daughter. You’re supposed to be the parent here, Mom. Not me!”

I didn’t really like that I was being chastised by my teenager, even if she was right. Everything built up inside me, leaving me off-kilter and short-tempered. I was reeling over the fact that Jace had been there all night. Which was completely ridiculous of him because I was fine, but now Mad was freaked because he was freaked, and the whole situation sorta ticked me off.

This was way too much to deal with pre-caffeine.

“Jeez Louise, Mad. You make it sound like I was trying to off myself.”

She looked at me, clearly full of doubt. “Were you?”

“Of course not.”

“What if I’d been staying at Shelby’s?” she shot back. “You would have died, and you know it!”

My brain seemed disconnected, like my head was a droopy half-filled balloon floating alongside my body. My sinuses ached, and my throat was on fire. If that wasn’t enough, I had just woken up, I had a doozy of a NyQuil hangover, and my system was screaming for the coffee I smelled, but had yet to taste. All this led to me being super grumpy and fueled my little hissy fit.

“Oh, my God, Mad. I was at work. I didn’t feel good. I stopped and got cold medicine on the way home and took it when I parked in the driveway. The snow was pretty. I was watching it, and I dozed off. Was it stupid? Yes. I’m aware of that, okay?” I probably should have stopped there, but at that point, my mom-guilt had evaporated and my brain wasn’t really in control of my mouth anymore. “I’m sorry I scared you, but I would appreciate it if you would knock off the snotty attitude.”

Mad’s voice screeched as she lurched from her chair and plopped her bowl in the sink. “I can knock off the attitude? I’m not the one acting like a child!” She stormed out of the kitchen, grumbling low in her throat. “I need to get to school. Try not to kill yourself today, okay?”

“Madison Marie Sanders,” I started, already regretting my petulant outburst, but too annoyed to show it.

She ignored me, though, stomping to the front door where she slung her backpack over her shoulder and slammed out of the house with a muttered, angry sigh. “I’m so glad today is Friday.”

Well, that was just fantastic.

I rested my head in my hands for a few moments, my shoulders slumping as our argument played on high-speed repeat in my head. Finally, shuffling back over to the counter, I grabbed a mug and filled it with coffee followed by a super-big dose of half-and-half. I sat back at the table staring at the steam rising from my cup, letting the guilt for my total overreaction eat me up. I had done something stupid, Mad was right about that. She had a valid reason to be worried, and she was spot on about my own childish tantrum. She didn’t deserve me getting snippy in response to her concern.

I’d never been good in arguments, having the tendency to hold in my feelings to avoid saying all the wrong things. Always afraid of rocking the boat, I generally let the waves carry me where they wanted.

My phone pinged with a text. Hoping it was Mad, that maybe she wasn’t quite as grumpy as I thought, I jumped up and hurried to the living room to pull it from my purse where it sat on the couch.

It wasn’t Mad. It was Jace.

Crap, I was not up to sparring anymore this morning.

How you feeling?

I quickly typed a response.

I’m ok. Thx.

Cool. Having some coffee?

Yup

Breakfast?

Not yet.

There should still be oatmeal in the pan on the stove. Eat.

I’m fine, Jace

Eat

I am fine

EAT

Jace, I’m fine!

If you don’t eat, I’ll come feed you myself.

I wanted to scream as I fiercely typed a reply.

FINE! I’LL EAT!!!

Good girl

Even as annoyed as I was, reading those two little words reminded me of the way he said those two little words the night before. A fluttery sensation tumbled deep in my pelvis. As I mentally struggled to shrug off that treasonous whirl, my phone chimed again.

You got Juice? Soup?

I think so

Staying home today, right?

Yeah, I’m going back to bed.

There was a long pause before his response, and I didn’t have the faintest idea what that meant. I tried hard not to read anything into it, but doing so proved to be very difficult.

K, get some rest

And that was it.

I finished my cup of coffee and was washing down another dose of NyQuil when my doorbell rang.

No way. He wouldn’t.

Turned out, he didn’t.

I opened the door to find my stepmom, Rose, looking worried and toting a bag of what appeared to be juice and soup. She came bustling through my house and headed straight for my kitchen, talking a hundred miles an hour.

“Oh, sweetie,” Rose exclaimed as she set down the groceries on the counter. “You look flushed. Do you have a fever?” She didn’t even pretend not to know about the drama the night before.

“I don’t know,” I sighed. It suddenly made sense why Jace had gone silent for a moment when he was texting me.

He’d texted Rose, too.

Sometimes it irked me that my dad and Rose were still so tight with Jace. Yeah, they were incredibly helpful when he left, welcoming me back into their home and helping me get back on my feet with no blame or judgement.

That said, they didn’t seem to blame or judge Jace either. Even though he left me. Me and their granddaughter. Sure, never missed a child support payment or forgot Mad’s birthday. He called to talk to her all the time. When he came back to Coldwater, he doted on her. He really was a great dad.

But my shattered heart stung at how close he still was to Dad and Rose. They treated him as though he and I had never even split up.

She began unloading the bag of groceries. “Well, I picked up a nice, new thermometer at the store, so let’s check.”

“I’m fine.”

As though I hadn’t said a word, she ignored me, flicked on the thermometer, and aimed it at my forehead. A heartbeat later, she squinted at the results, and set the little device on the table.

“Okay, you’re just a tidbit warm. What were you thinking? My goodness, it was absolutely frigid last night. How about you go curl up on the couch, and I’ll heat up some soup, huh?”

“Rose,” I started, but she simply waved me off with her hand.

“Go on,” she said with a flick of her fingers. “You go get all snuggled up. I won’t take no for an answer.”

She wouldn’t, either. She was all sweetness and light in her methods, but I’d learned through the years that it was best to do what she said because she really wouldn’t take no for an answer. And since I didn’t say no really well in the first place, I acquiesced.

I always acquiesced.

After all, Rose had put up with a lot from me over the years. I barely remembered my real mom who had passed away when I was only four. A few fuzzy images and scents were all I had. For a while after she died, it’d just been Dad and me until he’d fallen head over heels for my first grade teacher who’d fallen head over heels right back. Within a year, they were married, and my little brother Travis showed up about a year after that. I was a good kid, eager to please, but even I had my bratty moments. Moments I regretted looking back.

So, I sat there with my stepmom, half-dozing off and on throughout the day. My body clearly needed the rest. When I was awake, Rose kept me sedentary with cheesy movies and trash TV shows until Mad got home.

In an attempt to make amends with my daughter, I popped in Beauty and the Beast after Rose left, even though it always made me cry when the Beast admitted he loved Belle right as she ditched him. But it had been Mad’s favorite movie from the time she could talk, and it never failed to make her regress a bit and snuggle up like she had as a little girl. At one point, though, just as Belle and her dad broke out of the cellar, her cell phone rang and she hopped up to take the call.

“It’s Shelby,” she said as she paused the flick and headed into her room. I closed my eyes, still a bit drowsy even though I’d slept a good chunk of the day, but I swore I heard her say “bye, Dad” just before she came back out of her room. She proceeded to get me more orange juice and herself a pop on her way back to the couch.

“What did Shelby want?” I asked, feigning innocence.

“She, um, was asking about a paper. It’s due on, um, Monday and she was wondering if I could come over to study…like maybe tomorrow or something.”

She slanted a sideways glance toward me, then exhaled when she registered the frown on my face. She was a craptastic liar, just like I was.

“Fine,” she admitted with a roll of her eyes, “it was Dad. He was checking to see how you were doing.”

“I’m fine.”

“I know, but, well, I think you kinda freaked him out. He wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

I tried really hard not to read anything into that. After all, it was more likely he was checking on Mad since my escapade had scared her so badly. After all, he wasn’t calling me; he was calling her.

He hadn’t called me earlier, either. He’d gotten in touch with Rose.

Therefore, I really shouldn’t read anything into that at all. Really. Not even a little.

Mad glanced over as I gnawed at my lower lip. It annoyed me that he was making sure I was okay, but doing so through others. I was also annoyed at being annoyed.

“Besides,” Mad shrugged as she hit play on the remote. “It’s not like you’re gonna ask him for anything. You’re not terribly demanding.”

My momentary huff fizzled and I shrugged. Touché. I wouldn’t have. Not in a million years. I hated the thought of being anyone’s burden.

Right about that point, Gaston showed up at the Beast’s castle and the battle ensued—at which point I teared up once more because lost love tended to do that to me—before the world was put right again. Mad yawned and stood up, leaning over to kiss my head like she was the mother and I was the kid.

“You should get to bed, Mom. Do you need anything? NyQuil?”

So responsible and adultish. My mom guilt ate at me a bit that she had to be, but Jace had said letting her fuss over me would ease her worry. So, I asked for more orange juice, dutifully took my NyQuil, and went to bed.

At least the NyQuil knocked me out cold.

The following Wednesday, I arrived home after work, columns of numbers still swimming through my head. I’d been back to the office for three days. My head cold was more of an annoyance than anything at that point, and I needed to get back into my routine. To my responsibilities.

At the same time, keeping my promise to Mad, I’d cut back, going to the office later in the mornings and making sure I left no later than five.

“Madison?” I called out. “You home?”

“Yeah, Mom,” she hollered from her room. “Not for long, though.”

Dropping my purse on the kitchen counter, I stepped into her doorway to see her closing the lid of her oboe. “What’s up?”

“Late practice tonight to get ready for Saturday’s basketball game. If it’s okay, I’ll just crash at Shelby’s.”

Sometimes I felt like I should pay child support to Shelby’s parents. Between all of her extracurricular activities and her thriving social life, it seemed like my daughter spent more time at Shelby’s than our place.

“Sure, sweetie,” I smiled. “Don’t wear yourself out. You got your homework done?”

“Mom, are you seriously going to lecture me? You, Miss Fell-asleep-in-her-car-and-almost-died-of-hypothermia? I think I’m good.” She raised an eyebrow at me, and I had the slightest flash of Jace’s sardonic expression. She had so many of his characteristics, but they struck me even more lately, probably due to all the recent Jace-related fiascos going through my head.

I crossed my arms over my chest and gave a shake of my head. “Watch it, kid.”

“Sorry. Bad joke. Yeah, I got my homework done. I’m not a little kid anymore. You don’t have to worry about me so much.”

“Old habits die hard,” I murmured. “Do you have time to eat before you go?”

“Shelby’s mom ordered a pizza, so I’ll eat there before practice.” She looked around her room, scanning the piles of discarded clothing that littered every level surface. “Have you seen my Coldwater High hoodie?”

“I think it’s in the dryer,” I replied.

“Great, thanks,” she said as she slipped past me and thundered down the stairs to the basement.

I crossed through the bathroom into my bedroom, pulling off my heavy cardigan and tossing it onto a mountain of clothes piled haphazardly onto a chair. Reaching under my chemise to unhook my bra, I slipped it out from underneath with a sigh. Removing that dastardly piece of clothing was one of the best highlights of my day, like it gave my body permission to relax. I stripped off my skirt and tugged on some soft flannel bottoms, then began sifting through the heap of clothing for something with long sleeves to ward off the evening chill. When the doorbell rang, I called out to Madison.

“Mad, I think Shelby’s here.”

No response from my kid, simply a second ring from the doorbell, so I abandoned my search for a hoodie and headed out into the living room to answer it since it was just…

Jace.

Dangit, dangit, dangit.

His gaze travelled down my thin top as a rush of chilly air rushed in from outside. Goosebumps covered every inch of my skin, and my nipples tightened painfully.

“Jesus Christ, you trying to get hypothermia again?” He frowned with an irritated tilt to his brow, so similar to the one Mad had just given me.

They were so alike it hurt. A bittersweet, if-only kind of hurt.

He stepped inside and tapped the door shut behind him with his heel, and I retreated, colliding into the plethora of coats hanging on hooks just inside the entryway. About half of them slipped to the floor by my feet. I dipped to pick one up, realizing that my scanty top gaped at the neckline, giving him a perfect shot right down my braless front. Jerking straight upright again, I clutched a thick down jacket to me like a shield.

“Hey, Dad!” Madison chirped as she hit the top of the stairs, purple Coldwater hoodie in hand. “What are you doing here?”

I had a sneaking suspicion she was not terribly surprised to see him.

“Thought I’d stop by,” he replied, flicking his gaze to our daughter and then back to me. “Check on your mom.”

“Gotcha,” she grinned before stepping back into her bedroom where she hollered back out to us. “I’m just waiting for Shelby to pick me up for practice. We’re working on some alternatives to the school’s fight song, and we hope to have them ready for the boys’ basketball playoffs this weekend.”

The whole time she spoke, the intensity in Jace’s eyes held me frozen. His eyes flickered over the base of my neck where my pulse hammered away wildly. I never had quite gotten over the flutter in my chest whenever I saw him, but after being in his arms after years of distance—twice—my nerves were frazzled and raw at a whole new level.

He apparently noticed our daughter had paused her constant soliloquy and comprehended that she’d asked a question, because he responded with a “Maybe, sure.”

“Maybe sure, what?” I asked.

Jace took a step toward me and my mouth slammed shut.

I never did get an answer, but my need to know what he’d maybe-ed fizzled off into nothingness with the way he looked at me. My body flushed hot, and for a moment I wondered if my fever was back.

“Mom?” Madison asked from her doorway, frozen midway through pulling on her backpack. “You okay?”

“Um, yeah,” I exhaled in a sudden rush, but then steadied my voice and continued. “Yeah, honey, I’m…good. What were you saying?”

She shot a look from me to her dad and back to me, settling the straps in place and grabbing her oboe case. “Are you sure because you—” The honk of a horn outside cut her off. “Oh, there’s Shelby and her mom.” She hesitated for another minute before Jace stepped forward and nodded in my direction.

“I’ll make sure she’s okay.”

I glared at him. “It’s not like I need to be babysat.”

My assertion was met by a pair of identically dubious expressions.

“Okay, I’ve gotta go,” Mad mumbled, and leaned into Jace for a quick hug. Then she turned to me and did the same before heading out the door to jog down the sidewalk. “Later, Mom! Bye, Dad!”

“See you later, sweetie,” I called after her.

We watched the Suburban pull away, and I swallowed hard.

Jace and I were alone, not something that happened much at all until recently. Flustered, I snagged a zip-up hoodie from the pile before tossing the rest on the couch, thinking I’d hang them up after he left. Right now, though, I needed to create a little distance, to distract myself from the sudden alarm that flooded through me.

“Want a cup of tea?” I called over my shoulder, shrugging the sweatshirt up over my arms.

Jace followed me to the kitchen, stopping to sit at the breakfast bar. “No thanks. Never developed your love of tea.”

“Okay, so what’s up?” Between the cold that hadn’t totally gone away and my screeching nerves, I sounded a bit like I was channeling Marilyn Monroe as I filled the electric tea kettle and flicked it on.

“Maybe I was just in the neighborhood.”

I turned to him and leveled a suspicious glare. “That’s kind of a coincidence, isn’t it?”

“Not exactly a big town.”

His eyes swept over me, and heat swirled through my center. I immediately folded my arms over myself defensively, but almost moaned as they grazed my breasts. Still feeling the need to stay busy, I turned to focus on making myself a can of Campbell’s ABC vegetable soup.

“So really, what are you doing here?” I finally asked, pained by the silence.

“I’m tired of waiting, Där. I’m done.”

I looked back at him with a frown. “Tired of waiting for what?”

“For you to figure your shit out. To admit that you need something more.”

“Like what?” I scoffed.

“Discipline,” he replied with a raised eyebrow. “You need to come back to The Naughty Pine.”

The spoon slipped from my hand and clattered onto the stovetop as I whirled around to face him. “Jesus, are you out of your mind?”

“I’ve been waiting since you showed up that first night. You didn’t take my calls the next day, so I figured you needed a little time to work it out in your head. I waited. I gave you time, but I’m done doing that. You’re gonna hurt yourself the way you’re going.”

“And just how have I been going?” I put my hand on my hip and presented him with my best stink-eye.

“You’re trying to turn yourself off. For whatever reason, you’re trying to bury something, and you almost killed yourself to do it.”

“You’re being rather dramatic, aren’t you? I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“No, you’re not. Not right now. You take care of everyone around you except you.”

“I’m fine.”

His eyes grew dark. Fierce. “You almost fucking froze to death. You need to let someone take care of you for a change.”

“Like you?”

“Who better than me? I know you better than most men.”

“Past tense, Jace. You knew me better than most men.”

He simply raised an eyebrow.

“You knew me a long time ago. And I told you I’m not into that kink stuff.”

“Bullshit.”

As he spoke, he stood and came around the counter, closing in on me. I stepped back warily, my butt hitting the stove. About a foot away from me, he stopped.

I wanted him to keep coming at me.

No, dangit. No, I didn’t.

I shook my head in an effort to clear my head so something semi-intelligent would come out of my mouth. “What makes you think I want—”

“You were shaking.”

His interruption knocked the wind out of my sails for a split second. “I was freezing.”

“Not then. Before. At the Pine.”

“I was shocked at seeing my ex-husband standing there with a flogger.”

“No, you were shocked you liked it.”

My eyes slammed shut. Fuck, he was right. I hated to admit it, even to myself, but I did like it. A lot. That hot-as-heck image had seared itself in my brain.

But, no. I couldn’t. Just, no.

“The look on your face as you watched…” His voice trailed off, but his tone drew me out. I looked up to see a faraway look in his eyes as he gently continued. “Reminded me.”

“Of what?” I whispered.

“Way back when…you and me. One quick moment. It didn’t occur to me at the time, but since then I’ve wondered.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Our first time. Our very first time.”

I was slightly shocked that he was bringing that up, but my curiosity outweighed my reservation. “I’m drawing a blank, Jace.”

That wasn’t entirely accurate. I remembered the snowy winter morning in his room. The need and the clumsy urgency. I just didn’t know what part of that experience he was referring to.

“It hurt.”

“Well, yeah. I was a virgin.”

“But you liked it.”

I snorted and glared at him for a moment. “It hurt,” I repeated.

“But you liked it,” he repeated.

“Don’t be so sure about that. I liked what came before and the, well, I liked you, but—”

“You said it. Clear as day.”

“I did not.”

“Oh, yeah,” he smiled with a low drawl and a heat burning deep in his chocolatey eyes, “you did.”

I thought back. The memory of that day so long ago was fuzzy with time. Had I said I liked the pain?

“And, honey, gotta say, thinking about that? About the way you’d go fucking wild when I’d hold you down and fuck you silly? Pull your hair. Grab your wrists. It’s haunted me for years, ever since I set foot in The Naughty Pine. Wondering if you’d like it. Being pretty damn sure you would. And now more than ever, I think it’s exactly what you need. A way to release that masochistic thing you’ve got going on.”

“Masochistic?” I hissed at him, attempting to hide every shiver his words brought out in me. “God, you sound exactly like Lissa.”

“You should listen to Lissa. She knows what she’s talking about.”

I turned back to the stove, reaching to turn on the burner, but freezing solid as his solid frame brushed up against me. His breath warm against my ear and his hand at my hip sent my nerves tingling.

“Give it a chance.” His husky voice rumbled through me. “Open your mind. Give yourself permission to be naughty.”

“The last time I allowed myself to be naughty with you, I ended up a pregnant teenager.”

“And we have an incredible kid to show for it, but I think we know how to prevent that now.”

I shot him a death look over my shoulder.

“Seriously,” he added.

“I think we knew how to prevent it then, too.”

“True,” he half-grinned, “but I seem to recall you thought it might be worth the risk when we didn’t have a condom.”

Damn, the man had a memory like a freakin’ elephant.

Because I had begged him all those years ago when he realized he hadn’t grabbed one to pop in his wallet after the time before. After he’d made me come with his fingers, I’d pleaded to feel him deep inside me. Young and dumb, needy and desperate, I hadn’t cared about the consequences. He’d even been hesitant, saying we shouldn’t because what if…

I responded by climbing up on his lap and stroking his sex with my own, whispering how badly I ached for him. Breathing into him that it would be okay, just that once. He could pull out. I maneuvered my body over his carefully until…success.

Stupid me.

He had pulled out, but I’d gotten knocked up anyway.

The vivid memories of all those steamy moments in his room and in his car heated my cheeks. On picnic tables out in the woods. On the shores of the reservoir bathed in moonlight. My mouth went dry just thinking about it all. My heart lodged so deep in my throat I could barely talk.

“Jace, we can’t…” I couldn’t even finish the thought. It was too, too much.

“Why?”

“Because we shouldn’t be doing anything like that.” Although I ached for it. Despite of my raging inner conflict, I still wanted him. Madly. I wanted him to want me.

“We’ve done what we should for sixteen years. Do you think we could do what we want for a change?”

“You don’t know what I want.”

“Because you never would tell me. But I’ve got a damn good idea of what you need.”

I snorted. “Right! I don’t need to get spanked in some sex club.”

“Okay, first of all, the Pine is more kink than sex. Second of all, scenes don’t have to mean sex. That’s not exactly what you need me to do.”

My heart squeezed tight as his words registered. He didn’t want sex. Not with me, anyway. That shouldn’t have bothered me, but my rejection meter had always been a bit erratic when it came to him.

Maybe I was a bit masochistic, but that wasn’t the pain I wanted to feel.

“Well, then, what exactly do I need you to do?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked, and I looked back up over my shoulder again to see his raised brow. His tone dropped low and he moved his lips to whisper directly in my ear. “You need me to release all this shit you’ve got built up inside you. Honey, the way you’re going, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

It was all I could do not to melt into him as his gruff words tickled the hypersensitive skin on my neck. “So you want to hurt me instead? What kind of logic is that?”

“I want to take you to a place where you can let it all out. You can find peace in submission. Euphoria in pain. I want to give you the safety of my control. I’ll protect you and guide you through the dark until you feel my light.”

Oof.

With every syllable he uttered, I trembled a little bit more. I grew more unsteady as his words pulled the oxygen clean out of my lungs.

“Jace,” I gasped, hating how breathless and frail I sounded, “I told you—”

His fingers tangled in my hair as he twisted my head around to face him. His animalistic motion made me gasp as he held me like that. The pull of his hand was almost painful. Almost.

And, as much as I denied it to myself, it made the other aches lessen. The sense of being trapped in his grasp left me deliciously helpless. It made me want to give up control. It made me want to see where he could take me. It made me want everything he offered and so much more.

“See? You’re shaking again,” he quietly said in a deep, guttural voice. “Your eyes are hazy. Your skin is flushed. Your breath is hitching. You don’t even know what it is, but you want it, don’t you? You want to be at my mercy.”

Yes. God, yes.

I did.

He focused on my lips as he spoke again. “Come to The Naughty Pine on Saturday.”

I closed my eyes, feeling like I really needed to say no, but unable to form that one little word. I tried a different tactic instead.

“But what about Mad? It’s your weekend and—”

“Madison will be at the playoffs. Boys basketball championships. She just told us all about it ten minutes ago. They’re working on some shit with the school fight song. She’ll end up staying at Shelby’s. She spends more time there than at my house. I swear, I should send child support to them.”

A strangled laugh escaped me, his words reminiscent of my own frequent thoughts. At least I wasn’t the only one who never saw our kid.

“I’ll be purely a service top,” he whispered.

“A what?” He was too close.

“Help you blow off steam. Just a little scene here and there to take the edge off.”

“But no sex?”

For a second, his gaze cut deep into mine. For a heartbeat of time, he hesitated.

“Kink doesn’t necessarily include sex,” he finally said with a faint shake of his head.

Yet, even the thick rasp of his voice was pure eroticism. An aphrodisiac. Cupid’s arrow shot straight to my vagina where it quivered and wiggled until I thought I was going to pass out.

Jace continued to speak in a low, rough intonation that sent shivers to the tips of my toes. “It can be platonic. Totally up to you. We’d work it all out ahead of time. Determine how far you’re willing to go.”

“Jace…” I breathed. I had to close my eyes against the wave of dizzy longing washing through me.

“Saturday,” he ordered. “Eight o’clock.”

I started to shake my head, but his hand was still tangled in my hair. The slight, sharp pull made me tremble. My breath caught in my chest. I heard a faint smile lace the command of his voice.

“Eight o’clock.” he repeated.

“Okay.”

The word was out of my mouth before I could stop it.

He exhaled, not releasing me right away, but reaching forward to flick on the burner before he stepped away. Finally, he tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear, pressed a hard kiss to my forehead. “Don’t be late, honey.”

And then he walked out the door.

I stood there for a long while with a dazed, blank stare down into the pan. Picking up the spoon, I stirred the soup slightly, toying with the little alphabet-shaped noodles. Steam began to rise as it warmed and began to bubble.

I couldn’t. There was no way. It wasn’t even an option.

Yet, I had to admit it. I did want to. Like, I actually really wanted to.

The thought of it scared me, but it also beckoned me. Jace thought I’d like it, and I highly doubted he was wrong.

That was the problem, though. As much as he had enthralled me before when we were young, this side of him—this complete and overwhelming dominance—was a whole new breed of cat. Feral and unpredictable.

Frighteningly sexy.

My stomach twisted, tied up in knots. I had no desire to eat anymore. Too much nervous energy.

But I needed to get better at self-care. I glanced back down at the pan and lifted the spoon to check the temperature, then poured the soup in a low, wide bowl. The kid in me still loved to toy with the letter-shaped noodles, and I gave it a thorough stir to see what happened to catch my eye. Among the swirl of letters in the broth, three jumped right out at me.

S

E

X

A hot flush washed through me, and images of Jace tumbled through my head. That luscious groan he let loose when I took him inside me, bare for the first time. His savage grasp on my hip, leaving bruises for days after. The warm splash of his release low on my stomach. The way he cradled my head against his neck as the heat of it all faded into the cool night air around us.

Sex with Jace had always been intense. Tempestuous. Aside from him, I’d only been with Brian, who paled in comparison to the carnal desperation Jace wrought from me. My responses to Jace were visceral. Potent.

I thought back further to that very first time in his room. Fuzzy as the memory was, I remembered the sharp stabbing sensation as he first ripped through my innocence. The way he held me, the way I bit into his shoulder as his lips quietly brushed against my ear.

Hold still, Där. Give it a second, and the pain will stop.

And my breathless response.

It’s okay, Jace. It hurts…but, God, it’s so good.

Crap. I really had said that.

Even more mortifying, he remembered.

I finished my soup and headed to bed early, determined to shut off the memory. Yet I tossed and turned. When I closed my eyes, I saw him in all black, his eyes reaching into my soul. My body throbbed as I imagined the flogger hitting my skin. I lay there for a good hour or more, a bundle of increasing sexually frustrated energy, until I finally reached in my bedside table drawer and grabbed my vibrator. I worked myself over until I collapsed, exhausted and breathless.

Thank God for Lelo.

Otherwise, I wouldn’t have slept a wink.

I wasn’t going. There was no way. I refused to even think about it.

And then I thought about it. And then I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

But I wasn’t really going to go.

Except…I kinda wanted to. Especially the more I thought about it. Not that I was thinking about it, because I refused to do that.

I was a mess.

Ultimately, when I arrived at work the morning after Jace’s visit, Lissa had the whole story out of me in no time. She caught onto the faintest wavering of my resolve and went rabid, ultimately convincing me that, yes, I simply had to go.

Like before, she dressed me up like a BDSM-y sex kitten. This time bringing me an Adam & Eve bag containing a tiny black lace underwear set and a sheer slip of a dress that enhanced what little I wore underneath as opposed to hiding it. She painted my eyes with a ridiculous amount of jet-black eyeliner and glazed a cranberry-red lipstick over my lips. Once she had my hair styled in long, silky brown curls, she finished off the look with a tall, feathery black mask.

I didn’t even recognize myself. I looked sultry, which made me feel sultry.

In the small reception room, Jace stood next to the check-in counter, leaning up against the wall. His gaze was unreadable. Once again, he was dressed in a snug black t-shirt and crisp black jeans. His arms were folded over his chest, emphasizing the powerful build of his torso.

He was one-hundred-percent Rogue. Everything about him was dark and delicious.

It was all I could do not to turn and run.

His gaze hit me the second I walked through the door, sweeping over my body before he pushed away from the wall to approach me with a small duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Unwittingly, I retreated into Lis—er, Lava, but he slipped his hand around the small of my back to draw me closer. I all but floated toward him as he tugged my long coat from my shoulders, handing it to someone just out of sight. I couldn’t even look to see who it was. I just stood entranced before him like a complete idiot.

“I’ve got her,” he told Lava and Rig. His dark coffee eyes scanned my outfit before coming back up to meet and hold mine. His expression was stern. Almost formal, but magnetic. I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t take a breath.

“We could—” Lava began.

He flicked his gaze toward her. Simultaneously, Rig said her scene name in a smooth command, and her voice cut short with an indrawn breath.

“Sorry, Sir,” she whispered to Rig, eyes downcast.

Jace guided me away and into a small side room just off the entrance to the main hall. It held only a narrow table with a chair on either side. He pulled out a chair, silently motioning for me to sit, so I did. Any will I had to object vanished.

Perched on the edge of my seat, I watched as he pulled a stapled packet of papers and a pen from the rack beside us and set them on the table before me.

“This form is just for tonight,” he explained as he sat across from me. “It’s to set up parameters so we both clearly understand the rules you set to play. Any future scenes will be renegotiated.”

My mouth was dry, but I finally managed to pull my attention away from him to look down. It was a form consisting of half a dozen pages or so.

It began with my scene name, which I filled out, then asked what role I’d play with a checkbox for each of the three lines.

Dominant, master, or top.

Submissive, slave, or bottom.

Switch.

I looked up to Jace. He pretty much had dominant covered. I balked some at checking the second box, but I wasn’t sure what the third insinuated. I hesitated and pursed my lips.

“You can ask me questions, little Chickadee. That’s why I’m sitting right here.”

“Okay,” I nodded, trying to ignore how my tummy fluttered when he said my scene name. I took a deep breath. “What does ‘switch’ mean?”

“It means you go back and forth, sometimes dominant, sometimes submissive, depending on your partner.”

I tried thinking back to my past history with men, all two of them, then my interactions with people in general. Would I ever even remotely be able to pull off dominant?

“Again, you’re picking just for tonight, and I’m your only partner,” he added.

I quickly checked the submissive box and quickly moved on through the form, catching the faintest hint of wry amusement emanating from him as I scanned the next few lines.

Questions about experience, sexual orientation, monogamy or polyamory.

Beginner. Straight. Monogamous.

I checked those three options quickly. The idea of more than one person touching me freaked me out a bit, and even the thought of witnessing someone else touching him turned my stomach.

First page down, I went on to the second.

A list of activities with options for each. Yes and no for experience, followed by three more options.

Willing. Soft limit. Hard limit.

“What do these mean?” I asked, the tip of my pen pointing to the last three headings. I couldn’t quite manage to look up. It seemed dangerous somehow.

“Willing means you want to.” His low and lazy Montana drawl tickled over my skin.

“Okay,” I said with a slightly exasperated huff and raised my eyes to meet his, “that one I kinda figured.”

“Soft limit means you’re not so sure,” Jace continued with a supersexy smirk tilting his lips. “It intrigues you, but it scares you a little. It’s something you might consider with the right partner under the right circumstances. Hard limit is a total no-go. Absolutely not. Not an option in the slightest.”

Some items on the list were very much what I had expected coming in here tonight. Things I’d seen with my own eyes that first weekend.

Blindfolds. Kneeling.

Some sounded lovely.

Massage, a line for giving and another for getting. The thought of pressing my fingers into Jace’s thick muscles sorta made my stomach flip a little. The thought of him doing the same to me sent it into a tailspin.

Some things were more questionable, yet darkly intriguing. Especially after witnessing the flogging at my last visit to the Pine.

Bondage. Flogging. Hair pulling.

I checked willing for all three without a second thought, acutely aware that Jace watched every stroke of my pen.

Some were very, very sexual.

Nipple stimulation. Clitoral stimulation. Penetration, everything from vaginal to anal. Cock worship. Oral sex, with options of both performing and receiving.

Just reading these things in front of him had my face flaming hot under my mask. I clasped my hands around the pen to stop them from shaking and skipped over those for the time being to read more options.

Some of which just seemed bizarre.

Shaving. Infantilism. Housework.

“Housework?” I looked up at him, incredulous.

He shrugged, his eyes not dimming whatsoever in intensity. “You never know what’ll do it for some people.”

Some of the choices made me blanch.

Branding? Injections? Knife play?

Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea. I hadn’t checked a thing since I’d marked flogging as a go.

“Jace—”

“Rogue,” he corrected, “or Sir.”

Wow, how was that so sexy?

“Okay, um…I, uh…” My shaky voice trailed off.

“Only put what you’re totally comfortable with, Chickadee.”

“I’m not sure I’m totally comfortable even being here.” I swallowed hard. “Have you done all these things?”

“You know I’ve done the vanilla shit because I’ve done it all with you,” he said with a wry tilt of his lips. “But, no, I haven’t come close to doing everything on that list. Even tops have their limits.”

“Like what? What are your limits?”

“I’m not into watersports or gimp suits, among other things.”

“Watersports?” I shook my head, clueless as to what he meant by either of those things, but figuring I should focus on one at a time. The feathers on my mask rustled with the motion. “Like showers and hot tubs and stuff? Because we used to—”

“Like golden showers.”

I had heard that term before but what did it mean?

“Toilet play,” he added.

“Holy smokes, like pee? Okay, well, I guess I’m glad you don’t want me to do that.”

He leaned forward with a wry smile and tapped the paper. “I only want you to mark what you are comfortable with for tonight. What you want to do. Nothing more.”

I looked back down and began checking boxes one by one.

The ones I had marked willing had been surprisingly easy choices to make. I added a few more further down the list, like spanking and blindfold. Lissa had gone on in great detail about something called a Wartenberg wheel. I didn’t know exactly what it was, but it sounded relatively innocent. After all, doctors used them to check reflexes, and not girly-bit doctors, but just regular general practitioners. So I checked willing for that one, too, my lungs swelling with a tiny bit of pride in my daring.

The more horrifying and bizarre and just plain gross activities were definitely hard limits.

The sexy stuff, though, caused me to waver for yet another second.

Giving head. Digital penetration. Even licking made me hesitate.

I reminded myself—again for the eighteen-gazillionth time—that Jace was my ex-husband. As ludicrous as it sounded in my head, this kink-fest needed to stay as nonsexual as I could keep it.

Ultimately, I checked very few items as willing and none as soft limits. Anything remotely sexual was marked a firm no. I slid the papers back to him, as though I was placing an order.

I’ll have the flogging with a side of over-the-knee spanking, please. Maybe a blindfold as an appetizer and that Wartenberg thingy for dessert.

He perused my choices, his mouth tightening almost imperceptibly for a split second, then stood. He reached for my hand and tugged me upright before him. The tiny little consultation room seemed to close in even more around us. “So now, we negotiate.”

“Wait, what?”

“We come to an understanding of what’ll happen in tonight’s scene. This is what I’m thinking—”

“Whoa,” I held up my hands to ward off his overpowering presence, and my eyes went wide. “We have to discuss what we are going to do? Like out loud?”

He smiled at my sudden panic. “We’ll start off easy and get some of the basics out of the way. When’s the last time you ate?”

Not exactly what I expected. I knitted my brows in confusion and cocked my head. “I had a pretty late lunch. Around four, I suppose.” I didn’t mention being so nervous about tonight that I only nibbled on my burger.

“Okay, I’ll make sure I have stuff close by in case you need it. Have you drank anything tonight? Anything alcoholic?”

“Just water. Lis—Lava told me no drugs or alcohol.”

“Mmm, you’re such a good little Chickadee.”

In spite of my determination to be reserved, my tummy whooshed with his delicious approval.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” His hand reached up to graze my shoulder and trail down my arm, and his gaze followed suit. I sucked in a deep breath, making me appreciate the lack of a corset tonight. Goosebumps radiated out in the wake of his touch. “Stiff or sore anyplace? Any bruises or cuts we need to watch out for?” He lifted my fingers up to his lips as though he was going to taste them. Instead, he simply looked at them closely, and I tamped down the disappointment.

Already breathless, and we hadn’t even done anything yet. “No, not that I know of.”

“Good. Now,” he picked up the list and scanned it again, “here’s what I’m thinking. I’d like to take you through the main room first, to show you off a little.”

“Jace, I’m not so sure—“

“Rogue or Sir,” he corrected again. “When we’re here, I’m Rogue or Sir. Always. It’s part of the scene.”

“Okay…Rogue.” Somehow, saying it aloud made this whole night more real. More elaborate. More everything. “I don’t know about going out into the main room. I’m just still nervous about running into someone I know.”

“We might, we might not. If we do, you might recognize each other, or you might not. But everyone’s here for the same reason, little Chickadee. Trust me, it’ll help you get comfortable with the scene. Nobody’s gonna out you here.”

It sounded rational. Freaky as all holy heck, but strangely rational.

“Okay,” I nodded. “I guess.”

“After a bit, I’ll take you to one of the private rooms.” His hands trailed slowly down my arms again and encircled my wrists in a tight grip, making my mouth go dry. “I’ll strap your hands and wrists to a bench, bending you over to give me good access to that lovely little ass of yours.”

His words came out so casually, but they held a sublime and slightly scary promise.

“I’m bent over?”

When he nodded, I frowned. As short as this skirt was, my ass would be all out in the air. Not that the sheer dress covered much, but bending at the waist would lift the hem and put my lacy black underwear on display. Second thoughts began to swirl through my consciousness.

“When I saw it before,” I hedged, “the woman was standing. Can’t I just stand up?”

“Not the first time, honey. It’s safer this way.”

I huffed out an incredulous laugh. “Safer?”

“It’s too easy to clench your muscles when you’re standing, and that can make the blows more brutal. We just want it to sting skin deep, and face-down over the bench will force your body to stay somewhat relaxed to allow that.”

My mind raced around in circles, going nowhere. With him towering over me in this tiny room, my wrists held tight in his hands, I struggled for even the slightest coherent thought. My eyes closed for a second to bolster my nerve.

“Okay,” I finally nodded.

“One more thing, though.” I looked up to see a mischievous, wry smile tilt his lips. “We’ll keep it platonic, but I’m thinking we need to ditch the panties.”

I audibly gulped. “Isn’t that kinda the opposite of platonic?”

“We’ll only do what we determine right now in this room, but those panties are just gonna be in my way.” He leaned into me, his face closer to my own. His words were slow and meticulous. “I need to see your skin. I need to see it pink up. I need to make sure the welts aren’t too bad. That I’m not pushing you too hard. If we’re gonna do this right, I need your ass bare.”

That alone did something so deep down inside me. A little explosion of excitement and trepidation simmered under my skin.

“Jace—I mean, Rogue,” I began, but didn’t even know what I was going to say. I wanted this so badly. More and more every second since I’d walked through the door.

“You need this.” His low, thick voice tickled my senses. “But ultimately it’s your choice.”

It was now or never. All or nothing.

Do or die.

I gave a faint nod. “Okay.”

“Okay, what?” His eyebrow arched high.

“Okay, Rogue…Sir.”

“Such a good little Chickadee.”

He reached over to his bag where it sat on the table and unzipped it, pulling out a flogger. It had a thick cluster of long, dark strings that rippled as he stroked it through his broad fingers. As I tried to come to grips with everything, he calmly toyed with the flogger in a way that left my body even more flushed and shaky. I couldn’t wrench my eyes away from the sight of it.

Oh, Lordy.

He held the flogger out to me. “You know what this is, right?”

“Yeah, it’s a flogger.” I gasped as he pulled my hand across the inches separating us and grazed the soft suede over my uplifted palm.

His voice and his eyes and his scent had me spellbound as he spoke. “First I’m going to spank you. My bare hand on your bare ass. I’ll start slow. Gentle slaps, moving down to your thighs to get your blood pumping. As your endorphins start to kick in, I’ll increase the intensity until I feel like you’re ready for a full smack. I’ll caress the burn into your skin, giving you a sense of relaxation, and then give you another.”

The suede fronds tickled my fingertips, then dusted over my skin as he trailed the flogger up my arm, across my shoulder to my collarbone, then up to my lips. A leathery scent touched my nostrils, a rich and sensual aroma. I closed my eyes and breathed it in as his deep voice poured through me like honey.

“Then, I’ll work you over even more with this. We’ll build you up together, taking you higher. Getting you to that sweet spot.”

Everything he said sounded so incredibly delicious. I swallowed in an attempt to moisten my mouth, dry from hanging open so long.

After a long moment, I realized he’d stopped talking, and I opened my eyes to see him studying me. My breath caught in my throat, trapped by his lazy, wicked smile.

“Oh, honey, this is gonna be fun.” After holding me steady with his heated gaze, he grabbed the duffel from the floor by his chair, slipped the flogger and my checklist inside, and opened the door. His hand settled on the small of my back with a hint of pressure, guiding me from the room. “Shall we?”

Back in the foyer, he signaled to a young woman dressed provocatively in a revealing black bodycon dress. Lava called these girls club subs. Some were employees, others were members. All were bottoms. She’d said some of the club subs were guys, too, but I’d only seen women so far. Young, cute women at that.

Young, cute women whose thighs probably didn’t rub together when they walked.

I sucked in my tummy a bit and straightened.

The club sub glanced at her laptop screen momentarily and then grabbed a key which she handed to Rogue, smiling up at him demurely.

“The east tack room is open.” Her gaze shifted to me as she raised her brow. “Enjoy.”

Said like someone who knew exactly what I had in store for me. My green-eyed monster simmered into a boil until Rogue tucked the key in his front pocket and firmly guided me through the heavy curtain in the main hall.

A thought struck me. “Don’t I need one of those glowing wristband thingys while we’re in this part?”

“Nope, not anymore.”

“But I don’t want anyone else touching me.”

“You’re with me, little Chickadee. I’ll knock any motherfucker who tries to touch you on their ass.”

He definitely exuded an intense don’t-fuck-with-my-Chickadee vibe. His hand curled around from my back to my hip, drawing me closer, my back to his front. A delicious shiver rolled through me.

“Rogue,” called a silver-haired man from the side of the room.

Rogue guided us over to the couple. They looked to be in about their mid-sixties, both decked out in leather. Neither had masks on, and they peered at my disguise with curious smiles.

“Hey, Griz. Ruby,” Rogue nodded to the man and then the woman. “Haven’t seen you guys in a while. Passing through?”

“Yeah,” Ruby offered. “We’ve been up to Missoula to visit the grandkids for a couple weeks. Heading back home and thought we’d swing through Coldwater to hit the Pine.”

My mind reeled a little at this lovely couple talking about their grandkids and their kink club all in one breath.

“Not sure we’ve met this one before,” Griz smiled warmly. He seemed nice enough, although my stomach turned with the whole this one bit. How many ones had Rogue paraded around the Pine? “You’ve got a pretty tight hold on her.”

“Yup, and it’s gonna stay that way.” Rogue’s grip squeezed my hip possessively for a moment before his hand curled around my stomach to pull me harder up against his chest. His head lowered slightly, his lips brushing the curls at my temple. “This is my little Chickadee.”

“Your little Chickadee?” Griz raised an eyebrow. “Hmm, interesting.”

Ruby gave me a sweet smile. “Aww, what an adorable name. You look a bit scared out of your wits, sweetie. Is this your first time here?”

“My second,” I shyly replied. “Although my first was, well, a bit shocking.” A low chuckle emanated from Rogue behind me.

“Oh, this can be something to take in the first time or two,” Ruby nodded. “I think you’ll find that most folks are pretty cool, though. This environment tends to be very welcoming.”

Her words comforted me some. The crowd didn’t seem quite as ominous as it had the first time I was there. Most of the people around me were smiling and chatting, and, while the air snapped with naughty excitement, a definite camaraderie filled the room.

I noticed Lissa, in all her Lava glory, waving from the other side of one of the platforms, and I nudged Rogue with my shoulder.

“There’s Lava,” I murmured against his shoulder. “And Rig.”

Rogue nodded down at me. He seemed to have a proud glint in his eyes, and I liked to think it was because I’d called them by their scene names. That was hard to remember, but it was slowly getting easier. He glanced back over at Griz and Ruby.

“Well, maybe we’ll run into you all later tonight. Gonna go check out the scenes a bit.”

Ruby tucked her arm in Griz’s, flashing us a cheerful smile. “Have fun. We’re on the hunt for a unicorn tonight, so I’m hoping we’ll be otherwise occupied.”

It was like they were speaking a different language.

“What’s a unicorn?” I asked Rogue as we filtered through the crowd.

“A single lady, generally bisexual, who hooks up with couples to play.”

I stared up at him, aghast, and he chuckled. I was becoming less shocked by this strange world I’d entered, but every now and then, my stomach lurched with alarm.

Like, a short time later as I stood by Lissa watching a Domme weaving rope in an intricate pattern to restrain her male sub.

Then Rogue leaned down to whisper in my ear.

“I think it’s time to go play, little Chickadee.”

And sploosh went my panties.

As Rogue unlocked the door to the east tack room, I could see what gave it its name.

Along the wall on pegs hung a number of strange harnesses, crops, floggers, and whips. Strange contraptions that almost looked like horse bridles. There was next to nothing for furniture, just one solid chaise off to the side and some weird bench-like piece in the center of the room. Both the chaise and the bench were built of heavy timbers. The bench had sturdy leather cuffs dangling at the base of two legs with two more at the opposite edge of the slightly curved top. The top was padded and covered with a dark leather. I stepped up to it, trailing my fingertips from one end to the other as Rogue set his duffel bag on the floor and once again extracted the flogger.

“You’re not using those?” I weakly asked, motioning to the array of scary-yet-oddly-exciting items on the wall.

“People can try them if they want, but I’ve got my own.”

I instantly wondered what else he had in that bag of his, but was entirely too intimidated to go there.

Rogue pulled a couple bottles of cranberry juice, water, and a bar of Hershey’s chocolate out of his duffel and set them on a small shelf near the chaise. Folded flannel throws sat on the shelf right above it, and he grabbed a couple, shaking them out before draping them on the piece of furniture. Then he turned back to gaze at the wall displaying the toys.

“They do add a bit to the ambiance, though, don’t they?”

“Some of them look rather frightening. Does that one flogger have spikes in it?”

“That one’s a cat o’ nine tails. And yes. It’s a bit more sadistic.”

“Looks like it.” I let out a long low breath. “Okay, what do I do?”

He stepped closer, slipping full-on into his Rogue persona. The solid energy emanating from him nudged me backwards. I shivered as my hip grazed the bench behind me.

“First thing you’ve gotta do, little Chickadee, is ditch those pretty little panties.”

A fleeting panic rushed through me, and I took a deep breath, giving myself a split-second internal pep talk. I’d never really been one to spend money on sexy panties. With great trepidation, I dropped my gaze and slipped my hands up under my sheer skirt, pushing the lacy scrap of fabric down and stepping free as it hit my ankles. When I straightened upright and looked back up at him, Rogue stepped closer and ran his fingertip down my jawline.

“Good girl.”

Those two little words, especially here and now with my butt bare under a sorry excuse for a dress, lit a spark inside me. That ember spread through my bloodstream as he turned me to face the bench and guided me into position. A moan escaped me as his wide hands ran down my legs, grazing along their length until he reached my bare ankles. No boots tonight. Lissa had suggested I wear a pair of Mary Jane heels that felt more solid than they looked. Moments later, he was strapping my ankles firmly against the bench, running a thick finger inside the cuff to allow a little give.

“Feel okay?” he asked.

“Yes.” Understatement of the year. That small amount of restraint settled me in a strange phenomenal way.

Then he stood, still at my back, leaning into me as he spoke into my ear.

“You dressed well for tonight.”

“Lava did it,” I whispered. I couldn’t seem to raise my trembling voice to a higher level. “She picked it out.”

“It’s perfect.” Thick fingertips trailed from my shoulder down my back. Through the thin, gauzy fabric, his touch burned. The warmth of it spread as his caress arced low on my back and began to climb back up, his hand splaying out between my shoulder blades where he gave me a gentle nudge. “Lay forward. Hands up to the edge where those cuffs are.”

My hips settled over the curve of the bench as I complied. Sure enough, as soon as I bent at the waist, my skirt climbed halfway up my bottom. The cool air hit my skin. Goosebumps rose over my entire body.

Holy jeez.

My fingers clenched the edge of the bench so hard it almost hurt.

Platonic, I mentally repeated. Platonic. Platonic. Platonic.

“You remember what to say if you want me to stop?” Rogue asked as he moved around the bench and began to restrain my wrists.

I nodded, but could barely think, the way his touch traced along my skin.

“Tell me.”

Yet, I still hesitated, and he leaned down over me. His body barely touched mine, but his breath brushed against my ear.

“Honey, tell me right now, or This’ll be over before it even starts.”

“Red,” I exhaled in a rush.

“Right. Good girl. And if you want me to slow it down? Let up a bit?”

I answered again quickly, aching in anticipation for what was coming. “Yellow.”

“Perfect. And how about if you’re doing good? If you want to keep going?”

“Green.”

“Very good.”

He moved away from my side and I heard his footsteps move back behind me. Gently, he pushed the fabric of my skirt up higher, completely baring my ass to his view. Probably well more than my ass with the way I was bent over with my legs spread wide by the cuffs. The cool air tingled. I could practically feel his hot gaze sweep over my sex. I was so incredibly exposed and vulnerable. I almost couldn’t breathe.

“You ready, little Chickadee?”

“Yes.” My heart pounded, like it would burst right out of my chest.

“Yes, please, Rogue,” he chided.

How in the heck was that sexy? Yet, somehow, the reminder of my helplessness was so incredibly hot coming out of his mouth. His hand soothed long, slow strokes on my bare skin, along my curves, grazing the top of my thighs. My body desperately forced my brain to ask again, this time the way he wanted me to.

“Yes, please, Rogue.”

“Very nice.” His tone was so low. It reverberated through me as much as I heard it. I couldn’t see his face, but his deep intonation resonated with pride. My mind raced. I was going to die if he didn’t touch me.

His hand left me for a split second, with a firm pat on my left buttcheek. Not a hard slap at all, but rather a quick tap. A light graze of his palm as his hand shifted to give me another light swat, almost like a weird massage, but a truly delicious one that coaxed endorphins from my brain. Slowly, the gentleness of his touch began to fade. The force of his smacks grew harder, and my skin began to burn. A weak moan escaped my lips and then…

Whack!

A solid slap landed on my butt. At first, I was stunned by the force of it, but then the sharp sting set in. My lungs sucked in a strangled breath. My muscles tensed head to toe, and I would have pulled myself up straight if it weren’t for the restraints at my wrists.

Oh my God, that really, really hurt.

Part of me instantly froze up. My nerve faltered. I tried to remember Lissa’s encouragement, the way the pain would change, but the after effects of that first substantial blow was so startling. The burn rose, intense and prickly, both soothed and aggravated by his fingertips lightly massaging the stinging skin with a warm, circular motion. A beautiful caress. Slowly, the return of his tender touch eased away my trepidation and brought my tense muscles back to a semblance of calm.

Smack!

Another slap just off to the side of the first, and a strangled gasp escaped from my throat. Rogue repeated the gentle caress, but for a shorter time. One that didn’t allow me to fully relax before he brought another slap down on my skin, lower and toward my thigh. I squirmed against my bindings as the heated sensitivity began to spread. Covering my bare skin and soaking inward, heating my core and drawing out a tremendous ache that grew stronger with every blow. He worked his way to the other cheek, carefully and methodically soothing and striking my flesh.

“Beautiful,” I heard him murmur. “Your fair skin, it’s such a pretty pink. Just how I always imagined it would be.”

He’d imagined? The thought flew through my head, then immediately disappeared when another firm slap landed low.

After a few more sharp cracks on my upper thighs, he came around to the side and hunched down to meet my eyes.

“Where are you at, Chickadee? What color?”

It took me a moment to realize what he was asking. My mind was preoccupied with the serious tingling burn covering my hind end.

“Green,” I finally whispered. His thick voice calling me Chickadee right then reminded me of the formality I’d learned was inherent with play. It reminded me to use his scene name. “Green, Rogue. Please don’t stop yet.”

He smiled. “That’s my sweet little bird,” he murmured before he stood and stepped out of my view.

Moments later, a new sensation swept over me, the long tickling strands of the flogger brushing over my skin. I lay there, completely at his mercy, as he trailed the soft suede fronds up from my calves and along my inner thigh. Up, then stopping just shy of where I was seriously craving contact. With a gentle swish, supple strands rained down on my already burning behind.

Again, he started slow. Not really whipping me with the flogger yet. Just dropping the ends down on me lightly, easing me back into it all. Gradually increasing the fervor of his motions. The soft suede began to sting with a plethora of little bites. The pain began to morph, becoming something more. Something desirous. Sharp and fine. With another swing, all those fiery nips shot through me again. An amazing new thrill flooded my veins. In quick succession, he whipped the flogger in circles, allowing the tips to etch a stinging pattern on my skin.

I was moaning, unashamedly begging for more. From time to time, he’d pause, coming to check in with me. Inspecting the cuffs and checking my hands and feet. Hunkering down to look into my eyes. Asking where I was.

“Green, Rogue,” I gasped. Every. Single. Time.

I was so in the green. Each time he’d start less slowly than the time before. First back and forth across my bottom and thighs, then a series of swipes that almost, but not quite, flicked up between my legs almost to my exposed and suddenly very needy center. Every stroke built up the consuming ache that eventually brought tears to my eyes. He was so close.

I wanted him to touch me.

As mortifying as it was. I wanted him to touch me there. I ached deep inside and hungered for him.

“Jace,” I whispered, his real name slipping from my lips, “please.”

He leaned down over me, his gruff voice so close to my ear. “Rogue, honey,” he corrected.

I took a quick breath to clear my foggy brain.

“Rogue, please.”

“Please what?”

Touch me, I silently pleaded. Just touch me. I want your hands on me. Inside me.

But I couldn’t get the words out.

“May I have more,” I whispered instead. “Please?”

He swung again, the tips of suede whipping up my thighs, flicking so close to my sex.

“Like that?”

“Yes!”

Again, but slightly lower, nowhere near the acute sensitivity between my legs.

“Higher,” I panted.

Another blow, higher and covering my buttocks. Again, missing my aching center. Too high.

I struggled against the restraints. “Please…” Tears welled up in my eyes, burning behind my eyelids as they spilled over and ran freely to the bench beneath me.

Another sharp swish that came so close to what I wanted. Not quite, but so close I could almost taste it. Then, he rained multiple short strokes down over me. Painting my skin with the sweetest burn. The intensity of it all coursed through me as he slowed momentarily and then gained speed again. Driving harder until a flood of tears spilled from my mask and drenched my cheeks.

“God,” I cried. “Please.”

But then he stopped.

He pressed his warm, solid strength up against me. The rough brush of his jeans scraped my newly flogged bare skin. I realized that my mask had become dislodged, and the feathers rustled with each ragged breath I let out. The flannel cover was soaked, tears pooling where my cheek lay pressed up against it. Shuddering inhalations wracked my body. The catharsis of such an incredibly physical and emotional release shook my very soul.

He bent over me, quickly releasing the bindings at my ankles before his hands slipped up my torso to free me from the cuffs at my wrists. I was so far removed from reality, gasping as a heavy flannel sheet floated down over my fiery rear. Jace secured the warm fabric around me and lifted me up against his chest.

I moaned faintly when my tender bottom hit the padded give of the chaise. Even the soft, thick flannel prickled against my raw skin.

A bottle touched my lips. I obediently took a sip, not even waiting for the command I knew would follow. Not opening my eyes. Hot tears still trickled down my cheeks.

“Good girl,” he whispered, and somehow those two little words brought tears on even stronger. Not due to sorrow, though, or even pain. His affirmation that I’d done well filled me with a strange, overwhelming sense of self-satisfaction. Pride so intense I couldn’t stop crying. “Open up again, honey.”

I did and he slipped a square of chocolate into my mouth, catching me by surprise. My eyes popped open to see him watching me closely.

“Just let it sit and melt on your tongue,” he said, so I did. His eyes held the strangest light, a mixture of warmth and concern, but something else as well. Something I couldn’t quite decipher, but it held me and filled the last hollow spaces inside me. His broad hand swept back my hair, smoothing the damp, tousled mass from my cheek. He almost smiled. So close, but not quite. “That’s my little Chickadee.”

He pulled me closer, tucking my face against his neck. His skin faintly damp with a fine sheen of sweat, he smelled amazing. He smelled like Jace. Slowly, his fingertips rubbed my shoulders, my back, and my thigh through the warm sheet. He stroked my hair, all the while murmuring his pride in me.

I never wanted it to end.

I’m not sure how long we lay there. I only knew the beauty in his simple caress. I wanted the world to stay away. I wanted my mind to remain muted. Right then and there, I lived for his touch.

Yet things did start to come to me. They came on slowly, but ugly thoughts began to peck into my brain. The need had been so overpowering. I’d never craved someone’s touch to that extent, not even his, way back when that was all I’d wanted. Not like that. Tonight he had kept sex out of it, but, in the end, I hadn’t wanted him to.

In fact, I’d been reduced to begging.

Mentally, yes, but my internal plea had been denied.

I hadn’t actually said it, but my nasty mind still began to process a faint sense of rejection.

That once upon a time when he’d wanted me had passed so long ago. He didn’t feel that pull.

I was crying again before I’d even realized it. Fat tears wetting his shirt as they poured from my eyes. I couldn’t hold them back. They became a force in their own right. For the first time in fourteen years, for the first time since he’d walked out the door of our crappy little apartment, I truly mourned the loss of him. So bizarre that it hit me now, when I sat on his lap, wrapped tightly in his arms. Yet, there it was.

Sheer, desolate loneliness.

Any semblance of pride had been eviscerated with the clap of his palm and the lash of the suede, and I gulped back a labored breath.

Jace lifted his head and cupped my cheek, forcing me to look up into his darkly concerned eyes.

“Take a deep breath, honey,” he ordered, and I tried. It rushed in sharply and back out without even settling for a second in my lungs. “In through your nose, out through your mouth. Slow it down.”

The timbre of his words and the steady gaze in his eyes calmed me some, yet the tears continued to fall.

“What is it?”

My thoughts erratically bounced around in my head, and I simply tried to look away, evading his concern.

He wasn’t about to let me get away with that, though, and his grasp became firmer.

“Take another breath and tell me.”

You didn’t touch me, I wailed in my mind.

But it sounded so incredibly idiotic that I couldn’t say it aloud. Besides, he had touched me in so many ways, drawing me into a hazy dreamlike euphoria.

But the touching had been calculated and precise. Sharp, hot, and painful, then warm and comforting. It had been intensely erotic but, just as he’d promised, entirely platonic. As though I was one of the many club subs in this strange world he reigned over.

I wanted him to still want me.

To still love me.

And he didn’t. Not anymore. Not like he had.

But I couldn’t say any of that.

I dropped my gaze, but then looked up at him again when his thumb smoothed over my furrowed eyebrow.

“Tell me, Chickadee.” The strange warmth of his demand almost coaxed the words from me.

I shook my head, though. It seemed foolish. Desperate and wanting. Pathetic. I pressed myself into him, my face up against his neck.

“Please don’t.” I whispered, my voice breaking with a low squeak. “Please don’t. I can’t…just, don’t. Please.”

He palmed the back of my head, his fingers in my hair, and pulled me against his chest. “Okay,” he quietly rumbled back. His voice rolled through me, soothing my rattled nerves. Slowly, the apprehension, tense and rife in my whole being, began to wane, and the comfort of his caress slowly relaxed my body and my mind. My tears eventually subsided. The quiet and stillness of his embrace took hold of me, and I simply lay there soaking up the security of his arms.

Pretending he still loved me.

He didn’t push me to talk. He simply held me for a long while and let me soak in the power of it all, even if I was the only one who felt it. Oddly, it wasn’t weird. It should have been, but it wasn’t. Everything seemed soft and fuzzy. Dreamlike. Natural and normal in all its strangeness. I didn’t sleep. I don’t think I even dozed. I simply lay there tucked up against his chest in that little, low-lit room, his hand on my bare hip, and reveled in his presence as the haze of my earlier distress slowly faded like stars in the dawn sky. One of the club subs quietly knocked, then stepped inside with a message from Rig.

Lava had apparently had her own banger of a night and was half-asleep in the foyer, yet she didn’t want to leave until she knew I was okay. Jace reaffirmed that I was, stating he’d take me home.

A while later, he did just that. He helped me gingerly climb into and then out of his pickup, walked me to my door, and unlocked it for me before he looked down at me, brushing my hair back from my cheek with a warm half smile.

“You’ll come back.” It wasn’t really said like a demand, but a statement.

Yet I still nodded, and his lips tilted a bit more at one side.

“You did so good tonight, honey,” he mused.

I dropped my gaze, shivering slightly as the barest touch of his thumb grazed my lip. For a second, I held my breath, mentally begging for even the faintest kiss.

A long second that stretched out. I finally looked up at him. His intensity sent a flutter through my gut.

But then he straightened.

“Go to bed,” he quietly ordered. “And I’ll see you next weekend.”

I nodded again and stepped inside, leaning my forehead against the closed door as I listened to him pull away.

And then I drifted off to bed and slept harder than I had in years.

I involuntarily moaned as I sat down at my desk Monday morning.

My butt still burned.

“That is a good hurt,” Lissa grinned from the doorway, clearly referring to our prior conversation. “Now do you get it?”

I flushed a little, but did my best to ignore her.

“Därah, come on, tell me. I’m dying to know how it all went.”

I frowned, still a bit unsure of that very thing. It had been thrilling. Cathartic. Maybe even healing, as bizarre as that sounded. A healing flogging. Something that reinvigorated my battered soul.

Yet, I was still so very needy. Like there was more. Another step I wanted to take. One ache seemed soothed, yet another had grown stronger.

I finally shook my head. “I don’t really know what to tell you, Lissa.”

“From the way you’re barely perched on your seat, I’m guessing he at least spanked you this time.”

“Yeah, and flogged,” I mumbled against my hand, warming with the memory of that sharp sting and caressing bite of the suede.

Lissa squealed like a teenager. “God, I’m jealous. I love the flogger. It’s just so guh!”

“Guh,” I repeated. “Sounds about right.”

“So, you’re coming back with us, right?”

“Jace told me I was, but I’m kinda wondering if it’s wise.”

“Oh, whatever. You’re coming.”

“Well, I don’t know for su—”

“Därah, he told you. You are.”

I frowned. Thinking back to that smirk when he had told me, which he totally had. He’d been amused. Quietly laughing at how biddable I’d become.

Prattling on about all things submission, Lissa placed her hand over mine and looked at me with a renewed focus.

“So was it as good now as it was back then?”

“He never spanked me back then.”

“Not that, what came after.”

“What do you mean, what came after?”

“The sex!”

It made sense she’d assume that. She’d certainly dressed me for it. Ultimately, I’d even wanted it.

Jace just hadn’t been interested.

“There was no sex.”

She actually looked crestfallen. Like a kid whose ice cream had toppled off the cone onto hot, dirty pavement.

“Did he at least make you come?” she whispered.

“There was no sex, Lissa. None at all. No touching of private parts. Not even kissing. It’s not, well he…we’re not doing that.”

“Damn,” she exhaled. “I can only imagine—”

“Lissa,” I interrupted. “Please remember this is my ex-husband.”

She pressed her lips together in a grim frown, and I rushed ahead to stall any more of her outrageous suggestions.

“We kept it platonic. It’ll stay platonic.”

“Noooo,” she whined, “please. I need sexy details. And you’re not really experiencing it without the sex. Without multiple and massive orgasms. There’s something about coming so hard when your ass is stinging like fire. You just, argh, you have to.”

“You know, it’s not only up to me.”

She shot me a look of disbelief. “Oh, please. He about ate you alive the minute you walked through the door.”

“He barely touched me, and when he did, it was to inflict pain.”

“Good pain, though,” she grinned. “Am I right?”

I rolled my eyes and exhaled quite loudly with sheer exasperation. “Okay, yes, it was good pain. Crazy as it seems to me, it was great. Kind of amazing, really. But it was platonic. He made no sexual advances.”

“What did you mark on your list? Anything sexy?”

I dropped my gaze.

“Därah?” she nagged, and I knew she wouldn’t like my answer, so I shuffled through the stack of papers on my desk instead of giving her a response that would only rile her up.

Clearly, my lack of response was enough.

“Därah! What the hell? You should at least have gotten banged a bit.”

“Jesus, Lissa,” I sighed, covering my eyes. “I can’t ask for that. Not from Jace!”

“Why not?”

“How many times are we going to have this conversation?”

She huffed out a breath and leaned back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest and glaring with a heated glint in her eyes. “Well, just don’t rule it out completely. Maybe this coming weekend? Think about it. Think about it a lot.”

I thought about it. A lot. Kinda nonstop, really.

All day and all night. The next day, too.

All effing week.

The texting nearly did my head in.

The first one was on Sunday. Jace asking how I was.

I’m a little sore…

Good sore?

I typed my response and closed my eyes as I hit send, unable to really believe what I was texting back.

Yes…weird, but good

So it was a good night?

I think so…

I stared at my response momentarily, wanting to ask him if it had been good for him, too. He had seemed pleased with me last night, but my confidence had started slipping. As I sat there debating asking him anything, he texted again.

I’m glad. Do you have anything you want to ask me?

My brain froze up…it was like the man could read my mind, although that was silly. But he had opened himself up to be asked. I should probably take the opportunity. I wavered back and forth, weighing my need to know against my fear of knowing. Going down my vicious little rabbit hole of indecision.

Ask me, Där

Okay, yeah, nah. That wasn’t going to happen. So I lied.

I’m good. No questions.

But as difficult as that interaction had been, it was nothing compared to the one word he sent Monday morning as I sat at my desk.

Bruises?

It didn’t make sense that seeing the light bruises marking my buttocks and thighs this morning did some warm little flippy thing to my stomach. Or that him asking about them did that same thing to me now.

Yes. There’re bruises.

Show me

Oof. That was not a request. But there was no way.

I’m at work

Go to the bathroom

My mouth went dry. Right, like I was going to go in the bathroom, hike up my skirt, and text him pictures of my bruised fanny. That was so not happening. My mind tried to come up with a way to tell him that, falling well short of anything that sounded reasonably eloquent. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly to calm my racing heart. But as I looked back down at my phone to type some kind of refusal, he texted me again.

Well?

In complete and utter denial of what I was doing, I got up from my desk and slipped into the restroom down the hall. I locked the door, checked about three times to make sure it was actually locked, and then stood with my back to the mirror above the sink. I took a long, slow breath, and began to pull up my skirt, using my phone to see my reflection.

Overall, the bruises were relatively faint. A few spots were darker, almost purple. Using my phone, I snapped a photo, and zoomed in to examine them more closely. They painted my skin, peeking out of my panties to spread down over my thighs. They almost looked…beautiful. It seemed twisted to even think that way, but I became breathless just looking at them.

Där?

Lost in the perusal of my battered backside, Jace’s text startled me. It shook me. Part of me really wanted to send the picture. To show him. To get his reaction. At the same time, I was terrified of doing it. Of showing him. Of getting his reaction.

Finally, I just did it. I sent it.

My breath sat lodged in my throat as I waited for a response.

Fucking gorgeous

Now here I was, back at the club. Back in the little room. A fresh packet in front of me.

After Lissa’s constant prodding, I wanted so badly to mark willing on some of those things. Intercourse. Even just digital penetration—or as she had put it, let him bang me a bit. God knew I ached for something other than my own vibrator. A touch other than my own. His touch. The hunger for his touch—his truly sexual and commanding touch—burned inside me.

But my pen froze over all those tempting choices on the list.

With Jace as Rogue sitting across from me watching each stroke of my pen, I couldn’t even mark them as soft limits.

Like before, everything remotely sexual was designated a hard limit.

“Do you have any questions before we start tonight?” he asked as I slid the paper to him.

I bit my lip and furrowed my brow. I had a gazillion questions, but wasn’t sure I’d get any of them out of my mouth.

I mostly wanted to know if he wanted something else from me. Something more. If it all pulled at him like it did me.

But there was no way I could ask that. So I gave a brusque shake of my head.

He gave me a wry smile, his eyes narrowed. “I don’t know that I believe you, but we’ll get there.” He stood, grabbing his duffel, and held out his hand. “I was thinking tonight we’d negotiate in the room we play in?”

A different sub waited at the counter, and she handed Rogue a key like before. He guided me toward what she had called the midnight room. Dark blue walls with a similar bench to the last. I stepped right up to it, legs spread slightly to reach the ankle cuffs. With my heart absolutely pounding clean out of my chest, I waited as he sorted a few things on a narrow shelf. The small bucket of ice and glasses he’d ordered from the sub club who gave us our room assignment. Bottled water and juice. Chocolate. A flogger.

“So tonight I’d like to try a paddle on you.”

An excited thrill roiled through me as he laid the paddle next to the flogger. He then pulled out some kind of metal thingy, reminding me of a marking wheel my mom used when she was sewing. But the spikes were longer and pointier.

“What’s that?” I asked timidly, motioning to it.

“A Wartenberg pinwheel.”

“Ohhh,” I breathed. “Lava highly recommended that.”

He lifted an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. He just waited for me to babble on.

So, of course, I nervously did. “Like, not a lot, but she mentioned it. I’m not sure what’s so great about it but…what do you do with it?”

“Well,” he said, stepping closer, “I’ll paddle you and maybe flog you a bit to get your ass all hot and tender. Then I’ll lightly roll it along your skin.”

My tummy flipped about eight times in about half a second. I could barely take a breath as I tried to croak out a response.

“What does it feel like?”

“Nothing you’ve ever felt before.” He reached out with his empty hand, grazing his fingertips down from my elbow to my wrist before turning my palm up. Then he faintly rolled the wheel down the sensitive underside of my arm.

“It tickles,” I gasped, my hand reflexively trying to withdraw.

But Jace didn’t release it. Instead, he rolled the pinwheel back up, exerting a bit of pressure that resulted in a sharp prickle that disappeared the instant he let up. A sharp prickle that triggered a flutter deep inside me.

“First, though…” His voice trailed off as he turned toward the table and filled a glass with ice before pouring bottled water over it. “I’m going to chill it.”

“Chill it?” I watched apprehensively as he dropped it in, large pinwheel first. “Why?”

“You’ll see,” he said with a dark smile. This time, he stepped close and slipped around behind me. His hands slowly caressed down my arms, over my fingertips to my thighs, then began to climb again, bringing the hem of my skirt up with it. “Ready?”

I nodded.

My breath caught, and he leaned into me, his mouth right by my ear. “Where are you at, little Chickadee? What color?” His fingertip scraped up the back of my thigh toward my buttock.

“Green.”

His caress traveled outward to my hip. My bare hip. I’d forgone anything under the satiny swing dress Lissa had picked out for me tonight. I could tell the exact moment he realized it by the clench of his hands on my hip bones.

“Going commando tonight, huh?” His gruff question tickled my ear.

“You said it only got in the way.”

“Such a good little bird…”

I trembled with the pure, rich honey in his voice as the tips of his fingers traced a fine pattern toward my center. Mentally, I begged him to go further. But he stepped back and roughly nudged me to lay on the bench. Once I was in place, he quickly cuffed my ankles.

The bench was slightly shorter across the top, and my arms fell to wrist cuffs down along the sides, which he quickly tightened as he stepped around in front of me. I realized that this put me perfectly level with his fly, and I had a momentary blissful desire to suck him off like this. My mouth actually watered for his smooth hardness as a wave of longing hit me. I wanted him to take advantage of my helplessness. For him to use me however he saw fit.

Yet he quickly stepped away, back behind me. Quietly building the anticipation of that first blow.

Like the last time, he started slow. Gentle taps that grew stronger. Sharper. Spreading heat over my skin as the pressure began to build deep inside. And then—thwack!

Holy jeez, that was different. One big, hot burn over my entire left cheek.

“How do you like the paddle?” he asked, but I had no air in my lungs to squeak out any sort of response.

Then he began to trace the paddle up my inner thigh, just shy of where I really wanted it, pulling a weak moan from my lips right before he smacked me with it again. My moan became a sharp cry. More tracing, this time up the other thigh, and again.

I’d gone from zero to sixty-nine in about half a second. My sex was suddenly throbbing. In a heartbeat, I was aching to be filled. Needy and desperate. He continued to tease me with long, slow strokes of the smooth wooden paddle gliding up one inner thigh and down the other, skipping across my center where the tormented ache swelled and grew. From time to time, the paddle left me, only to come down hard and fast on the curve of my buttcheek.

Again and again, he methodically soothed me with the flat of the paddle, then stung me with its sharp bite.

My breath caught, and for a second I couldn’t breathe. The air lodged in my throat, fighting to finally escape in a fragile sob.

“What color, Chickadee?”

“Green,” I gasped, barely getting the sound out. “Green, Sir.”

“Excellent,” he murmured, and stepped away for another moment.

He moved quietly. My bindings didn’t allow me to move or watch what he was doing. All I could do was lay helplessly. Fitfully. Waiting. I heard a tinkling sound of ice water in the glass, then heard him return to crouch down behind me.

My overly sensitive skin prickled at the heat from his breath fanning over the back of my thighs. He must have been eye level with my vag as I bent over the table in front of him. For a moment, he didn’t do anything, dragging out the suspense of it. I squirmed, my body truly begging for some kind of touch. His fingers. His lips. Anything. I wanted it so badly I could almost taste my own arousal.

But instead of him, the prick of the wheel prickled against the skin of my thigh, a hair from the lips of my sex. An icy bite that seemed to set fire in its wake. Intermittently, no touch and only the heat of his gaze, then the sharp trail up the back of my thigh toward my aching center. I choked out a gasp when he stopped abruptly, unsure if it was relief or a plea to continue.

Over and over, the wheel, then the paddle followed by the wheel again. Tortuous bliss. The waiting and the caress of his breath on my skin.

“What color?”

The only sound I could get out was an incoherent whimper.

He straightened, bending at the waist to get closer to my ear.

“Chickadee?” he coaxed.

I could hear him clearly. I knew I needed to answer.

But my brain couldn’t form words. At all. I could only moan through catching breaths.

His hand cupped my cheek, tilting my head.

“Sweet little bird, look at me. Open your eyes,” he commanded. I tried, but my eyelids seemed so heavy. I could barely comply. He lightly tapped my cheek, actually giving me a light slap. “Open ‘em up and look at me.”

With great effort, I forced myself to do as he told me. His own coffee-colored depths widened.

“Jesus, honey, you’re there. You’re fuckin’ glassy.”

I still couldn’t respond. My mind had gone completely numb.

“That’s a sweet little Chickadee.” His voice sounded far away, but warm and comforting. “Let’s get you out of these bindings.” He released one ankle from the stiff cuff. A sudden chill tore through me, and I began to cry.

“No,” I tried to say, but it came out so feeble. More of a whined nnnn-sound. Then the other cuff released, along with those at my wrists. In a dreamlike state, hot tears flooded my cheeks. “Please. Don’t. I…nooo.”

The whole world started spinning out of control. I began to sob violently. I fought the unrelenting power of Jace’s thick arms as I made a weak attempt at protest. I didn’t want to be released. I wanted to stay in this hazy plane of consciousness where I could float mindlessly. Where I felt nothing and everything, fusing together all the sensation until I was numb inside. Losing that firm security at my wrists and ankles left me cold and frightened.

“Jace,” I begged, “please…don’t…I want…don’t make me…”

I had no idea what I was even saying. The dysmorphic thoughts poured out, nothing but incoherent moans from my lips. In my mind, they all had the same thread.

Don’t make me go. Don’t let me go. I want to stay.

Please let me stay.

He pulled me tight up against his chest and carried me across the room, away from the bench. I was helplessly settled on a bed, Jace holding me close.

“It’s okay, baby,” I heard him murmur. His voice echoed through my rambling mind. “Take a drink.”

“No,” I continued to mumble incoherently. “No…don’t…please. Don’t.”

The bottle touched my lips, and I jerked my face away with a pathetic frailty. The cold, wet chill spilled down my body, making me shake with an emptiness from deep in my soul.

“Please, Jace,” I repeated over and over. “Please, don’t…let me go. Let me stay.”

In the dark fog, a square of chocolate hit my tongue, and I cried even harder. I didn’t want that. I didn’t want the softness. I wanted the blank space. The dark euphoria that buffered my guilt and pain from the world. My body began to twist, trying to fall back into that nothingness.

Suddenly he shifted me in his arms, and a rough strand of rope encircled my wrist. Then the other, cinching my hands together. The simple pressure of the binding allowed my lungs to fill with air, and I gulped it in. The same perverse submission flooded through me as he snaked the coarse cord in a figure-eight pattern up my wrists and tied the ends in a knot. The delicious compression lifted me from the strange, dreamy despair. It settled me.

Jace’s voice began to filter back in.

“There, little bird,” he murmured low into my hair. “That’s my Chickadee. I’ve got you. I won’t let you go.”

Warmth began to fill me. His words settled deep in my mind, calming my hysteria. His strong arms, the bindings, the beat of his heart against my cheek, it all helped heal the dreadful aching emptiness. My tears became softer, gentler. He pulled me into his darkness. Into his comfort. He stroked my hair and whispered those words to me again and again. He kissed the top of my head and protected me from the reality of the world around us. In his arms with my wrists tightly bound, my fears abated. A rich sense of being owned soaked in.

“That’s my girl. Stay here with me.”

Okay, I thought. I will.

I awoke. I don’t know how much later. The little room was still shadowed with only the small, low light of a sconce casting a faint, warm glow. I still lay in Jace’s arms. The coarse rope still wrapped around my wrists, albeit a little looser. Stillness had settled in the club. Quiet. A peace that seemed almost unnatural for such a hedonistic place. Unwittingly, I pressed my face into his chest, breathing him in. He shifted enough to look down at me, to tip my chin up to meet his gaze in the shadowy semblance of light.

I had no clue what to say. I still swam in the fog of whatever had pulled me under earlier, but my incoherent babbling slowly bled into my thoughts. My complete unraveling. I imagined my face was all red and puffy, and I was thankful for almost-darkness that allowed me to hide.

“I’m sorry.” I said it so very quietly. The slightest breath of sound.

“For what?” The tender timbre of his voice was a balm for my awkwardness.

“I kinda went a little nuts.”

He smiled. “That means I did my job. You hit subspace.”

“I hit…what?”

“It’s like an intoxication. Your senses overcome your mind, and endorphins flood your brain. You’re still floating. I can see it in your eyes. Hear it in your voice.”

“I feel weird.”

“It might take a while to come down. You need rest. Water. Chocolate. Sleep.” His fingertip brushed the hair from my cheek. “Distance.”

Distance…

Tears pricked my eyes. Cold vulnerability creeped through me like poison. I weakly attempted to pull away, but I was held tight in his arms, impeded further by the confining rope.

“Därah, baby.” The rough sound of his ‘baby’ stilled my struggle. It gave me a hint of something raw inside him. He cupped my head in his hand, his strong fingers at the base of my skull, tangled in my hair. His fingers gently combed through my tresses, smoothing them with the gentlest pull that made my scalp tingle.

He rolled us slightly to lay over me. His dark coffee eyes went soft. Warm. His large, heavy hands lifted mine, weaving his fingers through my own, lifting them to settle flat on the bed above my head. His weight and pressure soothed my erratic pulse. Similar to the bench that had bound me before, his grip confined me, and that sweet sense of possession oozed through my veins. A strange calm settled in my soul. His domineering grip was something I would never have even thought to ask for, but something he clearly knew I needed.

I needed…

What did he need? How did all this fulfill his want?

“Why do you do this?” I whispered.

“Do what?”

“This…this whole scene thing. What makes you want to hurt me? Or anyone?”

“It’s not really like that,” he replied quietly with a slow shake of his head. “It’s not that I want to hurt you. It’s kinda the opposite, really.”

“You spank people because you don’t want to hurt them? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“How do you feel right now? Right this minute?”

Safe, I immediately thought. Cherished.

Not that I could say that, though. I gnawed at my lip and averted my eyes while I tried to think of a way to describe it without making myself out to be a lonely loser.

“Fuzzy,” I finally offered.

He didn’t respond right away, but nuzzled my forehead faintly. “Right…it’s this part that comes after. That’s what I want to give you. I want to give you peace. To get you out of your head.” He gave me a grim smile. “You spend way too much time in there. You seem more relaxed right now than I think I’ve ever seen you.”

Every fiber of my being seemed more relaxed right then than I’d ever been. Far from inside my head, it was like I’d dissipated out into the air around me. Like mist floating over the mountain pines on a cool, rainy day.

I gave a bare motion of a shrug. “Okay, but what do you get out of it? It seems pretty one-sided.”

A slow, heady smile spread across his lips. Breathtaking and mesmerizing. “I get to know that I took you there. That, if only for a few moments, I set you free of all that shit you carry around with you.”

“What…shit?” As much as I avoided swearing, my placid mind didn’t care enough to paraphrase right then.

“Exactly,” he smiled at my rare use of a four-letter word, even that mild one.

His smile reminded me of young Jace. Without even realizing I was doing it, I slipped my wrists free of his grip and, rope and all, traced my fingertip along the curve of his lower lip. His eyes darkened a shade, as though I had crossed some imaginary line. Some barrier that opened me up too much.

Shaken, I dropped my trembling hands and lowered my gaze, but he tipped my face back up to meet his intense, searching focus. His thumb brushed against my cheek as he seemed to be battling something deep inside.

“I want you to call me if you feel fragile,” he finally said. “I need to know. If you feel yourself dropping—feeling suddenly low or afraid—I need you to reach out to me.”

“Okay,” I whispered, taken aback by the seriousness in his eyes. I didn’t have the faintest idea why his demeanor had suddenly shifted, but he seemed quite emphatic.

“I mean it, honey,” he insisted, setting his jaw.

Soberly, I nodded. “Of course.”

He leaned forward, pressing his lips to my forehead. “Promise me,” he whispered into my hair, then lifted his head and forced me once again to stare into the dark depths of his eyes.

“I promise,” I breathed.

He pressed another kiss to my bangs and pulled me close. In his embrace, I absorbed the comfort of his possession. I reveled in his hand holding my cheek against his chest and the weight of his body pressing into mine. I allowed it all to lull me back into the darkness. Into the numb.

There was no way I could go back.

Once again, at the end of the night, Jace had loaded me up in his pickup and driven me home. He walked me to my door, unlocking it for me. Catching my cheek in his palm, he told me—not asked me, but told me—I would be there at eight o’clock the following Saturday night. We both knew Mad would likely stay at Shelby’s, and in my post-whatever-the-heck-it-was glow, I’d nodded, warmed by his approval of my docility.

Once again, he checked in with me on Sunday. Again, he texted me on Monday.

Over the week, though, reality set in.

The ache for his touch. For the comfort of his arms.

The cool sense of rejection that set in when I remembered how he had kept his word. Even though I’d ended up wanting more, I hadn’t asked for it, and he hadn’t done anything I hadn’t asked him to.

What in the world was I thinking? I couldn’t do this. Especially not with him. I was playing with fire. Big time.

It was eight-twenty-two. I was supposed to be there at eight. As soon as the display on my phone read one minute after eight, my heart started beating at an insane pace. I actually found myself aimlessly wandering from one room to another in a mild panic, simply unable to sit still. Wondering how he’d react.

And then I got his text.

Where are you?

I read it six times, hyperventilated, and sucked down an overly full glass of a crisp, tart pinot grigio before I could type my response. Then I stared at my own words, afraid to hit send.

After drawing in a deep breath, I exhaled and hardened the heck up, knowing I had to tell him.

I’m not coming

His reply did nothing to assuage my jitters.

…

That was it. Dot dot dot. That was all he said, and I vomited a babbling text to explain.

I was doing a lot of thinking and maybe this isn’t really my thing. But it was lovely to try it so thank you. I appreciate it.

I may as well have spouted a strong resolve to be his submissive for all eternity. He clearly wasn’t accepting a refusal.

Ten minutes

Umm…

Ten minutes for what?

You will be here in ten minutes.

I huffed aloud at that and powered off my phone without a reply. Yeah, I wasn’t going anywhere.

I put down my phone and took a bath instead, neck high in the calming lavender and chamomile waters that filled my old clawfoot tub. Sipping my wine. Telling myself over and over that I was making the right decision. He didn’t want me, not in the way I’d come to realize I still wanted him. After fourteen years, yeah, I wanted him ridiculously. In a way he’d never really wanted me. He’d proven that when he walked out the door.

And now?

He wanted to play. He wanted control, but it was so painfully platonic. Twice I’d been to The Naughty Pine solely for a taste of what he could do for me. Twice aching for him to take it further.

But he didn’t. He clearly didn’t see me that way. He clearly didn’t want me that way.

So why torture myself anymore?

I washed my face and laid back to soak in the steamy sweetness of my bath bomb, eyes closed, willing myself to breathe in the calming vapors. When the heat dissipated and my skin seemed sufficiently smooth and hydrated from the sweet-smelling oils, I climbed out and slathered myself with a creamy body butter before slipping on my cushy robe.

But when I stepped from the bathroom into my bedroom, I dang near fainted.

Jace was lying back against the pillows on my bed.

I instantly regretted giving him a key when we moved in. At the time, I’d been thinking of Mad, in case she’d ever locked herself out. I sure as heck hadn’t thought he’d use it for…whatever he was doing there now.

“What in the blue blazes are you doing here? And get your boots off my bed.”

Jace kicked his boots off his feet, and they landed on the hardwood floor with a loud thump thump. Other than that, he didn’t move.

I frowned, shooting him a sidelong stink eye. “I kinda meant with you in them.”

“I want to talk.”

Of course he did, I thought to myself. He didn’t want more than that or he’d have come into the bathroom while I was splashing around in the tub, all naked and wet. A wave of longing rocked through my body at the mental fantasy quickly filling my mind. One where he stripped before me, then climbed into the tub with me and—

No.

That right there was the very fire that would burn me deep. That was why I’d stayed home. And that was why I had to get him the ever-lovin’ frick out of my bedroom.

Preferably before I started to crumble and beg, completely debasing myself for one more taste of his skin.

“Fine,” I nodded, pulling the lapels on my robe a little closer, “let’s go out in the living room and talk.”

I took a step toward the door, but halted when Jace didn’t move. He just reclined there, all laid-back-like, and cocked his eyebrow.

“Why didn’t you come to the Pine tonight?” he asked, but it came off rhetorical, as though he’d looked into my head and absolutely knew the answer.

“I told you,” I replied, forcing my voice to remain firm, “it’s not really my thing.”

“That’s horseshit.”

“Excuse me?” My jaw dropped. “You don’t know—”

“Honey,” he interrupted, “you hit subspace the second time you scened. Some bottoms go years without reaching that. Some never do. So don’t fucking tell me it isn’t your thing.”

I looked away. I’d never been good in the midst of an argument. The words were never there. About all I could think to do in that moment was to stick my tongue out at him. Not very effective. Or mature.

But I couldn’t really fess up to my pathetic want. Not out loud, certainly not to him. I simply couldn’t own my weakness. I couldn’t bear to reveal my vulnerability.

“So what are you afraid of?” he asked.

I scowled at him. “I’m not afraid.”

He sat up, and I lifted my chin in a weak show of defiance. He stood, coming toward me slowly.

“But you are. Look how you tremble a little with every step I take in your direction.” As he took another step, a bead of water trailed from my scalp, down my neck, over my collarbone, and into the darkness of my robe. A deep tremble coursed through my body. “See?”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“I think you do. I know you do. You’re a bit wary that this little game we’ve been playing will turn into sex.”

I rolled my eyes, forcing a caustic laugh from my lips. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not going to pressure you. I’m sure as fuck not going to beg for it.”

Dangit.

“I think we are mature enough to do this without the adolescent histrionics,” he continued, closing in on me. My fingers tightened on the lapels of my robe as I retreated backwards. “But I think, as wary as you are of bringing sex into it, you want that very thing, don’t you?”

“You flatter yourself.” My gaspy retort revealed my slipping bravado.

“Yeah?” he murmured with a raised brow as I backed up against the wall. “You don’t want me? At all? Because we were really good together. Remember?”

Jesus, yeah…I remembered.

“More than good. In fact,” he continued, “you were far and away the best I’ve ever had, even way back when we were clumsy kids just learning the ropes. You were plumb luscious. Can you imagine how amazing we’d be now? Knowing what we know now?”

God, it seemed like that was all I ever did. Especially lately.

And then, something he’d just said permeated my thick skull. Best he’d ever had? Plumb luscious? I was so shocked, I could only stare at him, my mouth gaping open.

“Tell me you don’t want to find out,” he murmured, finally moving into my space. His head dipped low, so close I could about count each one of his thick, spiky eyelashes. “That you don’t want me to touch you. Taste you. Fuck you.” His coffee-brown eyes darkened at the catch in my breath. “Tell me that, and I’ll leave. I think you do, though.”

“But you don’t want me.” I had meant to keep it inside, but it slipped out in a pathetic little sob.

Jace straightened, eyes widening in unmistakable surprise.

“You sure about that? You’re the one who keeps putting anything remotely sexual on the no-go list. Even as I sit and watch the pen hover over every one of them.”

“You sure don’t try to talk me into anything else.”

“I’m not supposed to. Honey, you set the rules of play there. I can’t do anything you don’t expressly ask me to do.”

“If you really wanted me—”

“I’d what? Break what little trust you’ve placed in me again. I can’t do that. It’s against the rules. But I was thinking about it, and I believe I know exactly what your problem is.”

“Oh?”

“Your problem is,” he continued, his voice washing over me like warm honey, “you never could say what you really wanted. Like you don’t think you deserve it, or you think it’s selfish to want it. Or some other shit. So I’ll make it easier for you. Tell me you want this, Där.”

I do, I thought.

I can’t, I argued with myself.

Please, I begged the forces of the world around us.

“You still can’t do it. You can’t tell me what you want.” He leaned in closer, bracing his hand on the wall above my shoulder, and dipped his mouth to hover barely an inch from mine. “So if you can’t tell me, show me you do. Give me a little kiss, and let’s get this first go out of the way, shall we?”

Time seemed to stop. My brain completely froze. The entire world quit spinning while I stared at his firm, tantalizing lips. While my breath halted in my chest.

Yes. God, yes I wanted to kiss him.

I could almost taste his lips. His skin. I could almost feel his touch. His heat. His strength.

So…I did it.

I kissed him.

I lifted up onto my tippy toes, touched my fingertips to the firm set of his jaw…and I kissed Jace.

After fourteen years of wanting and missing his touch, I molded myself against him. His arms encircled me, so strong and solid, pulling me up against him as he hungrily kissed me back.

One of his hands cupped my bottom and lifted me as his body leaned forward to crush me firmly against the wall. His other hand cupped my cheek, his fingertips catching my hair in a tight grip, holding my face steady as his lips marauded mine. His tongue swept deep, swallowing my desperate moan. My hands dropped to the dense, firm muscles of his shoulders as they flexed under the clawing grasp of my fingers.

Somewhere in the midst of that earth-shattering kiss, he spun the two of us around and maneuvered us back to my bed. He tossed me down to the mattress, following to cover my body with his own. I spread my legs, splitting my robe open as I pushed my feet flat down on the bed with my knees bent. Using this newfound purchase, I frantically pushed my hips up against the coarse denim of his jeans. He responded in kind, pressing his rock-hard desire back down into me with a delicious pain.

Just like everything about him, he had filled out over the last fourteen years. Everything about him was bigger and thicker and just more.

His hand slipped down to my waist, loosening the knot of my robe, and pulling the belt free. With his other hand, he grabbed my left wrist, looping the belt around it, then reached for my right. With a dexterous tug on the ends of the belt, my hands came together, bound by the thick, soft fabric. The sensation was purely sublime, jolting my body with an intense sense of submission. A delicious helplessness.

One fist held my bound hands up over my head. His lips trailed down my neck as his other pushed the fluffy warmth of my robe away. The faintest bit of movement, and my torso was bare before him. When his mouth closed over my nipple, my moan echoed throughout the room. My back arched as lips danced across my skin, drawing deep on my aching breasts, savoring the taste and texture of the hardened peak before biting into the soft, tender flesh around it. To the underside just above my ribs, nipping sharp little bites of skin, then moved across to the other nipple as his hand closed over to knead my breast.

His force was simply all-consuming. My mind forfeited all control of my body. Pure instinct drove me to wrap my legs around his waist. To writhe helplessly against him as he toyed with my breasts. His hand trailed down my bare skin to my waist. His fingers clutched at the curve of my hip and his thumb pressed fiercely into my hip bone, intensifying the throbbing desperation low in my pelvis. With every fiber of my soul, I wanted him to touch me deep. I craved the sensation of those strong fingers dipping down to stroke the juncture of my thighs. To press into my wet, needy center.

I squirmed, shifting my hips toward his hand, wordlessly begging. I wanted to plead for his touch, but I could only moan and whimper to urge him on as he grazed the cluster of curls covering my sex.

Yet it was enough. He read my body clearly and gave me what I so desperately wanted. Two thick fingers roughly pushed inside, holding for a moment as I squeezed against him before he began pressing and swirling his fingers deep inside me with firm, steady strokes.

“Fuck,” he gasped against my taut nipple before placing more tender bites on the soft flesh of my breast, “you’re so fucking soft and slick and…oh fuck, yeah.”

He rose back up to take my lips again, stunning me with his heady kiss and talented hands. I couldn’t breathe, but I didn’t care. I wanted to be consumed by him. He swallowed my cries as the fever inside me burned hotter. Still holding my hands firmly down on the mattress, he curled his fingers, stroking me in a spot that shook my soul. His thumb began to circle and flick over my sensitive bud. His head lifted to watch me, his dark eyes holding mine as the frantic energy built up. My body contracted, all my muscles pulling tight. I could feel it rushing forth, overwhelming me with sensation until it broke me in shuddering waves of bliss.

And I was gone. Just like that. I completely fell apart underneath him.

His kiss returned to drown my sobs, his thumb pressing down as his fingers relaxed their movement to a gentle stroke, drawing out the last vestiges of elation flowing through my veins. Languid caresses deep within me as his tongue toyed with mine. Easing me back down a notch with softness before slowly drawing me back into the storm. Still reeling from the intensity of my orgasm, I began to moan for more. To feel more of him. All of him.

He rose up to his knees over me, his hand slipping from my sex to the fly of his jeans. Through the fog of my rapture, my bound hands fumbled to join his, fingers shaking as I frantically tried to free him. As I grasped his thick length, he let out a magnificent groan. His hips flexed instinctively, pressing into my grip. His palm curled over my hands, and he moved my grip to stroke the smooth magnitude of him. My mouth watered to taste his skin, to run my tongue along his length.

He whipped off his Henley, then lowered his body, slipping his head through my arms, and positioned himself at my slick, aching entrance.

“You on the pill, honey?” he grated, his voice thick with pure desire.

“Uh huh,” I begged, “please.”

He drove home, filling me with a tortured grunt that matched my own. It had been months since I’d had any man at all, and Jace was not just any man. He stretched me deep, holding firm and steady as we both took in all the sensations of that moment. That joining. That long-suffering ache fulfilled.

“Fuck, Där,” he breathed against my lips, “you feel…God…” He kissed me again instead of finishing whatever he was going to say, and then he pulled and pushed, driving into me with agonizing leisure at first.

Every faint movement set my body alight. I could only take him in with a low, desperate moan, my nails raking along his upper back. The bindings at my wrists burned as I twisted against them. Realizing he still had his jeans on, my feet pushed and shoved at them, working them down his solid thighs, then down his calves until he shucked them free. The whole time, he rocked into me, his hands swiping over my skin, clenching at my hips and thighs and breasts.

That burning need built again. Boiling up inside me. My muscles became tense, my clawing grasp more frantic. He increased the tempo with every stroke. Long and sure became rough and fierce, almost brutal, as he slammed into me. The exquisite slide of him into my wetness.

He turned us, rolling underneath me, his hand clapping down on my bottom. The fiery sting jolted through me. The loud slap fed my need. I wanted more. I wanted to feel everything.

“Please, Jace,” I moaned, lifting my hips to slide up and down on his thick erection. Another slap ricocheted through my body.

“Fuck, honey, I love how your sweet little cunt squeezes around me.” He gave me another slap, and groaned deeply when my body responded.

I began trembling violently. My movements became incredibly graceless and irregular. Jace rolled us once more and unleashed upon me. He drove into me furiously. The fierce slap of our skin coming together was muted by my own desperate cries. Then he shifted, stroking me slightly from the side, wringing a jolt of pleasure from deep within.

Seconds later, I exploded beneath him, squeezing around him. His already rough strokes intensified, his breath catching for a moment, and then the hot wash of his orgasm poured through my trembling body. His low, hoarse moan sounded so intensely erotic, his labored breath against my neck.

His arms crushed me tightly to him, curled into his chest and cradled beneath him, my shield from the cool air around us. My mind seemed completely gone, floating in some nebulous plane of consciousness. Fuzzy and dreamlike.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he rasped into my hair. “I never thought it could get better than it was with us before.” He squeezed me tightly in his arms and pressed a breathless kiss at my dewy temple. “But I’ll be damned if it didn’t.”

I couldn’t talk. My entire body shook. My pulse still hammered in my throat. It had all been so incredibly stunning.

Slowly, though, reality began to invade my bliss, twisting my gut even as his thickness still filled me.

“This was not a good idea,” I barely whispered against his shoulder. I should have eased away, out of his arms, yet I still clung to him. I couldn’t force my body to let him go. All my muscles held tight. My wrists burned from the soft, plushy binding. I could still feel him deep within me as my skin cooled in the aftermath.

“This has been a long time coming, honey,” he replied softly, lifting his head to look down at me. His hand moved up my back from my shoulder blade to cup my scalp, his fingers catching in my damp, tangled bed-head. His thumb brushed over my cheekbone, a feathery soft touch that sent a tremor through me. A tremor he apparently felt deep inside me, judging from the catch in his breath and the darkening of his gaze.

I closed my eyes as he pulled the belt of my robe free from my wrists and tossed it aside. My mind began to race, afraid of the sensation he’d brought forth in me. So powerful after all this time, like I’d been his only days ago instead of years.

So much more powerful than it had ever been before.

“I thought you just wanted to talk,” I murmured, thinking of what he’d said when I started flying off the handle upon seeing him in my bedroom, but I still didn’t pull away. I couldn’t.

“Well,” he hedged, tracing his thumb down over my collarbone, still slick with dewy perspiration, “I never said just.”

I looked back up at him then, not quite meeting his eyes, but enough to see the gentle smile that curved his lips.

Well, dang. He hadn’t.

But that nagging sense of dread still bloomed deep in my chest, caustically pulling questions and insecurities to the forefront of my mind.

He frowned. “What is it?”

“What does this mean?” I asked, to myself as much as him. “What are we doing?”

“It means what you want it to. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“This is insane, Jace.”

“It doesn’t have to be that big of a deal,” he shrugged one broad shoulder and bestowed me with a tender, lopsided smile. “We aren’t teenagers anymore. Let’s take it one day at a time and see where things lead.”

I frowned and lowered my gaze. So what did that mean? Where things lead…where did he see this leading? If anywhere. Was he just in this for the sex? It was super scorching, yes, but I suddenly felt like a plaything. A nostalgic toy. Like a Slinky or an Etch-a-Sketch.

He tipped my chin up, silently demanding I meet his eyes. “Quit overthinking everything.”

But how could I not?

It wasn’t just us to consider.

“What about Madison?” My brows rose, and I leveled his cocky smile with a glare.

He shifted a little more, his length slipping free from me to lay hot and wet on my inner thigh. The movement wrenched a faint gasp from my lips.

“I don’t know about you,” he murmured, laying on his side with his fingertips splayed low across my stomach. “But I wasn’t really planning to discuss our sex life with our daughter.”

I rubbed my chafed wrists and shot him a dirty look. “I wasn’t really planning to either, but you have to admit this could affect her.”

“It doesn’t have to. She’s a busy kid. I’m willing to bet you don’t see her much more than I do, in which case she will never even know the difference.”

“So we don’t tell her anything?”

“That would probably be best, don’t you think? At least for the time being…”

“A dirty little secret.” I frowned and tried to roll away, but he pulled me back against him, my back to his front, caging me in his thick arms once more. I was trapped by the weight of him.

“I mean it,” he quietly ordered against my ear. “Don’t overthink it. Just let it happen.” His lips slowly trailed down my cheek and across to the dewy skin high on my neck, coaxing a response from me, then up behind my ear…my weak spot. Something he zeroed in on after all this time.

As he lightly nipped my skin, all my anxiety fizzled out. His hand settled at my hip, holding me steady as he tenderly kissed and teased my trepidation back into the shadows. Before long, my entire body was responding to his caresses, and his quickly swelling shaft sought my wet heat once again. He bit down on my shoulder when he entered me from behind, and his animalistic actions drew forth the same primal need in me. All thought disappeared. I could only focus on the movement of his body deep inside as he took me again.

And again.

Each time better than the last.

The Sunday morning sun streamed through my windows. Jace had left just before dawn, pressing a kiss to my temple as I snuggled into the pillow and inhaled his lingering scent.

My body was spent. Languid. I could barely open my eyes to tell him goodbye. In that moment in time, I was too exhausted to even think, an inconceivable notion during every other second of my life.

I just wanted to revel in the delicious sensation of him inside me, a decade and a half ago and only a few hours ago. His smooth skin and hard muscles, so incredibly vital. The tight burn of my bound wrists. The way he smacked me on the butt and let out a low groan as I tightened around him. The roughness of his beard against my breasts and the sticky wetness of his release between my thighs.

It all sent quivering thrills through my stupid little heart.

It was strange, comparing Jace from long ago to the wonder of last night. Everything about him felt so familiar, but more powerful. More substantial. Years of hard work had built him into a solid brick wall of a man. Pure perfection from his broad, sculpted chest to his narrow hips. He was the Jace I’d known so well before, but times infinity.

And the dominance he now exuded. Just wow.

I spent way more time than I should have lying naked in my bed thinking about things I shouldn’t have. My stomach growled, but I didn’t want to eat. Jace had relaxed every cell in my body—several times.

But then those annoying rays of sunshine streaming hit me square in the face and invaded my post-orgasmic bubble. Suddenly, all kinds of crappy real-world complications came into focus. All my insecurities. All my insanity.

From zero to a zillion in no time flat, my nerves were shot all to heck.

I got up, ignoring the hot blush of my skin and the whirl in my tummy with each tender ache. Ignoring the perverse rush of pleasure as I looked in the mirror to see a cascade of bruises over my hips and butt cheeks. The redness encircling my wrists that seemed to be fading all too quickly.

Who knew I’d cherish stuff like that?

I needed to busy myself, to focus on anything else. In a flurry of nervous energy, I cleaned my house. Top to bottom. Spic and freakin’ span. I swept away cobwebs in every neglected nook and cranny, even pulled out my refrigerator to clean out behind it.

I was so into it all, I barely noticed Mad coming home. She gave my crazed cleaning frenzy a very Jace-like raised eyebrow before she closed herself off into her room to do homework.

Then I bundled up and went for a walk. A hike up through the snowy hills on the outskirts of town. Straight up a rocky trail that I tended to avoid because of its not-terribly-long-but-grueling ascent. I barely registered the climb.

At the top, I looked over the snowy valley. I found my gaze wandering in the direction of The Naughty Pine. Miles away and a couple gulches over. Hidden from my line of sight, but vivid in my thoughts.

And Jace. Powerful. Commanding.

I knew going back there would be idiotic. Past history told me I’d end up crushed, a bazillion times more lonely than before. A shell of regret and melancholy.

But I also knew, without a doubt in my mind, that I would go back.

As per my usual M.O., I was totally freaked by the time Saturday hit.

But also, I knew it would end with another dose of Jace. Jace’s touch and taste and all the feels of him over me and around me and inside me. With that in mind, I managed to keep myself moving forward.

I showered, finding even just the caress of water enticing following the Brazilian wax job Lissa had insisted on over our lunch break the prior Tuesday. Even just walking and sitting and standing seemed titillating. The motions of simple everyday life had me aching for relief.

I dressed in another of Lissa’s ensembles. A corset similar to the one I’d worn the first night, but this one was a deep purple shade and laced up on the sides with a zipper down the front.

“Easy access,” she winked.

She paired it with a simple black satin mask and a matching skirt that fell, as usual, just a little high of decent. It barely covered the goods when I stood straight. Any kind of bending at the waist would clearly show my business to the world.

Surprisingly, though, Lissa fought me on the commando thing, instead insisting I wear a scrap of fabric that climbed right up my booty.

“Trust me,” she winked again.

Funny thing, though, the more she said that, the more apprehensive I became.

But I did as she said.

Under Jace’s intense gaze, I checked willing for all the boxes I’d wanted to so badly before. I still kept all the obviously not-my-things like the toilet stuff out of it, but I marked yes for everything that seemed sexy and sinful. Everything I’d wondered about and craved.

Every. Single. One.

Even butt stuff, which I’d never remotely considered before. Yet I suddenly felt free to open my mind and my body to the possibilities. I didn’t even think of marking it negotiable. I was in this for the full experience.

I couldn’t even look at Jace as I zipped through the form. My cheeks burned hot. So did my vagina, for that matter. If I’d tried to look at him, I think I might have spontaneously combusted. Boof! Nothing left but a smoking pile of ashes.

But I didn’t have to look at him to register his approval with the broadening of my selections. As I stood, his deep, hard kiss up against the wall said it all. He plumb kissed me silly. I was veritably floating as he finally lifted his head, took my hand, and led me out into the main room.

Unlike previous visits to The Naughty Pine, Jace led me up to the second floor. Up the wide staircase at one end of the main hall to a long loft. A lounge area. Through the anonymity of my filigree mask, I noted people in various stages of undress sitting on leather couches centered around numerous wide, low coffee tables. Most just seemed to be chilling, but there was one little group that made my mouth go dry.

On one coffee table kneeled a woman who slowly and hypnotically disrobed. Her fingers traced over her skin as she pulled at her skimpy scraps of clothing, revealing more and more of her bare body. Across from her on a couch were three men, one of whom had a woman on his lap. She faced away from him, legs spread wide with her skirt pulled high over her hips as she raised and lowered herself onto his erect shaft. The men on either side of the couple caressed her bare breasts, tugging at sparkling jeweled clips adorning her puckered nipples. Another guy stood before them all, his head thrown back as the woman sucked him deep down her throat.

“Welcome to the loft, sweet little Chickadee,” Jace said as he lightly tapped the underside of my chin.

I suddenly couldn’t remember what I’d marked regarding exhibitionism. Part of me didn’t care. Part of me yearned for that confidence. For a second, I desperately wanted to be that woman on the table. Heck, a tiny part of me wanted to be the other woman. To feel all those hands and tongues and…yeah.

“One of these days, maybe we can play out here,” Jace murmured so close to my ear it sent a shiver over my skin, “but tonight I think we need something more private.”

A faint flash of relief, albeit one tinged with excitement, passed through me.

Like the other rooms I’d been in, there was a wide chaise off to the side draped in plaid flannel. A simple wooden chair and small side table with a bucket of ice and glasses. Instead of a bench, a curved metal bar was suspended from thick chains in the center of the room. Heavy leather cuffs hung from each end, two more cuffs fastened into the floor below it.

Oooh, I’d graduated to standing.

Jace watched me take in the room. I could feel his dark eyes as I moved into position under the bar and obediently raised my arms to grasp each end. Something exhilarating rippled through me as he slowly stepped up behind me, adjusted the height of the bar, and strapped in one wrist followed by the other, allowing me very little room to move.

Circling around to my front, he caught my chin in his thumb and forefinger. His eyes were like rich, dark coffee in the low light. Suddenly, every other thought left me, and I began to tremble. My sudden lightheadedness was dizzying. The world around me seemed fuzzy compared to the stark clarity of his intense gaze. “Hold the bar,” he murmured. “It’ll steady you and keep the cuffs from bruising your skin too bad.”

I nodded a shaky affirmation and followed his bidding.

Then he knelt before me, catching one ankle firmly and guiding it toward a one cuff where he secured it in place with the stiff, heavy leather. After doing the same with the other, he stood.

Even with the extra four inches gained from the sex-kitten heels Lissa had picked out, he loomed over me. His very presence made the small room seem even smaller. His eyes scanned my dark violet top, brushing his finger down the zipper, and his lip wryly lifted in appreciation.

“This’ll be fun,” he slowly drawled, and his voice made my pulse throb through my body. He leaned into me, his hand resting on my hip just between the bottom of the corset and the top of the skirt. “You’ve left the options pretty open. Anyplace in particular you wanna start?”

At that point, I was kinda thinking to heck with the BDSM stuff. I just wanted him to wrap my legs around his waist so he could impale me.

“Your choice,” I breathed. “Whatever you want to do to me.”

“Oh, honey,” he smiled with a wicked gleam as he let out a low growl. “I’ve dreamed of you saying that. Just like that.” He leaned back to look me over, wrist cuffs to ankle cuffs. “Just like this.”

He kissed my forehead, then my eyelids and down to the tip of my nose. An innocent, reverent, almost cute motion, but one that had me lifting my lips to find his. He was just out of my reach, though. Arching toward him pulled at the bindings on my wrist, and a faint moan escaped me.

“What I want is for you to tell me what you want, Chickadee.” His voice was velvety thick.

I swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. I didn’t know what I wanted. Just him. Him doing something to me. Anything to me.

But to say something like that out loud? I looked up at him, only able to manage a breathy moan.

“Hmm, let’s see if I can get you to open up a little.” His wicked smile amplified the playful lilt to his voice.

The tip of his finger started just behind my ear, slowly feathering its way down to the skin at the top edge of my corset. It teased and tormented the swell of my breast as it traveled toward the zipper in front. Trapped by the heat of his gaze, I registered the pressure of his pull.

As tight as the corset was, my breasts were pushed high. Even the slightest give made me feel tremendously exposed. The zipper lowered slightly to bare a few inches of cleavage. His thumb stroked the newly revealed skin, only the faintest caress, before he exposed a little more. He lowered his head, placing a kiss just above where my nipple strained to be free.

And then he bit me.

A sharp nip of the tender skin, followed by the lave of his tongue slipping beneath the stiff leather I wore. So close to my aching peak. Almost touching it. Then sweeping away as he straightened. His hands grasped my wrists, guiding my hand back to the bar.

“Hold on to the bar,” he commanded. “Don’t let go.”

I hadn’t even realized that my hand had slipped. I’d only been held upright by the cuffs, which cut off the circulation. My fingers tingled as I grabbed the bar once more and blood rushed back in.

“What color, Chickadee?”

“Green…so green. Please.”

“Please what, honey? You have to tell me what you want.”

I shook my head in response to his gruff command, overwhelmed that my body already burned when he’d barely touched me. “Please, Sir,” I could only plead again.

“We’re going to have to work on that. In the meantime, I need to get you ready.” Jace stepped away from me, leaving me feeling faintly bereft. His body blocked my view, but when he turned, he held a shiny slender bulb in the shape of a teardrop with a glittering jewel protruding from the larger, rounded end. “This is a butt plug.”

My eyes widened and my heart pounded in my chest. I took a long calming breath, reminding myself I could do this.

“But first,” he continued, “I want it nice and cold.”

He turned back to the table, pouring water over a large glass of ice, and plunked it in. I thought back to that delicious chill of the icy pinwheel before. A shiver danced over my skin, pure anticipation for something I couldn’t even begin to imagine. The visceral craving for that frigid sensation in such a forbidden spot sizzled and steamed up through my body.

He turned back to his bag and pulled out a little velvet pouch. “I’m going to push you tonight, Chickadee. Now that we’ve widened our variety of choices, I want to see just how hard I can get you to come.”

Facing me, he slowly opened it and removed a long sparkling silver chain. It almost looked like jewelry, but, as he tossed aside the pouch, I noted strange clover-shaped mechanisms at each end. He came closer, trailing the chain over one of my shoulders and around the back of my neck. Teasing my skin with the smooth finish. He held up one of the ends and pressed the widest part between his thumb and forefinger. The very tip opened wide, closed, and opened again. As pretty as it was, it also looked frightening.

“What are those?” I whispered.

“Nipple clamps.” He pulled the chair closer and sat before me, eye level to my nearly bare breasts. His finger once again reached for the zipper, tugging it down further until the garment completely fell away from my skin.

I was suddenly bare from the waist up, and I sucked in a deep, fortifying breath. Pure eroticism whirled through me in that moment. My nipples ached, hard and pointed, and he took one into his mouth. Suckling and gently biting at my tender flesh until I moaned and swayed before him.

His lips trailed over to the other nipple, and his hand took over on the first. Rubbing and pinching. Drawing it out to a hard bud. His head lifted to look directly at me, his dark eyes holding my gaze as both hands continued to work over my aching breasts.

Then, with a slight tug on one end of the chain, the metal snaked its way down from my shoulders, falling freely into his hand. With one end in each hand, he traced the cool clamps over my breasts one last time, opened them, and settled them into place on my nipples.

I almost fainted when he let go. When they pinched my already overly sensitive buds, pain combined with surprise coursed through me. I looked down to see my normally soft pink tips slowly growing darker in the bite of the clamp.

Almost as though I was outside of myself, watching from far away, I thought to myself it was so very pretty.

The shiny silver interlocking links now hung down, draping between my breasts. With one fingertip, he traced the chain, hooking it underneath his knuckle, and giving it the faintest tug.

A powerful jolt ripped through me, and I leaned forward as a sharp cry escaped my throat.

“What color are you at, little Chickadee?” Still sitting in front of me, still fully clothed when I only wore a floaty skirt and a sorry excuse for panties, his voice echoed decadently through my mind.

“Green.” It was barely a breath, like anything more would have been too much. Too much emotion and sensation. Too much pain and pleasure swirling through me. Simultaneously torturing and soothing me.

He stood, pushing back the chair, cupped my face in his hands, and kissed me. Hard and firm. Possessively. He lifted his head and trailed his fingertips along my jaw, watching as I practically floated before him. “Such a sexy little Chickadee.”

I glowed warm with his compliment, soaking in all erotic beauty his tone implied.

Back over to the shelf, Rogue pulled the plug from the icy water and held it before me. Through heavily-lidded eyes, I watched the water condense on the frigid metal, fogging up the shiny chrome finish. He grazed the chilled tip along my cheek and down my neck, leaving a new trail of goosebumps in its wake. Then he traced it down to one breast, circling my clamped nipple. The chill numbed its ache momentarily before he dipped the plug down below the curve of the chain.

As it continued its descent over my stomach, his other hand quickly untied my skirt, allowing it to float down around my legs to the floor. All I wore now were the tiny thong panties and my high-heeled strappy sandals.

“Hmmm,” he murmured, tracing the plug down from my hip to the juncture of my thighs, pushing the scrap of silk aside. He instantly groaned as he slid the plug along my labia. “Fuck, honey, your pussy is bare. So very pretty.”

The frigid metal in such a tender spot had me straining against the cuffs at my ankles, desperately trying to close my legs. But to no avail. He toyed with my bare sex, dipping the icy plug into my crease to press against my aching clit. Then slipping it back to slip it into my wet, needy center.

“Oh my God, Jace,” I gasped at the sensation of cold so deep within me.

He instantly pulled it free and stood over me. I could still feel the chill deep down inside me, and I squirmed against my bindings, desperate for him to slip it back in. But he held my chin in his hand, looking down at me with an assertive glower. “Rogue, baby. Rogue or Sir.”

“Rogue.” I gasped, strangely craving his approval. Desperate tears burned my eyes. “Please, Sir…”

“Gonna have to punish you for that little slip, my pretty little Chickadee. Teach you a lesson.” His wickedly heated gaze set fire to my veins. “I wasn’t planning on playing too rough tonight, but you have to learn.”

The chain draped from my breasts jerked, only a faint movement, but one that drew my attention. Glancing down, I saw him lifting it with the plug. Drawing it upwards toward my mouth. He traced my lips with the pointed tip of the plug. I could smell my own scent on it.

A strange craving came over me, and my tongue darted out for a taste. Rogue’s smile glowed warm with approval. He slipped the smooth, cool metal bulb into my mouth. The motion pulled at the chain, gently putting pressure on my clamped breasts. All I could do was moan at the thrill raging through me as I tasted my arousal on the cool metal and relished in the sharp pinch at my nipples.

“That’s it, my Chickadee. Suck on that plug. Get it nice and wet so I can slip it into your tight little ass.”

Alarm and intense longing dueled in my chest as I slathered the metal with saliva. Slobbering on it until it dripped with my spittle.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured, and pulled the cold plug away. The chain dragged across my mouth, and he tapped my jaw closed to hold it in place. His fingers tangled in my hair and he pulled faintly, tilting my head back and tugging the chain still fastened to my nipples. I moaned as his eyes caught mine. “Keep that chain in your mouth, Chickadee.”

“Yes, Sir,” I murmured through the metal giving the tiniest timid nod. Every movement of my head pulled painfully at my breasts.

He walked around behind me, the fingertips of his other hand gliding across and down my ribs to grip my hip firmly. Cool, slick metal grazed the underside of my butt cheek, then moved inward, toward my center. Under the thin strip of fabric of my G-string. Slowly, he applied pressure. “Push against it, Chickadee.”

That kinda went without saying. Pure instinct made me fight it, but his permission flooded me with relief.

“That’s it, little bird. That’s right.”

As much as I pushed against it, he pressed it harder into me. I could feel it slipping in. The more he probed for entrance, the more it hurt, but a lovely, wicked pain as the thickest part reached my tight ring of muscle. And then it slipped into place. I was stretched tight. Full. Yet strangely more comfortable now that it was inside. A deep lingering chill of cold metal deep in that part of me that had always seemed so taboo. Deliciously naughty.

My body instinctively arched, drawing at the chain that still held my nipples captive. Altogether, the sensations were so intensely overpowering. I momentarily wondered if I’d survive it. My brain froze, unable to accept everything I experienced in that moment.

“Beautiful,” Rogue murmured with a deliciously thick intonation. “Such a pretty sparkle peeking out of that hot little ass.”

I damn near choked on my own tongue when a reverent kiss grazed the jeweled end protruding from my body.

Rogue rose, his hands gliding up my waist and ribs. A faint sense of relief washed through me, a euphoria that I’d met his challenges. He moved around me to sit, leaning back in the chair. His appreciative gaze studying my writhing nudity.

“What color are you at, my little Chickadee?”

“Green,” I mumbled through the chain, shivering at the faint pull.

He leaned back in the chair, tipping it up on the back legs, and reached in his bag once more. This time, he pulled out a long, leather crop.

Oh, my God… I’d thought we’d sorta hit the kink pinnacle for the night. Clearly, that assumption had been premature. Rogue wasn’t done with me yet.

Sitting forward and scooting the chair closer, he traced my curves with the crop. Up one thigh, across my stomach and down the other. Then back up between my legs, still spread wide, to tease the sensitive skin between my legs. My body jerked, yanking at the chain.

With a flick of his wrist, he lightly tapped me dead center, square over my aching need. A broken gasp flew from my lips as the sting emanated through my heated sensitivity. From a sting to a tingle. A rippling sensation. Every muscle in my body tensed, anxiously awaiting the next touch.

The tip of the crop then trailed up to the curve of one breast, lightly caressing me, before slapping the soft globe just beside its clamped nipple. The chain jingled, the weight of it grounding me in my strange euphoria. The impact of the crop grew stronger in intensity across my skin, slowly setting me on fire as he worked his way up around my hips and close to the plug. A hard slap on the jeweled end ricocheted through my very soul.

“What color are you at, my little Chickadee?” his gruff voice sounded against my neck as he stood right up behind me and traced the crop down my front to once more dip between my legs. Even the gentlest scraping caress prickled.

“Green,” I panted. “Please, Rogue, Sir…”

“Tell me what you need, baby.”

I needed him to touch me. To stroke me deep. I could feel him holding back, and I wanted him to lose himself in me the way I was lost in him.

I could only moan. I could only whimper. “Please…”

The crop landed hard directly over my sex, barely covered by my soaked floss-like panties. It was so close to what I needed.

So close.

“You can do better than that. Tell me what you need.”

His hands slid down to my ankles and ripped the buckles apart, releasing my legs. As he stood, he grabbed the thin center of my G-string and ripped it clean off. His hand went to his fly, freeing his length. He stroked it for a moment, then ran the tip along my hot, aching sex as his fiery gaze caught mine.

“Feel how soaked that pretty little cunt is,” he whispered. “So tight and slick. Craving my thick, hard cock.”

The chain slipped from my mouth, and I swayed closer. “Rogue, please…”

“Tell me, honey,” he demanded with a rough kiss and a hard slap on my tender bottom. “Tell me what you want.”

“You,” I finally sobbed, followed by a desperate whisper. “Please…please fuck me.”

“Fuck, yes. That’s my little Chickadee.”

He yanked my leg up around his hip and thrust into me hard. Rough. Filling me with his thickness and putting extra pressure on the plug. I lost hold of the bar, but he held me tight, supporting my weight until I could grab it again. The weight of the clamps tugged and teased my nipples with every hard thrust, jerking painfully as he pistoned into me, stroking me deep with a fierce and wild pace. Animalistic. Purely borne of instinct. Crazy need. Another hard clap of his hand stung my butt cheek, adding even more desperation to my wild abandon.

A violent hysteria took hold of me, like there was too much sensation and emotion and desperation. A haze of euphoria. Words had no meaning. They couldn’t form in my mind. All I could do was take it. Feel it. Feel him driving into me.

His forehead grew damp with perspiration, and his breathing grew ragged, grunting with every stroke as they grew harsher. With one hand, his gripping fingers clenched hard into the skin of my hips and bottom. With the other, he quickly released my nipples from the clamps, triggering a burst of light that exploded through my body. Shuddering tremors made my head spin. A few more pumps of his hips, and his heat washed through me as he came with a heavy groan.

Everything seemed dreamlike. Hazy. He held me, one hand with a harsh grip on my sore bottom, the other arm crushing tight around my torso. The pulse in his neck beat lightly against my cheek, sticky with a thick sheen of sweat. My legs remained locked around his hips, cramped in their contortion, but I never wanted to move again.

Soft lips brushed against my hairline. His tenderness seeped through my delirium, and I lifted my face to seek his kiss. He savored my lips with feathery kisses as he gently slipped out of me and eased my legs down, guiding my feet to the floor before he slowly began to release my wrists.

Every bone in my body felt like pure jelly. It was all I could do to stand. My muscles numb as one arm and then the other fell to his shoulders, my whole body in a state of pure rapture. He carried me to the chaise and, for a long while, just held me, tracing delicate patterns on my skin. Along my collarbone and between my breasts. Down my stomach to flutter over the newly bare apex of my thighs.

At long last, he spoke, the hoarse rasp of his voice oozing through me like warm syrup. “This is new. You do it for me?”

I looked up at him, still sluggish from that incredibly explosive orgasm, and nodded. I didn’t have it in me to hold anything back right then. “Do you like it?”

“I do,” he smiled warmly, “but I kinda like your sweet pussy any way I can get it.”

My sweet pussy responded with the faintest flush of renewing heat. A flush that became stronger with the light scrape of his fingertips trailing closer and closer as he gazed down at me.

“Do you like it?” he whispered.

I nodded, slowly. I’d still not totally come down, but his touch had my breath turning uneven and choppy once again. “It feels nice. Kinda…smooth.”

“Very nice,” he agreed, dipping down into my folds ever so slightly. “Very smooth.”

My vagina hadn’t had a lot of action over the past fourteen years. Certainly nothing earth-shattering with Brian. So after a frantic, rough round like we’d just finished on the heels of the sex-fest last weekend, I should have been sore. I was, but it was a delicious tenderness. A slow and wet and hot hurt. And he moved so gently. He didn’t jump right on me again, but lazily massaged me inside and out. The whole room smelled like sex. Like release. Humid and heated.

I moved my arm to trace my fingers down along his shoulder and arm, but my muscles protested, eliciting a feeble moan from my throat.

Jace lifted his head at the sound, his exploring fingers sliding up to my hip.

“You a little stiff and sore, Där?” he asked with a trace of a smile in his tone.

“Yes,” I whispered, arching up to try and kiss his lips. My own hand moved down his arm in an attempt to draw his touch back between my legs, but it fell back and I let out a mild gasp. “I can barely move my arms.”

He pressed a kiss to my languid smile and pushed up off me. Fully nude and appearing incredibly powerful in the shadowy, low light, he stepped over to the door and opened it just enough to peek outside.

The old Därah—the not-having-just-orgasmed-until-she-was-plumb-stupid Därah—would have grasped for a blanket. A throw. His shirt or my wrap skirt. Anything to cover my naked body.

Instead I lay there, flat on my back and naked as the day I was born. Sprawled out like a renaissance painting. My skin covered in goosebumps, slightly chilled now that his body no longer warmed me. No shame or modesty, not even when I heard him talking to someone. That someone left for a moment and returned, handing Jace a short round tin before pulling the door shut again.

“Face down, baby.” His tone sounded dark and hot with promise. Then he turned back to me, nudging me to roll over. “Lay on your stomach.”

My body still had no desire to move, but I was intrigued. With great difficulty, I managed to follow his command and peered over to watch him set the tin on the table. He removed the lid and pulled a hair tie, a bottle of oil, and finally a lighter from his bag. With a click, the tinned candle sputtered to life in the low light of the room.

Jace swept my hair up into his hands, combing his fingers to pull it up high on my head, then secured it into a messy coil with the hair tie. My stomach began to flutter as he doused one hand with oil, then rubbed both hands together before settling them on my shoulders. My eyes drifted closed in bliss, the warm, firm glide of his hands over my skin, smoothed over me with the sweet scent of spearmint and sweetgrass. Along my neck up to my hair, down across my sore muscles. Working out the knotted aches deep in my bones. I’d died and gone to heaven.

“I’m going to drip wax over your skin,” he murmured. “On your shoulders. Over your back and ass. Tell me right away if it’s too hot, baby.”

A small but intense burst of pain spilled over my upper back over my shoulder blade. My body immediately lurched with the startling burn, then embraced the immediate sense of relief as it quickly cooled. Lying on my stomach, my forehead resting on my arms, I lay there anticipating another drop.

When it came, it was lower down. Near my ribs. The same flare of heat followed by a rush of endorphins. A larger, hotter splash over my butt cheek wrought a deep moan from my throat.

Jace leaned over me, his voice rumbling low in my ear. “Where you at, Chickadee?”

After a second’s hesitation, I replied. “Green, Rogue.”

A warm drizzle of heat trailed from my hip to my shoulder. A flash of fire followed by the cooling reprieve. More over the first spot again. The burn seemed to linger this time. Just a moment longer, making the blissful abatement that much more euphoric.

“Oh, my God, Sir,” I moaned.

Jace rewarded me with a tender kiss along my ear. Another on my wax-covered shoulder. “Feel good, little Chickadee?” His low growl sent a shiver through me, even as he sprinkled more of the wax down on me, this time along my other shoulder.

“Yes. It’s incredible.”

“It looks beautiful, baby. Gorgeous. The dark blue of the wax on your pale white skin. It’s stunning.”

After some time, I heard him reach into his bag once more.

“I’m going to scrape it off with a sharp knife. Hold still, little Chickadee. I don’t want to cut you.”

My eyes were too heavy to open, my body entirely too deep to protest, even as a faint wave of self-preservation washed through me. I held my breath, my entire body freezing solid. Beginning at my side, the sharp edge of metal peeled the hardened wax from my skin. Pulling it from my flesh. Piece after piece. Slowly revealing my heated skin to the cool air of the room.

When the last of it had been removed, Jace coated me with the cool, soothing oil. His heavy palms rubbed it deep into my muscles. Over my shoulders and neck, down my spine to lightly tap the plug still seated deep inside me. Over every aching inch of my body. He traced his fingertips up from my ankles, dancing close to my sex, drawing a gasp from my throat. I lifted my hips in a wordless plea, moaning my appreciation as his caress slipped right where I needed it.

“So nice and smooth,” he murmured, moving over me and pulling my ass up in the air. My hot cheek pressed flat against the cool mattress. As his warm, slick hand caressed my bottom, he pressed his firm length back into my wet center. He gently took me from behind with long, languid strokes, his fingertips tugging and tapping lightly at the plug in concert with the thrust of his hips.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned in a hoarse whisper. “Nice…smooth.”

And he showed me just how much he liked it, nice and smooth. Long into the night.

I think I kinda got the idea.

I felt different after that night. Free. Wild.

Naughty.

I’d fallen under the spell of the Pine.

I wondered if I seemed different to others. If it showed on my face. It was a strangely nostalgic sensation, one I’d only experienced a few times before in my life.

Like the first time Jace and I had sex. I thought back to the blush that so easily warmed my cheeks for weeks after. The knowledge that we had “done it” and how it had changed me. Wondering if others were witness to the wonderful hazy emotion that colored the world around me.

The flip side to that coin was when I found out I was pregnant with Madison. Not so wondrous that time. More like despair and shame. I dreaded my dad’s eventual disappointment. The things everyone at school would say.

And my biggest fear, how Jace would react.

When I had told him, though, he truly bewildered me, immediately stating we’d get married. Not so much as a split second’s hesitation. Not even the slightest sign of anxiety or fear or remorse for his lost youth. He was in for the long haul. Strong, so I could be weak. Steadfast and reliable. Ready to take care of me and our child.

He was Jace. It was his nature.

It was also why his later abandonment had cut me so deep.

And now, I was back in bed with the guy. Man, I was an idiot. This was not going to end well.

But, thinking about those Saturday nights at the Pine warmed me in all kinds of places. I’d become addicted to the sensuality he promised and fulfilled. He knew me far better than anyone else ever had, no contest. Especially now that he had unveiled the taboo desires stowed away in the darkest corners of my mind. I didn’t have to say what I wanted. He seemed to know even before I did, then teased and tempted me until I begged for it.

So I told myself it was worth the risk. It was worth the shattered heart that would follow when his interest waned. I’d seen the club subs, and I was a far cry from any one of them. Just like back in high school, I had no clue why he was messing around with me. Unlike back in high school, I had a realistic idea of where it would eventually lead…nowhere. There was too much history and too little trust.

But I was going to enjoy the ride while it lasted.

I flitted around town running errands over my lunch break, thinking about this new dirty secret of mine. Of ours. Every time I went to the Pine, I’d worn a disguise, but Jace had known me the second he saw me that first night. Did anyone suspect if it might be me? Was it easy to tell? I’d barely focused on a single face there, so I had no idea who the regulars were, but Coldwater wasn’t exactly a huge metropolis. It wasn’t like everyone knew everyone, but a lot of people knew a lot of people. Jace had said many members were from nearby outlying towns, but some of the regulars could—and probably were—people I ran into every day.

That thought roiled in my mind with every person I talked to. It felt like everyone could see right through me into the perversity of my mind.

Like when I got out of my car to fill it up at the gas station and saw one of my dad’s old friends.

“Hey, kiddo,” he’d said. “Long time, no see.”

Oh, holy heck. What did that mean? It may have just been him saying hello, but it may have been more like, Hey, kiddo, I saw you Saturday night, you dirty little sinner. Granted, he didn’t come off even the faintest bit lecherous. I tried to tamp down my anxiety, even as my mind galloped away at a breakneck speed.

As I roamed the produce section of the grocery store, getting some stuff to make a Greek salad, I made uncomfortable eye contact with some random dude over the cucumbers. He wasn’t anyone in particular, but he smiled at me. My grip tightened on the thick, phallic vegetable, and I audibly gulped, certainly flushed as red as the cherry tomatoes in my basket.

And since shark week was due to appear in a few days, I stopped at the drugstore to stock up on supplies. No clue whose bright idea it was to put these specific items so close together, but as I looked for the pads I preferred, my gaze wandered off to the edge of the aisle where there was a large display of condoms. And lube. Flavored lubes, and some said things like fire. I’d never really even looked at that section, but I suddenly became rather fascinated. Next thing I knew, I reached for some vibrating ring thingamabobber, trying to figure out just what it was supposed to do. Apparently, the ring went around the—

My thoughts were abruptly and horrifically interrupted by a large hand reaching toward the shelf in front of me, grabbing a couple different types of fancy lube-y stuff. A large male hand.

A deep voice murmured, “Excuse me.”

I immediately glanced over to the owner of that hand and voice and instantly wished I could disappear.

It was Malcolm, Jace’s jerk of a best friend from high school. A hot jock who’d grown up into a super-hot man with a narcissistic attitude to match. One who’d never really cared much for me, but fair was fair. I’d always thought he was a bit of a jerk anyway.

But mortification raged through me as I stood face-to-face with him clutching some sort of sex thing.

I mentally begged the Continental Divide to split apart and swallow me whole.

Then I remembered what Jace had said about Malcolm taking him to The Naughty Pine the night I married Brian. Malcolm went to the Pine. My mind raced, trying to determine if I’d seen him there. But even if I hadn’t, had he seen me? Had he recognized me?

“Hey, Därah,” he murmured, kinda looking me up and down like he always did. Like he was sizing me up. In the past, I’d always gotten the impression that I came up short, but this time…this hit me with a different vibe. He gave me a half-cocked smile. His eyes almost twinkled.

Oh, Sweet Jesus, he knew. He totally knew.

“Whatcha doin’?” he asked with a cocky grin that more-or-less screamed, Oh, yeah, I totally know.

Kill me now.

I hesitated far too long before mumbling a shaky response. “Nothing.”

“Shopping for a, um…” he eyed the small box in my hand. “Oh, nice. A cock ring. Wonderful little device.” He turned back to the dirty stuff display and grabbed another small box that he held out to me. “Ah, here we go. It’s got a bit more kick to it, too, making it more fun if you’re grinding your clit up against it. Plus the battery lasts longer.”

I had no idea how to respond to that, my body completely rigid. He plucked the one from my hand and tossed it aside as he tucked the other between my seized up fingers. Then, without another word, he walked away with his wide array of lube-y stuff.

I couldn’t even tell you how long I stood just like that. I’d gone completely blank. Frozen solid until I heard someone else start down the aisle. I frantically chucked the little package back on the shelf and made a beeline for the exit. Once in the privacy of my car, hidden from the world behind dark-tinted windows, I buried my face in my hands and decided I could just order pads online.

Screw all that shop local crap.

Lissa thought it was hysterical. That twat had tears rolling down her cheeks as she held her stomach and laughed long and loud at my expense.

When my glare finally had her struggling to gather herself, she shrugged and cleared her throat.

“Cock rings are pretty cool, especially for guys,” she said nonchalantly, like she was sharing recipe tips over tea. We were at lunch, but the topic wasn’t typical mealtime conversation for me. Although talking to Lissa had become lessons in BDSM 101 of late. “There’s some that have other parts to get the woman off, too, but some definitely work better than others.”

I about face-planted into my burrito. “Oh, my God. Stop,” I gasped, seriously needing to put the skids on this conversation.

Lissa laughed and continued on. “So do you think this Malcolm guy will tell Jace?”

“I’m pretty sure they’re still friends, and he goes to the Pine.”

“He does?”

“Well, I don’t know if he still does, but he used to. He’s the one who got Jace going.”

Lissa looked gleeful. “That’s amazing,” she laughed. “I wonder if I’ve met him. I don’t remember a Malcolm, but he probably uses a scene name.”

“God, I just hope he doesn’t tell Jace.”

“He might,” she shrugged. “He might be all like ‘Hey, Jace, by the way, I saw your ex-wife shopping for cock rings.’”

“Jesus,” I groaned. “He wouldn’t…”

“Maybe you should get one.”

“I’m never going back in that store ever again as long as I live.”

“Oh, come on, Därah. Why not?”

I stared at her, aghast. “The lady who works the register at the drugstore has a kid in honor band with Mad. How do I go up to her and buy something like that?”

“So get one somewhere else. Buy one online. That’s even better because you can check out the reviews. Plus, stuff like that generally comes in nice discreet little packages. Nobody will ever know.”

“What if Madison opened it, though? Good lord.”

Lissa simply waved away my concern. “Like she’s home enough to beat you to the punch.”

“Okay, good point, but still, no.”

“You do have a vibrator, right?”

At some point, you’d think I’d get used to Lissa’s probing questions, but she still had the power to appall me. “Yes,” I harshly whispered, trying to get her to at least use an inside voice. “I do.”

“Where did you get that?”

“It was in a gift bag from my cousin’s bachelorette party.”

“Nice,” Lissa grinned.

I rolled my eyes. “It was a gag gift.”

“A gag gift,” she laughed. “Därah, if you gag with it, I don’t think you’re using it right.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter.” At this point, even I had to laugh a little. Lissa’s raunchy humor drew out my desire to be raunchy too. “I doubt she ever expected me to use it.”

“What kind is it?”

“Like lela or something.”

“Lelo?” She actually looked impressed.

I nodded, surprised that she got the brand name right. “Yeah, that was it.”

“Därah, if she got you a Lelo, she sure as fuck expected you to use it. That’s not something one gives lightly. That’s like the Cadillac of sex toys. They’re not cheap. My guess is she could see how fucking repressed you were and wanted you to loosen up a bit.” She grinned and winked her long, thick lashes at me. “So to speak.”

“Just finish your taco,” I nodded to the uneaten lunch on her plate.

“That’s what she said.”

“Lissa, this is serious. What if he does tell Jace?”

“My guess is, then you’ll get to try out a cock ring after all. Maybe some other things, too.”

That should have weirded me out.

Rather, just the thought took my breath away.

It sat there at the forefront of my mind, burning hot all the way back to my office. As I sat there trying to focus on the spreadsheets before me. As I squirmed in my chair and got all achy and needy.

The more it excited me, though, the more I started freaking out. I craved him, which scared me. This was stupid. Really really stupid.

The next thing I knew, I had tears streaming down my face. I wasn’t even entirely sure why. I just suddenly felt so incredibly low. Frightened and fragile. A little bit insane. I kept dabbing my eyes with tissues, but I couldn’t seem to stop crying. The faucet was on full bore. I was in pure watering pot mode.

“Därah?” Lissa said from the door. Her voice sounded wary and unsure.

“I’m fine,” I choked out. “I just suddenly…” The words dried up in my throat, frozen by a thick lump. I tried to say more, but ended up just pulling a fresh tissue from the box on my desk and dabbing at my eyes.

“Shit,” Lissa breathed. She stepped into my office and came around my desk, setting down her iPhone as she put an arm around my shoulder. She pulled me a little closer, in a sisterly hug, and stroked my hair while I cried for seemingly no reason at all. I couldn’t place what was making me feel so distraught, but Lissa didn’t even seem to think it was odd. She quietly handed me fresh tissues and murmured for me to go ahead and cry. Her permission opened the floodgates, and I let go.

I heard a sound in the doorway and looked up to see Jace standing there. For a moment, I held my hands like a shield, like I could prevent him from seeing my fragility. He stepped inside and pushed the door shut behind him, coming over to pull me gently from Lissa’s arms.

“Där,” he whispered, “come here, honey.”

I slumped into the vital comfort of his embrace, and he pulled me tight against his chest. His strong arms held me close as he kissed my forehead and murmured into my hair.

“I’ve got you, honey. It’s okay. Cry it out.”

Lissa quietly rose to leave the room, and Jace thanked her in a hushed voice.

And then he sat there and held me on the floor of my office, in the middle of the afternoon for the longest time. Through the thick door, I could hear intermittent footsteps and voices. Business as usual, continuing on as though my whole world hadn’t just imploded.

But it hadn’t. Not really.

Because I was safe and secure in Jace’s arms. His voice murmured sweet, gentle reassurances. His fingertips kneaded the tension from my neck and shoulders. His rock-solid Jace-ness absorbed and alleviated all my bizarre emotional purge.

After a long while, my sobs faded into sniffles. My tears ebbed. I felt incredibly foolish, but I still couldn’t bring myself to pull away.

Jace leaned back just enough to gaze down at me, cupping my jaw in his hand as he brushed the last few tears from my cheek with his thumb.

“Lissa texted you,” I whispered. Not a question, but a realization. I vaguely remembered her feverish typing on her way in my office before she set her phone down and hugged me.

“I gave her my number a while back and told her to let me know immediately if you seemed to be dropping. I think it’s safe to say you were.”

“I don’t even know what happened. I was fine one minute, and the next I was suddenly crushed. Like I was manic. Insane.”

He gave me a sad smile. “This can happen sometimes after a really intense scene.”

“But we haven’t even done a scene for a couple days.”

“It can take days to hit,” he softly explained. “Longer even. What were you thinking about when it started?”

You. It was on the tip of my tongue, but I bit it back and tried to explain in a less revealing way.

“Lissa and I were just talking and laughing over lunch. She went back to her office, and I just…I don’t know. I just…everything seemed so—”

Foolish. That’s what had hit me. Stupid and foolish for acting like a lovestruck kid over my ex-husband.

Like I could say that to said ex-husband, though.

What a crazy thing to be upset about. This was never meant to turn into a big happily-ever-after. This was a casual thing. He was helping me get out of my head. The last thing I should do was to make it awkward by getting all emotional and clingy.

With that, I leaned back, away from him.

“I’m sorry,” I frowned. “I don’t know what happened.”

His eyes, warm and gentle, focused on mine, keeping me from fully moving away. “It’s not uncommon to drop hard like that.”

“So this could happen again?” A flare of turmoil rolled through me.

“It’s likely, but we can keep it from getting this bad. I can do more intense aftercare to bring you down slower. More gently. Hold you a little longer and a little tighter.” He paused momentarily with a concerned frown. “But you, honey…you also need to call me. You need to talk to me. You need to tell me when you’re slipping.”

“Jace—” I began, panic tightening in my gut. There was no way. That wasn’t me. I didn’t want to raise a ruckus.

“Honey, I know it’s never been a strength of yours, but you need to tell me when you need me. You need to tell me when the dark starts to hit.”

Never been a strength. That was a wee bit of an understatement.

“I mean it,” he continued. “Part of my responsibility when I take you there is to make sure you land gently. It’s part of the deal.”

A light tap sounded at the door, then it opened and Lissa peeked in. “I told them up front you’d had something come up, so they’re going to reschedule your appointments for the afternoon.”

“I’m okay, Lissa,” I said with a forced smile, but it rang hollow. I wasn’t fooling anyone.

Lissa and Jace exchanged a glance, and she stepped closer. “Maybe we could go get a cup of tea or something.”

I looked back over at Jace, and he nodded. “Might be a good idea. Lissa can give you a perspective that I cannot.”

“That of a bottom?” I asked.

He nodded, his fingertips lightly brushing my hair back behind my ear. “Exactly,” he replied, using a tone of voice quite firm and calm. A voice that stripped away any will I had to argue. His Rogue voice.

When Lissa grabbed my coat from the hook on my door, I didn’t even hesitate. I stood, watching robotically as she handed it to Jace who, in turn, helped me slip it on. He zipped me up to keep out the cool, late winter chill, then stepped forward to usher me toward the door.

Naturally, I just did what he wanted me to do.

It wasn’t until Lissa placed a steaming cup of lavender and chamomile tea in front of me that she really said much of anything.

“Sometimes, all you need is his voice.”

I frowned at her over my mug, confused. Slightly skeptical. I had fallen completely to pieces. Hearing Jace talk…well, okay, it had helped some, but it was more the warm security of his embrace. The sense of being precious. Cared for. Even if it was only the sense of it.

She smiled gently at my obvious disbelief and continued.

“I sometimes call Dave in the middle of the day. Like I just suddenly need to hear him. Need to feel that connection so I don’t crack.”

“You?” I asked in quiet shock.

“Yeah, me…it’s like I just need a little bit of him.”

“Yet, you keep doing the very thing that tears you to pieces.”

Lissa traced the edge of her cup with a perfectly manicured, dark cherry fingernail. “It’s so worth it,” she said, and for a second, she became another person. Soft and quiet. Hypnotically submissive. “That feeling when you’re high in subspace. When you feel separate from your body, and the world fades away. It’s so beautiful.”

That it was. The euphoric memory stirred in my chest, blooming ever so slightly.

“And, honestly,” she continued, “even the drop is cathartic. Being caught and held and reassured. Comforted with so much intensity. I sometimes even crave the drop itself because it reminds me how he’ll heal me.”

Heal me. Jace’s arms and the soft timbre of his voice. My cheek against the steady beat of his heart. Things I’d missed so much and craved for so long.

He had come to me. In the middle of the day after a quick message from Lissa, he’d practically appeared out of thin air. He’d come to heal me.

And Lissa was right.

As devastating as the drop had been, God help me, it had been worth it.

So I kept at it.

We kept at it.

I became a regular at the Pine, slowly coming out of my shell. I still tended to keep my eyes downcast in the main rooms, but I was growing more comfortable meeting others. Befriending other bottoms and learning about things they loved. Making mental notes of things to negotiate into my own scenes with Rogue.

One by one, he and I ticked all those dirty little things off the checklist. At some point, I figured we’d hit a point where we’d done all there was to do, but Jace was imaginative, and there were some things he wanted to do again and again. He wanted to see how much higher he could take me.

I wasn’t about to argue.

Every now and then, though, my mind did a WTF sort of thing.

“Dear lord, what is that?”

I must have sounded a bit aghast because Jace smiled wide.

“It’s a swing.”

“That’s not like any swing I’ve ever seen before.”

“I don’t doubt that,” he laughed. All sexy and knowing and…so hot. God, he was so hot. Especially when he turned those rich dark brown eyes on me.

All my hesitation dissipated in a heartbeat.

“How do I get in it?” I asked.

He reached out and tugged gently on the bow that held my top together. The wispy fabric tickled as it fell low over my breasts. Jace stepped back, leaning against the wall with his hands on his hips.

“First of all, you strip for me.”

I blanched at the mental image of me naked and attempting to climb up into that contraption. But he coolly reached over to the wall beside him to an instrument panel. With the push of a button, the swing slowly lowered, each tick of the gears making me jump ever so slightly.

“Then you stand right there and I strap you in.”

Something about that—him saying strap me in—gave me goosebumps every time.

“And then I raise you up, lay you back…and I work you over.”

I liked the work you over bit, too. I could almost feel the lash of the flogger. But then it occurred to me…

“But how in the world do you spank me if I’m all cinched up in that?”

“I’m not so sure I’m gonna spank you tonight,” he said slowly as he walked over to me.

I genuinely deflated a little. I’d been looking forward to that deliciously addictive burn all week, and I couldn’t help but frown up at him. He dipped his head close to mine until I could feel the warmth of his lips just a hair from mine. His hand came up to stroke my cheek, his thumb brushing over my lower lip. His gaze was fixated there, like he was picturing what he was saying as he said it. When he spoke again, his voice was low, almost hoarse.

“Tonight I’m gonna fuck your mouth.”

Shock had wiped any thought from my brain. I was simply a blank, cavernous void in the time-space continuum. A quiver bloomed deep down in my pelvis. It radiated out until the tremble reached the tips of my fingers and toes.

His breath tickled my lips as he continued. “I wanna see how much of me you can take.”

I managed to nod, even though he hadn’t asked. He made a statement.

I’m gonna fuck your mouth.

Well, okay, then.

With shaking fingers, I reached up to the front of my silky wrap dress and loosened another bow, and another until the fabric slipped open to allow the cool air to graze my stomach. Grasping each side, I slowly tugged it down over my shoulders until the whole thing floated to the floor. I stood naked before him, drawing power from my nudity for the first time in my life. Not a stitch on aside from my sparkly rhinestone heels that sparkled in the warm, low light.

Honestly, I should have been terrified. I’d never been skinny, even when I was young, and youth had left me a good decade or more ago. I bore marks from bearing our daughter, and carried more than a few extra pounds.

Yet I stood there, breathless as he took a step back, perusing my nude form, then lifted his eyes back to mine with a dark, sexy glimmer and a faint, pleased tilt to his lips.

“God, you’re so fucking sexy,” he growled.

Right then, I actually felt it. Me. Chubby little ol’ me.

I was fucking sexy.

Jace’s gaze warmed my skin and empowered my confidence. His hungry eyes fostered a sense of eroticism I never knew existed.

He took my hand and stepped back, tugging me with him. To be fair, though, he didn’t have to. He was magnetic, and the pull was irresistible. I followed him toward the cluster of straps in the center of the room.

Guiding me into place, he nudged my hips back into a curve of leather. My wrists lifted to be encircled by heavy cuffs. My knees up, but somehow the swing kept them slightly apart. Cool air touched the wetness of my sensitive center, but I was helpless to close my legs.

And with nothing to support it, my head slowly fell back. My hair trailing below me. I lay there in the swing, open and vulnerable and needy.

“What’s your color, Chickadee?” he asked, and I opened my eyes to see the hunger in his.

“Bright green, Rogue,” I whispered, without even the slightest hesitation. I was getting better with this whole scene name thing.

“Good girl,” he murmured, a little deviltry in his voice as he turned and rifled through his bag, pulling out a small, slender box. “Let’s up the play a bit more.”

I was already buck-naked strapped into a sex swing, and that box was way too small to hold anything like a flogger, paddle, or crop. My body began to tremble with raw, hungry intrigue.

He ripped open the packaging to reveal a small curved piece of metal with a sparkling crystal dangling at one end. “Like maybe a clit clamp.”

My voice actually hit a high note I never thought I was capable of. “A what clamp? That goes where?”

He looked directly into my wide eyes, his smile both widening and darkening. “Right here…” His fingertips traced up my thigh, circling wide and closing in until, without warning, he lowered his head between my legs.

My initial burst of alarm, useless as it was the way I was trussed up, quickly gave way to a long low moan as the heat of his mouth settled over me, his tongue sweeping deep. Invading my depths in a way that lit me from the inside out. Working me over long and slow, like he had all the time in the world. Agonizingly slow strokes of his tongue followed by firm suction, then his tongue deep inside me.

The ache spread out from my center, the gentle push and pull rippling through my body. The rough abrasion of his beard over my bare mound, coarse against my inner thigh. In no time at all, I was begging for more. Harder pressure. Firmer suction. He devoured me, knew exactly how to touch me. When to pull back and just stroke gently. My entire body tensed, pulling harder at the tight cuffs binding my wrists and ankles. Completely enraptured and soaking wet, aching for more. Once more, he sucked hard against my needy bud, then pulled back, pinching it between his fingers and slipping the clamp on to capture it tightly.

It felt…strange. Tight. A definite pinch, but less than I anticipated. I almost ached for more pain.

Until he ever-so-lightly ran his tongue over the protruding nub. The intensity of the faint stroke over the clamped skin sent a raging thrill through my entire body that left me gasping for air. It was like every nerve ending in my body channeled right there between my legs.

“What color now, little Chickadee?” he whispered, and even the barest waft of his breath made me tremble for more.

My voice caught once. Twice. Three times before I finally managed to gasp my response. “Green…”

Watching me closely, he stepped back and tugged off his shirt, first giving me a glimpse of his sculpted abs as he pulled it up over his head. When his hand hit the button of his jeans, my mouth actually watered. I craved his smooth skin. His scent and his taste. I was momentarily reminded of that second night at the Pine when he’d been strapping me down on the bench and I wanted so badly to suck him off.

It looked like I was going to get that chance tonight.

He stepped forward to stand beside me, his thickness jutting out close to my lips, and keeping his gaze locked into mine, I slipped my tongue to brush the silky tip. A trace of salty, smooth and hot.

“Fuck,” he breathed. A heady sound that had me swiping my tongue more firmly over him. Caressing the curves and ridges as I savored him. Licking and stroking like the best dang ice cream cone I’d ever tasted. I leaned into him, coaxing him closer as I took his length deeper. To the back of my throat until I couldn’t breathe.

But I wanted even more.

Jace did what Jace always did. Like a mind reader, he side-stepped to stand above my head, allowing it to straighten and naturally fall back. To open my throat as he pressed deeper. Hands settled momentarily on my breasts, squeezing at my hardened nipples, then striking each one with a quick slap. Rocking slowly and gently into my mouth, he eased further and further in. I swallowed back the instinctive urge to gag, and my eyes drifted closed. His fingertips grazing lower over my stomach, gripping the straps of the swing and pulling me to and fro in a deliberate motion, before one hand slipped to the juncture of my widely spread thighs. His fingers curved over and dipped inside me, caressing the outer lips and dipping back into me in time with his dick in my mouth. All the while, his thumb methodically grazed my clit held tightly by the clamp.

His fingers flicked the jewel, sending wicked vibrations through me. The occasional sharp slap to my breasts and along my inner thighs, so close to my growing ache. Every touch soothed the slight, occasional impulse to retch. He relaxed me to the point where the slide of him seemed natural. Deeper and deeper, slowly he kept at it until my lips were pressed firmly against his groin. I couldn’t breathe, but I didn’t care. He held me firmly, pausing for a moment before he slipped out entirely. Air rushed into my lungs, and my mind spun as the blood rushed to my head.

“What color, Chickadee?” he asked, his voice breathless and hoarse.

“Green, Rogue,” I breathed as my mouth eagerly sought him out again.

It was amazing. Stunning. The warmth and pressure of him deep in my throat. My gag reflex had all but disappeared in this position, distracted by the beautiful way he caressed me. His fingertips dancing over my skin and grazing my clamped center to bring me so close to release over and over, but never allowing me beyond. All the while, his fingers filled me, stroking my depths.

Almost without warning, lost in sensation, I tumbled over the precipice with a muffled moan, my body wracked with shuddering waves. His hands gripped me firmly and he pulled free from my mouth, then one hand left my body to grasp his length. He stroked it hard, the veins bulging as he worked it. I held my gasping breath for a long stroke of my tongue along his balls. Upon hearing him let out a desperate groan, I hungrily continued to lick and suck until his body stiffened. Punctuated by a gruff shout, his release splashed over my bare breasts and stomach. I suddenly craved him in my mouth again, and I shifted my head to draw him in. To savor the salty remains of his release and greedily lap it off him.

Okay, this swing thing was awesome.

And the clamp…there were no words.

I slept in super late on Sunday. Like so late I didn’t even hear Mad come home from Shelby’s mid-morning. It wasn’t until she was banging around in the kitchen at around—holy cow! It was well after noon.

I climbed out of bed. As was becoming the norm for Sundays after the Pine, my entire body felt weirdly limber and achy and hypersensitive. I slipped my robe on over the nightshirt I’d pulled on before I’d fallen into bed the night before.

“Hey sweetie,” I smiled at Mad as I walked into the kitchen. She was bustling around, frying some meat, dicing onions, and pressing garlic. “Smells good in here. What are you cooking?”

“Making lasagna,” she quipped. “It sounded good, and I thought maybe Dad could come over for dinner tonight.”

My shock must have been clearly written across my features. Jace used to come over for dinner all the time after we’d divorced. Practically weekly, at one point. We had worked hard to keep things relatively normal for Mad, and it had seemed like a good idea at the time. A good idea that eventually began to erode at my soul because I couldn’t stop loving the guy no matter how hard I’d tried, and sitting across the table from him pretending I wasn’t mentally begging him to come back became exhausting.

Then I’d married Brian. The whole eroding-my-soul thing was kinda why I’d married Brian.

But now that Brian was long gone, there wasn’t really any reason Jace shouldn’t come over. Again, it would be good for Mad.

Oddly, I wasn’t so afraid of the eroding my soul thing this time. I maybe should have been, but that wasn’t what troubled me. I was more alarmed by the thought of sitting across the table from him knowing he was doing things like strapping me into sex swings and spanking me into subspace. How was I supposed to act normal to avoid tipping Mad off to our shenanigans?

“That’s okay, right, Mom?” Mad asked. “I mean, I know he hasn’t in a long time, but I thought it might be nice. Kinda like the old days.”

“Of course.” I blinked, giving myself a little shake of the head to bring me back to the conversation. “I’m…yeah…sure…”

Mad frowned momentarily, before coming toward the breakfast bar and pulling back a stool. She gestured toward the seat, a motion clearly meant to encourage me to plant myself on it. “Maybe I should have waited until you had coffee to drop that on you.”

“It’s fine, Mad, really,” I assured her with a wave of my hand. “I’m just not really awake yet.”

“You weren’t up working on taxes all night, were you?” she asked. “Because—”

“No,” I quickly interrupted. “Not at all. I was…reading. Got really into a cheesy romance novel, and, well…I ended up staying up way too late.”

“Gotcha, yeah. It’s, like, afternoon. I actually peeked into your room a while ago to make sure you were okay.” She smiled at me as she grabbed a mug and filled it with the dark liquid before dumping a hefty amount of cream in it. “I’m glad you were doing something so relaxing.”

Oh, dear Lord…

“Mom, you better sit down and have some coffee. You look weird.”

I took a deep breath and accepted the cup she offered me. “Actually, I think I’ll take it in the bedroom with me and go find something to wear.”

She grinned. “And maybe shower. You kinda look like you had a wild night. Must have been a good book.”

Choking on my coffee, I quickly turned on my heel and made a beeline to the bathroom.

Knowing Jace was coming over for dinner had me in all kinds of a tizzy. I must have tried on damn near every somewhat-casual-but-still-nice-looking piece of clothing I had. I wanted to look nice, but I didn’t want to look like I wanted to look nice. I wanted to look naturally nice. Comfortable and sexy. Except I was in my mid-thirties and was overweight and twice divorced and everything else in the litany of reasons I wasn’t sexy. But then I thought of Jace and the way he had looked at me last night, standing there naked in the warm, low light. Telling me I was fucking sexy. All sorts of warm fuzzies swirled around in my brain and body.

I finally decided on a simple knit dress with a swingy skirt that flowed and draped quite nicely. It made me feel less fat and frumpy and more…naturally nice. Plus, it had a deeply scooped neckline. With the right bra, it definitely promoted that whole sexy vibe. And the rich cranberry color would be essential for eating something tomato-based like lasagna.

Then I flat-ironed my hair smooth and straight, adding a little argan oil to up the shine factor, and paid a little extra attention to my makeup, again, going for the natural (but sexy) look.

But Mad’s face totally made me question my efforts.

“You look really nice, Mom,” she smiled, appearing slightly mystified.

“Crap, too nice?” The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them.

“Why would you…?” she murmured slowly, shaking her head in confusion. “Too nice? I don’t—”

“Nothing, I…it’s nothing.” I needed to distract myself and spotted the big loaf of French bread sitting on the counter. “Want me to do the bread?”

“If you want,” she shrugged, still looking at me rather strangely.

I put all my concentration into slicing evenly, thoroughly avoiding her gaze. I minced what was probably too much garlic and added olive oil and oregano, then meticulously brushed the mixture evenly onto each piece. When the doorbell rang, I tried to pretend I didn’t just jump clean out of my skin because my nerves were so rattled. I tried to pretend that I didn’t feel a flush of heat through my nether regions and a hot blush hit my cheeks. When I heard Mad open the door, I forced myself to take a slow, deep breath. Then another.

It was just Jace, after all.

Just Jace who I had loved crazily and deeply for most of my life. Jace who didn’t still want me that way, but wanted me in other ways. Other ways that made me squirm as I finished setting the table.

“Ooooh, pretty!” I heard Mad exclaim. The quiet rumble of Jace’s response set my stomach aflutter, even if I couldn’t make out what he said.

Mad excitedly rushed into the kitchen with a delicate bouquet of lilies and baby’s breath and instantly began rifling through the cupboard looking for something to put them in. I tried to focus on her just another minute as Jace’s form hit the corner of my eye, just another split second to calm my nerves. When I did glance up to him, I saw another bouquet like the first, still in his hand.

“Brought flowers for my girls,” he smiled.

That smile. That voice. The way he looked, spiffed up in new jeans and a crisply pressed shirt of dark green plaid flannel. His hair looked like it was still just a tiny bit wet, as though he’d just showered. He looked so casual and comfortable and…sexy.

God, he looked sexy.

So sexy my vagina melted.

Mad had set her flowers on the counter and had her head buried in the lower cabinet digging through the contents. “There’s got to be a vase or something. Mom, don’t we have something we can put the flowers in?” I glanced over at her to see her eyes peering up over the cabinet door at me.

“I, um…” Dear God, what was wrong with me? My mind was completely gone. “I don’t know.”

“Oh, wait! What about that big jar the bath bombs are in?” She jumped up to head to her bedroom.

I stared back at Jace, total deer-in-the-headlights, more or less nothing but a puddle of oh-my-God-he-looked-sexy on the floor.

He stepped around the table, handing me the other bouquet. The juniper scent of him flooded through me, making me feel light-headed.

“You look really pretty, honey,” he whispered in a low voice, fortunately low enough that Mad didn’t hear it as she bustled around in the bathroom.

Rather dazedly, I accepted the lilies with a breathy thank you.

A moment later, Mad was hurtling back out with a wide-mouth mason jar, pulling me from my little stupor somewhat. She filled the jar about halfway with water, then unwrapped her flowers and reached for mine. The two small bouquets together made one stunning arrangement, and Mad primped it a little to fluff out the blooms before she set it in the middle of the table.

“There,” she smiled happily. “They’re gorgeous, right Mom?”

Belatedly, I realized she was looking at me as I gazed all starry-eyed at her dad. “They are,” I murmured after a slightly awkward pause. “Thank you.”

Jace just shrugged with a slanted smile.

Oh, God…my vagina.

“Hungry?” Mad asked Jace. “I remember you saying once how much you loved Mom’s lasagna, and, just your luck, I’ve learned how to make it.”

“Smells great, Punkin,” he smiled. “Can’t wait.”

I attempted to open the jar of fudge sauce to heat it, but the lid was on pretty good. I repositioned my hands and tried again, but it didn’t budge. I banged it on the counter a few times to give it another go. Still nothing.

“Need help with that, Därah?” Jace asked from behind me.

“No,” I more-or-less snapped. This whole dinner with Mad and Jace had me reeling. Hypersensitive. “I don’t. I can get it.” My voice strained with the effort, but I was darn determined. I thumped it on the counter again and twisted with all my might, so caught up in my efforts that I didn’t hear Jace move.

Suddenly, his arms wrapped around me, lifting the jar from my hands. I could barely breathe this close to him. Every hair on my body stood electrified. I barely swallowed back a long and loud moan at the touch of his tall, stocky frame enveloping mine.

Pop!

He had the jar open in a split second, set it on the counter, and leaned his hip up against the counter beside me.

Quite honestly, a little too close to me. Yet, as much as his close proximity made me all nervous and jittery, I craved it, too.

I moved away, even though it ached a little to do so, to put the jar of fudge in the microwave to warm up.

“So,” Mad hedged as she dished up ice cream into small glass bowls, “Shelby’s family is going to Silverwood for spring break, and they asked if I could go, too.”

“Isn’t that only in about a week?” I asked. “Because your Uncle Trav is getting married next weekend.”

“Yeah, it’s the week right after Trav and Anna’s wedding.”

“How long are they going for?” Jace asked.

“I think five days? Not sure exactly?”

“Five days,” Jace murmured, raising an eyebrow to me, and I felt a little hot thinking of what he might do to me in those five days. A bead of nervous sweat trickled down my back, oddly causing me to shiver.

“I could just go to their house after the wedding since Shelby’s my plus one. We’d be leaving the next day.” Mad chatted on, completely unaware that I was on the verge of self-combusting. “You’re coming to the wedding, too, right, Dad?”

“Don’t know yet,” Jace flashed her a smile. “I got an invite, but—”

“Wait, what?” I interjected. “My brother invited you to his wedding?”

“Yeah, he sure did.”

Mad stopped sticking spoons in the ice cream and frowned. “What’s wrong with that, Mom?”

“Nothing, it’s just…what the heck is wrong with my family?”

“Why?” Mad asked as Jace tipped his head curiously.

Clearly nobody else in the room realized how bizarre that was, so I felt the need to explain. “He’s my brother.”

“So,” Mad shrugged, “he’s my uncle, and Dad’s my dad.”

“Yeah, but your dad’s also my ex-husband.”

“So,” she shrugged, “you guys aren’t like most exes.”

“It’s just kinda weird,” I continued, “don’t you think?”

I shot a haphazard glance at Jace who just stood there, still nonchalantly leaning against the counter, one work-booted foot crossed over the other. Smiling. He clearly knew this was uncomfortable for me, but his easy smile indicated he was also enjoying it.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Mom,” Mad explained, “our family is weird. We just had Sunday dinner together, and not for the first time. So you guys are friends. You have been forever. None of my friends get it, but I think it’s cool that you two get along so well.”

“Why do none of your friends get it?”

“They all think I must be secretly shipping you two.”

“Shipping us where?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not shipping like sending. Shipping like I’m dying for you guys to hook up.”

“And you’re not dying for us to hook up?”

“Mom, my childhood has been more stable than any of my friends, really. This, right here, you and dad both being around, even if he’s just having dinner and leaving, that’s what I know as family.” Her cell phone began ringing from her room, and she continued talking as she made her way to the doorway. “The rest of the town can ship you all they want. I don’t want stuff to change.”

Then she disappeared, and we heard her say “Hey, Shelby!” as she answered her phone.

After she’d left the room, Jace gave me a dark look.

“Don’t,” he said quietly.

“Don’t what?” I asked as the panic started vibrating in my brain. She didn’t want things to change. But things had. Well, sorta. On a physical level. But what if they changed more? Or what if it all blew up in my face?

“I see those wheels turning. I see your mind twisting what she just said, telling you we shouldn’t be doing what we are doing.”

“I don’t want to mess up her life.”

“We’re not going to.”

“How can you be so sure? You heard her just now. She doesn’t want stuff to change.”

“Change is gonna happen whether she wants it to or not. Nothing ever stays the same.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “If you’re trying to make it better, you’re not doing a very good job.”

I turned to grab the fudge out of the microwave, almost dropping it when I realized how hot it had gotten, then spooned a little of the fudge onto one bowl of ice cream that I slid down the counter toward him. But when I turned my back on him again, I suddenly felt him move. I felt him come stand behind me. I felt his warm breath in my ear.

“Change is life, Där, but it isn’t always bad.”

“Maybe not…but it’s always scary.” It was out of my mouth before I could even try and hold it in.

“It doesn’t have to be. Just try living for a while without worrying so much about what could go to hell. You might actually enjoy yourself.”

He placed a light brush of a kiss at the base of my neck, right where my bare skin disappeared under my dress, and moved to sit at the table. Mad came back out of her room, chattering on about Silverwood and the wedding and God really only knew what else. I couldn’t even register what she was saying. It was all I could do to stand there, still feeling the caress of his lips on my skin and trying not to pass out.

“I better head home,” Jace said after they had finished their ice cream and I had toyed with mine while it melted in the bowl. I was all sorts of messed up if I couldn’t even bring myself to eat ice cream. I loved ice cream, almost obsessively, and I’d barely touched it.

“Could you give me a ride to Shelby’s?” Mad asked, rinsing her bowl before placing it in the dishwasher. “She is having a hard time with her geometry homework and was wondering if I could help.”

“Sure, if it’s okay with your mom,” Jace smiled back at her before looking back over at me.

He seemed so cool and calm. He clearly didn’t have a raging turmoil inside him that made him feel all wonky inside like I did. It annoyed me that all this seemed so easy for him.

“It’s okay,” I forced a light smile, doing my best to appear completely unaffected by this new wave of possible chaos. “Do you need me to come get you later?”

“Nah,” Madison replied. “I’ll just spend the night.”

I felt the heat of Jace’s gaze hit me and all the annoyance evaporated with a quick sizzle. A surge of wanting followed in its wake as my mind began to whirl with the possibilities.

Crap, I needed to not do that. I needed to not start thinking that way. Just because Mad was spending the night with her BFF didn’t mean Jace wanted me another round.

But as he slung her backpack over his shoulder to carry it out for her, he turned back to me with a dazzlingly sexy grin. A quick look back over his shoulder to see Mad was climbing in his truck and out of range, he lifted his hand to brush his thumb over my lower lip.

“Back in a bit, honey.”

And for the second night in a row, I got me some Jace.

I sat there by the massive windows in the main hall of the Lakeside Marina watching my brother dance with his new wife. Watching my daughter and Shelby making googly eyes at one of the waiters. My eighty-three-year-old great-aunt Linda sat alongside her husband of fifty-eight years smiling at my dad as Rose fussed with one of the flower girl’s crown of lilies.

There was a lot of love in that big room.

I found myself wishing I wasn’t wishing exactly what I was wishing.

Jace had come to the service. He’d even sat beside me and Shelby as we watched Mad performing all the duties of a bridesmaid, as we had through years of band concerts and school plays and volleyball games. We shared a hymnal when it was time to sing, and his hand brushed my thigh when he turned to smile at my cousin who sat behind us.

Then, when Travis kissed his bride and they skipped happily from the church, Jace gave me a chaste kiss on the cheek and said, “Later.”

And he left. Just like that.

Sitting at the reception, I had a glass of wine. Then a glass of champagne with the toast. Then two more glasses of wine.

I was pouting.

Not that I wanted Jace here, but…well, I did want him here. I knew it was better that he wasn’t. Especially considering the sheer quantity of wine I’d consumed. As buzzed as I was becoming, I might let something slip if he was there. I might stare at him a bit too long, putting my feelings on display for the world around us.

Without the shelter of the Pine.

That was the last thing I needed. The slope I was on was slick enough already.

I stepped through the French doors and out onto the deck to look out over the marina below. A chilly spring breeze blew through the evergreens along the bank, and ripples on the lake glittered under the cool, clear moonlight and gleaming stars. Across the glistening water, lights sparkled in the darkness from the cabins and homes on the opposite shore. Laughter echoed from the dance floor behind me. Warm and festive and cheerful. Celebratory.

Then it hit me. It was Saturday night. My first Saturday night away from the Pine in months. I ached for that euphoria. I ached for Jace.

Jace…who might be there right now, topping for someone else. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t stayed…

A soul-sucking jolt of heartache tore into my lungs.

I wanted to leave. I wanted to run to the Pine. To that safety and anonymity where I could be his. To let go and float right out of this messed up reality I’d trapped myself in.

And then I realized I wasn’t alone anymore. I think it was the sheer size of him. His energy in my space. The evening chill suddenly felt a teensy bit warmer.

I turned to see Jace standing behind me.

“Bit different than our wedding, huh?” he asked with a wry tilt to his lips, gesturing back to the crowded dance floor.

“Why? Because my dad isn’t packing a shotgun?”

Jace laughed, and the sound tickled my semi-intoxicated girlie parts.

“Plus, theirs will probably last,” I continued dryly, but my lame joke fell flat, effectively killing his laughter.

Cue awkward silence.

His brows were drawn. “You okay?” he asked.

No, I wanted to say.

But I pasted my best smile on my face. “Yeah, it’s just…” I gestured off toward the cheerful crowd and huffed out a humorless laugh, “weddings, you know.”

Jace followed my gaze, then took a few steps closer, looking down at me.

“You’re supposed to be happy at weddings.”

“I am, for Trav and Anna. Very happy.”

Which wasn’t entirely true. I was truly thrilled for them. They’d been through a lot to get to this point. As inspiring as it was, though, their deep, enduring love made my own future seem so barren and desolate. Thus, my voice didn’t sound the slightest bit convincing. Not even to my own ears.

He gave me a long look. Then, with his thumb hooked in his jeans pocket, he extended his elbow. “Come dance with me.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I gave a slow shake of my head.

“Why not?”

Because if I was in his arms in public, it would show all over my face. My wanting. My aching loneliness.

But I couldn’t say that, even if I was tipsy and reckless. “You heard what Mad said the other day.”

“I heard a lot of what Mad said the other day, but what part are you referring to?”

“About the whole town shipping us?” I tried to say it the same way she had, but I so wasn’t cool. I just sounded like an old person trying to come off young.

“Of course,” he nodded with a raised eyebrow. “You’re worried about what other people think we’re doing.”

“People gossip. I don’t want it to hurt Mad.” That wasn’t entirely true either. Well, I didn’t want it to hurt Mad, but I didn’t want it to hurt me either. And it was already starting to. “Do you think people know? Like people at the Pine? Do they know it’s me? When we’re together there, do they know I’m your ex?”

“You’ve worn a mask there every time. You’ve only taken it off when we were in a private room. Besides, even if they did, they won’t talk.”

“How do you know?”

“Everyone signs confidentiality statements. You did, too, remember?”

“It’s a piece of paper, Jace.”

“There’s also the fact that, by unmasking someone else, they’d be unmasking themselves.”

I stared at him for a long moment until the wine had loosened up my tongue enough to let a fragment of vulnerability spring forth. “I figured you’d gone there tonight after the wedding.”

“To the Pine?” he asked, giving me the courtesy of sounding utterly aghast. “Why would I go there when I knew you’d be here?”

“You went there for years without me,” I scoffed. “Why stop now?”

“Because I’ve had you there.”

I wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about that statement. Afraid to read too much into it, I looked away, toward the French doors to the reception. “How many people in there go to the Pine?”

“I’m not entirely sure. Coldwater’s not exactly a huge town, but most members wear masks like you do.” He looked back to the dance floor and shrugged. “I suppose a few are members.”

“I wonder…” I murmured, allowing my voice to fade away.

“You wonder what?”

“How many of those women you’ve slept with.”

“I haven’t slept with any,” he replied with a fierce set to his jaw, “but it’s entirely possible that I’ve fucked one or two.”

I frowned and turned away to look back over the starlit lake. To hide the sharp, jagged pain his words left. He’d said almost that exact same thing to me before, way back when I’d first shown up in his taboo realm. But I hadn’t liked it then and I didn’t like it now. Plus, add in the wine factor, and it was one heck of a struggle to keep tears from forming in my eyes.

“Why’s this coming up right now, Där?” he asked softly.

I gave a faint shake of my head. “I don’t know. It’s not like it’s the first time, though.”

“So talk to me.”

Right…open myself up and show him how pathetically morose I’d been for the last fourteen years while he’d been getting his rocks off with club subs. No thanks.

“Or,” he continued, “you could do what you’ve always done.”

I frowned up at him. “What’s that?”

“Shove it way down inside. Barricade yourself behind it.”

I flared up just a tiny bit at first, but then deflated at the self-realization. I did have the tendency to do that. It was just so much easier than fighting. I liked to think I was picking my battles, but I tended to pick very few. I rarely fought at all, if I was completely truthful with myself.

“It’s kinda late to talk about it now anyway, don’t you think?” I murmured.

“It doesn’t have to be,” he quietly replied.

“But what is there to say?”

“Tell me how you feel.”

Um, no…

The wine and his gentle tone had me feeling entirely too fragile. It made him seem safe. Comforting. Reliable and strong.

Despite what history told me. Despite the fact that he’d left me.

“What’s done is done, Jace,” I said, again turning to look over the lake. “I don’t wanna dredge all that up.”

“So don’t.”

I hadn’t really been expecting that response. I wasn’t sure what I did expect, but that made me look back up at him. Again, he propped out his elbow in my direction.

“Come dance with me instead.”

I just stared at him for a moment, feeling plumb stupid. Knowing with every fiber of my being I should say no. Knowing I should go back in on my own, without him.

Strangely, it was one thing to do all the dirty shit we’d been doing, at the Pine and in my room. In privacy, hidden behind a disguise.

But my wretched heart swelled at the thought of just dancing with him. Something so simple and sweet. Another couple in the crowd. The secrets of the Pine kept between the two of us. We could just be Jace and Därah. What everyone thought we were.

Exes who had managed to stay friends for the sake of their kid.

The temptation proved to be too much. I tucked my palm in the crook of his elbow and allowed him to lead me back to the crowd just as the DJ started up a slow song.

Of all the luck…

He placed his one hand on my hip, not really pulling me close, but definitely not holding me back, while the other curled around the small of my back. One of my palms landed naturally on his shoulder, the other on his chest, just below the beat of his heart.

As our bodies slowly moved to the rhythm, I tried so hard not to listen to the words. I didn’t want their meaning to seep through the cracks and into my longing. I ached for their simplicity and wondered how many times Ed Sheeran’s voice had made me want to sob uncontrollably.

How would it feel,

If I told you I loved you?

It was all I could do not to press my face against his chest and breathe in the scent of him. I almost did. Time and place faded. The wine had fuzzed up my brain, and the reception around us seemed blurry. Far away.

Tell me that you love me, too…

I felt his lips graze my forehead, teasing the feathery baby hairs along my hairline and sending goosebumps up and down my arms.

“Relax,” he murmured.

“I can’t.” I pushed back at him just a bit, but his hold on me only tightened. “You’re holding me too close.”

“That’s exactly the opposite of what I was thinking,” he murmured close to my ear. A dizzy little whirl in my head had me gripping his shoulder for support. I felt ridiculously feeble and looked up in a pathetic attempt to glare at him. To try and regain a little face.

But his dark eyes only made it worse and I wanted so badly to simply melt into him. I stopped moving all together. Everything. My feet. My heart. My lungs.

“Take a deep breath, Där,” he whispered. “In through your nose…”

I unconsciously did as he said, then let it shakily out through my mouth. My eyes shut out the dance floor and the crowd. For a second, I only felt the safety of his arms. I pictured the warm, wooden beams of the Pine and the soft flannel on the bed. I felt the pull of him and tilted my lips up toward his.

Then Ed Sheeran’s voice disappeared and was suddenly replaced with…Adele?

Everybody loves the things you do…

Good lord, this was going downhill fast. As we continued to move slowly to the powerful melancholy of Adele’s voice, her words struck me over and over.

…In case it is the last time…

“Why would the DJ play such a sad song at a wedding?” I finally whispered as the song began to come to a close.

“It’s nice to dance to,” Jace offered, his voice tingling in my hair.

“But it’s about long lost love. It’s depressing.”

“Maybe it’s for people like us.”

Like us…

But there was no us. Not anymore.

“I have to go,” I suddenly whispered, yet I made no move to move away from him.

And Jace, if anything, only held me a tiny bit closer. His grip on me simply felt more determined. “So let’s go.”

No. No, no, no. He couldn’t go with me.

Fortunately, the song ended and my dad’s voice broke the spell.

“Jace,” he boomed with a cheerful smile, “been a while!”

“Hey there, Roger,” Jace grinned back at him.

Fighting off a torrid flow of tears, I suddenly felt too hollow and bereft to be angry at how well they still got along. I had to get out of there, and my dad’s appearance might be a way to escape.

“I’m gonna go see if they need help serving up refreshments,” I murmured, and slipped away. I could practically feel Jace’s quizzical gaze follow as I retreated, but my dad dominated his attention and held him up momentarily.

That was all the time I needed.

I quickly darted through the crowd, making a beeline for my brother. I gave him and Anna a hug before finding Mad to let her know I was catching a ride home.

After she promised to call if she needed anything during her trip, I texted Lissa to come get me and hid just outside the front entrance, welcoming the numbing chill of the mountain breeze.

As I climbed in Lissa’s car, she nodded across the lot.

“Is that Jace’s truck?” she asked.

I nodded, on the verge of tears.

She pursed her lips, contemplating my fragile mood.

“Just bought a schmancy new wine. Wanna come over and try it out with me?”

“Okay,” I said with a tremulous smile.

For once, Lissa didn’t tease me. She didn’t push me. She drove me back to her apartment in relative silence and flicked on the radio as she opened a bottle, pouring each of us each a massive glass.

“Not bad,” I shrugged, taking a taste. It was a rich shiraz, bold and tart. The color reminded me of that first room at the Pine.

“You looked like you could use it,” she replied with a sad smile. I felt her gaze on me, giving me time to find the words.

“It feels different,” I finally explained in a small voice.

“What does?”

“Being around him. Everything. Like in public. Wanting…” My voice trailed off. Half the time, I didn’t even know what I wanted.

“Wanting what you have in private?”

“I don’t even know what that is,” I frowned. “I missed him. He came to Trav’s wedding and then left, and I was sitting there at the reception missing him.”

Lissa took a sip of her wine, waiting for me to go on, but I couldn’t break free from that thought.

I had missed him. I wanted to be in his arms, out on the dance floor. As though the last fourteen years hadn’t even existed. “And then, there he was, asking me to dance.”

“Like maybe he missed you, too.”

I swirled the wine in my goblet, watching the little burgundy fingers spider on the clear crystal.

“He taught me to drive, you know,” I told her after a long, contemplative break. “My dad was always gone on business trips. My stepmom was always running ragged trying to keep my little brother in line. I didn’t want to be a bother, so I just figured I’d learn at some point. When I missed the sign-ups for driver’s ed, Jace took me out on the back roads to teach me himself.” I breathed out a low chuckle. “I figured he just wanted to get me out in the sticks. Have his way with me.”

“He obviously did eventually,” she grinned.

“That first time didn’t happen out in the sticks.” My cheeks flushed a little as the butterflies danced through my stomach, stirred by the memories.

“Awwww, what did he do? Some big romantic gesture that finally convinced you to give it up?”

“No,” I laughed nervously. “I don’t think it was planned at all.”

“Honey, I’d be willing to bet—”

“No, seriously. I had just passed my driver’s test and was all excited…and I ended up at his house.”

“Oooh, wild teenage sex all over the house?”

“Just his room. His, uh…his parents were home.”

“Oh my God, you dirty little ho! I cannot believe you had the balls to hand him your v-card when his parents were home.”

“It wasn’t like that. We were in his room and then…we were kissing and then it all just kinda happened.”

Lissa laughed and rolled her eyes. “Jeez, you sound like such a teenager. Sex doesn’t just happen. Just wham-bam.”

“It wasn’t just wham-bam. It happened a multiple times. I’m not sure how many, even.”

“Your first time and you don’t know how many times?” Lissa arched an eyebrow in pure and utter disbelief.

“I was there for hours. I actually got grounded for being so late getting home.” I laughed a little at the memory, partially to ease the tight, hot ache that was developing low in my stomach thinking about that day.

Lissa’s voice almost startled me, interrupting my blissful memory. “Was it totally awkward and weird, or was it everything you thought it would be?”

“It was more than I ever thought it would be. It was amazing.”

“And it hurt?”

“A bit at first.”

“A good hurt?”

I thought back to what Jace had said not so long ago. Recalling my own words from that day. I did like the pain. That moment, that split second in time when he pushed inside me—where pain and passion collided—had sparked that strange need. A need that simmered in the back of my mind for almost two decades.

The need that ultimately led me to The Naughty Pine.

“I didn’t think so at the time,” I murmured thoughtfully.

“But now, when you look back?”

“It was a beautiful hurt.”

I swirled the wine in my glass before slugging down the last of it in a big gulp. Lissa grabbed the bottle and refilled mine before pouring the last of the bottle into her own glass.

“So what happened?” she finally asked.

“I just told you,” I frowned.

“Not that. Not then. How did you guys break up?”

I took another long drink, savoring the tart, dry notes before answering. “We fought a lot. We were definitely not living the dream. Everything was so difficult, and we were so young.” I took a deep breath to finish admitting the single most painful time of my life. “He got the opportunity to go into a sheet metal apprenticeship program. I didn’t want him to feel like he had to stay just because of Mad and me. He deserved more. So I told him to go.”

“Why didn’t you go, too?”

I shrugged. “He didn’t ask.”

“Did you offer?”

“He wanted out, Lissa. He wanted out, and this gave him a way. A way he could leave, but everyone would still be proud of him. After all, he was off learning a trade to support his kid. He was being a good dad. A good provider.” I let out a dry, caustic laugh. “Even leaving his wife and daughter, he could do no wrong.”

“Där—” Lissa began.

But I cut her off. The wine had me on a roll. “He only married me in the first place because I got knocked up.”

“I really doubt that.”

“That’s who Jace always was. He’d screw up, and he’d find a way to fix it. He married me to give Mad a name. To be responsible. He left because it wasn’t working and he had an out that made him seem even more responsible.”

“Där, Jace doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d—”

“He did the same with Stephanie.”

Lissa frowned. “Who’s Stephanie?”

“The woman he married after me. She told him she was pregnant, and he married her. Just like that. He just showed up with her to pick up Mad and introduced her to me as his fiancée.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, ouch. Turned out she wasn’t pregnant after all. She’d lied. She thought—correctly, might I add—that she could get his ring on her finger.”

“But that doesn’t mean it was the same—”

“Yeah,” I interrupted again. “It does. It totally verified why he married me. That’s it. Young and dumb, but responsible as the day is long.”

“I’ve seen him with you,” she retorted. “There’s so much more to it than that.”

“Whose side are you on?” I asked in a whispery wail, my voice catching. “He tore out my heart when he left. He tossed me to the side.”

“The way he looks at you, I think that’s something he’s regretted for a long, long time. From what I understand, he has always been so cold with everyone else. Polite, but removed. Like, nobody could break through. His control was calm and rigid. Lots of women tried, but no one had what it took.” She leaned forward and looked me dead in the eye. “No one but you.”

“Don’t,” I said with a vehement shake of my head. “Don’t do that. Don’t you dare start putting ridiculous ideas in my head. I just can’t. I can’t go there. I’ve spent the last fourteen years trying to get over him. Trying to shove out these feelings I had for him once and for all.”

“Had? Or have…?”

I covered my face with my hands and leaned forward. “God, and now I’m back in bed with him. I’m obsessing about him all over again. Lissa, what am I doing?”

Lissa scooted a little closer and patted me lightly on the back. “Seems to me like you might be falling back in love with your ex-husband.”

“That’s just it,” I breathed. My gaze lifted to hers, and my fingertips covered my mouth, almost as though they were trying to stifle the whisper about to emerge. “I never stopped.”

She smiled sadly. “Maybe you should tell him that.”

“No,” I leapt straight up to my bare feet, my eyes wide. “Absolutely not. I’ll be pathetic all by myself, thanks. There’s no need for him to know.”

“But Därah—” Lissa began, but I cut her off as I backed away.

“No, I can’t. I just can’t.”

She pursed her lips. “Maybe I could—”

“Don’t you dare,” I quickly shot back, shaking my head emphatically. I wobbled ever so slightly, dizzy from the wine and my own crappy feelings.

I regretted even thinking I still loved him, much less saying it. Even to my one confidante. I wanted to take it back. To un-say it. I didn’t want that out floating around in the universe, taunting me and making me feel foolish. Those words would ruin this strange new world Jace had shown me. They would destroy the release I lived for at the moment.

They would take away the only times I felt my miserable heart beat.

I grabbed my sling-back heels from where they lay on the floor by Lissa’s couch and started for the door. As intoxicated as I was, if I went home and crashed, I just might be able to forget this conversation had ever happened.

At the very least, I could pretend I had forgotten it. Play dumb to avoid the slightest mention.

“Thanks for the wine, Lissa, but I need to get home.”

“You don’t have to go,” she began. “I’ll drop it.”

“No, I need some fresh air. I’ll just walk home. It’s not that far.”

“Därah, you’re not entirely sober.”

“Seriously, it’s okay. I’m not that bad. Besides, it’s a pretty night and I could do with a walk. I just want to be home. Alone in my bed.”

“That sounds depressing.”

I attempted to force a reassuring smile for her benefit, but I must have just looked kinda sick. She certainly didn’t appear to take any comfort from it. Fortunately, I was able to slip my heels back on without stumbling, which felt like its own minor triumph.

“See?” I motioned to my feet. “I’m fine. Would I be able to balance like that in heels if I was drunk?”

After numerous reassurances, she finally gave up. She crossed over to her kitchen counter where I’d set my phone. After checking the battery life, she pressed it into my palm and made me promise about eighty gazillion times that I’d be ready to call nine-one-one if anyone remotely shady was out and about, as well as another eight gazillion reassurances that I’d text her the second I got home.

The moon was bright and full as I walked along the sidewalk, navigating the empty streets. I needed this solitude under the watch of Orion the Hunter who had yet to fall below the horizon for the summer. I needed the majesty of Leo the Lion to soothe my unsettled spirit.

Four blocks over and three blocks north through the neighborhood, quiet aside from the cottonwoods rustling in the breeze. My phone still pressed tightly in my palm as I’d promised, I texted Lissa as I turned up my front walk, then reached for my bag to grab my keys.

Crap. My bag…

My bag that I’d left hanging on a hook by Lissa’s door.

Okay, I thought to myself, there’s a spare key behind the barbecue grill on my patio.

Except it wasn’t there.

“Dammit, Mad,” I muttered to myself. That kid had a horrid habit of using the spare key and laying it on the counter where it would sit until I nagged enough for her to put it away. Although I often just put it away myself because I really hated nagging.

For the most part, that kid was mature beyond her years. In some instances, though, she somehow never seemed to connect the dots. Like this one.

For about a half-second, I contemplated calling her and ragging her out, but the wedding had been so lovely and I didn’t want to ruin the night for her or anyone else. They had all been having so much fun at the reception when I left. If I called her, she’d tell my dad and he’d gather up Rose and tell everyone goodnight and leave to save me. They’d cut their night short because I had been an idiot.

I also thought of walking back to Lissa’s, but my heels had started to pinch at my toes, so I’d taken them off and now stood barefoot on the chilly sidewalk. And, while she hadn’t been at the reception and thus hadn’t started drinking when I did, she did a pretty good job catching up with me when she opened the shiraz. I wasn’t about to ask her to drive after that, even if it was just a few blocks.

In the end, after sitting there for far too long thinking to myself that it was an absolutely, positively awful idea…

…I texted Jace.

I sat barefoot on my front steps, my back up against the front door, when Jace’s pickup pulled up into my drive. He got out and gave me a long look, not saying anything at first.

“You ran away,” he finally murmured. His voice was calm and deep, and I felt it roll through me.

I had done just that. Unable to deny it or explain it, I just dropped my gaze, staring down at my bare feet with a faint shiver.

“Why did you run away, Där?”

“It was all kinda doing my head in.”

He took a few steps closer and crouched down before me. “What was?”

I looked up into his face, a little bit lost in the dark shadows, but I could see him as clearly as if we were in broad daylight. His features were so vivid in my mind. Every one of his thick lashes. Even slight smile lines that had appeared around his eyes the last few years. The sheer perfection of his thick beard as it covered his strong, square jaw.

“Being so close to you,” I replied, slightly dazed by the wine and his close proximity. Then I realized that my private thoughts were making their way out of my mouth, and I tried to cover it with something a bit more logical. “In public, like right there in front of everyone we’ve known forever. After everything we’ve been doing at the Pine. Wondering if some of them know exactly what we’ve been doing at the Pine. It just seemed a little risky.”

“Even if any of them know it’s you at the Pine—”

“I know,” I sighed, cutting him off, “they won’t talk, but I…it all just…it was too much.”

He frowned, but it was a gentle frown, if that’s possible. It felt warm, even with its dismal slant. It made me want to arch toward him, seeking the heat of him as another shiver wracked through me.

“You’re freezing,” Jace said as he straightened and held out his hand. “I know it’s warm for April, but you still should have a fucking coat on. Let’s get you inside.”

I placed my chilled fingers in his, and he pulled me upright. Still a little tipsy, I weaved slightly, bracing myself with a hand against his thick chest. He was so solid. So steady. It was all I could do not to sink against him and I choked back a faint moan.

Instead, I used the hand on his chest to push me slightly away. Maybe not the best idea. The night air was colder the further away I was. Another deep tremble hit, bringing a catch to my breath. I leaned against the doorjamb, away from him but needing some stability. The world seemed to be rocking around me.

Jace slipped his key into the lock.

“Why am I having you do this?” I asked, more to myself than him.

He pushed open the unlocked door and looked down at me. Small fragments of lunar light hit his features, and for a split second, I thought he looked a bit magical. I could almost make out the flecks of gold in his dark eyes.

“You needed help.”

“Yeah, but why you? Why did I text you?”

He cocked an eyebrow and gave me half a grin. “You’re asking me why you texted me.”

“We’re divorced.”

He sobered slightly, all traces of his smile gone as he pressed his lips together in a bleak line. “Yeah, we are. And?”

“So why did I text you? Why didn’t I just call my landlady?”

“She’s like ninety, isn’t she?”

I snorted. “She’s not ninety. Mad thinks everyone over fifty is ninety.”

“How old do you think she is?”

“Maybe eighty…five.”

His lips tilted with a hint of amusement. “Okay, so not too far off, but what was she gonna do this time of night, honey? I doubt she’d even hear the phone.”

“Yeah, okay, but I could have called my dad.”

“You wouldn’t do that, knowing they were enjoying themselves at Travis’ reception. Besides, you hate asking your dad for help. You always have.”

“A locksmith, then. Why didn’t I just call a locksmith?”

“Well, my guess is because Larry is the only locksmith in town and would charge you out the nose to show up this time of night on a Saturday. And you hate spending money.”

This was why I had never been good at arguing with him. He always had an answer that made complete sense. When he started throwing them at me, my mind always froze up. Every rational thought just flew right out, and I suddenly had no capacity to think.

“But why…you?”

“Because you know deep down, I’ll always come when you need me.”

He was right. Not once in my life had I called him that he didn’t come through for me.

Even when he’d moved away and I felt so bereft and abandoned. Madison had come down with a nasty cold and a raging fever. Nothing super out of the ordinary for a child, but I had only just turned twenty. I was a neurotic, panicky new mother. I rushed her to the ER where they popped in an IV for fluids and incessantly reassured me she would be okay. Yet, sitting there looking at her, so small and frail in that big hospital crib reminiscent of a cage, the dread and fear overwhelmed me. In the midst of it all, Jace called to let me know he’d dropped a child support check in the mail. With my first breath, he heard the alarm in my voice, even as I tried to tone it down. I did everything I could to explain it without letting my anxiety loose. I tried to be strong and not worry him, but he knew me too well. He got me to fess up. I fell apart telling him about Mad’s fever. About how much it scared me.

That day, he’d packed up and moved back to Coldwater. He left his apprenticeship and learned the trade under someone local.

He came back to Coldwater. Back to Mad.

For Mad.

But not back for me.

I’d grown more independent. Stronger. More resilient over the years, but having him close proved to be a double-edged sword sometimes, cutting into my heart no matter which way it turned.

Like when he looked down at me the way he looked at me right then.

With a bracing inhale, I leaned away from the doorframe that had been providing support, as much from the dizzying presence of Jace as the wine still clouding my brain. I stepped through the doorway into my living room, dropping my heels on the floor and tossing my phone onto the soft couch before I slowly turned back to see his shadow in my doorway.

“You said you always come when I need you,” I whispered.

“I always will, Där.”

It was the wine. Looking back, it had to be. I was never good at asking for what I needed, much less what I wanted. Right at that moment, my want and need were all one force, too powerful for my lowered inhibitions.

My breathing quickened and I felt a little lightheaded as I realized what I was about to say. It took me a good minute to move the words from the tip of my tongue to the tremble of my lips.

“I need you now.”

One second he stood at my door, and then next he was pulling me roughly against him, kissing me so beautifully tears sprang to my eyes. My fingers clumsily unfastened the buttons of his crisp black shirt, then pushed it off his shoulders with his jacket in one heavy flump of fabric as it hit the floor. A little thrill raced through my veins as I felt him sliding the zipper of my dress down. As the fabric began to pool around my shoulders. I leaned up against his warm, bare chest, pulling my arms free and wrapping them around his broad shoulders as his hands tugged the wispy crepe from my body, pushing it down over my hips.

He kissed me slow and hard, gathering me close with one arm, his other hand slipping around my back to unhook my bra with a quick flick of his fingertips. I stood there in my panties, up on my tiptoes, his lips on me, then trailing down my neck to nip at my shoulder.

Dragging my fingernails down his chest, my attention turned to the fly of his jeans. I broke away from his kiss to witness his hard thickness fall into my hand. Without a second thought, I dropped to my knees before him and took him into my mouth, feeling every bit the submissive. Feeling owned, body and soul, by this man who had always owned my lonely, battered heart.

His hands caught in my hair with a tight grip as my tongue swept up his length. “Fuck, Där…”

His cock was smooth and silky, yet so hard and hot. I tasted a faint salty undertone that stirred my hunger for more. I became obsessed with the feel of him. There was nothing more I wanted at that moment. Nothing else could have come close to the heady desire that raged through me.

I took him deep in my mouth, choking for breath on his thick head. The slightest tremor of my gag reflex subsided as I felt his gaze burning down at me. My eyes opened to meet his, locked on in a hypnotizing and scintillating stare. Swirling my tongue around his girth and sucking lightly, I allowed him to withdraw almost completely before I leaned back into him. His cock slid in and out, wrenching a low moan from the back of my throat. His fingers tightened painfully against my scalp, guiding my mouth in a fluid motion as he groaned his pleasure into the darkened room. His eyes fluttered, almost closed, but remained locked onto mine, as though he couldn’t bear to stop watching his cock slide in and out of my mouth.

My own body was aching, burning deep inside to be filled. Squirming with every lick and kiss and suck. I was so into it, the sounds coming from his throat and the feral darkness of his eyes. The sheer overwhelming sensation of bringing him closer. The pride as his movements became more jerky and rough.

“Fuck, baby girl,” he whispered, and that ragged endearment, one he’d only used on me a time or two before, instilled a sense of power in me. I felt the desperation in his voice as I looked up at him, watching him as he watched me suck him deep. Gathering my messy tresses into a tight ponytail, he used it to guide my movements. With everything I had, I tried to take him deep like I had in the swing, gasping for breath when I was forced by lack of oxygen to pull back. Saliva coated my lips and chin, trailing from his length, and hot tears trickled down my cheeks. I wanted to please him, to give him the faintest hint of all he’d given me over the time we’d spent together at the Pine. I wanted to make him come undone and, for the first time in my life, I truly felt sexy enough and confident enough to take on the challenge.

Plus, I just really loved the way he tasted. The sensation of his smooth length gliding in and out of my mouth. The gasping groan and shuddering breath he released as my fingernails raked down his ass and thighs. The way his movements began to become fierce and forceful as he drew closer to release.

Suddenly, he pulled back with a deep growling moan. My lips released him as he shot hot streams of come over my breasts. His hands tangled in my hair, his breathing labored and harsh. I rested my forehead against his hip and pressed a kiss to the base of his cock, a sense of supreme accomplishment washing through me. I had made him do that. I had brought him clear through it. I had made him lose control.

I had pleased him.

He swayed on his heels before he knelt to the floor to face me. His own eyes sparkled in the low light and his hands left my tangled hair to cup my face gently.

“My God,” he breathed. “How did I ever let you go?”

I didn’t want to think about that. I wanted our past far from this moment. I wanted the carnal fever and the desperate frenzy. So I stood and threw my arms around his neck. My body, slick with sweat and come, pressed up against his. I kissed him deeply, coaxing him back into the hazy bliss. After a moment, he followed my silent lead, grasping my slickened breast, smoothing his release over my chest with a wide thumb. Guiding me back down to the carpet as he covered me with his weight.

His lips trailed down the cords of my neck, a nip on my shoulder wrought a gasp from my lips. His bruising grip moved down my side, holding my hips steady as he nudged my thighs. A single thick finger pushed inside me, deep into my throbbing center, stroking and curling to fire me up. The pressure of his thumb, working slow circles over and around my clit, rhythmically gaining momentum with each thrust of his finger into my depths. In what seemed like only seconds, my body tensed and tightened, aching to slip over that precipice into oblivion. For a moment, his weight left me and his touch stalled. My initial panic melted into a deep groan as his lips settled at the heated ache between my thighs. Another finger joined the first, driving into me as he licked his tongue over me, stoking the fires as much as he soothed the frantic need.

Bliss. Sheer bliss. His tongue swept long and slow and hard inside me. His lips. His fingers. Stroking and devouring and caressing. His hands slipped up under my rear and he angled my hips up to carry on. To overwhelm me and make me beg for release.

Something I did in no time at all.

I tried to hold out. The euphoric pulses raging through my veins strengthened. My muscles tightened and ached. I never wanted him to stop what he was doing to me with his mouth and his fingertips. I fought the release, trying to draw out the ecstasy, but a slight shift of his finger up against my inner wall ripped the orgasm right through me.

A tightness in my throat, borne of rapid, harsh panting and hoarse cries, made it hard to draw in a full breath. My entire being trembled as he lifted up over me, then leaned back, swinging me up to straddle him and glide down over him. He kissed me deeply as he slowly filled me, once again fully thick and hard. Bliss swept through me, his thickness grinding into me. His lips touched mine in a gentle, feathery kiss. The earthy taste of my arousal on his lips filled my senses.

Long into the night we continued, eventually making it onto the couch, then to my bed where we finally collapsed as the faintest glimmer of sunlight painted the sky a deep orangish-pink. Right about the time the rest of the world began to stir, the solace of sleep crept inside me, leaving my eyes heavy and my muscles relaxed. I barely remember a minute later, only the sweet siren of sleep calling me closer to oblivion.

I saw Jace every night Mad was gone.

Sunday night, he showed up with dinner. Tuesday, he showed up for dinner. Wednesday, he showed up, kissing me hard at the door before guiding me backwards into my bedroom where he sorta had me for dinner.

Every night he ended up in my bed.

Every night but Thursday.

“Grab a jacket and anything you need for tonight,” he ordered over the phone. “I’m picking you up at six.”

“What? Why?”

“Tonight is at my place.”

Just the thought of that sent me into a bit of a tailspin.

I’d only seen Jace’s cabin from the outside. I’d never been in it. Never felt I could stomach it.

He’d started building it not long after moving back to Coldwater. It took him years to finish it because he was doing most of the work himself in his spare time. Mad would come home from her time with him all excited about the place. The vaulted ceilings and the big porch that looked out over the mountains across the valley. Her massive bedroom with a reading nook in the window. The elaborate kitchen that made her longingly sigh in the tiny, dated kitchen of our rental.

Mad filled me in on every little detail with all kinds of exuberance and glee. She told me about the flagstone patio outside the French doors that looked out into the lodgepole pines and granite outcroppings. She carried on about the sunrises and sunsets that reflected through the large windows and painting everything with a rosy glow. She talked about the baby deer that clumsily trampled through the wildflowers of the valley floor to sleep beneath her bedroom window as late spring became early summer.

Not once in all the pick-ups and drop-offs had I gotten the nerve to go inside. I couldn’t bear to see it for myself.

Truth be told, though, I never had to.

I was able to picture it all in my mind. He had built our dream house, the house he’d always talked about sharing with me someday. Back in the day when we were still we. When there was an us.

Another thing that stung of betrayal when he built it after we divorced.

Granted, we never had the money before we divorced. It wasn’t until after he had completed his apprenticeship and was suddenly making three or four times what we’d been making combined before. I couldn’t fault him for building, even if it eviscerated me just to think about it.

And now I was on my way there.

I could barely breathe as we neared the drive. Even Jace seemed uncharacteristically apprehensive, but I was trying so hard to keep my composure I barely registered him. I may very well have been projecting my anxiety onto him, making him quieter than usual. Considering he wasn’t super talkative in the first place, that made for a ton of awkward silence.

We headed through a thick stand of pines that opened into a small mountain meadow up above the valley floor. Larkspur flooded the emerald grass, almost like a glaze of purple dotted with occasional shots of white from clusters of daisy fleabane in full bloom. The evening sun shone gold through the windows when he pulled the truck to a stop in front of the wide garage door. As Jace climbed out from behind the wheel, I felt a little frozen in place. My butt just wouldn’t move.

He came around to the passenger side and opened my door, and I apprehensively looked up at him.

“I’ve never been inside.”

I could have been mistaken, and I probably was, but the warm slant of a smile seemed understanding. Like he realized the gravity of this moment and how it rattled me.

“I know.”

I could only stare at the cabin in front of me. “Not once in all the time you’ve lived here. In all the time Mad has half-lived here with you.”

“Then come in now,” he softly coaxed.

It looked simple from the outside. A two-story ranch with a long covered deck running the full length of the front, an attached garage at one end. From the drive, a few steps naturally drew one up toward the front door at the center of the cabin.

“Knowing what I know about you now, I halfway expect there to be a dungeon,” I murmured as we climbed the short flight of steps to the porch. As I said it, a faint glimmer of hope ran up my spine. With Trav’s wedding the weekend before, the Pine had been out, and I found myself sorely missing that floaty consciousness he could get me to.

“I don’t really have the equipment here,” he chuckled. “Maybe someday, once Mad grows up and moves away. In the meantime, though, I can be inventive with what I’ve got.” His rich coffee-brown eyes glowed with suggestion, and my tummy did a little flip that sorta eased the nervousness twisting through my mind.

But then I stepped inside, and it all slammed into me ten-fold.

It was so much like I’d imagined. Like I’d dreamed and we’d talked about way back when I was seventeen.

It opened into the main room with a wide vaulted ceiling and thick log trusses. Simple wrought iron light fixtures that glowed in their own darkness. Black iron and heavy pine was incorporated into much of the furniture, from the barstools along the breakfast bar to the end tables and coffee table set in nicely with the couch. A tumbled river rock fireplace on the far wall framed a massive timbered mantle. The natural and smooth stones of the chimney led up to the peaked ceiling. Off to the right was a kitchen with polished granite countertops and glass tile backsplash illuminated by the soft glow of the range hood. The appliances were a dark steel color, sleek and high quality, making me want to break out the flour and start baking coffee cake and anything else that smelled like cinnamon, cloves, and cardamom.

I could also see why Mad grew so annoyed with our own sorry little WWII-era kitchen.

I wandered somewhat aimlessly through the greatness of the big, open space. Through a doorway across from the kitchen, I could see a small bathroom. Stairs formed from thick timbers headed up to a landing where they doubled back to an open loft, and I climbed them slowly. The whole time I took in this beautiful dream of a home, Jace followed quietly. He watched as I turned at the top of the stairs to overlook the room below. To gaze out the large windows to a stunning view of the mountains as they turned a warm pink with the setting sun.

It was simply breathtaking, so much that my chest ached.

I turned back to the hallway. On one side was a good-sized bedroom holding piles of teenage girl clothes in a familiar state of disarray that made me smile. Mad’s room, clearly. I could almost see her settled on her bed with her cell phone or curled up with a book.

Next to Mad’s bedroom was another bathroom, the countertop scattered with hair ties and a flatiron. A bottle of boy-band perfume and another of hairspray. A deep green towel had been haphazardly tossed over the shower curtain rod, and a familiar Coldwater High hoodie draped on a hook just inside the door.

Continuing down the hallway, I saw a set of wide French doors at the far end, one of which sat open, revealing a heavy desk and a file cabinet along one side of the room and a treadmill beside an weight bench along the other side facing a medium flatscreen TV.

And along the back wall was another set of French doors, again with one open allowing me the slightest glimpse of a heavy bed covered in a plush midnight blue comforter.

“My bedroom,” Jace murmured close to my ear. A delicious sound that sent a warm rush through my gut. His hand settled on my hip, gently nudging me forward into the haven that awaited me.

The space itself was large, but the gabled roofline made it seem somewhat cozier. A king-size bed made of iron and gnarled pine centered along the length of the space below a high window. Plush blankets beckoned me to lie down on their softness, to curl up against the flannel pillowcases and to gaze through the balcony doors out to the sunset perfectly framed by pine trim.

This whole place was perfection. It was everything I’d ever wanted in a home. I could imagine myself here so easily, sleeping in the haven of his arms every night. The intensity of that yearning took my breath away. I turned to look back up at Jace who focused on my every move, stepping back. All this emotion hitting me…all that he was and all I had dreamed of him being seemed so close and frightening and vital. He stepped closer, raising his hand to cup my cheek so gently it made me moan.

“You and I really need to have a talk,” he quietly stated.

“About what?” I asked, somewhat dazed.

“You and I.”

My heart stopped. In a sudden panic, afraid of what he might say, I clumsily weaved against him and lifted up on my tippy-toes. Clasping my hands against his bearded jaw, I sought his lips. I prayed that his arms would come around me, and I dang near cried when he firmly pulled me tight up against him.

“Där—” he whispered against my lips.

“I don’t want to talk, Jace,” I whispered back. My fingertip trailed down his chest, reaching the edge of his Henley at his waist before tugging it up to touch his bare skin. Raking my nails up his torso, I relished in the deep indrawn breath that tore through him. “I just want to pretend you still love me.”

“Honey, I don’t have to pretend.”

“That’s right,” I said against his lips, deliberately misunderstanding. There was simply too much to lose if I believed in him. I’d done it before, and it’d about killed me. So I chose to take this all as a dream. A fantasy. “Exactly, just like that.”

“But—”

“No, no more talking.” Slipping my hands around his sides, my nails dug into his back desperately. “Please…just kiss me…”

He did, but pulled back for a moment first to let out a frustrated groan. “Christ, of all the times for you to get demanding.”

And for some time, we said what needed to be said with touch and taste and sensation. I managed to put off anything remotely like heavy conversation. Not that he didn’t try…more than once. But I didn’t want it. I’d become the aggressor. I couldn’t allow any sentimental conversation. It had to be completely sexual, driven only by this carnal, visceral need. Any talking we did would only bring in my own insecurities. My fear and pain and lonely regret.

And I just couldn’t handle that.

Not yet.

It was easy to pretend as I loosened his fly and wrapped my fingers firmly around his thick shaft. Every time his touch would soften, every time he lightly kissed my forehead, my cheek, my lips, I stroked harder. Became wilder. I felt the power of my own body as I pulled him into my heady need. His arms curled around my trembling torso, gathering me so close as he came, his hands clenching my curves with a tender violence that brought a sting of tears to my eyes. Contentment and security surrounded me in this blissful cloud of sexuality.

I slept harder that night than I had in years, thoroughly exhausted by the voracious need to please him and the pleasure he brought forth in me. Secure and warm in his bed, nestled up against his chest beneath thick and heavy blankets.

In this dream home I wanted to believe he’d built for us.

After a night of doing everything I could to caress or tease my way out of any meaningful conversation, I’d crept out of his bed at the butt crack of dawn Friday morning on the pretense that I had to get ready for work. I’m sure Jace knew exactly what I was doing, but he gave in, as though he also wanted to enjoy this snippet of heaven before it all came crashing down.

Then Mad arrived home that night, ending the sleepovers Jace and I had been having. She spent the next night at his place, thus even preventing us from meeting up at the Pine.

But now, it was Friday again. Mad was back in her whirlwind of high school social life with a home game and a sleepover at Shelby’s. And, as usual for me on a Friday night, I was home…alone.

I pulled on a flannel nightie immediately after getting home from a long day of ledgers. I hadn’t exactly worked late, but I’d spent so much time staring at numbers that it felt like they were floating across the screen. I needed a break and was dying for tomorrow night. I ached for the catharsis of the Pine. I was craving it. Obsessing over it.

Obsessing over Jace, really.

I figured I’d pour a large glass of wine and take a bath, some pampering to keep me busy enough to keep me from calling Jace and begging him to come over. The last thing I needed was to get all needy or clingy or any of that girlie stuff. After all, I’d see him tomorrow night at the Pine. I could make it one more day, right?

As I wandered into the kitchen, though, my phone blipped.

A text from Jace. My breath caught in my throat and my pulse went supersonic.

You home?

So I replied.

Yup

Mad home?

Nope, game night

Figured…Jesus, that kid

I know, right?

When’s she done?

She’s spending the night with Shelby

Ok

Okay? That was it? I texted him back.

Why?

No response.

Jace, why?

Still nothing.

Jace!!!

I don’t even know how long I sat there, staring dumbly at my phone. Willing him to text me again, but to no avail. He never did text me back.

He rang my doorbell instead.

The chime startled me so badly it dang near shot me through the roof. I knew it was him the second it sounded, but I still peeked through the peephole to see him standing there, a pizza in one hand and a six-pack of Backcountry Scottish Ale in the other.

I pulled the door open and stared at him. “Jace, what are you—”

“You eat yet?”

He brushed by me as though I hadn’t even spoken, effectively cutting me off. I followed him through the living room into the kitchen where he set the beverages and pizza down on the counter before he spun on his heel and came toward me with a determination that made my insides melt.

“No, but, Jace…what are you doing here?” I suddenly found myself back-pedaling into the breakfast bar.

“Brought pizza for dinner, but I’m gonna fuck you first, honey. It’s been over a week and tomorrow night is just too fucking far away.”

And with that, he reached me, hooked an arm tightly around my waist, cupped my face in his palm, and kissed me. Like he really kissed me. So hard and so full of want that my body reacted long before my brain. Not that my brain would have put up much of a fight. He had my nightie off in a heartbeat and stripped me buck naked before we even made it out of the kitchen. By the time he tossed me down on the bed and covered me with his weight, he’d shucked off his own clothes as well, and he took me deliciously fast and rough.

And the whole time, his presence overwhelmed me. I was lost in the sensation he invoked, the desperate need that he drew forth.

“You’ve changed, but you haven’t.” I murmured, running my fingertips along the smooth skin of Jace’s broad shoulder. Down his thick bicep, tracing the curve of muscle.

He lay on his side, his head propped up on one arm. Dusk was fading into night, but I could make out his raised brow in the shadows.

“Changed how?”

“You’re…thicker. More solid.” My hand continued its journey along his forearm to softly explore the veins on the back of his hand. Just like I used to do so long ago. These hands, with their thick strength and firm grip, had always made me feel so safe. My lashes lowered, and my mind drifted to long ago memories. “But sometimes, I could close my eyes and be back in high school, holding your hand in the halls as you walked me to class.”

“Well, you’re still the girl who made me stop dead in my tracks outside Mr. Petroff’s science room,” he smiled

“Whatever,” I let out a low, self-deprecating laugh.

“If anything, you’ve gotten more beautiful over time.”

“If anything, I’ve gotten fatter over time.”

He took my chin in his finger and thumb, forcing my gaze back up to meet the intensity of his, and shut me up with a hard kiss. A breathtaking force that stopped my thoughts short. It left me dazed in its wake. His fingertips drifted down my neck, stroking my erratic pulse before roaming down to cup and lift my bare breasts.

“Maybe little changes,” he breathed against my lips, “but all for the better. Your breasts are fuller. Heavier. I can’t help but touch them and caress them. To watch as your breath catches when I capture your nipples…and pinch.”

My breath caught right on cue as his actions matched his words, and his hands continued their journey, smoothing over my bare waist, down to my hips.

“Your curves and your softness…fuck, I love your softness. Your silky smooth skin. The light, fresh scent of you.”

His thumbs brushed over my lower stomach, over the place where I once had prominent hip bones. Back in my younger, skinnier days.

“I’m so sorry it didn’t work out…” His voice trailed off, bringing my gaze back up to see a deep frown touch his lips.

“Sorry what didn’t work out?” I’d become a bit dazed by his touch.

“Us…”

The dark coffee brown of his eyes was almost black in the low light filtering through my snowy-white curtains. A sharp ache stung the back of my throat.

Then why did you leave me?

But I still couldn’t say it. It was right there, right on the tip of my tongue. Screaming to get out. He must have sensed it, but he waited as it went unsaid and hovered in the air around us.

Unsaid, like so many thoughts I’d had over the years.

Like when I’d mentally begged him not to go.

When I silently pleaded for him to come back.

But I never told him any of those things. I never said them aloud.

Finally, unable to handle the pressure of those unspoken words any longer, I leaned into him, tucking myself against his chest.

“Shhhh…” I softly hushed. “You’re gonna make me think, and I don’t want to do that.”

“So maybe tell me what you’re thinking.”

I just shook my head against his shoulder, swallowing back the lump in my throat. “Pizza’s probably getting cold.”

His grip tightened. “Just another minute.”

“Okay.”

So I enjoyed his weight and his strength another minute…another ten or twenty, actually. Then we went out to the dining room table to eat cold pizza and drink warm beer.

I was on my second slice when the phone rang.

“Ummmm, hey, Mom…”

Well, that sounded suspicious as all heck.

“Mad, you sound funny. Are you okay? What’s wrong?” She didn’t exactly sound panicked, even though she was calling me late at night, which she never ever did. She seldom called me period, but especially late at night when she was at Shelby’s. The rarity of this all instantly had me panicked.

“I’m okay, but, well…um, can you come pick me up?”

“Pick you up from Shelby’s? What happened?” Maybe they’d gotten into a fight, although that hadn’t really happened since they were about six years old.

“No, um…I’m at the police station.”

“You’re at the police station?”

Suddenly the phone was jerked from my hand, and Jace was speaking.

“Are you okay, Madison?”

“Dad?” I heard her confusion.

“Are. You. Okay. Madison?” he repeated in a slow, deliberate voice. I couldn’t hear her response, but I’m guessing she told him what she told me, that she was okay because Jace’s expression grew dark and angry. “Okay, then. What the fuck?”

Madison’s voice rose to a point I could hear her again. “It’s not a big deal—”

But Jace cut her off. “You’re at the police station. That’s kind of a big deal. We’ll be there in two minutes.”

In no time at all, we were pulling up outside the station. My stomach hurt with worry over why we were here. Our kid was a really good kid. This was completely uncharted territory for either of us.

Mad and Shelby sat sheepishly in the waiting area along with a few other kids I recognized but didn’t really know. I did recognize Colten Dawes, the captain of the football team and someone I’d heard mentioned multiple times in conversations between my daughter and her BFF. About three other players were also there. They all looked a little green around the gills, and the whole lot of them reeked like a campfire.

“Hey, Jace,” said the officer on duty.

“Hi, Charles. This is my,” Jace paused as he looked down at me as though he didn’t know how to introduce me, but then continued on, “well, this is Därah, Madison’s mom. What’s going on?”

Charles proceeded to tell us about the kegger he had busted up a short time before, then immediately retold the tale over and over as other parents arrived. As he spoke, the kids all seemed to shrink right before our eyes, doing their best to melt into the chairs beneath them under the furious stares of us parents.

“So,” Mad began as we buckled ourselves into Jace’s truck to head home, “I suppose we should talk—”

“Not yet, Mad,” Jace replied. “I’m too pissed to talk about it.”

“Okay,” she murmured. “But like, how much trouble am I in?”

“A shit ton.”

“Am I grounded?”

“Yes,” Jace and I barked in unison.

“How long?”

I looked over at Jace, meeting his gaze briefly. As my teenage relationship with him blossomed, I’d constantly missed my curfew and was pretty much grounded my entire sophomore year of high school. Yet I had no clue what would be appropriate in this situation.

Jace’s mouth tightened and he looked ahead at the road once again. “We’ll think on it and get back to you.”

“I didn’t drink anything,” she offered.

My voice rose with exasperation. “You were at a kegger.”

“But I didn’t drink. Smell my breath. Let’s go back to the popo and have them give me a breathalyzer or something. I swear, I didn’t drink.”

“Why were you even there?” I frowned back at her through the darkness. “You were supposed to be at Shelby’s. I can’t believe her parents let you stay out that late.”

“Technically, they didn’t.”

Jace and I shared another long glance.

“What do you mean technically?” he frowned.

“Well, we snuck out her window.”

“Oh my God,” I sighed heavily. “Why? Mad, you are so much smarter than this.”

“Well, because Colten asked if I’d meet him there, and I didn’t want to be lame and say it was past my curfew.”

Jace’s eyes widened so much I thought his head was going to explode. “First of all, Colten Dawes is a senior. Second of all, you are NOT supposed to be going out with boys. Third of all, no…just no. What the hell, Mad?”

“He’s a nice guy, Dad,” Mad whined. “I would think you’d want me going out with a nice guy.”

“You’re not supposed to be dating anyone until you’re sixteen,” I started in. “I don’t care how nice they are.”

“But I’ve been madly in love with him since kindergarten. And he noticed me. Me! He likes me. And he’s going off to college next year. I can’t wait until I’m sixteen because he’ll be gone.”

“Mad, we aren’t budging on this,” Jace growled. “You’re too young.”

“I’m older than both of you were when you started dating!”

“We were too young, too!” I retorted. “And look how that turned out!”

“Yeah, you had me. Was that a mistake? Was I a mistake?”

“Honey,” Jace cut in, his voice careful, “we wouldn’t trade you for anything in the world, but we want you to be careful.”

“So let me be careful. But let me decide what that means. Don’t you trust me?”

I gave a sarcastic laugh under my breath. “Not at the moment.”

“Well, you should. Yes, I was at a party. But I didn’t drink anything, and I was being safe. Shelby was with me and we were looking out for each other and Colten really is so nice. Besides, you can’t be there all the time—”

Jace interrupted her again. “Your mom and I will talk about it, but you’ve got consequences to face for sneaking out and doing this behind our backs. So, yes, you are most definitely grounded. We’ll figure out how long later.”

As we pulled up in front of my house, I turned back to look at Mad again. “Bed. Immediately.”

“Can I—” she began, but Jace didn’t let her get another word in.

“Your mom said bed, so go to bed.”

She looked back and forth between us momentarily. “I don’t know why you guys are so upset. You always say to call you if I get in trouble.”

Shit, I did say that all the time.

“It’s not like you had much choice, Mad,” Jace countered. “You’re fifteen. They had to release you to your parents. The cops weren’t going to let you just scoot out into the streets this time of night. If you hadn’t called us, they would have.”

I mentally thanked God Jace was there with his quick-witted response because my argumentative skills sucked. She’d have gotten me with that one.

But he wasn’t done. “And, you were out with a boy when you knew damn well you’re not allowed to be.”

Ah yes, there was that, too.

For a moment, Mad glared back at Jace like she had another comeback, but Jace was ready for it. Just as she opened her mouth, he cut her off before she could even get a fragmented sound out. “Now go to bed. Immediately.”

“Fine,” she muttered as she huffed her way out of the truck and up the sidewalk

Then it registered to me then that Jace had shut off his truck and was getting out.

“What are you doing?” I asked when he came around to my side and opened my door.

“We need to get this sorted out.”

“It’s after midnight. Shouldn’t we maybe do this tomorrow?”

“Nope. I’m not going to leave it for you to deal with in the morning without us having a chat about it.”

“I appreciate that. Truth be told, I am a little worried I’ll drop the ball.” Like I almost just did.

“It’s not that, Där. We just need to be on the same page, to set some ground rules we’re both comfortable with. She’s a good kid, honey, but we need to have each other’s backs here to nip this shit in the bud.”

Ultimately, we decided Mad would be grounded for a week, aside from school activities like band. Which was pretty much everything she got to do before because pretty much everything she did was a school activity.

Aside from sleepovers at Shelby’s. They were nixed for a week.

At first, I actually argued for a month, but Jace took the wind out of my sails a bit when he mentioned that the Pine would be out of the question as long as she was grounded. Thus, even one week would punish me as much as it did her. Probably more, in all actuality. I suddenly wished I could think of a different punishment than grounding. Anything that didn’t mean missing out on the Pine for the third week in a row. In fact, if she was always with me or Jace, she’d know when we were together, so we couldn’t be together even away from the Pine either. Basically, her being grounded meant no Jace.

So I settled for a week.

I was still wary about her dating Colten, but Jace surprisingly had her back on allowing that. He said he’d meet with Colten first to ensure the kid knew Jace would castrate him if he hurt Mad, but I could see a bit of a smile in his voice as he said it. And, really, his role model in this situation was my dad who had kind of done the same—my dad who still thought so much of him, even after Jace had left Mad and I for his apprenticeship.

And, yes, I still felt somewhat petulant about that.

I frowned at him as we talked late into the early hours of morning. “I just don’t want her to struggle the way we did.”

“I get that, honey…but pain is growth. Our struggles make us stronger.”

“I don’t know that they ever did that for me.”

He cupped my cheek, tipping my face up to meet his gaze. “Just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean you haven’t gotten stronger. You’ve been a bit annoying with the strength you’ve shown me over the years.”

“Annoying?” I huffed.

“There were so many times I wished you’d just lean on me.”

I studied him for a minute in the low light of the quiet living room. I wanted so badly to lean on him now. Like, literally. Physically. I wanted to scoot over a few inches on the couch and feel the solid security of his chest where everything just seemed so much easier. I just couldn’t find the words to say that.

Ultimately, I didn’t have to. As I futilely dropped my gaze down to my lap, Jace’s thick arm slid around my back to pull me close.

“It’ll be okay, Där,” he murmured against my hair. “She’s a good kid. She’s a smart kid. And she’s got to make her own mistakes just like we did.”

A strange comfort surrounded me with his arms. I didn’t know how any of this would turn out and it was scary, but he was right. I had to trust her to figure out her way.

We sat like that for some time. I didn’t want to move away, knowing it would be at least a week before I got to sink into his strength. To soak up his comfort. He pressed a soft kiss in my hair and brushed his thumb over my shoulder. And as the earliest faint streaks of dawn began to creep up over the mountaintops, I dozed off with my head on Jace’s shoulder.

“Jace,” I whispered with a gentle shake of his shoulder. Bright sunlight poured through the living room window. “Jace, it’s morning. You’ve gotta—”

“I’m awake, Mom,” Madison said from the overstuffed armchair across the room. “You don’t have to whisper.”

I pasted on the most innocent look I could comprehend, and turned to face her. “Hey, sweetie, um…your dad and I were just talking last night and…um…” As was often the case, I had no clue what to say. How to explain being all snuggled up to Jace on the couch.

“Talking, Mom?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “Like figuring out what consequences you’ll face and if you’ll be allowed to date Colten.”

“So were Dad and you talking when I called, too?”

I blinked at her a few times, wishing I’d had even a smidge of caffeine to bring me out of my sleepy fog. “Um, what?” It seemed like she was setting a trap, but I didn’t know what else to say. I couldn’t admit what we’d really been doing.

“Dad was here with you when I called?”

“Uh…”

“He grabbed the phone away from you.”

I nodded again. “Uh huh, yeah. Well, he stopped by to, um—”

With a narrowed gaze, she cut me off. “Mom, your nightgown and panties are lying on the kitchen floor.”

Oops. Totally forgot about that. I swallowed hard. Busted.

“You gonna lie to me, too, Dad?”

I looked at Jace who appeared to be struggling to wake up enough to catch up.

“Um—”

I interrupted him before he could make it all worse.

“You should probably go, Jace,” I quickly said.

He frowned.

“Please,” I whispered.

His frown deepened. I looked back at Madison, and her expression was identical.

For an odd second, it hit me again how alike they were.

But I shook that off and pulled away from Jace in a pathetic semblance of composure. I couldn’t deal with them both. I needed to divide and conquer.

So I looked back at Jace.

“Seriously, you should go.”

“What are you going to tell her?” Jace asked with knit brows.

I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t look at him anymore either. It hurt too much.

We were busted, and that meant it had to end. Dragging it out would only hurt us all, and while I could take the eventual heartache myself, I didn’t want that for Madison.

“We’ve gotta stop,” I whispered, scooting back away from him to the other end of the couch.

Jace clenched his jaw. “No.”

“Stop what?” Madison echoed, looking forlorn.

Madison…looking forlorn. Exactly what I had hoped to avoid.

“We have to, Jace—”

“Bedroom. Now.” Jace heaved up off the couch and towered over me, pointing to my room with a fierce light in his eyes.

“This wasn’t supposed to…We knew…” I couldn’t think of a way to say it, not right then. Not with Mad there and with the way Jace was glaring at me.

“Mom, no,” Mad whispered, as though her own heart was breaking.

“Bedroom,” Jace repeated. “Now.”

“Now don’t you go all Rogue on me,” I frowned.

“Rogue?” Madison asked in confusion. “What the…?”

Jace took another step toward me and pointed—more firmly this time—toward my bedroom door. “Därah, honey,” he growled, his tone belying the soft, gentle words. “I’m gonna say it one more time. Bedroom. Now. Or I’m gonna fucking carry you in there.”

“Jace!” I gasped. “Not in front of Mad.”

I glanced at our daughter who seemed somewhat torn between rapt entertainment and wretched mortification.

“That’s why I want you to go into the fucking bedroom,” he ground out, bringing my focus back to his clenched jaw. “So we don’t fucking have to talk about this shit in front of Mad.”

I looked back at our daughter. She shrugged her shoulders. “He makes a good point.”

This conversation was way too much of a struggle with no coffee. With a petulant frown, I rose and stomped into my bedroom. Jace followed, shutting the door behind him and leaning up against it, one leg crossed over the other with his arms folded across his chest.

Still glaring.

I sat on the edge of my bed, feeling somewhat like I was going to be scolded.

Oooh, or maybe spanked?

Wait, no. Not the time or the place.

The longer he silently frowned at me, the more somersaults my stomach took. I dropped my gaze to the hardwood floor.

Finally, he spoke. “Would it really be so bad?”

He didn’t sound quite as angry. Confused by the change in his tone, I looked up and shook my head. “What? Would what be so bad?”

“To keep going, just like we were before she knew?”

My heart leapt into my throat, choking back any response. I gaped at him in the bright morning sunlight. It was like a dream come true and a nightmare all in one. My brain went limp with a swirl of emotion.

“I don’t know how…just, we weren’t…” I tried to remember all the reasons this had all seemed okay. The reasons I had convinced myself I could survive this. That it wouldn’t end up wrecking me all over again.

It was totally going to wreck me all over again.

I shook my head, the burn of tears wetting my eyes. “I think we should stop.”

“So, after the slightest taste—a taste that you fucking loved, mind you—you’re running scared. You’re in denial about how much you want it.”

“I don’t deny it was good.”

“It was more than good, and you damn well know it.”

“Okay, fine,” I exhaled in a deep breath, “it was amazing. It was intoxicating. I loved everything about it. It will give me and my vibrator great inspiration for years to come.”

At that, a slow smile spread across his face. It made me rather uneasy. His lip tilted up, as did his brow. The ferocious determination in his rich, dark eyes suddenly gave way to a glimmer of amusement. A very sexy amusement that sent a thrill up from my vagina straight to my heart and zapped through to the tips of my fingers and toes.

My voice crackled. “Why are you smiling?”

His grin broadened. So much that his eyes actually twinkled. He started moving toward me, rather fluidly. Stalking. Stalking in a way that had intense heat flushing through my girl parts.

Stalking like Rogue.

But, determined not to let that sway me, I frowned back at him. “Jace, what are you…?” My voice died out as he crawled across the bed toward me, and I backed up toward the headboard rising up on my knees with my hands firmly pushing back his shoulders.

“You have a vibrator.”

“So?”

“You think about me when you’re using it?” he grinned. “Because I like that idea, honey.”

His easy confidence sometimes irked me as much as it appealed to me. It also dang near set fire to my panties, which kind of annoyed me. “Maybe I’ll have some kind of voodoo ritual and stick pins in it,” I countered, using my prickly feelings as a shield.

“Oof, yeah, no. Let’s not do that. I have a better idea.”

Uh oh. I narrowed my eyes at him with suspicion.

“Where is it?” he asked.

“Why?”

“I want to see it.”

“What?” I screeched.

Jace touched his finger over my lips, leaving a tingle in its wake. “I wanna see what I can do with it. To you.”

“You can’t—”

“Can’t I?”

“No!” I hissed. “Good Lord, Jace, Mad is right in the other room.”

“And you’ve never had sex with her in the house?”

“Of course not! Not like this!”

“Like what?”

“It’s morning! It’s light out. She’s right on the other side of that door. She would absolutely know—”

“Mom? Dad?” Mad called from the other room, effectively cutting off a litany of protests barreling through my head. “It’s about a half-hour until band practice, so I’m gonna ride my bike over there if that’s okay.”

Jace raised an eyebrow.

“I can give you a ride,” I offered quickly, knowing exactly what was going to happen if I didn’t get out of this bedroom. Like ten minutes ago.

“No, that’s okay,” Mad replied through the closed door, “Besides, it’ll give you and Dad a little time to sort your sh— stuff.”

“Tell me again that she doesn’t want us together,” Jace smiled knowingly. His hands settled at my hips, his thumbs brushing the bare skin above the waistband of my pajama pants.

I pushed back at him with renewed vigor. “She doesn’t want things to change. She said it herself just a couple weeks ago. We’ve talked about this.”

“Yeah, we have talked about this,” he countered. “We also talked about change being inevitable and something that helps people grow.”

“Jace, I can’t—” My chest began squeezing tight, making it hard to draw in a breath. “I can’t have this conversation with you right now. With all the stress from last night and getting called out by Mad this morning, I just can’t. We can’t. It’s too much to try and define this…thing.”

“Hey,” Jace calmly said, cupping my cheek with his hand and tipping my face up to look at him, “it’s not like we have to come up with all the answers right this minute. But this is good. You know it. Why not just take it a day at a time and figure it out as we go?”

“But now she knows. That puts so much pressure on this, and it’s just going to—”

“Där, this doesn’t have to be a big deal. So she knows. It doesn’t have to change a damn thing. We are adults, and she’s damn near one. I think she can handle it if we are seeing each other.”

God, I could almost believe him. I really, really wanted to. I didn’t want this to end.

I just knew it would eventually anyway. That it would hurt that much more the longer we kept at it.

“I just don’t want to let her down. Not again.”

Jace offered a slightly sad smile, and pulled me closer, up against his chest.

“I think there’s a bit more to it than that, honey,” he murmured into my hair, “but we don’t need to unpack all your baggage at once. I know you’re tired and you haven’t had coffee and last night was fucking nuts. I get that Mad catching wind that we’ve been hooking up has thrown you for one hell of a loop. But let’s just see how things play out, okay? Give her a chance to give us a chance.”

Eventually, he won the argument, as usual.

He was just too frickin’ rational. And he held me tight, which was quite unfair of him, instilling a sense of calm security that gave me a little speck of hope. Maybe we could go on as we had been. Maybe Mad wouldn’t be completely weirded out by what she’d learned, the knowledge that her parents were hooking up at The Naughty Pine.

I did lay some pretty strict ground rules with Jace. I insisted we keep things very reserved when she was around. Granted, every time I was anywhere near him, I wanted to curl up into his arms, but as long as he could keep it reined in, so could I.

But after only a week of holding all that sexual energy in, I was lying awake on Saturday night, pissed at the world because I was home with a grounded teenager. All alone in my bed and not at the Pine getting worked over by Rogue. It had been weeks since we’d been there, and I missed it. I missed his deep voice guiding me and pushing my limits and finding out just how much I could take before I got lost in that blissful subspace. There was nothing else quite like the feeling. I wanted it again, but I had no idea when we’d be back there. I certainly couldn’t go with Mad home. I almost hyperventilated just thinking about going next week now that she knew about us.

Then as I lay there, a little demon in my brain whispered to my consciousness.

Maybe Jace was there without me.

As my thoughts began to snowball down that mental rabbit hole, my phone rang, giving me a minor heart attack. Late night calls were never a good thing, as last weekend had shown me.

It was Jace.

“Hello?” I warily whispered in the dark.

“Hey, little Chickadee,” he murmured back. His voice sounded rich. Lazy. Roguish. So good.

I still wasn’t entirely done panicking yet, though. “Jace? What’s wrong?”

“Just lying here wishing we were at the Pine.”

My chest suddenly tightened, like the air had been sucked from the room. My eyes squeezed closed for a moment. “You didn’t go tonight?” I finally asked in a timid voice.

“Of course not, Där, not without you.”

He missed me, too. Well, technically he missed the Pine with me, but I’d take it.

Every girly bit of me melted like sweet frosting on a warm, fresh cake.

“I’d give anything to be there with you now, though,” he added.

“Me too,” I breathed back.

A low, thick hmmm sounded in my ear. The kind that I loved to feel when I was up tight against his chest. A warm rumble of contentment that soaked my panties.

“Grab your vibe, baby.”

A combination of alarm and excitement hit me hard and fast.

“What?”

“Just do it.” His voice was thick, husky and commanding. Oh, so seductive. “I’ve got my thick, hard dick in my hand and I want you to come with me.”

Oh, holy moly!

“Jace—”

“Don’t argue. Don’t think about it. Just do as I say, honey.”

“Okay,” I finally whispered. In pure disbelief that I was even considering it, I reached into my bedside table and pulled out my Lelo. “Okay, I have it.”

“Good girl.”

I whimpered, a total puppy noise.

“Now,” Jace continued, “slip it down underneath your panties.”

I did as he commanded with a catch in my breath. “Okay.”

“Now start it up and slide it in your sweet little pussy while I stroke my cock and listen to you come undone.”

So I did. And he did. I could almost taste him and feel him as I peaked. And even though it was just his voice in my ear, he made missing out on yet another weekend at the Pine a little easier to take.

Thus, my little glimmer of hope for us grew a tiny bit brighter.

It started with a request.

A request for Jace to do a scene in front of the crowd of the Pine.

A request he turned down.

One I didn’t even know about until later when I ducked into the bathroom. While I was in the stall doing my business, a couple other subs entered the restroom, chatting away as they primped before the mirrors.

“I’m so disappointed. He hasn’t done anything public in forever.”

“Well, that’s because he’s got that new plaything. She seems way too vanilla for any exhibitionism.”

A deep pit started spreading through my gut. Part of me wanted to interrupt them before I heard anything more. To shut out their voices.

Yet I sat there. Silent. Listening.

“When I saw him standing there without her, I thought maybe she wasn’t here. Maybe they were done. I figured it didn’t hurt to ask, but now I’m a bit butthurt over his clear dismissal.”

A shrill cackle rang out. “Yeah, he totally shot you down. If it helps, I’m disappointed, too. I miss watching Rogue work.”

“Mmm, I miss being watched while Rogue worked on me. God, I loved being topped by him.”

I swallowed back the bile rising in my throat. I still never really knew who Jace—Rogue—had scened with before I showed up at the Pine. I wanted to vomit just thinking about it.

But here was one who most definitely had. Right on the other side of the bathroom stall door. I peered through the narrow gap beside the stall door, but her back was turned, so I couldn’t get a good look at her. All I saw was a mass of long blonde hair and a perfectly tight little body. Like she taught Zumba or something. My heart ached, clamped cold as images flashed through my mind.

“Ah, give it time. He loved doing demos. A poser like her can only hold on to a Dom like him for so long before he’ll get bored with her vanilla ways.”

Their words wormed their way through my brain even after they left the room.

God, I loved being topped by him. A poser like her. He’ll get bored.

I sat there way too long, tears prickling in my eyes. Were they right? Would he get bored with me? If I never played on stage, something he clearly loved doing, would he just do it with someone else?

Topping didn’t always mean sex, but I’d been his bottom for a couple months now. Even before we started bringing sex into it, desire for him had decimated me. The thought of him even having a platonic scene with someone else shredded my heart.

Would he expect me just to take it in stride? Would he expect me to be there? To watch?

Or would he want me far away? If he still wanted me at all.

My brain spiraled out of control. I suddenly regressed into that foolish teenager all over again. All my inadequacies at the forefront of my mind. My lack of self-esteem. Wondering what he even saw in me in the first place.

It was foolish. I knew better, I really did.

But in that moment…I didn’t.

I walked out of the restroom in a fog of panic and made my way back to Jace where he stood talking to another couple at the back of the main room. The low light gleamed on the St. Andrew’s Cross at center stage, reminding me of him standing in the shadows that first night I was here. I stood transfixed as he slipped his arm around my waist as they conversed, pulling my stiff form closer, but my mind was racing for a solution. I had to do something. Something big. I didn’t want him to get bored with me.

“What is it, Chickadee?”

I belatedly noticed the other couple had meandered away and looked up to see Jace watching me closely.

“I was remembering…seeing you up on stage that first night. Teaching techniques. You haven’t done anything like that since I started coming here.”

“Public play is a big step.” His eyes darkened. Intensified. “It’s not something to do until you’re ready, and you’re not ready.”

I looked back to the platform. To the cross. “Do you miss it?”

“Sometimes.”

His blunt answer twisted my gut. Those subs were right. It was a matter of time before he lost interest in a vanilla little thing like me.

“What happened, Chickadee?”

I flashed a smile, an attempt to alleviate his concern, even if it felt phony as heck. “Nothing. I just…you know…I’ve been considering it.” My voice dropped, becoming husky, and I caught my lower lip in my teeth.

I pulled away from him and approached the stage, focusing on the cross. Wracking my brain for a way to convince him I was ready, but without topping from the bottom. He’d never do it if I got demanding. He knew me better than that. I wasn’t a brat. I was submissive and masochistic, but I wasn’t a brat.

I made my way to the low stairs, glancing back at him over my shoulder. At the wary tilt of his chin. His hesitant stance. I climbed the short stairs and stepped up to the cross. My fingertips began at the center, slowly trailing up the thick timbers to the cuffs.

“Are you sure you’re ready?”

Lost in my thoughts, I jumped at his gruff voice in my ear. I hadn’t heard him approach, but there he was, right behind me. A shiver coursed through my body.

Ready? No. In no way, shape, or form. My head was not in the game.

But I had to be. I had to be enough for him.

I focused my upturned gaze on his eyes. Pleading internally. Willing him to agree. “Yes. Please, Sir.”

“Go grab my bag from the front.”

By the time I returned with his duffel, a crowd had gathered in front of the stage. Word had gone around the Pine. Rogue was going to perform.

I handed him the bag and stepped over to the cross once more. Dizzy with panic, like I was drowning in oxygen. Up on the stage, in front of God and everyone, I slipped my dress up over my head, carefully to keep my lacy mask in place. Oh, God. What was I doing? Pure anxiety froze me momentarily, but I forced myself to take another step toward cuffs dangling down from the thick beams. Naked except for a few scraps of lace from my bra and thong underwear.

“Where are you at, Chickadee?”

“Green,” I replied a little too quickly, my small voice barely audible to my own ears.

“You sure?” I peeked up at Rogue, then over my shoulder to the crowd. His adoring fans.

I wanted to throw up.

“I’m sure. Green.” I faked a calmness into my voice.

“We don’t have to do this.”

Like I could back out now. Not in front of the whole crowd. That would only confirm my inability to fit in the Pine. I wanted to run, but I’d dug this hole myself. I had to see it through.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “Please. I want this.”

Rogue stepped over to his bag, pulling out a long, coiled whip. He uncoiled it, allowing the end to fall to the ground. A hushed oooh swept through the crowd before the room grew silent, so unlike the usual atmosphere of members milling around.

He began by trailing the length of the whip up over my shoulder. Down and around my breasts and circling my abdomen. Then back up to the other shoulder.

“Smell the leather, Chickadee.”

I belatedly responded to his command, inhaling deeply. The faint scent of it tickled my senses, almost allowing me to forget about the voyeurs in front of the stage, but not quite. I couldn’t block them from my mind. I couldn’t stop hearing those subs in the bathroom.

A poser like her.

How many others thought of me that way?

My eyes burned, and I squeezed them tight. I couldn’t start crying yet. Not when he hadn’t even landed a blow.

Rogue’s thumb and forefinger caught my chin, and he lifted my face up. I blinked back my tears, and he narrowed his gaze with a tight frown. “What color?”

I took a deep breath and stiffened my spine. “Green.”

The air hung heavy around us. A strange gloom weighed heavy in my gut. He studied me another moment, then allowed me to lower my head as he secured my wrists and ankles to the cross. His heavy footsteps moved away, and my breath caught in my throat. I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer, and I allowed them to spill out and soak the lace of my mask. Now that he couldn’t see them.

The first lick of the whip was soft. A little snap at my hip. A tiny burn.

But not enough to pull me out of my head. I forced myself to take long slow breaths, to stay still as I allowed the tears to fall.

Another snap popped at my shoulder. I barely moved. Oblivion called, but I couldn’t forget all the eyes trained on us. Red. I wanted to scream, but I bit it back. I had to do this. I had to be enough. I had to find subspace here, in the center of his world, to show him just how right we were together. Another crack of the whip, low on my bare buttock. I grunted, mouth-closed, to keep the safeword in. Every muscle in my body was rigid, my focus zeroed in on keeping myself from crying out. From begging him to pull me away from the crowd to a small quiet room where he could heal me again.

I had to be strong. I had to take it. I couldn’t throw in the towel. I couldn’t own my own weakness.

I waited for another blow. Instead, I felt his hand again, cupping my cheek and tilting my face up to his. His dark eyes glittered with fury, his mouth set in a grim line. He gave a long, slow shake of his head.

“Red.” Jace’s voice, low and cold, echoed through the deafening quiet.

Through my chest.

My gaze fell. My entire body slumped against the cross.

He’d just used a safeword. On me. In front of the entirety of the Pine.

“No more, Chickadee.”

The physical pain from the lashes of his single-tail was nothing compared to the devastation careening through my soul. No more, Chickadee. He was done. This was it. I hadn’t been good enough. He didn’t want me anymore.

I heard the whip drop to the floor in a thud. He stepped closer, loosening the Velcro cuffs at my wrists and ankles. Covering my nakedness with a flannel throw.

And I just stood there, my heart plummeting. My body stiff. Mortification burned through me.

This was a low I’d never experienced before. This very public refusal.

His arm curled around my shoulder, guiding me toward one of the private rooms. “You and I are gonna talk. Now.”

His words dripped with rage. Tears welled in my eyes and spilled over, coursing down my cheeks. I jerked away, a late show of defiance. I could be angry too.

“Come on, Chickadee. Let’s go have a chat.”

“No.”

“You really wanna have it out in front of the whole fuckin’ club?” His voice was low, a harsh whisper through clenched teeth.

“I’m not a—afraid. I can show them.”

“What the fuck? Show who?”

I scanned the transfixed crowd, looking for a platinum mass of curls on a tight little body. At long last, I found her, standing in the crowd by who I assumed was the other in the restroom. “You’ve topped her. Haven’t you? I heard them. I heard what they said.”

In a swift motion, Rogue lifted my body and tossed me over his shoulder. My arms were trapped, wrapped in the blanket, as he descended the steps and carried me from the room. Moments later, he tossed me on a bed in one of the private rooms.

“What the fuck is going on with you tonight?”

“She’s beautiful,” I whispered through my flood of tears. I pulled the drenched mask from my face and tossed it aside. “I’m sure she’s wild in bed. She can probably do all kinds of things to you that I would never even think of. Why on earth would you want me when you could have her?”

Jace’s eyes turned dark. “I wasn’t a saint before you showed up here, Där. You know that.”

“Who else? Who all have you serviced?”

“I’m not going to give you a fucking list,” he growled. “That’s all in the past.”

I exhaled a soft, sad chuckle through my tears. “Is it, though?”

“What the fuck have I ever done to make you think, even for a second, that I want anyone but you? That I’ve ever wanted anyone but you?”

“It’s easy to say that, but I don’t believe it! You say all the right things, but you said all the right things when I was nineteen, too.” I pulled off my mask. “And then you abandoned me.”

He paled, eyes wide, and gave a slight shake of his head. “What in the actual fuck is going on inside your head right now?”

“Right, because this is all me. This has nothing to do with the fact that you just safeworded in the middle of the fucking club. Do you have any idea how mortified I feel right now?”

“You aren’t ready for that. You’re lying to yourself and you’re lying to me. I did it to protect you.”

“No, you did it because I’m not good enough. I heard them, Jace. They know how boring and vanilla I am. How you’ll get tired of me. How your interest will fade. They know.”

“They don’t know shit about you and me. You were always different, Där,” he growled low. “Always. It’s never been the same for me and anyone else.”

I refused to believe him. Everything hurt so much, but it would only hurt more later if I let this continue. “You know, maybe it’s all for the best. Now that I’ve tried this with you, maybe I should try it with someone else.”

“Fuck no,” he interrupted. “Don’t even think about it.”

“What, so you can do it with other people, but I can’t.”

“I’m not doing shit with anyone else.”

“How do I know that?”

“You trust me!” he bellowed.

“That’s just it…I don’t!”

His expression turned to pure ice. Frozen solid. When he spoke, his voice had dropped so low I could barely hear him.

“I can’t fucking win with you. You’re looking for a reason to run,” he said quietly.

“I don’t need a reason. You. Left. Me.” It was out of my mouth before I could hold it back. I’d never bared my feelings of abandonment to him. I had to other people, but not him. “You don’t just get to undo everything. You left me, and I don’t trust you. You did that. You walked out.”

“And I have regretted it every fucking second of every fucking day for the last fourteen years.” His nostrils flared in frustration. His shoulders taught with anger. “I wasn’t abandoning you. I wanted you to come with me.”

“You told me you got an internship. Away from Coldwater. By the time you told me, you had an apartment. You had everything sorted. Even if it wouldn’t have meant leaving everything behind, you never even asked me to go with you.”

“I shouldn’t have had to. I thought it was a given. I wasn’t leaving you!”

“How could I have left? Leave my family to go off to someplace I knew nothing about?”

“You knew me!” He ran his fingers through his hair. “God, I wish you could just fucking talk to me! I can’t read your goddamn mind! You never asked me to stay! You know why I left!”

“You wanted something different. A different life. One that didn’t include a wife and a kid.”

“I wanted us to have a different life! I had a great opportunity thrown in my lap.”

“You said you didn’t want to fight anymore.”

“Think back. Why did we fight?”

“Why didn’t we? We fought about everything.”

“We fought about money, our shitty little apartment with those creepy neighbors. How to buy groceries and pay the heat bill on shit income. Running out of gas before payday. Car payments. Diapers and daycare bills. Working our fingers to the bone, only to struggle through every day to have to do it all again the next.” He stopped, exhaling deeply before he shook his head. “All we did was fight. We were in a rut. We needed something to change.” His voice had become eerily calm. It unsettled me. It filled my chest with melancholic dread to remember it all. “I didn’t see any other choice. I wanted a better life. Better for us.”

“You left us. You gave up on us.”

“I left, but I never gave up.”

“It’s the same thing!”

“You think back. I’m not the one who gave up. You did.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

He lowered his voice to a growl, leaning into me, his finger pointing square in my chest. “No, Där. You filed the papers. I never intended us to stay apart. I was barely gone a week, and you called it quits. You gave up.”

And then he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.

I sat there in Jace’s wake, waiting for…anything that could shake me from the stupor of what he’d said.

I’d given up. He was right.

But he’d let me.

Lissa appeared at my side. “Hey, girl. You okay?”

I looked up at her, dazed by my grief. “I fucked up.”

“Yeah, I heard.” She didn’t even blink at my curse. Instead, she sat beside me, put her arm around my shoulders, and pulled me close. She stroked my hair, smoothing it back from my damp cheeks. Allowing my mind to come to grips with what had just happened. With what I’d done.

After a long while, she pulled back and gave me a sorrowful smile. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”

I almost called him when Lissa and Dave dropped me off that night. Almost called him again the next morning. And the morning after that. Hourly. Every wretched minute since our fight.

Yet, when he called me, I froze. I shut down. I stared at my phone until it stopped ringing. I did the same later that day. And the next day.

Eventually, he quit calling.

That was almost a month ago.

Our only conduit for communication was text. The occasional curt message back and forth. We tried to keep Mad out of it as much as possible. The mess we’d created was clearly difficult for her. It was my worst fear realized. I’d let her down. Again. And that knowledge only added to the dismal mind-fog that followed me around, leaving everything gray and gloomy and hopeless.

This hurt so much more than it ever did, and I thought it was going to kill me the first time.

“Därah, there’s some guy here asking for you to do their taxes,” the receptionist said quietly from my doorway.

Everyone was treating me like a frail, broken creature. Like even talking too loud would shatter me. So what if I came to work every day pale and listless? If I had red-rimmed eyes and blotchy cheeks from the tears that constantly threatened? If I was barely eating or sleeping? I was still upright. This would pass.

Eventually.

But I didn’t have the energy to take on a new client.

“Can someone else take him, Tina?” I asked. “I’m not sure I’m up to a new client today.”

“He specifically asked for you.”

Weird.

“Fine,” I shrugged. “But he better not have all his receipts crumpled up in a shoebox.”

“Okay, I’ll bring him back,” Tina nodded as she headed to the waiting room. A few moments later, I heard her chatting her way back with the gentleman in tow.

But when he stepped into my office, the hair stood up on the back of my neck.

“Malcolm?”

Oh, God…not Kyle Malcolm. Jace’s best buddy from high school…I hadn’t seen him since cockring-gate at the pharmacy when he was giving me sex toy suggestions. If Yellowstone decided to blow up right then, I’d have been okay with it. Getting wiped out by the erupting supervolcano would’ve been better than standing face-to-face with Malcolm in that moment.

“Hey, Därah,” he grinned, flashing his pearly whites and baby blues. Even in his thirties, the guy could’ve been a freakin’ model. “I’ve always heard you’re an amazing accountant and, boy, do I need help.”

Fortunately, rather than a shoebox, he dropped a thick portfolio full of not-too-badly crumpled receipts. I seethed a bit under my breath, but slid the portfolio toward me as Malcolm took a seat. I closed my eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, hoping I’d find an empty office when I opened them again. That this was some weird depression-induced psychosis. The scourge of my teenage years sat directly across from me asking me to do his accounting.

But when I opened my eyes, he was still there. Still stunning and cocky, waiting patiently with a relaxed grin.

I didn’t have the headspace for conflict, even with him, so I sat, pulling the portfolio closer to open it. I rifled through the slips of paper, stacking them into like piles based on their category. The whole time, he sat watching me intently, which felt incredibly unsettling.

And then I saw it.

A receipt from last August, a purchase of equipment. Fairly pricey. Very specific. Thick polished pine timbers, chains, and cuffs.

The cross at The Naughty Pine.

I froze, pure shock tangling my emotions into a vicious knot. Just seeing that set me on edge, memories of that cross shot a flush of adrenaline through my body. I finally managed to raise my head to see him still focusing on me.

“You own The Naughty Pine.” It was a breathy question, yet a statement all at once. Like I was asking and answering simultaneously.

The edge of his lips lifted as he gave me the slightest nod. “That’s right, Chickadee. Master Louden at your service.”

“Master?” I blinked.

“Of course, it’s my club, so I’m Master.”

“Why Louden?”

“It sounds good. It’s actually part of the scientific name for a Douglas Fir. Seemed to fit well for The Naughty Pine, although sometimes I’m called Master Loud ‘n Clear because all the little subbies shake in their boots when they hear my commands.”

I gave a slight shake of my head with a twist of my lips. “Classy. How did you end up with the Pine?”

“It belonged to a great-great grampa of mine during the gold rush. The land got bought up by other ranches, but the stable itself was too remote to be much use without acreage, so it sat there rotting away until I came back to town and saw its potential.”

“It wasn’t too remote for what you had in mind.”

He shot me a slightly wicked smile. “Nope. Perfect, really”

“What made you…how did you know it would fly? Here. This place isn’t exactly Vegas or Sodom and Gomorrah or something.”

“People are the same everywhere, Därah.”

“I suppose.”

“I was hoping you’d end up becoming a regular.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. Kyle Malcolm had never once given any indication he thought I was worthy of Jace. He’d been a prick to me in high school. He had mellowed some since he’d come back to Coldwater after college, but I wasn’t aware he’d ever given me a passing glance.

Only the occasional sneer.

“I don’t understand.” I looked down, flicking an eraser crumb off my desk. “You never liked me.”

“That’s not exactly true,” he shrugged. “I didn’t dislike you.”

“You’ve been a jerk to me ever since my first day at Coldwater High.”

“Yeah, I know. I was a fucker. It’s just that, well…Jace was my best friend. My wingman. Like a brother from the time we hit preschool.” He gave me a long, steady look. “Until he met you. We were always bros before hos, but once he set his sights on you, everything changed. He didn’t wanna hang out. He wasn’t as fun to party with. He just wanted to be with you. So I was a dick to you.”

“That’s really…stupid, Malcolm.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I know. All I did was piss him off. And then you got pregnant. That bonehead was actually excited. Happy. What fucking teenage boy is happy when he knocks up his girlfriend?”

“I don’t know that he was happy about it. He was responsible.”

“He knew right then that you two would be forever. He never doubted it for a second, even after you sent the papers. Everyone told him to get over you, especially me. We told him it was done. You were done. We all told him it was a great big world and there were lots of chicks out there.” He gave a quick sigh, almost like a chuckle. “But none of them compared to you. Every one of them came up short. Nobody else was you.”

“That’s a lovely thought, but he moved on. He remarried,” I argued, but softly and with a crack in my voice.

He gave a sad smile. “He never moved on. I didn’t realize just how much you meant to him until I saw him with Stephanie. She was a poor substitute for you. If she hadn’t told him she was pregnant, he never would have married her.”

“But he did marry her. Because he’s responsible. Just like he was with me.”

“It wasn’t the same as it was with you. He wasn’t excited. He didn’t want it. When he found out it was a lie, he couldn’t get her out of there fast enough.”

“He still did enough with her to know he could have gotten her pregnant.”

“Yeah, he fucked her.”

“Not just her.”

“And you didn’t fuck Brian.”

I reared back with a deep frown. “I didn’t whore out like he did.”

“No, what you did was worse. You looked for someone to take his place.”

I didn’t even know how to respond to that. Mostly because he was right. I had been looking for someone else to fill that Jace-sized hole in my life.

“He learned to live without you,” Malcolm continued, “but he never liked it. He never stopped missing you. Right up until a few months ago when you turned up in The Naughty Pine.”

My chest felt tight all of a sudden. Painfully tight. Squeezing against my ribs until I could barely breathe. My voice came out small and hoarse.

“Why are you here? Why are you doing this? Why are you getting in the middle of this? We finally split for good. Do you want to rub it in?”

“I’m here because I saw him. The day you married Brian, I saw him trying to drown himself in a bottle of scotch. It had been a decade and he was wrecked because he still wanted you. He still loved you.”

“So you took him to your kink club.”

“I gave him a focus. I gave him something to sink himself into.”

“Or someone,” I frowned.

“I hooked him up with a lot of girls.” My stomach churned. “He’d been going on almost a decade of abstinence.”

“Whatever,” I scoffed.

“It’s true. He could never quite bring himself to do it. He knew you were out there, and he wanted you back. He thought giving in and fucking someone else would be giving up.” Malcolm gave me a sad smile. “But then you were out of his reach, really truly for the first time since you’d met. Forever. Until death did you and Brian part, in Jace’s eyes. You belonged to another man. He lost his shit. He needed to lash out, to control something. To work through that.”

“So you handed him a whip. What, do you want a medal?”

“No, I want you to realize that none of those girls were you, but I think he saw your face on every single one of them. He went through them. He studied up and learned the techniques. He brought them to their knees with a talent that was staggering, but he was always detached. He always wanted it to be you. It was your submission he ultimately wanted.”

“That’s messed up.”

“So, then I thought of something. A catalyst.”

I looked up at him, with narrowed eyes, dreading the thought of more. “A catalyst?”

“I knew Lissa worked with you,” he said and paused before he quietly continued, “so I encouraged her to bring a friend. I figured if I could get you there, nature would take its course. I knew he’d be furious. I knew he’d lose his ever-loving mind the second he saw you.”

“You son-of-a-bitch,” I gasped. “You wanted me there to stir the damn pot?”

“I saw him cycle through his feelings for you many times. Fascination when he saw you. Elation when he was with you. Devastated when you took yourself away. I saw it when you sent him the divorce papers. I saw it when you remarried, when he fucked one sub after another trying to drive you from his mind.”

“Well, your grand plan to cause drama worked. Are you happy? Maybe this will be the ultimate catharsis and you can finally get your buddy back.”

“That’s not what I want.” He leaned back in his chair and eyed me thoughtfully. “Därah, you have a decision to make. I’m here to help you make it.”

“What decision is that?”

“Are you really done with him, or are you planning to come back and wreck him again in a few years? Because if you still want him and love him, you need to fight. But for his sake, if you’re gonna end it, you need to end it for good.”

Mad was making dinner when I got home. She didn’t say anything. Not so much as a glum hello. Not even a grunt. Her silence screamed out her heartbreak. Setting my purse on the breakfast bar, I watched her moving solemnly around the kitchen for a few minutes, not wanting to get into it, but knowing I needed to say something to help her understand.

Even if I didn’t understand it myself. Especially with Malcolm’s words spiraling through my brain like fallen leaves in a gusty whirlwind.

“Mad?” I finally uttered.

“Hey, Mom,” she responded, her voice lifeless.

“About this stuff that went on with me and your dad—“

She stopped stirring the stew in the crockpot. “It’s okay, Mom. It was maybe just silly to wish for.”

I thought back to her words way back when, words that had sort of sent me into a tizzy at the time, thinking she didn’t want us together. “You wished for us to be…together?”

She finally looked at me, a sad smile touching her lips. “What child of divorce doesn’t want their parents back together? It’s a pretty standard hope. Wanting your mom and dad to realize that they’ve quietly loved each other and secretly wanted to be together the whole time. That someday they’d realize that the other wanted that, too. It’s been there ever since I can remember.”

“But you said…something else. Not that.” I struggled to remember her exact phrasing, but my already frazzled mind had gone blank with this newest twist in my tangled situation.

“Um, I’m a teenager,” she huffed a forlorn laugh with a roll of her eyes. “Parents always do the opposite of what we want.”

“That’s not true,” I murmured, more to myself than to her.

She just rolled her eyes again and put the lid back over the stew, then opened the oven to check on some dinner rolls she was warming up. As she tossed the oven mitt on the counter, she turned back to me with her brows drawn tightly.

“Do you love Dad? Like really love Dad?”

The pressure in my lungs had spread up into my throat. I couldn’t talk. I could only respond with a fragile nod.

“Then tell him…because I know he loves you. I know with every fiber of my being that you are the love of his life.”

“Sweetie—” I started, but she cut me off.

“He told me, Mom.”

“What?” I whispered.

“Don’t be mad at him because Dad doesn’t get drunk a lot, but there have been a few times—especially in the last couple years with you getting married to Brian and Stephanie pulling what she did—that he has gotten kinda wasted and fessed up to me. Where he’s admitted that nobody will ever hold a candle to you.”

“I might have fucked that up for good this time, Mad.” As much as I avoided swearing, especially in front of Mad, there were times you needed a word that powerful. This was one of those times. “There’s only so much dysfunction someone can handle before they’re just done.”

“He will love you until the day he dies.”

There was such an intense conviction in her expression. The glisten of tears illuminating her eyes sparked something deep that I clung to. It almost felt like she and I had switched roles, as though I was the teenager and she was my wise, calm, reassuring mother encouraging me to hope. She had such an incredibly old soul.

Just the way she said that…I started to believe it.

The next morning, I poured myself a cup of coffee in the little kitchenette at work. As I added in my usual extra-big dose of half-and-half, Lissa came in to fill her own cup, a sad smile of commiseration touching her lips.

“So,” I said after taking a long, slow sip of my caffeinated goodness, “I had a couple interesting conversations yesterday afternoon.”

She paused, mid-pour, and shot me a hopeful glance. “With?”

“Madison.” I bit at my lower lip before continuing. “And Malcolm.”

Her mouth dropped wide open. “Like Jace’s friend Malcolm? Holy shit, girl.”

I couldn’t help but let out a small giggle, even though my eyes misted up a bit. “You do know him, by the way. He’s Master Louden.”

“What? No…Master Louden’s name is Kyle. Kyle Malco—oooh. Shit, how did I not connect those dots? He’s the owner.”

I nodded and took another sip of coffee, peering up at Lissa as she worked that through in her mind.

She finally gave a quick shake of her head. “So what did he want?”

I filled her in on the conversation I’d had with him, then the one with Mad. The longer I talked, the more a glimmer of hopefulness sparkled in her eyes.

“Oh my God, you have to talk to him.”

“I don’t know, Lissa.” I held my hands up as though to ward off any ludicrous ideas she might be sprouting. “Like, I know I owe him a massive apology. I screwed up. I wouldn’t take his calls and just flat avoided him after our fight. It’s no wonder he won’t have anything to do with me now, aside from the occasional text about Mad. He knows I don’t trust him.”

“I’ve seen you trust him.”

“He left me,” I argued vehemently. “How do I let go of that?”

“Fourteen years ago. Jesus, you guys weren’t even in your twenties. I was standing right outside that room at the Pine when shit hit the fan. I heard exactly what he said. That man has regretted leaving every day—no wait—every second of every day for the last fourteen years.” Lissa paused and clasped my hands, guiding them down. “Don’t you think he could have learned from the biggest mistake he’s ever made? My God, Därah, even the most jaded cynic wants to be loved the way he loves you.”

“You’re just making assumptions on what you’ve seen at the Pine. You weren’t here when it fell apart before. He remarried—“

She shrugged. “After you remarried. After you tried to replace him with a less-than-adequate stand-in.”

“God, you sound like Malcolm.”

“You should listen to Malcolm. He’s known Jace forever. I’d say he has a pretty good idea of what is going through that man’s head right now. A dude point of view, no less.” She gave me a thoughtful glance. “Your parents are still pretty tight with Jace, right?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “It was very helpful when we first split, even if it stung a bit”

“Isn’t that a bit odd?”

I had no idea where she was going with this. “I could barely stand to be around him.”

“I know that, but I’m talking about how well they got along. How well they still do.”

The wheels started turning and I started to think back. I hadn’t told them Jace had left until after I sent him the papers. I showed up on their doorstep in a flood of tears at what I’d done. My dad was out of town on business, but Rose comforted me while I cried myself into pure exhaustion on their couch. As I drifted off, thanks to the emotional onslaught and the heavy dose of melatonin she had given me, she called my dad to fill him in. As I thought back, I distinctly remember her telling him to calm down, as though he was hitting the roof.

When my dad got home, though, he didn’t seem angry with Jace. He was sad about the situation, but didn’t seem to fault Jace for leaving me, which was a visceral jab to my psyche. It reinforced my old fears that I never really measured up to Jace’s level.

I slumped a smidge over my coffee cup. “I guess I figured they knew I was punching above my weight. They love me, I know that. But I’m me. And Jace…” I gave a long, dismal sigh. “Jace is Jace.”

“Hmm.” Lissa studied me for a moment longer before she refilled her cup and headed out of the kitchenette. “You should go talk to them…like tonight.”

The more I thought about what Lissa said, the more my annoyance about Dad and Rose’s relationship with Jace festered. Lissa had seemed so sure there was more to it, urging me to delve for that reason. I was downright grumpy by the time I got to their house after work. Like I needed to hit the angry stage of grief.

I parked in the drive beside their house and barged right into the kitchen without knocking, just as Rose pulled a casserole out of the oven.

“Where’s Dad?” I gruffly asked.

Rose froze momentarily, her eyes widening a bit at my abruptness, then slowly straightened as she set the dish on a hot pad beside the stove. “He’s in the living room watching Jeopardy.”

I turned on my heel and made a beeline for my dad’s recliner where he chuckled at something a contestant said. His smile faded when his eyes met my narrowed gaze, his bottle of Moose Drool hovering in front of his mouth. “What’s up, sweet pea?”

“Why are you still such good friends with Jace?”

“What?” He seemed dumbfounded.

“I could understand if things smoothed out over the years, but you didn’t have my back right out of the gate. Why weren’t you mad at him when he left me?”

Rose stood in the doorway with a deer-in-the-headlights expression on her face.

My dad glanced at her with a raised brow before he looked back toward me with a slow nod. “I was mad at him.”

“When? You’ve always treated him just like you did at Travis’s wedding, like he’s still your son-in-law. I’m your little girl. Why weren’t you furious?”

“Oh, he was though.” Rose stepped closer, setting her hand on my shoulder. “That’s why he went after Jace.”

“Now, Rose—” my dad began, but I cut him off.

“What are you talking about?” I asked Rose before I flicked my attention back to my dad. “What is she talking about? When did you go after him?”

“When you guys split up,” Rose replied. “You were so heartbroken. Your dad left his meeting early and drove to Billings to hunt him down.”

I stared at my dad with wide eyes. This was news to me. “You never told me that.”

“Took me a few days, but I found out where he was working, and we had a long chat. As a matter of fact, I was there when the process server came with the papers you filed. Seeing his face when he got them… I couldn’t be mad anymore. He could see it. He knew how badly he’d messed up.”

“Why didn’t you tell me any of that?”

“He tried,” Rose offered, moving to stand beside my dad’s chair, likely so I wouldn’t give myself whiplash jerking my head back and forth between them. “I tried, too. You, though…you were nineteen. Give Mad a few more years and try and tell her that she’s messing up her life. She’s a good kid, but she won’t listen, just like you didn’t listen. You didn’t want to talk about it. You put up a wall. You focused on Mad and getting your degree. Every time we tried to bring it up, you shut us down. And then you just up and married Brian. You didn’t even tell us first. At that point, we just gave up.”

“To be fair, I didn’t figure it would last,” my dad admitted.

I gave him a wry smile, crossing my arms defensively over my chest. “It didn’t. I was barely married to Brian for six months.”

“Not your marriage to Brian, sweet pea,” he smiled sadly. “Your divorce from Jace. As much as that boy loved you—”

“Loves, Roger,” Rose butt in with a nudge of her hip. “You know he still loves her.”

“Yeah, okay…as much as that boy loves you, I figured you’d be back together long before now.”

“You guys have been shipping us,” I breathed.

My dad just nodded and smiled before looking up to Rose and then back to me with a blank expression. “I’m not sure what that means.”

“We should ask Mad.” My stepmom reached for a little notebook she kept in her purse, but stopped for a second and glanced up at me. “Unless you can explain it.”

I was still sort of trying to process this discussion. My talks with Mad and Lissa. My visit from Malcolm. My brain felt like it was going to implode. “Better to ask Mad,” I murmured. “I’m not sure I know anything anymore.”

I left my parents’ house with all those mind-boggling revelations swirling through my head. All night long, I tossed and turned and writhed with agony wondering what to do. If I had the courage to fix things, or if we both just needed a clean break. Once and for all.

The need to talk to Jace was palpable. Choking me with its intensity. Feeling raw and uncertain, I tried calling him again, but it went straight to voicemail. I drove out to his cabin as the sun came up, but he wasn’t there.

Then, as Saturday afternoon became Saturday evening, I couldn’t stop thinking about Jace’s reaction to my second marriage. What Dad had said about Jace getting the papers. Malcolm’s own attempts to get me to the Pine. Mad filling me in on Jace’s heartfelt admissions. My heart swelled with regret. Bitter, aching, paralyzing regret. So overpowering that I didn’t even really think about what I was doing next.

Pure instinct that drove me to The Naughty Pine.

I stood there clad in only a cranberry-colored satin robe. Looking in the mirror of a dressing room at The Naughty Pine. Listening to the hum of the Saturday night crowd just beyond the door. Trying to give myself one hell of a pep talk.

I can do this…

Lissa was uncharacteristically quiet as she finished my makeup, dusting on the last bit of powder. I felt like I’d spent a day at the spa, getting bathed and rubbed all over in creamy, fragrant lotion. My hair was done up big and poofy and fell around my shoulders in glossy waves. My eyeliner was winged out to perfection, enhanced by thickly mascaraed lashes. I lifted the lacy black mask from where it hung around my neck and settled it into place. A light touch of a pale gloss over my lips was the finishing touch.

I can do this.

Yet I was wavering.

Jace wasn’t here. Instead, Malcolm was waiting for me in the main room of the loft.

Oh, God. What was I doing?

I felt like the entire world was spinning around me. Momentary panic closed my throat and silenced my internal protests.

“Ready?” Malcolm stood in the doorway. The alpha timbre of his voice had Lissa shaking beside me. She even moaned a little.

But it twisted my stomach with dread.

Somehow, I stood and turned toward him.

“Very nice,” he smiled. His cool blue eyes swept over me. “Very nice indeed.”

He held out his hand, and I forced myself to take a few steps toward him until I could reach out and take it. The world tilted around me, but I allowed him to guide me out to the main room. To the large platform in back. To the St. Andrew’s Cross, in all its knotted pine glory.

“Turn around. I want you facing me.”

I faced the front of the stage. The few members coming in close to see the show. Glancing up at Malcolm, I couldn’t help but draw comparisons. Jace’s dark and Malcolm’s light. Deep rich brown hair to sandy blond. Dark coffee-colored eyes to icy blue. Jace was taller. Thicker compared to Malcolm’s lithe form.

Malcolm stepped closer and pulled one of my wrists up, cuffing it into place. His touch was so different. Foreign. I closed my eyes and held my breath as he cuffed my other wrist. I didn’t want to see him. I didn’t want to smell his scent or hear the soft intonations of his voice.

I wanted Jace.

“Breathe, Därah,” he murmured, pulling me back into the here and now. My mind rebelled.

He wasn’t Jace.

“Yellow,” I gasped when I felt his touch graze my ankle.

He immediately straightened and cupped my cheek. “Därah, love,” he whispered, “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.”

“I know, but…I…” My brain couldn’t get the words right. They couldn’t tell my mouth what to say. Everything seemed so upside down. “What if…” I started again, faltering once more.

“Take a deep breath,” he softly ordered, “long and slow.”

Instinctively, I did exactly what he told me to, and my spinning world slowed, just the tiniest bit, but enough to build up my resolve. I looked back up at Malcolm.

“You can do this,” he assured me. His calm voice drew me back into the game.

“I can do this,” I whispered. “Okay…green.”

His lips quirked in the slightest smile. “That-a-girl.”

Then he ducked down to strap my ankles to the cross.

I didn’t quite feel the sense of possession oozing through my veins like I had with Jace.

Because he wasn’t Jace.

But the cuffs did allow my mind to slip, ever so gingerly, into that subdued state of being. To relinquish myself to the fate of it, letting Malcolm take the reins. It was both alarming and empowering, giving me the strength to let go of my old self completely to become the person I truly wanted to be.

Malcolm stood and stilled for a moment. I felt him looking me over, and I forced myself to meet his gaze.

“How you doing?” he asked.

I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before answering. “I’m green.”

“You sure?”

I was nervous as hell. This could backfire on me. Big time.

But I nodded regardless.

“Okay,” he replied. “Let’s do this.”

I felt the tug of his fingers pulling at the belt of my silky robe, loosening the tie. I closed my eyes as the smooth, cool fabric slipped open slightly, allowing the cool air in the room to kiss my naked curves underneath. He bared one breast, easing the diaphanous material behind me to reveal my hip and leg. Then he stepped back.

“Look up at me, Därah, and show me what a good little girl you can be.”

Once again, I obeyed, my chin down as I raised my eyes to meet his gaze. It took every ounce of strength I had not to bolt.

I heard the clicking shutter sound of his phone and was momentarily blinded by the flash.

“Beautiful,” Malcolm murmured.

The blip of his phone indicated his message had sent. Seconds later, the device buzzed to life in his hand.

“I’m enjoying this way too much,” he laughed as he took the call. “Hey, buddy—”

Then he started chuckling and nodding as furious curses loudly sounded over the din of the club. Malcolm only laughed. “You know where to find her,” he said, then ended the call. “I give him ten minutes before he’s busting through the door. You comfortable enough to wait like that?”

“I think it’s a good thing I can’t move, or I’d be running right now.” I squeezed my eyes shut. Now that Jace knew I was here, this whole thing seemed like an incredibly stupid idea. “Why didn’t I just talk to him?”

“You’re not gonna have much of a choice now.”

“Will he listen? I’m the one who’s restrained.”

Malcolm only laughed. “Well, he’s sure as fuck not going to leave you that way.”

Over the sound of the crowd, I heard the slam of a heavy door hit the wall in the entryway. Murmurings that filtered back to my place on the platform. A rush of activity and then, there stood Jace.

Anger flowed from him in waves.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

I held his gaze as he seethed at me. As he stalked closer with a dangerous ferocity that made my knees weak. It made me thank heavens that I was bound to the cross or I might have just disintegrated before his hot gaze. It held me upright in front of the small crowd that had gathered to watch, more members drawn in by Jace’s fury. His jaw was clenched so tightly I was almost afraid he’d crack a tooth, and his fiery eyes burned holes in my bravery.

Okay, this may have been a really stupid idea.

“I’m waiting for you.” My words were but a trembling breath.

He didn’t move. Raging emotions emanated from his tense stance. “What the fuck, honey?”

“I’m waiting for you to unmask me. Right here in front of all these others.”

Jace’s form straightened in shock. No one moved. Not even a breath broke the silence. It felt like forever as he stared at me, clearly attempting to make sense of my request.

“Där…” His voice was hoarse.

“I’ve never been very good at talking to you. Or anyone, really. But you, Christ, Jace, you’ve always been superhuman in my eyes. I was always so scared that you were too good for me. That someday you’d recognize that. That you’d prove me right. When you got your apprenticeship, I thought that’s what you were doing. In my head, my fears had merit. But I know now that I was wrong. I’m not scared anymore.”

“You look scared.” He quietly replied with very little tone in his voice. It was hard to read, but he stood there in front of me, listening to things I should have told him well over a decade ago, which gave me a tiny boost of courage. Enough for me to twist my lips in a tiny, wry smile.

“Okay, maybe I’m a little scared right at this moment because you have every right to tell me to fuck off.”

His eyebrow raised at my f-bomb.

“I figured it out,” I continued. “In the last couple weeks without you, I finally figured it out. You love me. You actually love me. You want me, even if you’re mad as hell at me right now. Right from the start, you were in this for the long haul, in spite of all the crap I’ve thrown at you over the years. I just never believed in myself enough to think you could possibly love me as much as I love you.”

He visibly shuddered at that. A sharp catch in his breath and his entire body seemed to ripple with the motion. He closed his eyes momentarily, but when he opened them again, his gaze was still hard and reserved. His voice intermingled with pain and relief.

“You love me.” It sounded like a question. His uncertain tone almost stole my voice. Almost stole my nerve.

Almost. But not quite.

“I have regretted sending you divorce papers every second of every day for the past fourteen years.” My whisper faltered momentarily, and I swallowed against the choking lump in my throat, “Jace, when I sent you those papers, I didn’t want that. Looking back, it was stupidly manipulative, but I hoped you’d come home so we could fight about it. But you didn’t. You just signed them and sent them back.”

“I thought that’s what you wanted. I did it for you. I would have done anything for you.”

“All I knew then was that you didn’t fight for me. I wanted you to fight for me. It was a bluff. It was a stupid, immature bluff.” My eyes had welled with tears, and my faintest blink sent them spilling down my cheeks. “And I lost you.”

He took an apprehensive step closer.

“I love you,” I whispered. “I always have. I need you. I have never stopped needing you or wanting to be with you. I’ve never for a second stopped wanting to be yours. So, please, let me be yours again. Here. Now, in front of everyone. Take off my mask.”

He lifted his head to look down into my eyes in question. “There are quite a few people in this room, little Chickadee. You sure about this?”

“If they haven’t figured out who I am by now, fuck ‘em. I want them to know who I am. I want them all to know I’m yours. That I’ve been yours since I was fifteen years old.” He stepped up to a hair’s breadth from my body, still strapped to the cross. I felt a slight tremble course through him. “Please, Jace. Rogue. Sir.”

With my faint whispered plea, he reached up and pulled the mask from my face and dropped it to the floor. His hands cradled my jaw and his thumbs brushed over my cheeks. One hand settled at the base of my throat, tipping my face up with his thumb. The tension still reverberated through his solid strength, but it was beginning to take on a different tone. More in command.

In command of me.

He was becoming Rogue.

“So,” he quietly asked, “what do I do with you now?”

“Anything you want.”

“Anything, huh? You willing to be my toy tonight? To show them just what we can do together?”

“Absolutely, I nodded. “I trust you.”

His eyes softened momentarily, a faint smile touching his lips. A smile that widened into a wicked grin. “Single-tail?”

A quiver of excitement whipped through me, so different from the last time I was here. Not even the slightest tinge of fear. Just pure craving.

“Yes, please. And I mean it this time.”

“Yes, please, what?”

“Yes, please…Rogue.” I shivered when I said it and again when he gifted me with a naughty glimmer in his coffee-brown eyes.

He glanced to the front of the stage, out over the crowd, finally resting his focus on Malcolm. Malcolm nudged the club sub beside him. “Get him a single-tail.”

Every square inch of my skin rose in hypersensitive goosebumps as Jace rearranged me on the cross. He gently turned me to face it and slipped the robe from my body. I stood naked, in front of a good two dozen other people, yet it felt incredibly right this time. The excitement was surreal. A dream. A wild fantasy I’d never known how badly I wanted to truly experience. I was suddenly powerful in my femininity. In my submission.

I was sexy as fuck!

Jace’s lips grazed my neck as he pulled my hair off to the other side and over my shoulder. He guided my hands up to the top of the cross and then knelt to secure my ankles. I couldn’t see him, but I could hear his movements. I could hear the breath he sucked in as he stood back to take a good look at me on display. I could hear the murmurs of the crowd. The thump of the uncoiling whip as the tail hit the floor.

“What color are you, Chickadee?” he asked in his smooth, deep Dom voice.

“Green, Rogue.”

The first flick of the whip licked lightly at my buttock. A sharp and tiny bite. My stomach flooded with butterflies as I waited for the next lick, wondering where it would land. A few whispers floated through the room, a reminder of the audience, and my heartrate quickened. A split second of trepidation rushed through me.

But I took a long, slow breath. I melted into the timbers, opening myself up for the beautiful darkness I knew he could give me. After a long moment, my body relaxed against the cross.

Once I did so, Rogue expertly placed another bite close to the first. A little harder than the first, leaving a scratching burn. Another tucked along my inner thigh pulled a moan up from my lungs. The whip was a new and delicious pain. It filled me. It surrounded me in the warmth of his possession. Every lash seemed to draw my body toward him. I relished in his heat every time he pressed up against me, his voice in my ear checking where I was at.

“Green, Sir.” Again and again.

Until I couldn’t answer. Until my body hung limp in the bindings and I floated in blissful euphoria, unable to form a coherent thought.

Jace’s arm curled around my waist as his other hand removed the cuffs, and I swayed into his arms. Into the warm cocoon of a thick flannel throw. He lifted me high against his chest and carried me to one of the private rooms where he held me tight.

He was my only hold on the world. His voice telling me I was beautiful. Telling me he loved me. Telling me he would never let me go as he pressed gentle kisses to my eyelids.

At long last, desire building deep in my soul, I whispered my love for him back. That I needed him. He slipped my thighs apart and gently filled me.

We’d been married before. Sex had always been incredibly fervent and passionate. Mind-numbing and exhilarating.

Yet it had never felt quite this intimate. Every languorous stroke of his body in mine drew out another gasp of pure pleasure. Another moan of delight. Filling my heart. Only he had ever been able to make me feel that way. Like my heart would burst in my chest. Like my soul would wither away if I didn’t have some contact with him. Some meaning to him.

My head fell back, my body arched as he drew the most powerful release from my body, like I’d imploded and exploded all at once. I could hear gasping sobs and realized they were my own. My body rippled with wave after wave of sheer bliss as he let himself go inside me with a harsh, guttural groan. A wash of heat poured through me, and his cock jerked with the last few strokes. His lips grazed mine, his hand coming to rest on my neck, his thumb pressing against my cheek just in front of my ear.

“Mine,” he raggedly breathed into my mouth.

“I love you,” Jace whispered some time later. The club had grown quiet with the late hour. It must have been almost morning. He leaned over me as we lay there, his lips so close to mine, but held apart by the force of his gaze. An unrelenting connection that amplified the gruff emotion in his voice. “I never stopped. Not once. Not for a second.”

I lifted my hand, stroking my fingertips down the side of his face along his hairline and into his beard. “I know. I finally really, truly know. I’m so sorry it took me so long.”

He gave me a hint of a wry smile that glimmered in his dark eyes. “Just so you know it now. So you don’t forget.”

“I want to promise I won’t forget, but I’m a little scared I’ll fuck it up. I trust you. I just don’t know that I trust me.”

“Then hold on to that trust in me. Talk to me. For that little bit of time when you waver, I can reassure you. Let me be strong for you.” He tipped his forehead to touch mine. “Because Där, honey, I guarantee there is no fucking way I’m ever letting you go again. Even if I have to chain you to my bed.”

“Is that a promise or a threat?” I grinned and pulled back ever so slightly, running my fingertips along the thickness of his dark beard. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course. Please do.” Jace’s fingertips had been softly caressing my cheek and jaw and shoulder. Playing along the fine hairs at my hairline.

“Why did you want me? Way back when…I was so shy and awkward and you were so brilliant. I never understood why you wanted me.”

“You still have doubts?” He frowned down at me warily.

Young Därah would have simply said no. I would have laughed it off or pretended I’d never asked. In fact, I probably wouldn’t have asked in the first place. I would have just silently wondered and let it fester until I was sick, tight knots in my gut.

But I wasn’t that Därah anymore.

“I know you love me,” I whispered. “I know you did then, and I know you do now. I know you’ll fight tooth and nail to keep me around, in spite of me—”

“It’s not in spite—” he began, but I touched my fingertips to his firm mouth to stop him.

“I’m much more aware of who I am now. I can see the things you love about me in myself. I finally see that you know me, like nobody else ever has.”

His grim expression softened some, but his brow still furrowed, so I traced along his eyebrows.

“I just…I’ve always wondered what it was. Back when we first met. You came on so strong so fast. I never really understood what you saw in me. I guess I still kinda wonder.”

“Yet you never asked.”

“And this surprises you?” I teased with a tilt to my lips. “I’m turning a page, though. I’m asking now.”

“I’m not sure I can put it into words. Not sure words could ever really describe it. I remember seeing you standing in the doorway of your house. Or in the hallways at school. You looked tender and a little lost. You weren’t a carbon copy of all the other girls; you stood out with your hipster glasses and your solemn expression.”

“I was terrified. Then you talked to me and terrified me even more.”

“I suppose I did come on pretty heavy. I just couldn’t help it. You started to blush and my mind just went blank. My brain just drained right into my dick. I wanted you, like nothing I’ve ever known before or since. It wasn’t just one or two things about you. It was everything. And the more I knew you, the more I needed you. Your smile, your strength…your body.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the growl his voice took on, and he grinned wide when he continued.

“Your laugh. Your heart. I love that you think you’re plain and boring when, my God, you are anything but. I love how there’s a part of you simmering under the surface waiting to explode with the touch of my hand. I love your generosity, your intelligence. I love everything that makes you you.”

“That’s exactly what I needed to hear,” I whispered, wrapping myself tightly against him. “Thank you.”

“I’m proud of you for asking,” he murmured, pulling me close as his fingers slid up into my hair, “but don’t thank me, Där. It’s not like it was a choice I made. It was always a need.”

“I thought for so long we’d lost our chance.”

His heavy hand cradled my jaw as he brushed his thumb against my cheekbone. “You never lost me.”

“I know.” I leaned into his touch, turning my head slightly to place a kiss on his palm. “So, when you came over to my house,” I whispered, “when I didn’t show at the Pine and you came to me, when we…um…”

“When I fucked you into submission, you mean?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, my cheeks blushing hot against his hand. “You said it didn’t have to change anything.”

“It didn’t have to…” he hesitated, and I lifted up my head to look at him.

“But?”

He brushed my hair from my cheek with his knuckle, sending a gentle tingle through my body. “I wanted it to change everything. I’ve been waiting for that moment every second of every day for fourteen years.”

I leaned forward, placing a faint kiss to his lips, then touched my forehead to his.

“Me too,” I breathed. “All of it. Every bit.”

Three years later…

I took one last look in the mirror. The wide neckline of the Grecian-style dress draped along my shoulders, then fell to reveal a low open back. Smooth white fabric hugged my curves with faint sparkles that glimmered like fresh snow on a crisp winter day.

“You look gorgeous.” Lissa came into view, resting her chin on my shoulder as she combed through the ends of my shiny, straightened hair. “Ready?”

Breathless, I nodded, unable to utter even a whisper. As though it would shatter this moment. Far from nervous, though, a strange calm filled my veins. A warmth. A sense of belonging.

Lissa clasped my hand in her own. “Let’s do this, Chickadee.”

We made our way out of the dressing area and down the hall where Dave stood waiting, clad in black slacks, a dark gray shirt, and a black leather vest. Very Rig, but a bit sharper than usual. He leaned into the main room and signaled to someone, then turned back to Lissa and me, simultaneously grazing our cheeks with soft caresses.

“Beautiful. Both of you.”

“Thank you, Sir,” she replied in a hushed tone, her lips curved into a tender smile.

I gave him a gentle nod and lowered my eyes. “Yes, thank you.”

“Good girls.” The ultimate compliment. His deep and quiet voice wrought a tremble from me.

The light jingle of a bell rang, and Rig moved behind us. With a tight squeeze of my hand, guided me out into the main room and through the parted crowd toward the low steps. Rig assisted us as we ascended and crossed over to a small table where a red pillar candle sat. On one side of the candle sat a silver tray with a long-stemmed white rosebud and deep red rose. On the other side was a low, wide box made of carved pine. More candles glowed from ornate stands around us, their flickering light illuminating the St. Andrew’s Cross at the back of the stage.

I knelt on a low, soft stool to the side of the table, facing the cross, and lowered my head. Behind me, Lava combed through my hair once more with her fingers and gently braided it, pinning into a tight coil on top of my head. My naked back tingled, no longer covered by the warmth of my tresses. Lava walked over to kneel on a pillow at Rig’s feet.

Another tinkling jingle sounded, and two sets of footsteps approached. I remained on my knees, head bowed. Listening. Waiting. Trembling with anticipation as they neared. At long last, I felt the tender touch of Rogue’s hand underneath my chin, tilting my face up to look at him. He was breathtaking in black leather pants with a gray shirt and vest much like Rig’s, his single tail coiled up and hanging from his belt. His dark eyes shone with a dominant ownership as he smiled down at me.

“There’s my pretty little Chickadee.”

As much as Rig’s earlier compliment had made me tremble, Rogue’s set fire to my body and soul. It sucked all the breath from my lungs, making my eyes flutter closed. I leaned into his touch for a moment, simply relishing his mastery of me.

When I finally opened my eyes, I placed my hand in his outstretched palm and rose to stand before him. He pressed a soft kiss on my palm, and we turned to face Malcolm—Master Louden—across the small table.

“We are here tonight,” Master Louden began, “to formalize the commitment between this Dominant and this submissive. Rig, as a Dom of The Naughty Pine, are you presenting Chickadee to Rogue?”

“I am, Louden,” Rig nodded. “In all the time Lava and I have known Chickadee, we have never seen her so fulfilled. So loved. She freely submits to Rogue with our blessing.”

Master Louden turned back to look at me, then to Jace. “I happen to know, this is not something done lightly, by either of you. Dominance and submission, much like love, require vulnerability, but it can be your haven. It smooths life’s rough edges. It makes you brave and strong. Together.”

He lifted the tray and held it out to me. “This unopened white rose symbolizes your purity of heart and desire for submission. Ever blooming and evolving, it will never reach a place where you cannot bloom a little more for Rogue.”

I gingerly took the white rosebud by its thorny stem, waiting as he offered the red rose to Rogue.

“This almost fully bloomed red rose symbolizes your Dominance and willingness to take responsibility for Chickadee. To possess her and protect her at all costs, even if you must spill your own blood to do so.”

Rogue took the rose, and Master Louden stepped back. Holding the rosebud in my right hand, I extended my left to Rogue, palm up with my fingertips splayed wide. A slight tremor coursed through me as he pressed a thick thorn from his stem to the pad of my middle finger, pricking it deep. I gasped with the stabbing pain, but also with the sensation that filled me as he guided my white rose underneath and gently squeezed my wound. Two drops of deep red blood fell to the white bud, a beautiful contrast against the pale petals.

As I stared down at it, Rogue spoke. “You shed your blood for me once before, my little bird, a long time ago when you first gave yourself to me. I will now share mine with you to solemnly swear my willingness to protect you, to defend you, and to love you.”

Without a second’s hesitation, he pierced his left thumb with a large thorn on the stem of my rose, allowing two drops of his blood to fall, one right over my own as a symbol of our union and one just to the side as a symbol of his leadership in it. Then he lifted my left hand and placed a soft kiss to my sore fingertip before pressing our wounds tightly together.

As Master Louden collected the roses on the tray, he spoke. “As you mix the blood that flows through your bodies, you are now bound together. You are of the same soul. Two halves of a whole person, you can never be undone.”

He set the tray on the table and opened the low, wide box with a flick of his wrist to reveal the collar. Three strips of black leather, slightly overlapping in the back, then spreading out to form a V-shape. Three small silver locks lay glimmering in the satin. He lifted the collar, wafting it over the candle.

“This action symbolizes the removal of impurities from this circle of ownership. All outside influences are burned away by the desire to protect and to love.”

Taking the collar, Rogue turned to face me. I kneeled before him once more, soaking in the rich tone of his voice as he spoke.

“Your submission, my little Chickadee, is the greatest gift I’ve ever received. I offer you protection, affection, and discipline. I promise to revere you. To love you in this life and the next. Do you accept this collar?”

Tears of elation filled my eyes, and I bit my lip to keep a strangled sob from escaping. I looked up to him, at the warm veneration lighting his eyes, and nodded. “Yes, Rogue. With every beat of my heart.”

Rogue placed a reverent kiss on the top of my head and placed the collar around my neck. My heart swelled with the click of each little lock, binding me to him. With the weight of the leather and the emotion it invoked. He held out his hand to help me rise as Master Louden pulled a long silver chain from the wooden box. A simple ring adorned one end and a key at the other. A key to the locks on my collar. Master Louden slowly let the chain pass through the flame of the candle.

“This chain symbolizes your life together. Each link is a moment in your lives, both past and yet to come. Both good and bad. I pass it through the flame to purify it, to burn away the bad. To make them insignificant.” He once again took our hands, pressing our rose-pricked fingers together, and wrapped the delicate silver around them. “This is an unbreakable bond. You share a child, a past, and a promise for the future. You now share a soul.” He pulled the chain free and handed it to me.

I looked up at Rogue. “Your protection—your love—is the greatest force I’ve ever known and something I’ll never take for granted. I offer you my submission. I promise you my honesty, my obedience, and my heart. For ever and ever.”

With trembling fingers, I lifted the chain high and draped it around his neck, slipping the key through the ring. Submitting to his dominance.

“It’s taken a little while to get here,” Master Louden continued with a grin, “but your journey makes your bond stronger. I can honestly say, I’ve never known two people more destined to be together. Through thick and thin—vanilla and kink—you’ve worshiped each other, even if from afar. But now, you have come together once and for all. In this life and beyond. I’m proud to pronounce you Master and submissive. Rogue, please kiss your little Chickadee.”

And he did. Deeply and possessively with bells ringing wildly from the crowd of the Pine. His dominance of me on display.

I loved every second.

As we turned to the crowd still ringing their bells, Rogue’s hand skimmed down my bare back and goosebumps covered my skin. He looked down at me, his long fingers tapping the whip at his belt.

“Okay, my little Chickadee, time to play.”

If you liked The Naughty Pine, check out the playlist. Sixty-nine eclectic songs, as usual. ;) I’m a sucker for long lost love, Just Another Girl got the whole story started in my head. As usual, the last song on my list is always Do Or Die because that’s my getting-shit-done jam, and the others are arranged in order based on how they inspired during the story. Enjoy!

- Just Another Girl – The Killers

- (There’s Gotta Be) More To Life – Stacie Orrico

- Venus In Furs – The Velvet Underground, Nico

- Poison & Wine – The Civil Wars

- I Don’t Want To Talk About It – Marit Larsen

- Young God – Halsey

- I Don’t Wanna See You with Her – Maria Mena

- Too Much To Ask – Niall Horan

- Timshel – Mumford & Sons

- There’s a Place – The All-American Rejects

- For Your Entertainment – Adam Lambert

- Red Riding Hood – Elysian Fields

- Undisclosed Desires – Muse

- Unsteady – X Ambassadors

- I Can’t Make You Love Me – SOAK

- Control – Puddle of Mudd

- Pieces – Tom Francis

- Fire – Barnes Courtney

- Have All The Songs Been Written – The Killers

- Attractions Of Youth – Barns Courtney

- S&M – Rihanna

- Kicks – Barnes Courtney

- Meet Your Master – Nine Inch Nails

- Wonderful Wonderful – The Killers

- Dive – Ed Sheeran

- One Track Mind – Thirty Seconds To Mars (feat. S$AP Rocky)

- Trouble – Coldplay

- Heal – Tom Odell

- Desire – Meg Myers

- Here Tonight – Dar Williams

- A Sky Full of Stars – Coldplay

- How Would You Feel – Ed Sheeran

- When We Were Young – Adele

- The Night We Met – Lord Huron

- Sorry – Aquilo

- Love – Lana Del Rey

- WALLS – Kings of Leon

- Some Kind Of Love – The Killers

- Dangerous Night – Thirty Seconds To Mars (Cheat Codes Remix)

- Touch Myself – Genitorturers

- Life To Come – The Killers

- Over – Kings of Leon

- Believe – Mumford & Sons

- Too Afraid To Love You – The Black Keys

- Sorry – Meg Meyers

- All The Things Lost – MS MR

- Remedy – Thirty Seconds To Mars

- I Still Love You – Josh Jenkins

- Inner Demons – Julia Brennan

- Oceans – Daisy Clark

- The Heart Of The Matter – Don Henley

- Scared of the Dark – Ben Sparaco and The New Effect

- Breathe – Michelle Branch

- Rut – The Killers

- The One Who Knows – Dar Williams

- Great Wide Open – Thirty Seconds To Mars

- Little Boy – Barns Courtney

- Perfect Duet – Ed Sheeran, Beyoncé

- Secrets – Mary Lambert, B.o.B

- Teeth – Lady Gaga

- Golden Dandelions – Barns Courtney

- Waste A Moment – Kings of Leon

- Feels Great – Cheat Codes, Fetty Wap, CVBZ

- There is No Them – Ben Sparaco and The New Effect

- I Lived – OneRepublic

- Say Amen (Saturday Night) – Panic! At The Disco

- Do Or Die – Thirty Seconds To Mars

Listen on Spotify – https://spoti.fi/3d2hF7s

In the past, my acknowledgements have practically been a book in their own right, and these could easily turn into the same, especially since this book has taken me so damn long to publish. Therefore, I’m really going to try and keep it short and sweet.

Life has a way of pulling people close one minute and taking them away the next. During the past couple years, I had to check out a bit to focus on myself. Too much stress and too little self-care had me veering into self-destructive behavior, and I needed to get my head on straight. I started this book before my shit hit the proverbial fan. I’d work on it for a while, then shove it to the backburner when the life overwhelmed me. I’d pull it out again when things would settle, and then life would go to shit again. I actually became afraid to write for a while, as thought my writing was bad juju or something. But this story meant something to me, so, even when I was scared to open it back up, I did. Sometimes cringing, but I did. And, OMG! It’s finally done.

So here it is, four years in the making, and there are loads of people who played an important part in keeping it alive. Old friends I’ll love until the day I die, even if we don’t have what we once did. New friends who have helped me get back in the game. And so many friends who have stuck around even when I didn’t, then welcomed me back with open arms.

(Yeah, I’m totally crying right now.)

First and foremost, I need to thank my DaFos (originally my Mofos, but, as my kink guru pointed out, we are more likely to be daddyfuckers than motherfuckers). Thank you for the encouragement, the beta reading and proofreading, sharing my shit, and helping me get to this point. I’m ridiculously introverted with a lackluster self-image, and I cannot even begin to tell you how much I appreciate you guys. And thanks to my DaFo moderators—all former members of my Flannel Squad—for being a part of this new chapter in my story. Thank you to my crit group for your interest in beta reading The Naughty Pine, then inviting me to be part of Stocking Stuffers. For shredding this story and encouraging me to kill my darlings. This book is so much better because of you. And, finally, thanks to those who have reached out to me on social media, who share my love of dirty memes and even dirtier love stories.

Okay, I need to stop before I short circuit my keyboard.

I fucking love you all.

Conversations

Little Conversations

Littler Conversations

Bitterroot

Because of Kian

Always Conall

Copperline

Post Breakup Sex

Wild Irish Envy

Easy Little Lick

Evanescent Ink

Hot Dirty Love

Solo Books

In the Firelight

Merry Little Hookup

Sibylla Matilde grew up on the back of a horse exploring in the mountain valleys of Southwest Montana. She attended a two-room schoolhouse 1st through 6th grade where she had same teacher the whole time. At the age of 12, Siby discovered historical romance, devouring the work of Jude Devereaux, Lisa Kleypas, and Karen Robards. She began writing in 2013 with her debut novel, Little Conversations, and self-published ten works over the next three years. She took a few years off to deal with life (it proved very difficult to move on from her Bangin’ Mofos…they were a blast to write), but is back at the keyboard with new steamy stories brewing in her naughty little brain.

Music is her emotional trigger. Growing up with a Wagnarian-opera-loving mother, Sibylla loves music that digs deep into her soul and covers her with goosebumps. The soundtrack to her life includes different genres and generations, but her favorites include Thirty Seconds To Mars (she’s a bit obsessive about Jared Leto, actually), Kings of Leon, The Killers, My Chemical Romance, and many other artists and bands. Her inspiration playlists on Spotify truly drive her writing, and she loves to share her eclectic taste with anyone who will listen.

Siby strives to write books that make the reader bask in the sweet glow of new love, burn hot with a passionate intensity, and day drink from gut-wrenching heartache. Her characters are not world-famous rock stars or billionaires, rather every-day small-town people experiencing their own extraordinary romantic adventures in the Rocky Mountains she calls home.

Siby loves to hear from fans! The best place to get the most up-to-date links for Facebook, Instagram, Spotify, yada, yada, yada is

www.SibyllaMatilde.com/links

Or, please feel free to email me at Siby@SibyllaMatilde.com.

Table of Contents

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Epilogue

Inspiration Playlist

Acknowledgments

Other Books by Siby

About Siby