The Voyeur Next Door

By Airicka Phoenix

The Voyeur Next Door ©2015 by Airicka Phoenix

All rights reserved.

www.AirickaPhoenix.com

This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical,

photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission of the copyright owner and/or the publisher of this book, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Beta Readers:

Kia Stone

Jaime Radalyac

Krystal Marlein

Kimberly Schaaf

Editor: Kathy Eccleston

Illustrator: Airicka’s Mystical Creations

Interior Design & Formatting: Airicka’s Mystical Creations

Published by Airicka Phoenix

Also available in eBook and paperback publication

Also by Airicka Phoenix

Games of Fire

Betraying Innocence

TOUCH SAGA

Touching Eternity

Touching Smoke

Touching Fire

THE LOST GIRL SERIES

Finding Kia

Revealing Kia

REGENERATION SERIES

When Night Falls

THE BABY SAGA

Forever His Baby

Bye-Bye Baby

Be My Baby

IN THE DARK SERIES

My Soul For You

Kissing Trouble

SONS OF JUDGMENT SAGA

Octavian’s Undoing

Gideon’s Promise

Dedication

To you,

You are beautiful.

The Voyeur Next Door

Chapter One

Ali

“God, baby, I need you inside me so bad…” My husky moan fogged the glass, obscuring my view of the deep fried and smothered in chocolate goodness just one creepy glass lick away from being all mine. “But I can’t let you control my life anymore.”

The pimply faced adolescent on the other side of the counter fidgeted uncomfortably, clearly disturbed by my affections, and possibly the drool marks I was leaving on his pristine display case.

“Ma’am?”

Giving the pastry one final glance of longing, I turned to him. “Just tea. Decaf because I apparently hate myself.”

Still looking nervous—maybe he was afraid I would start making out with the register next—he punched in my order, muttered off my total and then scurried off to grab me a pretty white cup and fill it with hot water. I set my money down and waited, all the while casting furtive peeks at the Boston cream pastry eyeing me back with a seductive, chocolaty glaze that all but whispered all the ways it could make me feel muy mucho goodo because that was how all my dirty fantasies started—with my food sounding like Antonio Banderas.

My water and teabag were set on the counter and nudged towards me the way lions were fed at the zoo—with a long stick poking their meals in under a steel cage door. Only the stick was his finger and the counter was the only thing keeping him safe from my all out crazy. My money was swept into a sweaty palm and tossed carelessly into the register. The drawer was slammed shut. Then there was nothing left for me to do but leave. Yet my weakness took that moment to nearly win; I started to open my mouth to order the pastry anyway, to portray that fuck it attitude I only pretended I possessed. But who was I kidding? It would never be just the one and my ass could do without the extra pounds.

Dejected, I took my disgusting drink and shuffled off to find a table somewhere within the air conditioned heaven. No one wanted to sit outside when it was hot enough to fry bacon. But most of the tables in the small café were full by drone-eyed squatters slumped over their laptops and cappuccinos.

Bastards.

Moving quickly down the line leading all the way to the door, I bee-lined for the only available table out on the shaded patio. My scalding water sloshed in the cup, but stayed stubbornly within the confines of the ceramic.

The moment I shouldered open the doors, I knew I’d made a mistake getting tea; it was just too damn hot.

I glanced back over my shoulder at the line. Nope. No way was I standing in that death trap a second time, not even for a Frappuccino with whipped cream and chocolate syrup, which was what I had originally gone in to get, except the beautifully athletic woman ahead of me had ordered a soy, low fat, no foam, something-something-something latte and the guilt had been too much. When the boy had fixed me with those judgy little eyes, I had balked and let myself be swayed by peer pressure and shame.

Resigned, I went to the table and sat. I stuffed my purse into the seat next to me and wondered how to drink my tea without sweating to death. I started by dropping my teabag into the water and watching as dark tendrils escaped and tainted the clear liquid. I adjusted my glasses as they began to slide down my sweaty nose and squinted at all the blinding brightness around me.

The café sat in the middle of a semi busy street catering mostly to restaurants and coffee shops and the occasional art studio. I wasn’t normally a coffee drinker and art made no sense to me, but I liked people. More importantly, I liked watching them … secretly … from a very great distance so as not to have to interact. People fascinated me. The things they did half the time made me question just how much chemicals and hormones really went into our food. But the problem with the artsy part of town was that it was very shiny. Everything gleamed. There were lights everywhere and everyone was dressed in bold, flashy colors that hurt the brain.

Me, in my long black skirt and baggy blouse melded with the décor. I could never pull off bold and sexy. Hell, I couldn’t even pull off one of those. Most days, my face would be lucky to see makeup, just because it was time taken away from something less pointless. No guy that didn’t require coke bottle glasses would ever look in my direction twice. Everything about me was all the things most men never noticed in a woman, unless they were into lobotomizing their dates. I just didn’t have the right looks to get men excited. It was a fact I had come to accept. Me and my lowly little decaf cup of tea.

“Rats!”

The exclamation was followed by the ripping sound of paper and the thud of things striking pavement. I twisted around in my seat just as an elderly man dropped down next to his torn bag of groceries. Pedestrians flocked around him, parting like the Red Sea to avoid stepping on him, or his things. But no one stopped to give him a hand as he scrambled to scoop items off the ground.

Abandoning my untouched drink, I hurried from my seat and dropped down next to him. My hands closed around a bag of apples, a tray of fresh chicken breasts and several cans of corn. I hugged them to my chest as he dumped his armload into the torn paper bag.

“Here,” I said, pulling the bag to me and emptying my things inside as well.

There was a stalk of celery and a carton of eggs that had upended on the sidewalk. I managed to salvage the celery. But the eggs had already begun to sizzle against the concrete.

“I think your eggs are toast,” I told him, stuffing the celery into the bag. “Or fried eggs, I guess.”

The man sighed. “Figures. That’s what I get for getting them free range eggs for about ten dollars more.”

It was a struggle not to laugh at the disgruntled huff.

“I think I have a plastic bag in my purse,” I said instead. “We might be able to fit all of this into it.”

Taking the bag from him, I walked back to my table and dragged my purse over. I opened the first pocket and rummaged inside.

The man shuffled up beside me and whistled. “Now, I’ve seen some crazy purses women carry around, but that right there is a doozy.”

My purse really was unique. When I first found it, it had only had the one big pocket and the one tiny pocket sewn into the inside. By the time I finished with it, it had about twenty pockets in various shapes and sizes and they all carried something. I had everything from a tiny sewing kit, to a paperback novel nestled inside. There were packets of tissue, gum, a small set of screw drivers, several zip ties, different sizes of Ziploc bags. and even a flashlight. I had everything a person could possibly need for just about any occasion. Because of all that, the bag was actually kind of heavy, which came in handy if I ever had to hit someone, which hadn’t happened yet, but I was hopeful.

“I like being prepared,” I told him. “Here we go!” Shaking out the plastic bag, I slid the paper one into it and held it out to the man. “There you are.”

The man squinted at me with one brown eye. The other one was screwed shut against the sun and he had to cup a gnarled hand over his brows to see me properly.

He had to be in his late seventies with big, child-like eyes and a kind face that immediately made a person like him. What little hair he had was combed over the wide bald patch on his head and looked as fine as a baby’s. His frail body was tucked into a pair of beige trousers and a checkered top that was buttoned all the way to his throat.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

Still holding the bag, I smiled. “Alison Eckrich.” I held out my free hand. “Everyone calls me Ali.”

He took it in a surprisingly firm handshake. “Earl Madoc.” He let my hand go and squinted some more. “Listen, Ali, you wouldn’t mind helping an old man get his groceries home, would you? My arthritis is just killing me today.” He rubbed his contorted hand, working the stiff muscles with a grimace deepening his wrinkles. “I live about a block down that way. I would pay you for your troubles.”

I waved away the offer. I was done with the whole fresh air thing and would have probably gone home anyway. Walking him would have been no skin off my nose, especially since he was walking in the same general direction.

I grabbed my purse, threw the strap around my shoulders, and took up his bag of groceries once more.

“Lead the way, Earl.”

Offering me a kind smile, he started forward at a shuffle-limp, like his right leg had been injured at some point and hadn’t recovered properly. I wasn’t sure if that was the case, or if it was just age, but I wondered why he didn’t walk with a cane if it hurt him as much as it seemed to. I didn’t ask. I figured whatever the reason was, it was his business.

We walked in silence for several steps and stopped at the lights.

“So what do you do, Ali Eckrich?” Earl asked as the lights changed and we started across.

“I am currently between jobs,” I replied around a tight curl of my lips. “I just moved here, so actually I’m kind of still looking.”

“No kidding.” He scratched his jaw dusted with a fine layer of white bristle. The sound reminded me of sandpaper. “Where did you move from?”

“Portland, Oregon,” I answered.

Earl’s eyes went wide. “An American!”

I laughed. “No, I was only there for school. I’m originally from Alberta.”

“What did you study?”

I pulled in a breath that smelled of fried hotdogs from the cart we passed and asphalt from the construction crew working on the roads a street down.

“I have my bachelor’s degree in business administration.”

Earl whistled through his teeth. “That’s fancy.”

“Four years,” I confessed.

“And they didn’t teach that here at the schools in Canada?”

I laughed at that. It was the same comment I got from my sister when I initially got accepted to the University of Portland. But at least she had known the real reason behind my need to get as far away from home as possible. Earl didn’t need to and I didn’t need to tell him.

“It was a growing experience,” I said, using my fall back response to most things.

“So you’re good with the books and things of a business.”

I shrugged. “Yes, and marketing and finances.”

“Interesting.” He scratched his jaw again. “Do you know anything about filing?”

“Filing?”

“Organizing,” he corrected.

I had to shrug at that. “I guess. Depends on what it is.”

We turned a corner and started down Pine Street. For a split second, I almost stopped, thinking I was inadvertently leading the poor guy back to my house. But Earl kept shuffling onward and I hurried to keep up.

“I just moved to this street,” I said. “My apartment is further down.”

“Yeah? My grandson did, too,” Earl said.

I started to ask where, when Earl veered left, hobbling his way towards a large, badly painted building that was impregnating the whole street with a powerful stench of motor grease, metal, and sweat. The rusty sign bolted over the trio of wide garage doors spelled, Madoc Auto Body Repair. The bay doors were all open to the bright afternoon. Two were empty. The middle one had a car hoisted on a lift. A man in a blue jumpsuit stood in the trench underneath with a handheld work light.

“It’s all right,” Earl called out to me when he realized I wasn’t following him. “This here has been in the family for near four generations.”

Curiosity perked, I knuckled my glasses back up the bridge of my nose and shuffled after him. Up close, the smell did not improve.

The man beneath the Pontiac banged on the underside of the car with a wrench; the sound swallowed the hum of jazz spilling from the boom box perched on the red toolbox next to the car. I watched him even as I followed Earl up a set of stairs built into the side of the garage, leading into what appeared to be an office cut out of gray stone slabs. It was impossible to tell what was hidden beneath the towers of paper that were layered over every available flat surface. There was another set of doors straight across, painted a harsh yellow that led to what looked like stairs going up. Earl stopped at the bottom, gripping the railing bolted into the side and leaned against the wall, his face flushed.

“The kitchen is straight up,” he panted slightly. “I’d show you, but that heat just about did me in and I can’t trust myself on them stairs right now.”

Concerned by the sheen of sweat glistening across his brow, I tossed a frantic glance over the room. I caught sight of a swiveling chair poking out from beneath the papers and hurried over to it. The wheels grated against the concrete as I shoved it to where Earl half slumped against the wall.

“Here.” I guided him into it. “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll get you some water?”

Earl smiled at me. “You are such a sweet little thing.”

“Will you be okay if I run up?”

He waved me away as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

Not wanting to leave him alone for longer than I had to, I hurried up the stairs, grocery bag in tow. At the top, I paused as the loft-style space came into view. The layout was straightforward with a bedroom set in one corner beneath a grand, bay window. At the foot of it, was a sitting area equipped with a leather sofa, recliner and TV. Across from that was a kitchenette and a bathroom on my right. I moved towards the kitchen. I ran the tap and occupied myself by shoving the groceries into the fridge while I waited for the water to get cold.

“Who are you?”

The pack of chicken breasts slipped out of my hands with my undignified squeak of fright and hit the top of my sandaled foot. I whirled around to confront the sudden explosion of words from behind me. The booming voice was male, but it was the volume of it, the sheer weight behind the sound that prickled the skin along my spine. My hand trembled as I fidgeted with my glasses, shoving them back into place so the dark, blurry shadow looming mere feet away could come into focus.

I wasn’t blind. I could see most things without my glasses. They just weren’t very clear. Everything had a fuzzy hue around the edges. Kind of like a smudged pastel painting, exaggerating the shapes and size of people.

This guy was not exaggerated.

No less than seven feet with a frame that was clearly stolen from some lumberjack catalogue, he stood blocking my escape. I mean, I could have maybe done some crazy ninja lunge over the counter, but that probably wasn’t going to happen. Instead, I stood there, slack-jawed, staring at the mountain man glowering back at me with a suspicion one would normally reserve for diamond thieves and those bitches who steal all the bikes at the gym just to sit and talk to each other.

He wore flannel, which only made my lumberjack theory all the more plausible. It was undone over a white t-shirt and form fitting jeans that hugged his lean legs the way I kind of wanted to. The hems fell over battered and really ugly boots that needed an incinerator to put them out of their misery and were frayed around the cuffs. His chest strained beneath the thin material with every breath and my gaze was drawn to the hard squares cut of his breast plates and along the wide lengths of his shoulders. The sleeves on the flannel were rolled up his toned forearms and barely concealed the raw muscles underneath.

Definitely a lumberjack.

Shit the man was hot. Screw Boston cream pastries. I’ll take two of him.

“Hello?”

Blinking, my eyes shot up to the head attached to that delicious body and my steamy fantasy bubble popped.

Thick, black hair covered his jaw and mouth in a beard. His hair was the same shade of ebony and hung uncut around his ears and over the collar of his flannel. From amongst all that hair, I could just make out piercing, intense gray eyes.

“Really?” I blurted in clear disappointment, my brain and mouth having lost communication at some point.

It was his turn to blink in surprise. He leaned over and snapped the faucet off with a smack of his palm.

“What?”

There was no helping it. My whole day was officially ruined and it was his fault.

Okay, I had no problem with men with facial hair. Sometimes, it was even hot. But not when it looked like he was going for a yearlong expedition through the Himalayan Mountains, or planned to live with bears out in the wilderness. There was a reason trimmers and razors were invented. And … Goddamn it! The dude was too hot for that shit.

“Are you lost?” he demanded when I could only stand there and silently judge him.

“I don’t know! Maybe you could loan me a compass!” I shot back. “Or a hatchet.” So I was just being crazy and I almost couldn’t blame him for his confounded scowl. I took a deep breath. “I’m Ali,” I said calmly and rationally. “I—”

“Gabriel?” Earl limped up the stairs, clutching tight to the banister until he was at the top. He looked better, I noted. The flush was gone from his face and he wasn’t panting. “I didn’t know you were here.”

Gabriel turned to the other man.

“Really?” I was amazed at how much that single question sounded like mine, full of indignant disapproval. “She’s not even half your age.”

I had not seen that coming.

“Whoa! Wait. What?”

I was ignored.

“Why do they keep getting younger?” he demanded of Earl. “You’re going to break a damn hip … again, and I’m going to have to listen while you explain to the doctor how you broke the fucking thing … again! You’re eighty years old, Grandpa!” Gabriel then rounded on me. “He’s eighty years old!”

“Dude!” I began, putting both hands up to ward off the craziness he was spewing. “I am not tapping that.” I winced and shot Earl a sheepish smile. “No offense.” I went back to glowering at Lumberjack. “So his hip is perfectly safe with me.”

Gabriel looked me over. Actually looked me over with a disbelief that was astounding. Did I have old man hooker stamped to my forehead, or something? Like seriously? I was insulted … and then he added salt to my injuries.

“I guess,” he mumbled. “Did he forget to return a book, or something? I didn’t know the library did house calls.”

How. The. Fuck. Did I go from being a hooker, to a librarian in the span of two seconds?

“Ali was kind enough to help me with my groceries,” Earl piped in before I could kick his lovely grandson in the family jewels.

Swooping down, I hefted up the pack of chicken still lying at my feet and shoved it into his gut with all the force in me. His grunt of pain was only mildly satisfying.

“I accept apologizes in written form only,” I growled through my teeth. “I like to file them under Fuckhead.”

With that, I stomped around him and started for the stairs.

“Ali, wait.” Earl hurried after me, and I only stopped for him. Otherwise, I was ready to make my grand exit, stage left. “Don’t mind Gabriel. His mother drank while she was pregnant.”

“Grandpa!”

He ignored his grandson, which amused me. I was really beginning to like Earl. Enough to sleep with him? Uh, no. But definitely enough to want to give him a high five.

“I still owe you for helping me with my groceries.”

I shook my head. “Really it’s fine. I have to get home anyway and continue the job hunt. But it was wonderful to meet you.”

“Actually!” Earl grabbed my hand before I could leave. “That’s exactly what I want to do.”

I frowned. “You want to help me job hunt?”

“Yes and no,” he answered with a chuckle. “We need someone with your expertise here at the shop and you need a job. I think we can help each other out.”

“What are you doing, Grandpa?” Gabriel demanded.

“I’m getting this place an administrative assistant,” Earl retorted. “Someone who knows how to do the books and filing, because apparently you got my brains when it comes to paperwork.”

Gabriel scowled. The guy was a professional scowler. I could tell. He was very good at his job.

“We’re doing fine,” he grumbled.

“Have you seen the office, Gabriel?” Earl countered. “I found a form the other day dating back to when the shop was first opened. We need the help.”

Gabriel seemed to chew this bit of information over, possibly literally. His face-bush kept twitching. Either that, or some unsuspecting rodent had made a home beneath that jungle.

“Fine. I’ll call someone,” he replied. “There has to be an agency, or—”

“Why when Ali’s right here?” Earl said, waving a hand at me.

Those smolderingly gray eyes darted to me and narrowed even further if possible. “You met the girl two minutes ago. How do you know she’s any good? Besides, she barely looks old enough to be out of school.”

Yeah, this guy and I would never be friends. He made me want to stab him, repeatedly, with something pointy and rusty. That didn’t make for very good friendship.

“I graduated with my bachelors last year,” I informed him sharply. “And spent the last ten months interning at one of the biggest ad companies in Portland. Trust me, I am very good at what I do.”

“And I am a very good judge of character,” Earl added. “I like Ali and since this is still my shop, I’m hiring her.”

Gabriel stared hard at his grandfather. “That’s not how this works. You need references and—”

“I’m not an idiot, Gabriel!” Earl snapped. “I’ve been doing this since before you were born. But she’s the one I want.”

It didn’t even dawn on me that I had just accepted a job at a garage. At that moment, all I wanted was to rub it in Gabriel’s smug little face. Then it hit me.

“Wait, you’re giving me a job?”

Gabriel threw his hands up. “Observant.”

I opened my mouth to tell him I was ten different belts of crazy and not afraid to use all of them on him if he kept pushing me, but Earl touched my arm.

“If you want it,” he said kindly. “It might not be all fancy, but you can start tomorrow. Bring your papers and Gabriel will go over them.”

With that, and a pat on my shoulder, he shuffled back down the stairs, leaving me alone with Mountain Man.

“Are you sleeping with him?”

Unbelievable.

“I don’t sleep with men to get what I want, Jack,” I snapped. “I’m perfectly capable of getting through life without offering my taco to every man that walks my way.”

That seemed to silence him. He watched me like I was some endangered species that just made no sense. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I wasn’t there for his approval. I certainly didn’t want it.

But, at the same time, I did need a job. After three months of unemployment, my savings had begun to grow a happy family of dust bunnies and I didn’t know when I would get another offer like that. Besides, it would only be temporary. I could watch my mouth and temper for a few months.

Gabriel turned his full attention on me, which meant not just his eyes, or his head, but his entire body so we were facing off. I hated that he was taller than me. Pretending to be a bad ass took extra effort when you were stuck glowering at a beautiful man chest.

“My grandfather is eighty years old,” he told me again in a deep, quiet tone. “He’s trusting of pretty faces, but I’m not. I may not have any say in who he hires, but that sure as hell won’t stop me from booting you out of here if I smell even a hint of foul play.”

“What exactly do you think I’m after?” I wondered. “And what exactly does foul play smell like?”

His gaze roamed along my frame, taking in everything from the chipped, purple nail polish on my toes to the messy knot that was my hair bun. I wasn’t sure which of that irritated him more, because his frown never shifted. He seemed to disapprove of all of me.

“Look,” I said, struggling to keep my calm when all I wanted to do was throat punch the guy for making me feel about two inches tall with just a look. “I get it. You think a woman doesn’t belong in a garage.”

“You’re right,” he said evenly. “That’s exactly what I think.”

It took me a full second to peel my jaw off the floor.

“That is the most sexist thing I have ever—”

“Do you know what women are, Ali? A liability,” he went on, ignoring my irate sputtering. “They come into a place and destroy it with the two ton bag of drama they heave around. I don’t like drama. And I don’t like trouble, which is exactly what you are.”

Any other time, any other person and I would have taken that as a compliment. As it were, his condescending bullshit pissed me off.

“And how am I trouble?” I bite out with all the composure I could scrounge up. “Is it the glasses, because I can vouch for their character?” His eyes narrowed, but I didn’t give a shit. “You know, this is why women don’t feel comfortable bringing their cars in to get checked, because of assholes like you who treat them like they’re braindead and unworthy of a fair exchange. You think just because we’re women and may not know as much about vehicles as men that we’re somehow less superior to you. Well, you know what, Jack, you can keep your fucking job. I wouldn’t work for you, with you, near you if you paid me in gold bricks.”

Whirling on my heels, I left.

I walked out of the garage without running into Earl. I briefly wondered if I should find him and thank him for the generous offer that I needed to decline, but thought better of it. I needed to get away from that asshole before I did something I might not regret later.

My apartment was a two block walk from the garage, tucked behind a towering wall of spruce trees. It sat nestled on a slight incline surrounded by Victorian homes and other smaller apartments. Mine was one of the older structures. The red brick was faded and chipped in places and the windows were the enormous panes used in lofts, but the rent was cheap and I liked the view.

The building itself had originally been two separate structures with six stories each. At some point, someone had connected the pair by a wall on either end, leaving a narrow gap in between that opened into a courtyard that was never used because realistically, it was a squished alley someone spruced up with flowerboxes. I could easily leap from my balcony into the apartment across the way … if I was Cat Woman, or a burglar. As it were, I was neither and had no desire to leap into an empty apartment. But the thing I did like to do was occasionally stand by the terrace doors and watch the lives of the people in the other building. As a person who lived on the sixth floor, dead center, I had the perfect angle to see most of what was going on in the other suites. Call me crazy, or a pervert, but most people in my position would do the same, especially since there was nowhere else to look, except to maybe count the bricks on the building. My neighbors were much more interesting.

I have always liked watching. I like seeing how people interact and behave alone and in groups. I like wondering what they’re talking about and what they’re thinking. As a child, I was the lone kid on the playground, the one that said nothing, but stared at the others as they ran and played. I was okay with that. I never cared that I wasn’t picked for teams, or asked to play skip rope. While I wasn’t some creepy shut in that liked collecting strands of my classmate’s hairs to make dolls, I didn’t go out of my way to make friends either. I still don’t. Friends are great, except I never know what to do with them. I see other people and it all seems so natural. They laugh and talk and make plans to talk and laugh some more at a later date. I would probably throw a fry at them and hope they were distracted enough not to notice me running away.

So I stayed home. When I did have to interact, I did so cautiously and tried not to make any sudden movements. Occasionally, I could even have full on conversations with people without anyone getting hurt. But I liked my solitary life. I cherished it even.

My apartment was designed by someone with no concept of measurements. Everything was done in extremes. The living room was barely big enough for a sofa, while the only bedroom was enormous. The kitchen was small, but the single bathroom could fit an entire Russian circus. The closet in the hall could have doubled as a second bedroom if it hadn’t been so narrow, while the pantry in the kitchen could barely hold a stack of towels. I was only thankful no one ever came to visit me or it would have been hard to explain why my bedroom was in the living room and why my living room was in my bedroom, or why all my food was in the closet down the hall near the bathroom and my towels were in my kitchen. It all worked fine for me, but I knew it wasn’t normal.

Tossing my keys and purse onto the glass table I kept by the front door, I kicked off my sandals and made my way into the bedroom. It was a short walk down a minute hall that split off in three separate directions. Right to the kitchen. Left to the living room and bathroom, and straight for the bedroom. My toes curled in the plush carpet that extended from wall to wall. Underneath it was the scarred hardwood that came with the place. But after a week of waking up to use the bathroom and having to tiptoe on what felt like a sheet of ice, I said screw it and splurged on a carpet. Best investment ever.

My bedroom was my favorite spot in the whole place and it showed. It was designed for comfort and easy access to everything. My queen sized bed faced the TV I had mounted over a glass set of shelves holding my DVD player and surround sound. On one side of the bed was my mini fridge. The other held an end table with a lamp and the remotes to the TV. The terrace doors were on the other side of my bed, draped in sheer curtains. On the opposite side of the room, against the wall that separated the bedroom from the kitchen was my vanity. Everything was within reach.

I stripped. I rarely saw the point of being dressed at home. There was no one there to judge me for the way I looked, or what shape I was in. It was my place of sanctuary. Plus there was something liberating about eating a cup of pudding completely naked.

At a little after six, I drew on a robe, turned off the TV and wandered into the kitchen for a bowl of something. My pantry consisted mostly of things that could easily be warmed, cans of soup, microwavable dinners, the occasional canisters of squeeze cheese. I lived for one person. Me. If I wanted to cook a full meal, I had the luxury of running to the grocery store, grabbing the items and coming home. But those desires were rare. As it were, I grabbed a bowl of cereal and made my way to the terrace.

Seven o’clock was when my neighbors came home. It was when the dark windows lit up and life happened on the other side of the glass. I treated seven o’clock the way soap opera junkies treated their favorite sitcoms, with reverence and excitement.

The steel hoops embedded into the curtains hissed as I dragged the sheer drapes across the metal rod. I propped the glass doors open to the muggy evening and leaned a hip against the frame.

It was still fairly bright out. The sun was just making its final descent behind the buildings, but the narrow notch of space that I considered my little world had shadows slinking their way across the bricks. The lights from the other apartments were sharper, brighter, casting the figures inside into edgy silhouettes.

There were eighteen apartments. Each floor had three windows stamped into the side. I had given each one a name, which periodically changed as the occupants did. For example, in the three months I’d lived there, no one had ever rented the apartment adjacent to mine so that had come to be known as the Empty. Levels one, two, and three were impossible to see into from my sixth floor view. So that left me four, five and six. Four was iffy. I could only see about six feet into their apartments. But five and six were gold and that was where my favorite people lived.

Window one, top row: Old Man and Young Girl I had assumed for the first three weeks were father and daughter. So. Not. I learned that the hard way while eating spicy curry and nearly dying when he heaved the girl against the glass and started fucking her.

Window two, top row: Empty.

Window three, top row: Crazy Jungle Couple who fought like piranha’s over fresh meat and made love just as intensely. They were better to watch than WWE on pay per view. I always had popcorn ready for when they got home. It was impossible to tell how the night would end.

Window one, second row: an Asian Couple with Little Girl. Watching them made me nostalgic for my own family, but then the girl would cry and throw things and that feeling would go away.

Window two, second row: Slutty Blonde with copious number of lovers. That week, she was banging the occupant of window three, second row, Handsome Dark Haired Dude with a beer belly but a seriously massive cock.

Row three was full of families.

Window one, row three: Single Mother with Little Boy. I would occasionally see him sitting at the window with his hand held game, munching on carrot sticks.

Window two, row three: Man and Woman with Twin Ghost Daughters. I was convinced those two girls were from The Shining. Creepy little shits. Every so often, I would look down and they’d just be standing there … staring back. Not blinking. It made it even creepier that they were both extremely pale with dead eyes and long dark hair. I shuddered every time my gaze roamed over their window.

Window three, row three: Large, Hairy Man with a deeper love of microwavable food than me, who spent a large portion of his time in his recliner watching football. I had a feeling he was a gambler, simply from the fits he’d always have when his team lost. It was irrational. But then what did I know about men and sports? Maybe he just had rage issues. Yet that didn’t explain why he’d get on the phone immediately afterwards and shout at whoever was on the other end. But that also could be explained. Maybe he had a friend somewhere else equally pissed and the two were venting to each other.

The fun was always in the guessing.

That evening, only three of the windows lit up. Old Man and Hopefully Not His Daughter came home first. She sauntered into the living room, tossed her bright, pink purse down on the sofa and flopped down next to it. Old Man ambled his way into the kitchen and yanked open the fridge.

No fucking tonight, I thought, shifting my gaze to the other two windows.

The Ghost Girls were back in their lacy, purple dresses, white stockings and jet black hairs. They stood shoulder to shoulder with their backs to the window. Their dad was hanging up their matching red coats in the hallway closet. Mom wasn’t home yet. She was a secretary, or a lawyer. She didn’t get home until about eleven, stooped over like her briefcase was filled with bricks.

The third window gave me a start. The presence of the pale, golden glow took my brain a full minute to process and even it knew something wasn’t right.

Window two, top row: wasn’t empty. There was movement behind the curtains. There was light!

“Holy shit!”

Cereal bowl abandoned on the glass table next to the terrace doors, I stepped further onto the balcony. My fingers curled around the cool metal railing and I leaned in as far as I could without forgetting my not Cat woman notion and making the lunge over.

But as quickly as all the excitement had started, it sparked in surprise when the light flicked off and there was nothing. My gaze darted from the windows to the glass doors, waiting like an eager little puppy begging someone to throw the fucking ball already.

Nothing happened. The lights remained off. Stillness continued.

My gaze narrowed as I straightened. “All right,” I mumbled to the silence. “You win this round, but tomorrow…”

I let my promise linger into the night as I stepped back into my apartment.

Chapter Two

Gabriel

People were idiots. People on Tuesdays somehow managed to be worse. It was astounding, the number of morons that went through life every day without managing to get themselves killed. Unfortunately for me, they were the ones that always found their way into my shop at the butt crack of dawn, rambling on about things that made my eye twitch and my brain hurt. I’m a mechanic. I don’t give a shit about your rat-looking purse dog’s appointment to the vet to get his anal glands squeezed. It’s not my problem that you waited until Tuesday to get your damn car fixed, or that it overlaps with your rat’s appointment. My job is to make sure your car doesn’t explode one day and kill innocent bystanders. That’s it.

“Ma’am.” The sheer force of my restraint creaked through the clenched lines of my jaw. “Your car will be ready, when it’s ready.”

Even with dark glasses that resembled insect eyes, I could feel the wrath of her squinting. Her little purse dog yipped like a mindless little rodent against her side. I wasn’t sure who I wanted to boot physically out the door more.

“How do you not know?”

The woman had this voice that was a mix between a chirpy bird and a spoiled little girl. It was giving me a migraine.

“Simple. You don’t have an appointment, which means I have two other cars before yours. Second, I have to see what’s wrong with it. Third, I might need to order parts to fix whatever’s wrong with it. Fourth, I have to install it. All of those things take time and my crystal ball is at the shop.”

Over injected lips pursed. “You were recommended,” she stated, like that was somehow my fault. “By a very dear friend whose opinion I value, so I’m going to let your attitude slide. But maybe in the future, if you want to keep customers happy, you might not want be so rude.”

Her stupid little dog gave a yip of confirmation as its owner swirled on her neon pink pumps and flounced through the maze of machines towards the bay doors. I watched her walk away, part of me wondering if I would get karma points taken away, or added, if I killed her.

“Still nothing?”

Grandpa Earl scuffled up next to my hip, his brown eyes fixed on the bright stain of sunshine spilling through the open doors.

I knew what, or rather, whom he was waiting for and my irritation level spiked.

“She’s not coming,” I muttered. “I told you that.”

“She could have changed her mind,” Earl grumbled. “And it’s your fault if she doesn’t come.”

I didn’t have time for that. I had two cars up on their lifts and another waiting to get looked at, plus about two tons of paperwork that needed filing and an apartment that needed unpacking. My grandpa’s latest crush was the least of my concerns.

“Why are you here?” I asked.

“Ali,” was Earl’s response.

I walked away.

Nope. No patience at all.

Fuck Tuesdays.

“Want me to call Lloyd in?”

Across the garage, wiping the grease off a lug nut, Mac stared back at me with squinty, brown eyes.

I shook my head. “No, it’s only three cars. We can do it. How are you coming along on that jeep?”

Mac shrugged bony shoulders. “All right. Just finished rotating the tires. Going to check the fuel and I’ll be done.”

“Then you take rat lady’s Porsche,” I decided, jerking a thumb over my shoulder to where the shiny, red convertible sat roasting in the sun. “I’ll finish the truck.”

Mac gave me the thumbs up and went back to screwing the bolts into the jeep.

The truck needed more work. It was a full day job and those were the kind I liked. Minor fixes throughout the day got exhausting. But I thrived on single minded focus. It made the day go by quicker. At one point, I was conscious of Mac pulling the Porsche onto the lift in the trench next to mine, but didn’t glance over. I couldn’t even be certain how much time had passed until the clip of hurried feet interrupted my quiet.

If it was that damn woman and her yippy dog, I was going to hit something.

Nevertheless, I hauled myself out of the hole and rose to greet the intruder.

“You!”

Ali blinked behind square, black framed glasses. “I’m pretty sure I introduced myself yesterday,” she stated brazenly. “I’m also pretty sure I didn’t say my name was you.”

What the hell was she doing back? I was certain I had successfully run her off and yet, there she was in her flowy, floral printed dress and sandals. There was a grocery bag hanging from her fingertips and an enormous purse strapped across her chest. What was worse was her hair. I couldn’t tell exactly what color it was, but it was a chaotic mess of brown, dark brown, even darker brown, some strips of possibly red and even hints of gold. I wasn’t sure if it was a dye job gone wrong, or if it was her natural color, but I would have put my money on natural, simply because it made more sense considering how unusual she was.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

She held up the bag. “I’m looking for Earl. I came to bring him these.”

I took the bag because she just kept standing there, holding it out like that was what she expected me to do.

“Eggs?”

“Yup.” She shot a glance around the shop. “Is he here?”

I lowered my arm and the bag. “You brought him eggs?”

Those unwavering eyes found mine. “That and a pet squirrel, but he’s invisible so you can’t see him.”

She said it with such a straight face that, while I knew she was bullshitting, there was a tiny moment of uncertainty.

“Why did you bring him eggs?”

I decided the sane thing to do was ignore the squirrel comment.

“Because he dropped his yesterday,” she stated with a hint of accusation that I wasn’t sure I liked. “Did you know his leg bothers him?”

I scowled at her. “I’ve known the man my entire life. Of course I know.”

“Uh huh.” She folded her arms. “And why doesn’t he have a cane? And why don’t you go to the store? Do you realize how hot it was yesterday? What’s the matter with you?”

Wow. I wasn’t even sure which of those things to address first.

“What?”

“Yesterday,” she said very slowly, like I was an absolute idiot. “Earl walked all the way to the store, with his leg hurting, in one of the hottest days we’ve had in years and you just stayed here, in a nice, air conditioned building. You’re a real asshole, you know that?”

That was the second time she’d called me an asshole and I liked it even less than the first time.

“Okay, you listen here, you—”

My not so nice and colorful series of names I’d invented for her in my head was stalled by Earl’s appearance at the office door and his exclamation of absolute delight at the sight of Ali.

“I knew you would come back!”

Ali snatched the bag out of my hand, shot me a venomous sneer, and then hurried to meet Earl before he started down the steps.

“I brought you eggs,” she told him, holding out the bag. “I wasn’t sure if you still needed them.”

Earl looked absolutely delighted. “Thank you, sweetheart. That was real nice of you. Why don’t you help me make tea and you can tell me why you didn’t come in today.”

I expected her to do the decent thing, to make an apology and an excuse and leave. But if I had learned anything about the odd flurry of crazy that was Ali Eckrich, it was that she was not normal.

“Why don’t we go for dinner?” she offered instead. “I brought my car.”

“Dinner?” Earl perked. “Dinner sounds wonderful. Gabriel, go clean up.”

It was a tossup who was more stunned by the command. Ali and I both exchanged semi horrified glances that went completely ignored by Earl.

“Grandpa, I have work—”

“It’s closing time anyway in half an hour,” the older man stated sharply. “And when a pretty lady asks you to dinner, you don’t say no!”

I glanced at Ali, not because I wanted to see this pretty he was talking about, but because I was more certain than ever that she was the antichrist. I’d barely known her for twenty-four hours and she had managed to push every one of my buttons, and I wasn’t the type of guy who got easily ruffled. But everything about her had my senses going on high alert. And it wasn’t because she was some unbearably beautiful creature that just radiated sexual appeal and magnetism. She was fairly ordinary and possessed the type of features that were mostly hidden behind an array of unkempt hair and bug-eye glasses. However, she did radiate something. I just wasn’t sure what the hell that was. All I knew was that she was colossal pain in the ass and I was better off keeping her away from me.

“She asked you out to dinner,” I said, already turning away.

“And I’m telling you to go clean up!” Earl barked, hobbling his way down the steps.

Grandpa had been a Master Sergeant back in the day, before friendly fire accidentally blew out his leg. The wound had healed and he’d continued on with his duties until retirement. But every year, that leg kept getting worse and worse, and he was too stubborn to use a cane. He claimed it wrecked his street cred with the ladies, but I knew it was pride. I threatened to superglue the thing to his hand while he was sleeping, but he knew I wouldn’t; my mother would kill me. Thirty-five years did not give me the confidence to piss that woman off. Besides, Earl might have been old, but I wasn’t going to intentionally put a blunt weapon in his hand to beat me over the head with.

He reached the bottom landing and straightened all six feet of himself to glower up at me with the confidence of a man who knew he could beat my ass no matter how old he was.

“Do I have to repeat myself?”

Had Earl not raised me after my dad rammed his car into a pole when I was six, I would have told him to forget it. But he was the only father figure I had and I respected the man too much to disobey.

“No,” I muttered.

“Good. Take these with you.”

The carton of eggs were shoved into my hands. My gaze shot over Earl’s head to where Ali stood, watching the exchange with about as much joy as I felt. And in that moment, I realized something; she made me feel young and not in a good way. She made me feel childish and petty. I wanted to stick my tongue out at her and that was just mortifying.

Eggs in hand, I stalked past the two and marched my way upstairs. The eggs were placed in the fridge and I went to wash up and change clothes.

The loft had been my apartment before I moved and I only moved because I got tired of sharing my space with everyone at the garage. As a control freak, I would never dream of leaving my underwear lying about, but what if I did? What if I wanted that option? I couldn’t. But aside from that, I had plans to renovate the place and that involved me not being there when it began. So I had found a place close by and started a life that didn’t involve the shop for the first time in five years. A part of me was ready to move on and start forgetting. But a very large part of me needed to return to what had once given me peace and joy. I wasn’t sure how, but one thing at a time.

Ali and Earl were standing where I’d left them when I made my way back downstairs, freshly showered and dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt. Earl was telling her something that had Ali clutching her stomach and laughing with enough force to make her entire body quiver. She wasn’t even trying to be quiet, or delicate about it. I felt a twitch in my lips as the sound rolled over the garage in waves of delirious delight. Something about her laughter was irrationally contagious and it momentarily charmed me, before I caught myself and sanity prevailed.

“Ah, Gabriel, you’re here.” Earl caught sight of me first. “I was just telling Ali about the time you let Tamara dress you up as a girl for Halloween.”

I hated that story. I hated that no one ever seemed to forget it. You try to do the brotherly thing once and no one ever let you live it down.

“I was a kid,” I muttered in self-defense.

“You were twenty-seven,” Earl corrected without missing a beat.

I refused to be drawn into one of Earl’s little games where he tried to get me to socialize by coaxing me into conversation with people I really didn’t want to talk to. He’d been doing that since I was a kid, inviting random kids over off the street to play with me because I liked being alone. Thankfully, that was during a time when neighbors trusted each other and no police were phoned. By the time I was a teenager, I learned not to tell my grandfather about not having friends. I lied mostly. It wasn’t until high school when I met Mac and Lloyd and the lie became a fact. As a grown man, he was no longer interested in finding friends to keep me company. His job now was to find me a woman, because I refused to. Women were a complication I wasn’t mentally, or emotionally equipped to handle. Ali was definitely the sort I needed to stay away from. Everything about her screamed dangerous, which was ironic considering she looked like a librarian.

I glanced towards the woman in question and caught her already watching me with a look of contemplation that made my apprehension prickle.

“What?”

One corner of her mouth twisted downward in what I could only assume was grudging acceptance.

“Nothing,” she grumbled in a manner that suggested I was just too stupid to understand.

Truth be told, I probably wouldn’t have. The woman made no sense and I was pretty sure half the stuff that came out of her mouth were things that didn’t get filtered properly through her brain, like she blurted out the first thing to pop into her head and be damned the consequences. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. While I appreciated and respected honesty, she always seemed to be laughing at me, not with me.

“Is that all you can say?” she suddenly blurted.

I faltered mid stride. “What?”

She sighed heavily. “Thought so.”

Then she walked away, leaving me staring after her with absolutely no idea of what just happened.

“Do you see why I like her?” Earl stepped up next to me.

“No,” I replied honestly. “She’s insane.”

Earl patted me on the arm. “It’s the crazy ones that are the best to have around. Your grandmother drove me insane and I was married to her for fifty years.”

“Crazy also sets your clothes on fire,” I muttered. “And you better get that insane notion out of your head.”

Earl’s white eyebrows migrated together. “What notion?”

“The one where you set me up with her. I know what you’re up to.”

“Set up? What? I don’t understand this new age talk.”

“I can find my own women.”

He blinked those big, brown eyes at me. “Are you building one from scratch?” He put his hand up when I started opening my mouth. “I get it. What happened to Regina—?”

The contents of my stomach soured and I felt it working up my chest to pool at the back of my throat.

“Gramps…”

“I know!” He closed a hand around my arm. “It was horrible, but you can’t go on in life like this. What happened to her wasn’t your fault. It’s time, Gabe.” He gave a meaningful squeeze and let go. “Besides, let me let you in on a little secret.” He leaned in close and lowered his voice. “Your stick doesn’t magically get waxed on its own and eventually, you’ll give yourself blisters.”

With those sage words of wisdom, my grandfather hobbled his way out of the shop, leaving me standing there watching after him, torn between wanting to face palm and laugh.

“Hey, you leaving?” Mac poked his head out of the trench, his face smeared with grease.

I sighed. “Yeah, you okay closing up?”

Mac shrugged. He did that a lot. It was his thing, like breathing, or picking his nose. He was a shrugger and it drove Lloyd insane.

“Yeah, no problem.”

I thanked him and stepped out into what felt like a thousand degrees of raw heat. The rubber soles of my work boots sucked at the hot asphalt the entire way to where Ali and Earl stood, like the ground was made of chewing gum. Sweat collected along the back of my neck and slithered down the length of my spine before soaking into my t-shirt. My jeans chaffed parts of me I did not appreciate and the longer I had to squint at the happy, unruffled couple waiting for me, the more certain I was that they weren’t human.

Ali’s car was a late model Camaro in gun metal gray. Just by looking at it, I knew someone had put a great deal of time, money, and trouble into souping her up. Every inch of it was detailed to perfection. The hubcaps were top of the line titanium with a unique sunburst design and the chrome frame gleamed in the harsh light. Her treatment of her car made me like Ali Eckrich just a little bit more.

“You know, I get car sick,” Earl was telling Ali when I walked up to them. “I prefer the back.”

Not knowing Earl and his slick little antics, Ali shrugged and yanked open the door. She flipped the lever to the passenger’s side seat and sent it slumping forward.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Very,” Earl assured her as he stooped his way into the back.

Ali returned the front seat to its original position and stepped aside to let me in. I didn’t budge. I had never had a woman open a car door for me and I was still determining whether or not I liked it, when she spoke.

“Don’t mean to rush you, but I’m not getting any less hungry.”

“I can get my own door,” I said, not caring how that sounded.

It was impossible to tell with the glasses covering half her face, but I could have sworn her eyebrow lifted.

“Will your penis convert into a vagina if a woman holds the door for you?”

Something about the way she said it, the sound of those words coming out of her mouth when she looked like she belonged in some church choir, sent a zing of electricity coursing through me that I did not appreciate. I had worked too long and too hard to let some loony librarian ruffle my feathers.

“Because I was raised to be a gentleman,” I stated hotly.

Her mouth actually quirked in pacifying amusement. “How’s that working out for you, Jack?”

“My name is Gabe,” I said with barely suppressed aggravation. “Not Jack.”

The witch actually had the nerve to nod coolly and reply, “I know.”

She left me standing there, debating just how badly I was willing to piss off my grandfather, and made her way behind the wheel. The sound of her door slamming shut jolted me into motion.

Fucking Tuesdays.

The woman drove as though there were gun-wielding maniacs chasing us. There were moments where I feared for my life, moments that were unreciprocated by the other two passengers; Earl sounded like he was having the time of his life in the backseat.

“Do you normally drive like this?”

She turned her head to look at me. “Like what?”

“Watch the road!” I practically wet myself when she stomped on the brake, jerked the wheel hard right, and propelled us down a side street. “Jesus Christ!”

“Oh calm down, Jack,” she said, clearly enjoying my terror. “I’ve been driving since I was sixteen and haven’t gotten so much as a parking ticket.”

Yet oddly enough, that in no way reassured me.

“At this speed, you will get us all killed if you—”

“Well, now that you said it, I probably will!” she snapped. “Why would you jinx us like that?”

“Jinx? What—?”

We rounded another corner at speeds that made my stomach crawl into the back of my throat. I wanted to shut my eyes, fuck masculinity, but I couldn’t. My eyes were frozen open, capturing every horrific moment of the last minutes of my life.

But as abruptly as the world was swirling around us, it came to a shrieking halt when she practically Tokyo Drifted into an empty parking spot. I leapt out of the car before she could even think about putting it in drive again, or at least, I tried to. My seatbelt grabbed me and thrust me back into the seat three times before I realized I still had it clipped in.

“You okay there, slugger?” Ali snickered.

I wanted to flip her off. No. I wanted to strangle her. What the hell kind of crazy nut job was she?

“There is something severely wrong with you,” I hissed, pitching the strap off and throwing myself out of the car.

It was amazing how a near death experience could make you love the scorching heat when your entire body was drenched in cold sweat. I would have doubled over and retched, except I still had some pride rattling around somewhere inside.

“I haven’t seen driving like that since I was a kid racing my car down Dead Man’s Cliff for a chance to date Candy Jacobs, the prettiest cheerleader in my whole school,” Earl was saying when he hopped out of the backseat. “Ever considered it?”

“Dating Candy Jacobs?” Ali teased. “Maybe for a second. Cheerleaders do funny things to my insides.”

Earl laughed and patted her on the arm. “I meant racing.”

Ali laughed. “No, I don’t drive nearly that crazy.”

It was my turn to snort. “I don’t think there’s a name for your level of crazy,” I muttered.

“Don’t listen to him,” Earl comforted, even though Ali looked unmoved by my statement. “He’s a stick in the mud.”

“Are you sure it’s mud?” Ali replied crisply.

Reaching in, she snatched up her purse out of the backseat and tossed the strap over one shoulder. She closed her door and motioned Earl to start walking. I followed at a much less steady pace.

The restaurant was a steaks and burgers sort of place with a bright green awning straining partially over the sidewalk and shielding the five wrought iron tables and chairs. Large bay windows gleamed black in the late evening glare. It was a place I had seen in passing, but had never had a reason to go in; if it wasn’t delivered into the comfort of my living room, I had no use for it.

“Do you want to sit inside, or out?” Ali asked Earl.

His wizened face twisted. I wasn’t sure if it was in deliberation, or the fact that we were standing in the middle of the sidewalk with the sun beating down on us, but his eyes disappeared into the folds of his wrinkles and he pursed his lips.

“Out,” he decided at last with a definite nod.

I wanted to tell him he was out of his mind. No way was I going to park my butt on twisted bits of metal that had been roasting in the sun most of the day. But the verdict had been given and the pair were moving to an empty corner tucked between a potted plant and the window. I stayed rooted to the sidewalk, not by choice, mind you; the rubber on my shoes had begun to fuse into the concrete.

Peeling free, I shuffled my way forward, careful not to nudge the other diners as I edged around them. The narrow path was not designed for a man my size.

There was one seat available when I finally reached the table. I dropped into it. The cool metal felt amazing against the puddles of sweat collecting between my clothes and skin. Part of me wanted to strip naked and hug the thing to me.

I was seriously dying.

“You have to try the cheeseburger,” Ali was telling Earl when I struggled to pay attention. “I’m pretty sure they’re laced with crack.”

Earl laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever had crack laced burgers before. Will definitely try it.” He sobered and turned shiny brown eyes on me. Reflexively, I stiffened. “So there’s a reason I asked you both here.” He folded his hands neatly on the table and straightened his shoulder. “I think we need to discuss what’s going on between you two.”

I was only partially relieved when Ali looked as confounded as I felt.

“There is nothing going on between us,” I told him.

“I know!” Earl said with more than just a hint of exasperation. “That’s the problem. You two need to start getting along, especially since you’ll be working together.”

Ali shifted uncomfortably. “Earl, I told you—”

“I know what you told me,” Earl interrupted. “But I refuse to accept it. Now, the only thing standing in our way of moving forward is the two of you, so.” He glanced from me to Ali and back. “What are we going to do about it?” His bushy eyebrows lifted when neither of us responded. “Okay, well, why don’t we start with you, Gabriel? Why don’t you tell us your reservations?”

I couldn’t make up my mind if this was an intervention, an interrogation, or a counseling session. Whichever it was, between it and the sun, I was ready to strangle a baby.

“Grandpa, if you want to hire her, hire her. It’s your shop.”

Earl sighed. “One day, it will be yours and you need to know how to do this stuff.”

“What stuff?” I countered, a little too sharply. “I know how to run a business.”

Earl gave me that look. It was a mix between pitying, sorrowful, and defeated. I hated it. I didn’t understand it. I was fine. Didn’t I look fine? Hadn’t I done all I could to be fine? I wasn’t going to fall to pieces damn it!

“If you want her to work at the shop,” I started slowly, choosing my words carefully and calmly. “Then I will support that decision. I will even get her name stamped on the office door. Whatever you want. Just leave me out of it.”

There was a reason I didn’t like women at my shop. There was a reason I didn’t like women period. Life was less complicated without them and it took me a long time to get to a place I was finally happy. I was ready to move on and maybe even live again. I wasn’t going to let Earl, or Ali ruin that for me.

“Look, this really isn’t a problem,” Ali interrupted. “I’m not going to force myself into a place I’m not wanted. Besides, Jack’s right—” Who the fuck was Jack? “—I don’t belong there. I don’t know the first thing about automotive work.” She touched Earl’s hand lightly. “But thank you for caring so much.”

Earl started to answer her when the waitress took that moment to appear. Green eyes spotted Ali and widened as big as the grin that blossomed across her face.

“Ali!”

Ali started, visibly surprised before she offered a smile back. “Hey Jen!”

Jen darted a glance over the table at me and Earl, confusion and surprise tangling her thin eyebrows together.

“You brought guests,” she observed, her tone suggesting this wasn’t a common thing. “Does this mean you’ll be eating in?”

“Yeah.” Ali fidgeted slightly. “This is Earl and his grandson. I thought they’d like to try out the burgers.”

Grandson. Not even Jack. It really shouldn’t have bothered me, yet I was irked that she refused to say my name.

“Hi!” Jen said. “I’m Jen.” She produced leather bound menus from beneath her arm and set them down on the table. “I’m going to be your waitress. Can I start you guys off with drinks?”

I ordered a beer. I needed a beer. Earl got coffee and Ali ordered an iced tea.

Jen jotted it all down quickly. “Great. I’ll be right back with those. You guys go ahead and look over the menu.”

She hurried off and we just sat in silence that felt extra heavy thanks to the heat. All I could think about was crawling on top of the table and napping.

The shriek of Earl’s chair legs against the slabs of concrete making up the patio jolted me partially awake.

“Going to hit the head,” he declared. “First thing to go when you get old, your bladder.”

Ali chuckled, but no one said anything as he ambled away, leaving me alone with Ali.

We didn’t speak. She seemed not to notice. Her focus had clung to the couple a few tables over. The light was reflecting off her glasses, so I couldn’t make out her eyes, but her head was tilted a notch to the left and she seemed utterly focused. After a moment, she huh’d in interest and cocked her head right.

“What?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking.

She gave an inconspicuous jerk of her chin towards the couple. “They’re having an affair.”

That was not something I had been expecting. My own interest perked out of sheer curiosity and I turned my head an inch or so over my shoulder to study the pair through the restaurant window.

The girl was in her early twenties with shiny blonde hair that fell in a sleek sheet down her back. The man was older, but not so old to draw attention. Possibly in his mid to late thirties. He wore a dark gray suit and his brown hair was combed back from an attractive face. He had an arm around the back of the girl’s chair and was leaning close to murmur into her ear. I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. They appeared to be a normal couple out to dinner.

“How can you tell?” I wondered.

“He’s wearing a ring,” Ali murmured. “She’s not. He’s trying to convince her to stay, but she’s not sure that’s a good idea, although I’m not sure if she’s unsure because he’s married, or because he has kids.”

The married assumption made sense—I saw the gold band around his finger—but…

“How do you know he has kids?”

“Baby spit on his shoulder.”

Sure enough, there was a faint patch on his right shoulder that was darker than the rest of the suit, like the spot had been scrubbed at with a wet cloth.

Now I huh’d, genuinely impressed. I wasn’t in the habit of watching other people on a normal, day to day basis. Maybe because I wasn’t normally a fan of people. People had a way of bringing out the homicidal psychopath in me. There were days I marveled at my own willpower not to snap. But it did make me curious about my companion. So much about her just didn’t add up and I wasn’t a man who liked unresolved ends.

“What’s your story?” I asked, fixing her with the full force of my attention.

Her head tipped in my direction and I wanted to snatch those godforsaken glasses off her face so I could see her eyes. It was impossible to read a person when you couldn’t see what they were thinking. I hated that she hid behind them and the frizzy mess of hair drifting around her face. Everything about her felt like a mask she was trying to put between herself and the world and I couldn’t figure out why.

“My story?”

I nodded and leaned back in my chair. “Yeah, who are you?”

Her head tipped to the side and she peered into me, studying me the way she had been studying that couple, like she was trying to pick me apart, or maybe she was picking apart my question. Although, I couldn’t fathom why. It was a rational question. Normal even.

“Are you asking as a man, or as someone who could potentially be my boss?”

Her response intrigued me. I hadn’t thought of that and it left me trying to decide how to respond.

“Does it matter?” I finally asked.

“Yes,” she said simply. “There are things I could tell a man I was interested in taking to bed that I wouldn’t tell my boss.”

Her blunt, honest answer sent a hot sizzle through me, igniting all the places that had been dormant for a damn long time. It reminded me that I hadn’t had a woman in more years than was probably considered healthy, or normal. It reminded me that she was a woman behind her mask. But above all that, it illuminated things, small, subtle things that I wouldn’t normally allow myself to notice. Like how soft her mouth looked and how the color reminded me of a warm, freshly spanked ass. She had nice lips, a little thin on top, but the bottom made up for it. The curve was slightly off, a barely noticeable notch too high on the right, but that only seemed to add to its appeal. Her chin was tapered to a subtle point, not sharp, but not square and her nose turned up ever so slightly, giving the line an almost regal flare. Everything else was strategically tucked away and it filled me with an urgency I wasn’t accustomed to feeling.

“Boss,” I said at last.

I wasn’t sure I could handle the answer to the latter. I wasn’t willing to brand those answers into my head. She already had the ability to make my mind drift to things it shouldn’t. I didn’t want images of other men in her bed.

“I’m observant,” she stated evenly. “Sometimes that gets me into trouble. I’m sarcastic and I lack the discipline to keep my thoughts to myself.” Her head tilted to the side and she continued to study me. “But apart from those things, I’m smart, I learn fast and I will never lie to you.”

It was all said with the professionalism one would expect of an interviewee vying for the position, but the truth beneath each word hummed around us long after she stopped speaking.

“That doesn’t tell me who you are,” I murmured. “My grandfather is sold on you and I want to know why.”

She was saved from having to answer by Jen with our drinks. My beer was set in front of me and Ali got her iced tea.

“Your meals will be out shortly,” she told Ali.

Ali frowned. “We haven’t ordered yet.”

“Oh, your friend did,” Jen said happily. “He paid for everything and told me to tell you to enjoy and he’d see you back at the shop tomorrow.”

Ali’s head shot in my direction, but I must not have given her the reaction she was expecting, because her shock turned into suspicion.

“Did you know?”

I rubbed a hand back through my hair. “I suspected.”

It was amusing, watching her try and piece that together.

“Why would he leave?”

“Because he wants us to work it out and bond.”

“Bond?” she mimicked like the notion was foreign and a little offensive. “I don’t want to bond with you.”

Well, at least she hadn’t been lying about the not lying bit. But her reaction prickled something else inside me.

“Were you hoping for a romantic dinner with Earl?”

Her mouth clamped shut and she jerked back an inch like my words had physically slapped her. Something sharp and intense sparked behind her glasses and that was all the warning I got before the entire contents of her glass was dumped over my head. Cubes of ice clunked against the top of my scalp before finding their way down the back of my shirt. Sticky, cold liquid drenched my clothes and flattened my hair to my face. I would have exclaimed in horror, but all I could manage was to shove my chair back and leap to my feet in silent outrage as iced tea rained down my forehead.

“That,” she seethed, slamming her glass down, “was the third time you accused me of being a whore and it better be the last.”

She stalked off, leaving me to seethe in silence as the stunned waitress watched on with her hands over her mouth. I couldn’t even find the sense to be embarrassed that we had drawn the attention of, not only the people on the patio, but also those walking by and a few more peering out from inside the restaurant. All I wanted to do was strangle the woman responsible.

As if summoned by the mere thought of my rage, Ali stormed back. She snatched up my beer, and for one oh you better fucking not moment, I thought she was going to dump that on me as well, or hurl the whole bottle. Instead, she shoved it into Jen’s hands.

“No beer for him!” she snapped at the wide-eyed waitress. “I won’t be responsible for him getting hit by a car on his walk home, as much as he deserves it.”

Then she stalked off again.

I stared after her a full moment before my brain finally clicked into gear and I started moving. My single minded focus carried me across the distance, around tables and patrons alike in the direction of Ali’s swaying hips. I had no clear notion of what I would do when I got my hands on her, but I had an idea to pull her over my knee, hoist that hideous skirt up over her hips and spank her until she never did that again. I was just about to catch her too. I was so close. When a secondary sound interrupted my thrum of anger. I pulled out of the red mist just as a group of boys hurled themselves over the sidewalk on their skateboards and bikes, laughing and jeering each other on in some competition that was mindless and heedless. I knew they wouldn’t stop and Ali was walking straight into their path.

“Ali!”

I grabbed her before she could react, before she could take that last step off the patio and straight into a possible collision. My hands closed around her waist and I yanked her back, causing her to stumble into me. Her back flattening into my chest and I instinctively cradled her close. The boys hooted and hollered and rolled past without casting us a single glance. But I didn’t notice.

In my arms, Ali was rigid. Her back rose and fell quickly against my chest and I could feel the rapid patter of her heart syncing with mine. Her dress was getting soaked from my damp shirt and droplets rained from the long fringes of my hair to trace down the bare curve of her collarbone. I watched as one slid free of the hollow and vanished into the dark valley beneath the u-shaped collar of her top. I felt her gasp, felt her shudder, felt the quick flex of her stomach muscles beneath my hand and I cursed as my own body reacted. Her feminine scent rose around me like sheer drapes drifting in the warm, summer breeze. It wasn’t anything ridiculous like most women who paraded around smelling like food. Her scent was soft and subtle. It was soap, something floral and wild. It reminded me of springtime and rain and dewy grass.

Then it was gone when she jerked out of my hold and whirled around to face me. Whatever she might have been feeling only moments ago was a mask of anger behind bright, pink cheeks.

“What are you doing?”

Fuck if I know, I wanted to tell her.

“You almost got killed,” I said instead.

Her throat muscles bobbed rapidly. “By a pack of kids on skateboards? Were they armed with hand grenades?”

When said like that, my moment of heroism died a pathetic death, taking my erection right along with it.

“Well, I’ll know better next time!” I snapped, shoving around her and starting down the sidewalk without glancing back.

I walked home. The setting sun dried my clothes, but left them clinging uncomfortably to my sticky, sweaty, sugary skin. My hair felt crusty and gross. Everything about my situation pissed me off. The whole day made me wish I hadn’t left my bed. I kept telling myself I would start taking Tuesdays off. Fuck that shit. The headache wasn’t worth the effort.

It was dark by the time I stomped up my apartment stairs and forced my way into my suite. I pitched my keys onto the cluttered table next to a mountain of dishes, clothes, and an old boombox I would one day eventually throw out. It struck the scarred wood and slid before coming up short against a mountain of books. I kicked off my boots and stripped my way through a maze of unpacked boxes to the bathroom.

The thing I hated most about the bathroom was the lack of a tub. While I didn’t like marinating in my own filth, I never realized how dependent I was on just the mere sight of the porcelain bowl until I rented the apartment and realized there was no tub, just a stand up shower in a fairly spacious cubical. The bathroom itself was abnormally large compared to the sitting room, which had all seemed much larger and normal when I had first viewed the place. I wanted to think it was because I had my shit strewn all over the place, but the reality of it had struck me during the move in that I might just need to start getting rid of some stuff.

I didn’t have a shower curtain. I kept meaning to find the box containing, well, everything, but I figured if I angled the showerhead just right, I might be able to get away with it without causing it to rain in the apartment downstairs.

It took the water about a minute to warm up. I stepped beneath the hard spray and let it rinse the crusted sugar from my hair and off my face.

Damn woman, I kept thinking as I scrubbed. What was her problem anyway? And who said anything about a whore? I knew my grandfather better than anyone. I knew how he was with women and how—oddly enough—they were with him. Earl had a way with the female race that I couldn’t for the life of me fathom. They somehow saw right past the fact that he was nearly a hundred and he seemed to forget, too. The end result was always me driving him to the hospital because something either broke, sprained, or wouldn’t go down. The latter would forever haunt my nightmares. But the fact of the matter was that Earl got women, hot, young women. What the hell was I supposed to think?

Shutting my eyes, I tipped my face beneath the spray. One fisted hand planted into the tiled wall and I leaned in close. Warm rivulets traced down my jaw and followed a path along the arch of my throat to cascade down the planes of my chest. I held my breath and counted the beats of my heart to fifteen before exhaling.

Damn woman.

My mind jumped right back to Ali as though it had never left. She filled the black place behind my closed eyelids with images of her soft, pink mouth. All the places she had melded into me burned in recollection. My cock thickened at the memory of her backside settling firmly over it. She had fit perfectly along the length of me. I almost hadn’t wanted to let go. Truthfully, had she not pulled away, I probably wouldn’t have.

The reality of that fact jerked me back. My eyes snapped open and I stared at the white caps of my knuckles.

I twisted the shower off and snatched a towel off the peg, attempting to ignore the raging hard on bobbing against my abdomen. The thing had been a constant companion the last day and a half, reminding me just how long it had been since I’d had a woman, not that I needed it. I knew exactly how long it had been. Six years, to be exact. While the date was hazy, I could vividly recall the events. But I had studiously bottled those needs. I had shoved them deep in the chasm of my mind and kept them trapped there for what I had hoped would be an eternity. Instead, two minutes in her presence and my cock was a starved dog confronted by the promise of a steak. I honestly wasn’t sure who to blame for my problems, me or her. I decided her. It was all her fault. She was the antichrist set out to destroy my life.

Pitching aside my damp towel in true man form, I ambled over to the window across the room and yanked up the blinds. The cord caught about midway and refused to budge no matter how hard I yanked. Relenting, I reached through the twenty four inches of space and threw open the window. Muggy night air swirled in, mixing with the steamy air trapped in the bathroom. Both washed over my bare skin like a welcoming caress. I closed my eyes, hoping the change in temperature could somehow taper the fire crackling awake inside me.

It didn’t. If anything, the desire was a white hot throb that refused to be quashed. It brewed, hotter than ever until I had no choice but to fist it tight and grit my jaw. My nostrils flared as I fought the urge to just spray all over the wall like a kid learning to masturbate for the first time. The hard thump of my heart pounding against my chest echoed through me. Behind my closed eyelids, all I could make out was pink lips tilted just a little too far on the right. It took no time at all for my imagination to build on that, to visualize them open and stretched around the fat head of my cock. I could see my hand fist in that wild mess of hair, ripping out the elastic and gripping her to me as she took me deep into the hot cave of her mouth.

Drawing in a shaky breath, I opened my eyes and squinted at the window. The world outside was a smear of black broken only by the soft, golden glow from the apartment directly across from mine. The other windows were dark, the occupants not home, or maybe already in bed. One had their curtains drawn. But the one adjacent to mine, the terrace doors were open, the blinds drawn apart wide to expose a six drawer dresser topped with a gilded, oval mirror, the foot of a wide bed, one of those bed benches women liked so much and … a woman.

I blinked, not because I believed she was some kind of hallucination, but because of the way she was leaning against the open frame of her doors. The light from behind her painted her in a dark outline, making it almost impossible to make anything out, but I saw enough.

She must have just gotten out of the shower as well, because her dark hair was a cascading tangle of damp curls all the way to her hips and the shimmery, peach colored fabric of her satin robe was stained by wet patches. But what captured my attention, and had my cock twinging in a new burst of lust, was the unknotted sash waving in the night like a pale snake. It hung free at her sides, leaving the front parted to the evening. The flimsy thing barely covered miles of long, perfect legs, legs that were ever so slightly parted to accommodate the hand tucked high against her mound.

Her face was bent forward, obscured by the thick curtain of hair swinging around her shoulders. One forearm was braced against the wood as she leaned into the steady strokes of her fingers. She seemed lost in that place between passion and release. I knew it was wrong to watch, but hell if I was going to stop.

My fingers tightened around my weeping erection. The vein pulsed steadily beneath my palm as I matched my strokes to hers. It could have been the wind, or my imagination, but I could have sworn I heard the quiet moan of pleasure. It seemed to hum between our two buildings before fading to nothing. A breeze drifted through the crack and swept aside the flap of her robe, not enough to show a damn thing, but it was enough to make me want to slide up behind her, take a hold of her hips, and push home inside her. I didn’t even care what she looked like, or who she was. All I wanted was to feel myself replace her fingers. I wanted to close my hand in her hair, bow her body back into mine, and fuck her right there on the terrace. I wanted to expose her breasts to the night and my hands. I wanted to hold them in my palms as I rode her long and hard.

A choked gasp brought me back and I watched her knees tremble and the hand on the frame tightened. The one nestled between her thighs quickened and I could have sworn I could hear the wet sound of her pumping fingers moving deep inside her slick channel.

She came with a shudder. Her head dropped even further forward and she slumped into the doorjamb.

The hand I had braced against the window ledge tightened at the same moment as the sagging folds of skin around my balls did.

I came. Hard.

Thick ropes of come splattered over the wall and trickled across the white linoleum. My knees quivered and I swayed forward slightly. Ragged tufts of breath expelled with every tremor until I thought I would suffocate. By far, that had to have been the most intense climax I’d had in ages, and I didn’t know what the hell to make of it. Sure I’d seen porn, but this was different. The high was incredible.

I lifted my head to peer at the woman and was relieved she was still leaning against the door. Her hand slipped slowly from inside her and the light from her apartment shone over the gloss coating her fingers. My own desires reared its head as I imagined her coating my dick in that fashion. I imagined pushing her down on her knees and making her clean us both off my cock. Then taking her inside and starting all over again. Instead, all I could do was watch as she stood there and silently will her to lick her fingers clean.

She didn’t.

She drew her robes together and hurried inside without me ever seeing her face. A moment later, the light snapped off and I was alone in the new darkness with a fresh erection and a familiar beast pacing inside me.

Chapter Three

Ali

I was a pervert.

I mean, I always knew I was somewhere deep inside. You kind of had to be to do what I did. But last night I had reached a peak in my own perverseness that shocked even me.

I had fingered myself to an earth shattering climax right there on my terrace, while watching my neighbor masturbate in the privacy of his bathroom.

Wow. If I could somehow die of pure mortification, I would be in a state of decomposition. What had I been thinking?

Okay, I knew at the time what I was thinking, which was basically holy fuck dude was hot. Things after that had become hazy, like that sense of fake liberation one felt when getting drunk. Taking your clothes off and dancing on the table always seemed like a really good, and logical idea at the time. But come morning, the memories of it made you want to shove your brain into a grinder.

I was horrified and I won’t lie, kind of aroused. I’d never done anything like it, and while I wasn’t a prude, my solitary lover in all of twenty-three years had left me very little to be desired in the way of coupling. What I knew, I was self-taught thanks to the wonders of the internet and my neighbor watching. On the off chance I was actually turned on by what I saw, which was seldom, I took my horny self to bed, got myself off, and went to sleep like a normal person. Instead, I had been captivated by the scene of that magnificent cock gripped in a strong, firm hand. I was drawn by the steady strokes over the rigid length. Something about the sight of him, hard, thick and leaking had lit a fire in the pit of my stomach that made my knees weak and my clit ache. It had seemed like such a waste not to enjoy the moment with him and I was a girl all about the moments.

It had annoyed me that I couldn’t see more than a square notch of beautifully cut abs, parts of a trimmed waist and toned thighs, but something about that fact had also fanned my excitement. I let myself delve knuckle deep inside my forbidden pool in time to my mystery lover’s steady strokes and found he had an amazing rhythm. The motion was perfect for rubbing the heel of my hand over my mound, over the swollen nub. At some point, I was no longer even watching him. I sank into my own pleasure and the explosion promising me the most exquisite bliss. It had been an experience that had literally rocked me to my very foundation. It had been so wrong, so dirty and so fucking amazing, part of me had actually wanted to risk the leap onto his terrace.

I wanted more.

It was sick and disturbing, but just the thought of it got me hot and wet. Part of me wondered if he did that after every shower and if I would have the courage to watch again.

Oh who was I kidding? I was so going to watch again, and again, as often as he kept those blinds up. The man was beautiful and I was addicted to my new neighbor. My only regret was not knowing if there was a Mrs. New Neighbor somewhere in the background. I didn’t whack off for just anyone, but when I did, I kind of liked knowing he was free to be whacked over.

Dressed for the day, most of my embarrassment cooled by my morning shower, I crept to the open terrace doors and cautiously peeked around the corner, half expecting him to still be standing there, naked, cock in hand. So imagine just how disappointed I was to find his blinds all shut and him nowhere to be seen.

I crept out of my hiding spot and stood at the railings to study the glossy sheet of glass separating me from my fantasy lover. I judged the distance between our balconies and estimated a quick and painful plummet to the concrete below. I wasn’t athletic. Any notions of becoming a superhero, or a burglar, was out of the question, so no way in hell would I be able to make that lunge. Realistically, I wouldn’t even if I did have levitating powers. I wasn’t that crazy, or desperate. But if I could, I wasn’t sure what I would do, except maybe stand on his terrace and leave greasy forehead smudges on his window. But in my head … oh, in my head, I would ravage that boy silly and leave him in a sticky, sated mess on his living room floor, because in my head, I was a badass sex goddess.

I laughed at my own clever new nickname and headed back inside. Beneath my bare feet, something went skidding across concrete to bump into the patio frame and stop. I peered down in surprise to find a neatly folded note just peering up at me like it was no big deal. Curious, I picked it up and turned it over in my hand, marveling at the teenage folding abilities that went into its creation. The talent it took to fold each little corner in perfectly was a thing of art. The last time I had seen one so skillfully done, I had been in high school. The note hadn’t been for me, but I assisted in its passing during an especially boring science period. I like to think I made a difference that day. But all in all, I almost didn’t want to open this one. Something this unique needed to be framed, especially since this was the only note anyone had ever sent me. Unless the sender was hoping I would pass it along to another occupant in the building.

But no. It was addressed to me, or rather, it was addressed to: I saw you in a very bold and un-miss-able scribble.

A crazy surge of excitement, panic, and confusion almost made me pitch the thing over the railing and start packing. It was the rational part of my brain that stepped up and took control.

I opened the note carefully, the way I suspected the bomb unit handled explosive devices, and cautiously flattened the creases, prolonging what was sure to be the pit that finally swallowed me whole. All I could think in that moment was that if it was Large, Hairy Man in window three, row three, I would set myself on fire.

No joke.

I started reading.

I don’t want to know your name. I don’t want to know what you look like. But I know you were watching me. I know you liked it. I hope enough to let me watch again.

I stopped reading a moment to give my heart a chance to ooze out from between my ears and return back to my chest.

The good news was that it wasn’t Large, Hairy Man in window three, row three. The bad news was that he, Sexy, New Neighbor had known I was there, had seen me getting freaky with myself … and wanted a repeat performance.

While a very loud cheerleading squad took residence in my nether regions and started doing cartwheels, the mature, adult parts of me, like my brain, pointed out a very real problem: he wanted a repeat performance, meaning, he wanted to watch me. I wasn’t sure how he wanted to accomplish that without seeing my face—paper bag maybe?—but there wasn’t a paper bag big enough to hide the rest of me and that was a concern.

By all logical sense, of which I had a plenty, I wasn’t overweight. I was barely over. I sat at a solid one thirty-five, which to some, seemed like a stupid reason to hate one’s own body shape. But when you grew up with a mom who fed you weight loss granola bars and constantly poked at your baby fat to make a point, body issues were a very real part of your day by the time you hit that pesky, self-conscious age of fifteen. By sixteen, I had wanted to kill myself. Some days, literally. Unlike my sister who went on to open her own gym and spent her days telling cake lovers everywhere they should worship at the temple that was their own bodies and be more socially acceptable, I liked my body wrapped nice and tight beneath layers. Layers gave me an excuse to hide the pudge I could see drooping off me every time I looked in the mirror.

It was strange that I would get the inferiority complex about my image, while Lana, who was older by six years, had to live six whole years more with that woman than I did. Growing up, she had gotten the worst of our mother’s abuse. Everything from her face, to her voice, to the way she walked and chewed her food was criticized and my mom was not known for holding back the punches. While she had never lashed out physically, the taunts, jabs, and cruel remarks were so much worse. From the years between fifteen and seventeen, I had no mirrors in my room. When I did happen to catch a glimpse of my reflection, I could never meet my own eyes. I was twenty by the time I had the courage to stick my head out from behind books and my hair. I only had to leave the country and put thousands of miles between me and my mom to do it. So to say I had a slight problem with Sexy, Next Door’s request was an understatement.

But I read on, mind already made up that I would ignore the request.

Call me tonight at seven. Block your number.

P/S, if you’re with someone, ignore this.

Sincerely,

The Voyeur Next Door.

There was a series of ten numbers written at the bottom and they stared up at me with a mocking sort of slant. The cheerleaders had stopped their whooping and hollering to giggle and pondering just how sexy his voice would sound telling me to touch myself. Yet my rational brain couldn’t help wondering how he planned on making this fantasy a reality with all his conditions. I may not have had sex in a while, but even I knew people had to get damn close to make magic happen.

Didn’t matter, I told myself with haughty indignation. I wasn’t going to do it. I wasn’t going to expose myself to some stranger who could possibly take one look at me and flinch. Last night had been a onetime thing. The way I saw it, we both came and it was good times all around. Why ruin that by adding to it?

Setting aside the letter, I grabbed my purse and went off to do the one thing I’d been dutifully putting off for the last two weeks—grocery shopping, or as I liked to call it, foraging for sustenance in the heart of a warzone.

I hated the whole process. I hated wheeling that rickety cart up and down overflowing aisles, bypassing idiot shoppers and their hell spawns only to stand at the only register open out of thirty for two hours. There were days I preferred gnawing on my own arm rather than endure that bullshit.

Nevertheless, I liked my arms. They helped me do things, like masturbate to my next door neighbor, so grocery shopping it was.

For a miserably hot Wednesday afternoon, everyone and their mother was at Mike’s One-Stop Shop. I barely found a cart, and when I did, I had to snatch it away from a woman in hot, pink spandex pants and a tank top that read: Future Trophy Wife. She snarled something at me in Spanish that I was pretty sure wasn’t a blessing. But in my defense, I had my hand on the thing first. Wasn’t there a universal code for that? Like finders keepers?

She called me a puta bitch and threatened to mess me up when I came out, to which I asked, why wait? I took advantage of her temporary surprise and hurried away, because for all my big talk, she had claws and about six inches of stiletto over me.

Cart in tow, I threw myself into the fray. Mothers with their irate, screaming children seemed to be the main theme of the place. I didn’t even bother risking my life going through the snack aisle. It seemed to be the main hunting grounds, like the zombie apocalypse gone horribly wrong.

At the dairy section, I slowed. My gaze lingered on the eggs and I thought of Earl, which inadvertently, made me think of Gabriel. I felt no remorse for drowning him in my iced tea. He deserved it as far I was concerned, but it did make me feel bad because I knew Earl had his heart set on me being there and, unlike his grandson, I actually liked him. He reminded me of the grandfather I never had. Plus he was actually a decent guy. How many people went out of their way to hire a complete stranger? He didn’t have to, but he did and I was grateful to him for his kindness. It was just too bad his grandson was such a dick.

I grabbed a carton and flipped open the top to check for breaks. It was a habit I learned the hard way back in university after a heated debate with the store clerk about whether or not the eggs had been broken before, or after I bought them. Neither one of us could prove it wasn’t our fault. Ultimately, the blame was placed on me for not checking before buying and I learned a valuable lesson.

“Ali!”

The unexpected explosion of my name sent every nerve ending in my body into automatic panic mode. I jumped. The eggs shot out of my hand and splattered in a yellow mess across the linoleum, yet the worst part was my undignified screech as I whirled around.

Gabriel stared back at me, gray eyes enormous in surprise, like he couldn’t understand what the fuck just happened.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I exploded, clutching at my chest where my heart was threatening to vomit in fright all over my ribcage. “Why are you sneaking up on people?”

He continued to gawk at me from beneath a filthy black baseball cap that was drawn low over his eyes. Stray wisps of hair curled around his ears and along the back of his neck where his t-shirt collar began. It was also black, as were his jeans and disgusting boots.

“Are you robbing the place?”

His brows furrowed as they seemed to do often whenever I spoke. It made me wonder if maybe we didn’t speak the same type of English.

“I called you,” he said finally. “Everyone in the store heard me.”

“I doubt that,” I countered, letting my hand drop down to my side. “This place is like the set of some war movie.”

He said nothing and I wondered if I had to start explaining myself to the guy. I knew my wit wasn’t for everyone, but seriously, I thought I was hilarious.

“So…” I began slowly. “This is awkward.”

“Earl was asking for you this morning,” he said at the exact same moment. “But he didn’t know how to get a hold of you.”

“So, you’re stalking me?”

His eyes narrowed. “I came to get a few things for the flat and saw you.”

It was then that I noticed the cart behind him, filled with things like whole grain and soy. It was all the things in the organic, healthy choices aisle I usually avoided like the plague and children.

“Wow!” I mused, unable to suppress my amazement, and mild amusement. “You’re really taking this mountain man thing to the next level, huh?”

So I had to admit that his beard wasn’t too terrible outside the rustic grunge of his auto body shop. Dressed in black with those intense gray eyes, he actually kind of looked … hot, like a really buff rocker.

“Mountain man?”

I decided to avoid his question by reaching for another carton of eggs. I gingerly set it down in the little spot reserved for children and started moving forward.

“How is Earl?” I asked, feeling the full power of Gabriel’s eyes burning holes into my spine.

“Upset.” He fell into step alongside me with his cart lining up with mine. “He really has his heart set on you working at the shop.”

“And you still hate it,” I ventured, already knowing the answer.

“Yes.” At least he was honest. “I will never like the idea.” He turned his head and I was caught in those silvery eyes. “But if this is important to Earl, I’ll learn to get over it.”

“Just like that?” I stopped walking and turned to him. “You’ll put up with me because your grandfather is upset?”

He stopped next to me and nudged the knuckle of one bent finger against the bill of his cap.

“Earl raised me after my dad died,” he said evenly. “He did all the things a dad would do with his kid right down to beating my ass when I deserved it. There is very little I wouldn’t do for him, even if it means putting up with you.”

While I wasn’t thrilled at being put up with, I came to the notion that I needed a job. Badly. I also had nothing lined up, nor had I bothered looking for anything since moving back and it wasn’t because I was lazy. I had wanted to take the time off and enjoy … me. Between getting emotionally stifled by my mother and then working my brains to soup at school, I had no idea who I was. It was the first time in twenty-three years where I got to do what I wanted, where I was the boss of me. But the time for fun and games was over. I had to join the world of the responsible adult.

“Okay,” I said. “But I have one condition.”

Gabriel gave an almost imperceptible nod.

“I only work until six.”

Gabriel didn’t ask why. Maybe he figured I had some hot social life, or maybe he was at the point where he would agree to anything to appease his grandfather. Either way, I was relieved. I wasn’t sure how to explain my after hour curricular activities to him. I highly doubted neighbor watching would classify as a normal hobby. I didn’t think he would understand. But I paid for my things—paying double for the eggs to cover the cost of the ones I annihilated across the dairy aisle floor—and left the grocery store. Gabriel didn’t follow. He turned his cart in the opposite direction after our talk and disappeared through the throng of frustrated mothers and screaming children.

At home, I packed everything away and made my way into the bedroom with a fruit cup and a spoon. I turned the TV on to some random channel, then made my way to the terrace doors. I pushed them open and stood watching the blank windows. It was still early, too early for anyone to be home. Even Large, Hairy Man had a day job. His battered and severely dented recliner sat lonely and empty in the shabby state of his apartment. But my main focus was the patio straight across from mine. A hot surge of liquid desire coursed through me and pooled in my center. I felt the clench of my muscles grasping for something that wasn’t there and I forgot all about my fruit cup.

Could I? Could I call him and set up a time to meet and fuck? Could I really be that daring? While I wasn’t some wilting wallflower, I wasn’t exactly a leap into the lion’s den kind of girl either. It took a year for me to let my last boyfriend get into my pants. I wouldn’t even wear shorts around him. When we did finally have sex, the lights were off and the curtains were drawn. But I had a feeling it wouldn’t be like that with Sexy, New Neighbor. He would want to see everything and that scared the holy hell out of me. How was I supposed to let him look at this body when even I couldn’t?

No. The best thing to do would be to ignore his request. I would send him a note back, saying thank you, but I wasn’t interested, which was such a lie. I didn’t think I had ever been more interested in anything in my life. I wanted more of the previous night. I wanted to feel that rush. I wanted him to watch.

Clearly, I had problems.

I opted for the coward’s way out. I walked back into the apartment and flopped down on the bed to pretend to watch the weather channel with my fruit cup. All the while, my gaze and attention kept darting to the alarm clock. My subconscious slowly counted down the hours that eased by until seven. By six forty-five, I was nervous enough to piss myself. I was trembling and cotton mouthed like I’d spent the day licking the carpet. My stomach writhed with anxiety and anticipation and the fruit cup was making a comeback. I still hadn’t made up my mind and the quicker time ran out, the more I wanted to scream in frustration.

Call me at seven, he’d said. Well, what if I needed more time? He hadn’t even given me an option. Why couldn’t he have said between seven and infinity? What the hell was I supposed to do?

“Okay, pull yourself together,” I told myself with a firmness that surprised even me. “You will call him and tell him you’re not that kind of girl.”

And what the hell kind of girl was I? I wondered lamely. The day before, I hadn’t believed I was the sort to finger myself out in public either and yet … so I clearly couldn’t use that excuse. Well, maybe I didn’t need an excuse. I was a grown woman and if I didn’t want to sleep with a stranger, well, damn it, I wasn’t going to sleep with him. It wasn’t like I owed him anything. He got off and got a show just like I did. As far as I was concerned, we were even.

My eyes darted to the clock.

Six fifty-seven.

Where the hell was the time going? I swear it never moved that fast when I needed it to.

“Okay.”

I stalked confidently to the dresser and snatched up the note. Then I walked to the end table and grabbed the phone. I held both tightly in my hands and reminded myself that I was a badass sex goddess and I could do this. Yet the urge to vomit persisted.

My hand shook so badly, I had to stop and get my glasses when the numbers became a vibrating blur. I propped myself on the bed and dialed the digits to block my number before punching in his.

It was exactly seven.

Don’t pick up.

Don’t pick up.

Please, God, I will go to church most every Sunday if you…

Click.

“Hello.”

His voice was a low, husky drawl that made me all but come on the spot. Jesus. The man had sex phone operator voice.

“Hi.” My breathy, terrified squeak was mortifying. “I’m—”

“I know who you are.”

I licked my lips, tasting the bitter tang of my own nerves. “I got your note.” I winced. He knows you got his note, idiot! I tried again. “Thank you.”

Apparently, my brain, as smart as it pretended to be, was an absolute moron when it came to men. Where the hell was the sultry vixen it claimed to be? I wondered if it was too late to hang up. Then he spoke.

“You were watching me last night.”

I swallowed before I could speak. “Yes.”

“Do you make a habit of watching people through their windows?”

I snorted slightly. “Yes.”

He was quiet. Then, “Do you touch yourself when you watch them?”

“No.”

“But you did with me.”

It wasn’t a question, nevertheless…

“Yes.”

So far, this was a pretty easy conversation. I just had to listen and occasionally answer with a short and simple response. I could handle that.

“I liked watching you.”

My core clenched and moistened at his husky confession. My breathing quickened and it was a struggle keeping my voice even.

“Me too.”

I heard what I could only assume was a sharp intake of air and even that was sexy as hell.

“I want to see you come again. I want to hear you.”

The sheets rustled as I shifted, trying to peel my soaked panties away from my throbbing crotch. The man held nothing back and I kind of loved that about him.

“Yes,” I breathed, shamelessly flushed and wanton.

A low growl crossed the line between us and catapulted down the length of my spine. It crackled along my skin, raising goose bumps and hardening my nipples to fine points against the front of my robe. The silk fabric whispered against the sensitive peaks, sending another wave of arousal over me that I barely managed to stifle between my teeth.

I didn’t care how we did it, or where, I wanted him inside me. It didn’t even matter that I didn’t know his name, or even what he looked like. All I knew was that I wanted him and that was all I could think about.

“I want you,” I said, seeing no point in pretending otherwise.

“Christ, I want you, too.”

My gaze went to my dresser, my mind an eager little hamster contemplating just how long it would take to get dressed and to his apartment, when he spoke again.

“But we need rules.”

I blinked. Mindless, satisfying sex had rules?

“Rules?”

A sort of chuckle, sort of groan left him. “All things worthwhile have rules.”

I supposed he was right, but I wasn’t sure I liked it. Somehow, whenever I thought of crazy animal sex, I imagined no rules and just a lot of fucking.

“Okay?” I decided carefully.

“No names,” he said right off the bat. “No attachments. This is purely physical. I don’t want to know about your day, or what your plans are for the future. We will set up a time each evening when we can both meet and go our separate ways afterwards. The main purpose of this is sexual gratification without the mess.”

“So how would this work?” I wondered, trying to work the scene out in my head.

“At first? Webcams. I will watch you and you will watch me. Overtime, should we both agree on it, we will progress the relationship while maintaining the stipulations.”

“Why?” I murmured at last. “Why like this? Why not in person?”

“Because I liked knowing that watching me touch myself got you off. I want to see it again. I want to watch you touch yourself for me. We’re not like other people. The anonymity is what gets us hot. Should we ever met, that mystery will be gone. The rules will change and I don’t want that just yet.”

There was no arguing that point. I did like the mystery. I secretly liked the idea of him getting off simply by watching me touch myself. Maybe partially, it was also a sort of ego boost. It was the knowledge that my body was sexy enough to turn a man on.

“What if we accidentally see each other?” I wondered, momentarily terrified by the idea of him seeing my face and it not living up to his expectations.

“I’m rarely home and when I am, I have no desire to set foot on the terrace. I can assure you, unless we meet in person, you will never see me out there.”

That was a mild relief. There were a lot of things I could give up, neighbor watching wasn’t one of them. I needed that. It was my version of chicken soup for the soul. But I knew I couldn’t if I had to worry he might throw open his windows at any moment and spot me. Regardless, I liked the rest of the plan. So long as he stuck to his part of the bargain and stayed away from the veranda, I would happily meet him online to fool around. Only I wasn’t so sure my bravery would remain steadfast if I ever had to face him. At least, not right away. Insane? Yeah, it was. But we all needed to live a little dangerously from time to time.

“So, how do we start?” I asked. “Over the phone?”

He chuckled and that sound was just the epitome of raw sexuality. “Do you have a webcam?”

I did. I had a laptop with one, but the quality was shit due to the fact that the thing was about three hundred years old. But at the time, it had been all I could afford. My mom had offered to get me one, but I would have sliced my own kidney out and sold it on the black market before ever letting that happen. I found mine at a pawn shop, being used as a doorstopper. But it had been sixty bucks and already loaded with all the programs I would need, like the internet and Word. I knew eventually I would buy a new one, I just never had a reason.

“Yes,” I said. “I have one.”

“I will give you a secure webchat service. You just need an email and a webcam.”

I wanted to ask how he knew of such a place and if he did this kind of thing often, more importantly, with how many other girls. While I wasn’t jealous, I did want to know which number I ranked in a man’s attentions.

“I’ve never done this with anyone else,” he said, as though he could read my thoughts, or maybe he sensed it in my silence. “But I have thought about it.”

“I’ve never been watched … until last night,” I told him truthfully.

“Now that you know you were, how do you feel?”

I knew all about voyeurism and its counterpart, exhibitionism. I knew what both were and what they entailed. But I was pretty sure what I was fell into a more shaded area of the spectrum. I liked watching people. I liked seeing them do normal things. I liked trying to decide who they were and what they did and what they were thinking. In a lot of ways, I liked analyzing them and their behavior. Yes, more times than not, that included me seeing my neighbors getting down and dirty, but I rarely felt sexually stimulated by the sight. Getting my rocks off wasn’t why I did what I did. Was it wrong? Yes, and I knew it. But it had become a routine I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to give up.

The night before, watching him had been something else. It had been unexpected and completely out of my norm. I honestly couldn’t even say what propelled me to do it. I hardly remembered unfastening my robes, or reaching under until I felt the slippery folds of my opening spread across my fingers. There had just been something about him, about the way his cock had speared straight up against his toned abdomen. His body from the little I could make out had been flawless and beautiful. But the white hot spear of desire hadn’t penetrated me until he had taken his erection in hand. That had sent me over, and I don’t mean in climax. I mean that line that separated me from right and wrong.

While I was a pervert, I never stayed to watch people screw each other. My eyes never lingered on naked flesh, not because I was modest, but because it just never really interested me. Sure I looked, but I didn’t stare.

With him, I couldn’t look away.

Yet that didn’t explain how I felt about being watched back. That was something new. Everything about me was so ordinary and dull. I was sure no one had ever noticed me. But knowing he had, that he had touched himself, made himself orgasm simply by watching me lit a new flame inside me I never knew existed.

“I liked it,” I confessed.

“Will you let me watch again?”

The cascading rush of arousal crashed down into the pit of my stomach in a waterfall of heat that hissed and frothed when it met the anxious twist of nerves already pooled there. My heart hammered a little faster.

“You promise you won’t peek?” I countered, needing his word that he would respect my privacy, because what we did online had to stay online.

“Only if you promise the same.”

I took a deep breath. “I won’t peek,” I promised. “Also, no names.”

“Agreed.”

While that had been his initial request, I had to make sure that rule never changed. I didn’t want to know what he looked like. The fantasy was always better and I didn’t want it to bleed together with my reality.

“Can I watch you back?” I asked.

“Do you want to?”

I wanted to say something pithy, like duh! Why else would I be asking? But his tone stopped me. It had dropped a full octave to a deep, sensual purr that made my clit throb for attention.

“Yes.”

There was several seconds of silence where all I could hear was the sound of his ragged breathing. I wondered if he was touching himself. I wondered if he was on his bed, too, naked and hard. The image rocketed through me, releasing another rush of liquid heat to soak my ruined panties.

I gingerly parted my thighs and reached for the flimsy fabric covering my mound. The heat was tangible. It burned my fingers before I even made contact.

I hissed with the first stroke. The cotton fabric clung to my core and rose slightly where my clit had become a hard little crest between my lips.

“Are you wet?”

God, how did he know what I was doing?

“Yes!” I couldn’t conceal my choked gasp even if I tried. “Are you?”

“Wet?”

I would have rolled my eyes if I could manage it. “Hard.”

He chuckled. “I’ve been hard all day thinking about you.”

I eased aside the material covering me and parted my knees even further, exposing my wet center to the cool air. The pink little muscle on top protruded visibly between the slick folds surrounding it. I skimmed a finger lightly over it and jolted at the intense zap of electricity that snapped through me. My head flung back and I barely caught the moan that shot up my throat.

“What are you wearing?”

I stopped what I was doing, not wanting to come just yet.

“My robes and white panties.”

I didn’t mention they were the kind that covered your whole ass, because that was just not sexy.

“The robe from last night?”

“Yes.”

I only had the one robe. He didn’t need to know that either.

“Take it off.”

I did so without question. It was tossed carelessly to the foot of my bed. I reached for the waistband of my panties next.

“Leave the panties.”

I was beginning to wonder if the guy had cameras already set up in my apartment.

“Where are you? Which room?” he clarified, like he knew I would make a sarcastic reply.

“Bedroom.”

“On the bed?”

“Yes.”

“Lie back and open your legs.”

The sheets felt incredibly cold and wonderful against the sensitive skin of my back. I positioned myself right in the middle, giving my legs the full width of the bed to spread.

“Does your phone have speaker phone?”

“Yes.”

“Put me on speaker phone. You’ll need both hands for what I want you to do next.”

It shocked me how badly my fingers trembled as I struggled to find the proper button. I hit it once and waited as the room was filled with the rush of air.

“Hello?”

“I’m still here. Are you ready?”

I set the phone down on the pillow next to my head and waited.

“Yes.”

“Touch yourself and tell me how it feels. Not your pussy,” he added, once again, as though reading my mind. “Don’t touch her until I say and I’ll know if you do.”

I wanted to snarl in frustration. That was the spot I wanted to touch more than anything. But I obeyed.

I started with my hips, lightly gliding my fingertips over the curve of the bone and inward towards my waist.

“You’re not telling me what you feel.”

It was ridiculous, but I felt myself blush.

“I don’t know how,” I said. “It’s skin.”

“It’s more than just skin. It’s your skin. Close your eyes and tell me how it feels.”

I wet my dry lips. “Soft,” I whispered at last. “Hot.”

“Good. Keep going. Where are you touching?”

If I were in my right state of mind, I would remind him he should know, since apparently he could see everything. But all I could feel was the puckered skin where goose pimples had risen and the inward slant of my stomach where it dipped into my belly button. I redirected the trail upward over each rib to the bottom curve of my breasts. I waited a heartbeat before taking them in my hands. The sharp points prodded into my palms, making me moan and shift. I dragged trembling fingers over them before rolling them under my thumbs. Beneath my touch, my heart slammed into my ribs.

“Do you like playing with your nipples?”

I had forgotten I was talking until he spoke, reminding me he was there … listening.

“Yes,” I hissed in pleasure.

“Keep playing with your breasts, but run one hand over your pussy.”

I did as he said. One hand stayed cupped over my left breast while my right hand followed the trail back down my quivering abdomen to slip between my thighs.

“Don’t come,” he warned. “What do you feel?”

“Wet!” I blurted in a shameless gasp that lifted my hips into my palm. “My panties are soaked.”

Next to my head, I heard him groan.

“Can I come?” I pleaded, fighting an impossible battle to keep from reaching under and putting an end to the suffering.

“No.”

I had never had anyone deny me the opportunity to orgasm. This was a new experience for me, one I wasn’t sure I liked.

“Oh my God!” I half sobbed, half whined.

“Keep stroking, but don’t come.”

“But I’m so close,” I panted, feeling myself hitting that cusp. “Shit…”

“Stop.”

I faltered. My mind and body slammed into each other in a two car pileup and I staggered to grasp the meaning of that single word.

“What?”

“Stop,” he repeated in that calm tone of his.

I was breathing like I just finished a five thousand mile run and I was choking on the sobs that kept tangling in my chest.

“For how long?”

“Until tomorrow.”

“What?” I blurted again, unwilling to believe he would do this to me. “No! Please, don’t…”

“Don’t come,” he ordered in a tone that forbade me to disobey. “Not now, not later, not tomorrow. You will wait until I tell you.”

“But…”

“If you want this, you will do what I say.”

I knew he didn’t mean orgasming. He meant us, this thing, whatever it was, between us. If I wanted to hear from him again, if I wanted to continue on this path with him, I had to curb my temptation.

“What about you?” I shot back, struggling to sit up when every muscle in my body quivered like an overwound guitar string threatening to snap.

“The rules apply to me, too,” he said evenly. “I will wait until tomorrow with you.”

I still didn’t like it.

I wanted to cry.

“Trust me,” he murmured with a hint of amusement. “It will be worth it.”

“I feel like I’m going to die.”

He chuckled. “You won’t.”

I glowered at the phone. “So that’s it? You’re going to get me hot and bothered and then make me wait?”

“Yup.”

“Asshole,” I muttered without any heat.

He was quiet. Too quiet. And I felt a flare of panic that I might have offended him.

“I’ve been getting called that a lot lately,” he said at last.

Relieved he wasn’t angry, I felt my lips quirk. “Are you withholding orgasms for other women, too?”

He snorted. “God, no.”

He seemed in no hurry to elaborate and I didn’t push. After all, that was the first rule in our arrangement, nothing personal.

“So what now?”

“Now, we go to bed. You will call me tomorrow at seven.”

What choice did I have but to agree?

Chapter Four

Gabriel

Working in a business surrounded by other men while harboring the mother of all boners was a sure fire way to get your ass kicked, or at least teased until you wished you were dead. But there was just no helping it. No matter how I fought it, or how many disturbing images of my fourth grade teacher I conjured with her rat face and enormous hairy mole, I couldn’t block out the sweet sound of my new distraction moaning in my ears. The haunting melody kept me up most of the night, gripping my throbbing erection and wondering what the hell I’d gotten myself into. Even the blistering cold shower I’d taken didn’t save me from her low, erotic purrs as she described her body to me. It had taken every ounce of my control, plus some to restrain myself from finding her and taking what she so readily offered, even if I had to pound on every door on the sixth floor.

Somehow, I survived the night. I woke up the next morning with a pounding headache and an even more excruciating erection that refused to be swayed. Between the two, I was one cranky motherfucker. The crew at the shop had taken one look at the thundercloud I brought in with me and slinked off to do their own thing without bothering me.

That was what I loved about the boys. We had all worked together long enough to recognize when to approach and when to leave a guy alone. Some of them, I’d known since before I was even allowed under a car, like Mac and Lloyd. The three of us had once been as close as family. But there had been a moment in their past when things hadn’t looked so great and it had all been because of a woman. One specific woman—Regina.

The thought of her tightened my fingers around the wrench. My jerks became fierce and angry as I tightened the lug nuts on the wheels of a Camry. The welcoming grind of metal on metal shrieked in my ears and I let it drown out the other voices. It was working until the quick scuffle of approaching feet had me glancing up.

Ali sprinted through the bay doors, her enormous purse bumping against her hip. Her free hand lifted and she shoved her glasses up the bridge of her nose before turning her head in my direction.

“Crap.” I muttered under my breath. I had forgotten all about her. I shoved to my feet and made my way over to her. “Hey.”

She looked different. It took me a moment to notice her hair wasn’t a wild, frizzy mess. It had been straightened and combed back from her face and twisted in an elegant knot at the back of her head. The rest of her was the same, long, black skirt and a baggy, white blouse.

“Hi!” she said, sounding a tad breathless. “Am I late?”

I checked my watch. I didn’t need to. I knew she was.

“By ten minutes,” I told her. “Did your car break down?”

She rolled her eyes, still panting slightly. “Ha-Ha,” she muttered. “I walked and I miscalculated just how far this place actually was by foot. But I know for tomorrow to leave ten minutes earlier.” She puffed up her cheeks, looked around and then looked at me. “So, where do you want me?”

Those weren’t exactly the right words to use on a man battling down an erection. My penis took that as an invitation and quickly perked its head. It didn’t even care that she would just as soon chop it off with rusty hedge clippers before letting it anywhere near her virginal pussy. At least, I was assuming she was virginal. Her comment about taking men to her bed the previous day at the restaurant made me wonder just how freaky prim little Miss Eckrich actually was. My grandma always had a saying, something about the quiet ones always being the ones to surprise you. Truthfully, nothing about Ali would surprise me.

“The office is up there,” I said, pointing. “Make yourself at home.”

Ali blinked. “That’s it?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Were you hoping for a tour? I think you’ve pretty much seen most of the place.”

“No, I don’t need a tour,” she barked back. “But I would like someone to explain the system that is the colossal dung pile upstairs.”

“What system?” I replied evenly.

“There’s no system?” Her sound of absolute horror would have been highly entertaining if she wasn’t staring at me like I just confessed to being the cause of the Ebola outbreak. “Are you kidding me? Earl said this place has been open for four generations, are you telling me that no one has filed a single shred of paper in four freaking generations?”

“No!” I blurted, offended now. “I think there’s some papers in the cabinet.”

She simply gawked at me from behind those hideous glasses, her jaw hanging open in what my penis took as a hopeful invitation before I metaphorically slapped it out of that fantasy. She snapped it shut and her eyes narrowed.

“You’re testing me,” she decided. “You’re trying to scare me off.”

“Sweetheart, does it look like I’m the practical joker type?”

It must have shown on my face, because her features went from wary, to horrified all over again. I momentarily felt sorry for her, before the look of stunned vulnerability melted into the hellcat I was quickly becoming accustomed to.

“I want a raise!” she shot at me. “Like triple the amount you’re paying me now.”

I stared at her. “You’ve been here five minutes. You’re not getting a raise.”

“Then I want a donut!” She paused, considered her words, then added, “A box of donuts. Maybe two and a Frappuccino with whipped cream and chocolate syrup.” Whirling on her heels, she marched towards the stairs, paused, and then turned back with a deep scowl. “But we will renegotiate that raise at the end of the day.”

With that, she stalked off and I watched her, wondering, not for the first time, what the hell I’d gotten myself into.

Ali stayed locked in the office for the remainder of the day. It got to the point where I almost forgot she was there until I had walked up to the apartment and started in surprise to find her sitting cross legged on the concrete floor with a carpet of papers around her. She never acknowledged my presence. Maybe because she was too pissed, or maybe because she was so lost in her own organizing mind that she didn’t notice, but whatever the reason was, I was grateful for it if the venomous direction of her mumbling was anything to go by. Part of me was hoping all that anger was aimed at Earl for bringing her into that mess. If anything, she should be thanking me. I did try to save her.

At one, the crew and I closed shop for lunch and trumped through the office towards the apartment. Ali never glanced up, nor did she make any effort to join us. She was still there when we went back to work an hour later.

I paused on my way out and peered down at her, debating my chances of living if I disturbed her. I opted to risk it.

“You should go for lunch,” I hedged cautiously.

“Not hungry.” She never even looked my way.

I let it go. She was a grown woman and if she wasn’t hungry, I wasn’t going to force her. Besides, I was more preoccupied by the fact that I had exactly six hours before I needed to get home and shower. My excitement could barely be contained. I hadn’t felt like that in ages and it only delighted me all the more. I had no idea how I was going to survive the rest of that day.

Promptly at six, Ali grabbed her purse and hurried down the steps at an almost run.

“Leaving!” was all I got before she disappeared out the doors.

I peeked at my watch and cursed; there was still another ten minutes of work before I could leave. That left me just enough time to get home and do a quick scrub before she called me.

She needed a name, I realized. I made a mental note of it, along with all the other things we needed to discuss before we went any further. That was what I had hoped our initial conversation would accomplish. I had wanted to lay down the ground works, to set it straight that, under no circumstances, would this turn into a relationship. That I didn’t want a relationship. That the only thing we would do is pleasure each other. I might have made that clear at some point the night before, but from the moment she had picked up and her soft, nervous little voice had filled my ear, all I could think about how much I wanted her. Then I’d heard it, the slight catch in her voice, the silky ribbon of desire that had woven through every word and protocol had evaded me. It was ludicrous. I knew nothing about her. But I literally thrummed throughout my entire body at the mere thought of her, at the anticipation of hearing her again.

But tonight couldn’t be like that. I couldn’t let myself get distracted by her breathy sighs and husky whimpers. If all went to plan, I would be hearing it a lot … often. I just needed to remember why it had to be that way. The game was always fun, but it could also turn destructive. I knew that first hand. I had seen how quick those tides could shift. Was it risky pulling in a girl who lived a hop away? Yes. But that too was the beauty. Everything about this was a fine line, only this time, I was determined to remain in control.

I made it home with twenty minutes to spare. I stripped quickly and rushed into the shower. I scrambled out ten minutes later and yanked on a pair of gray running sweats that hadn’t seen a day of running in its life and a white t-shirt. I rubbed hurried hands through my hair, spraying droplets of water in all directions and walked to the terrace doors.

I habitually kept my blind shut, not because I disliked the thought of people spying in, but because I just didn’t like the excess light. I was content in darkness. Now I kept them closed for another reason.

My fingers itched to pry the folds apart and see if I couldn’t steal one peek of her. I wondered if she was home, if she was anxiously pacing her bedroom, waiting for seven o’clock. I was dying to see. But I wouldn’t. The game didn’t work if I didn’t follow my own rules. Plus as much as I wanted my privacy, I had to respect hers as well. There were boundaries. Rules. You always had to follow the rules when another person’s physical, emotional, or mental wellbeing was at stake.

Behind me, the phone sprung to life.

It was exactly seven.

I had to respect that. People who didn’t abide to the minor things like being on time irritated me. I disliked the implication it brought forth, like my time was somehow less valuable than theirs. The fact that she was exactly on time made me all the more certain that this … that she was the right choice.

I picked up on the fifth ring.

“Hello.”

There was that second of silence before she answered, “Hello.”

I wanted to ask how her day was, but that wasn’t what we agreed on. So I stuck to the basics.

“Did you come?”

“No!” And I could hear the frustration in her response. “Did you?”

I walked over to the sofa, shoved aside a few bags and discarded newspapers and dropped down on it.

“I told you I wouldn’t.” I palmed the rigid length of my cock. “But we’ll get to that soon enough. I want to make sure we clear everything up before we go any further.”

“Okay.”

Her eagerness only deepened my grin, while at the same time, I wondered if she knew exactly what she was agreeing to and that gave me a moment of pause.

While the idea of what we were doing was thrilling, it wasn’t something I took lightly and that was something I would really need to stress to her. She needed to really understand what I was asking. That too would be a slow process. Trust took time and patience to build, more of both considering this wouldn’t be done in person.

I decided to start somewhere simple.

“You need a name.”

“I thought you said no names,” she pointed out.

I let my amusement color my reply. “I still need a name to call you, something just between us, something that belongs only to me.” I wasn’t ignorant to her sharp inhale. I continued in a quieter tone. “It will be a name you give only to me.”

“What kind of a name?” she wondered.

“Whatever you like,” I said. “It can be anything, but it should be something that represents you. A name is a symbol of power, of identity.”

She didn’t speak. I assumed she was thinking. I let her while I let my own mind wander to what I would bring up next. Rushing into a long winded explanation topped with rules and demands could send her in the opposite direction.

“Can I think about it?” she asked at last. “I want it to be perfect.”

“Yes, that’s fine.”

“What’s your name?”

I should have been prepared for the question. I should have known she would ask. But I had no answer. There was a time I had a name, one that I was proud of, that spoke of me and who I was. I wasn’t that person anymore. I had left that name behind. I had left that world behind.

“Q,” I murmured, hating the tightness it brought to my chest. “Just Q.”

It had been too long since I’d worn those shoes. Why on earth was I digging them out of hiding now? For this girl? And the answer was simple: because I missed it. I missed women. I missed holding a hot, aroused body as I made them beg for release. I missed it all, just like Regina had said I would. I hated myself for that. But it was who I was. I needed this.

I needed her.

“Q,” she whispered at last. “Does that stand for something?”

“Yes,” was all I was willing to give her, and it did.

Gabriel Quintus Madoc was my full, legal name. Only my mom, dad, and grandfather knew. I was fairly sure not even Tammy was privy to my middle name, only because I knew she would never let me live it down.

“How old are you?” she asked, seemingly out of the blue.

“Thirty-five.”

She took her sweet time processing that and responding.

“I’m twenty-three.”

Her age didn’t bother me. She was legal, had the voice of a sex kitten and wanted to play, I was fine with the rest.

“Does it bother you?”

“Your age?” She didn’t wait for me to answer. “No. So, will this just be about sex?”

“Yes. If you’re not comfortable,” I continued when her hesitance worked through the plastic and wires of the phone. “Things don’t need to go any further than this. We will resume our everyday lives and no hard feelings all around.”

Her silence was longer this time, thicker and I waited patiently for her.

“I need to think about it,” she said at last. “I want to make sure this will be something I can commit to without reservations.”

I admired her for that. I liked that she considered everything before heedlessly lunging into a decision. It only solidified my resolve that she was the one I wanted.

“Call me Monday,” I told her. “Seven o’clock with your answer.”

I expected her to hang up, instead, she asked, “What about coming?”

Despite everything, I burst out laughing. The sound reverberated from my gut like a storm and exploded from my throat in a long, and rumbling roar. I would have been stunned by the unfamiliar sound if I could bring myself to stop. On the other end, I heard her timid giggles and it only made me laugh harder.

“Monday,” I promised her, forcing myself to sober down.

“Really?” she huffed. “Is this a ploy to get me to pick what you want?”

“No, this is my way of making sure we don’t do anything you’ll regret later,” I replied. “There is no hurry and if this is what you want, then it won’t matter. But when I allow you to come for the first time, it will be because you have chosen to be mine.”

“Well,” she breathed. “You certainly know how to get a girl all excited.”

I chuckled. “I try.”

She hung up after a soft goodbye. I set the phone done on the sofa next to me and peered down at the tent pole holding up the front of my sweats.

“Sorry, pal. Not tonight.”

I started to heave my horny, exhausted body off the sofa when the phone shrilled against my hip. For a startled second, I hoped it was her calling back to say she accepted. But from what I had gathered about my neighbor, she was consistent and thorough. She would wait until Monday. Which meant it could only be five other people.

Tamara’s excited chirp filled my ear even before I could speak.

“Guess what?”

I dropped back against the leather and settled in. I knew just from the volume of my sister’s excited voice that this would be an at least two hour conversation.

“What?”

“I got the lead role in the school musical,” she declared proudly and with more than a touch of arrogance. “I will be Odette in a modern and riveting retelling of Swan Lake.” She ended her dramatic roll with a deep and profound sigh. “I wowed the judges and stole the spotlight right out from under that little bitch’s fake nose.”

“Tammy!” I scolded without any heat.

“Her nose is totally fake,” she replied without missing a beat. “She can pretend it’s not, but it so is. I have pictures from kindergarten and trust me, so fake.”

I rolled my eyes. “I meant the bitch comment.”

“Why? Everyone says it.”

“Are you everyone?”

“What does that even mean?”

I was so glad she couldn’t see my grin. “Congratulations on getting the part.”

“I know! Awesome, right? Mr. Bowide says I have the grace and beauty of the silver screen, the old kind. You know? The black and white stuff from back in the dinosaur era.”

“I know,” I assured her.

“Anyway, so, you’re happy for me, right?”

Years of being her brother and recognizing that tone automatically prickled my apprehension.

“Possibly…” I said cautiously. “What do you want?”

“Well, see, here’s the thing,” she began, her words coming out quick. “The cast and crew have to elect a family member to help with building the stage and making the props and stuff and soooo…” She dragged her o on forever before continuing. “I volunteered you.” she said it in such a manner that she almost had me convinced she had done me a favor. “Isn’t that awesome? You don’t have to thank me. Just be at the school by eight on Saturday.”

“Whoa, hold on there!” I cut in before she could disconnect and trap me with this bomb she’d dropped into my lap. “What the hell did you sign me up for?”

“It’s only for the one day!” She exhaled sharply. “If you don’t help, I can’t be in the play.”

I glowered at the curtains across the room. “You couldn’t just ask like a normal person?”

“Would you have said yes like a normal person?” she countered smartly.

The odds of that were slim to none so I could see her point. But I didn’t like it.

“What about Jonas?”

“Are you kidding? Can you imagine Dad with a hammer? He probably couldn’t even lift the thing.”

This was also true. My stepfather was as thin as a pole with arms that reminded me of tree branches in the winter. His face went purple trying to open a jar of pickles. Asking him to do any sort of manual labor was just a joke.

I relented. “What am I supposed to do?”

Her smug little grin was all over her voice when she answered. “Just help set up the stage. It’s really easy.” She paused, then added, “You wouldn’t happen to know how to sew, would you?”

My eyebrows lifted up into my hairline. “Sew?”

“Yeah, like costumes and stuff.”

“No!” I blurted in indignation. “I’m a mechanic, not a … a…” What the hell were they called?

“A seamstress?”

“Don’t they teach you how to sew over there?”

“If you can’t sew, just say so,” she retorted curtly. “I’ll ask Mom.”

“Mom can’t sew either and you know it.”

Tammy paused as she thought about this. “I don’t know then. Maybe I’ll buy something. How will the school know? Unless they find out and I get kicked out of the play and expelled from school…”

I shook my head. “I’ll see what I can do.”

That must have been exactly what she was waiting for. Her elated screech nearly deafened me.

“I love you! You’re the best brother in the whole world!”

My grin was unstoppable even when I fought to suppress it. “And you are the most spoiled and conniving little sister in the world.”

“I know!” she sing-songed. “It’s what makes me so awesome. Okay, I gotta go. Mom thinks I’m doing homework and reflecting on my bad choices.”

“Oh yeah? What did you do this time?”

She huffed. “Why would you think I did something?”

“Because you’re you.”

“True.” She sighed. “She caught me smoking.”

My grin was gone. “Jesus, Tam…”

“I know, I know. Smoking is bad for me, blah, blah, blah. It was only the one. I was stressed.”

“About?”

“Just school crap.” She exhaled deeply. “Math’s kicking my ass and I fucking hate science, and English, and algebra and—”

“I get it,” I interjected. “You hate all your classes.”

“Not all. I love drama and music, oh, and lunch. The rest can just go to hell.”

“Look, if you need help—”

“No, I’m okay. Thanks though. You really are an awesome brother, Gabe. Anyway, I gotta go. See you Saturday.”

She hung up before I could say anything else.

I dumped the phone down on the sofa and climbed to my feet. My lower back gave a twang and I rubbed absently at the spot as I shuffled my way into the sparsely stocked kitchen. I kicked aside a box and yanked open the fridge. A sickly, white light spilled over empty racks and I grunted.

“Pizza it is.”

Chapter Five

Ali

His hands were painfully hot gliding down the curve of my waist to leave a trail of fire down to my hip. Moist lips, danced over the curve of my neck and moved inward in the direction of my collarbone. Blunt, playful teeth nipped at my pulse, took a detour to nibble at my jaw line before resuming its downward trail to the hollow of my throat.

I burned. I could feel my skin reaching temperatures too high to be safe. My heart was a wild¸ desperate mess in my chest and I knew he could feel it the moment that mouth closed around my breast.

“Don’t stop…” I pleaded, threading my fingers into thick, silky hair the color of ebony and holding that mouth to me.

My back arched and a hard, toned arm slid beneath me, lifting me higher to the scraping teeth and circling tongue. A corded thigh pushed between mine, spreading me to lean hips and a searching cock.

A hiss whispered from my lips and I bowed beneath him. My head dipped back against the pillow and I waited to feel him fill me. The head of his cock slipped between my lips, mixing our juices as he nudged against my opening.

“Please…”

I was coming before he even broke through the ring. The sudden explosion skittered up the length of my frame in a fluid, flawless slice that incapacitated everything else.

I came awake with my fingers pumping inside my pulsating sex. Hot, thick cream spilled down the crack of my ass to stain the sheets. My low tortured whine sang through the room as I milked the last shudder from my pussy by assaulting my clit with wet, sticky fingers.

Spent and exhausted, and feeling exquisitely sated, I slumped against the damp pillows and stared at the patches of shadow stretching across the ceiling. My breathless pants echoed around me and I squeezed my eyes shut.

Well, that had been unexpected, or maybe not as unexpected as it should have been. I hadn’t had a man in four years and Q had opened things for me in the short few minutes we’d spoken that I never thought myself capable of. But I could honestly say that I had never orgasmed in my sleep. That was new, even for me. I didn’t know whether to give myself a high five, or take up smoking. However, I did know one thing; I had to tell Q.

I exhaled.

It wasn’t that I believed in the whole don’t orgasm because I said so thing, but there had been an understanding between us that we would both wait and he was, or at least, he said he was and I believed him. It just wasn’t fair that I had, inadvertently, had a cheap thrill in my sleep while he was sitting on a hard dick … metaphorically speaking … I hoped. Except the problem I couldn’t get my head around was whether or not to wait until Monday to tell him. The annoying little shoulder angel kept insisting I should purge my freaky little soul sooner rather than later, while the shoulder devil pointed out I had three days. What was the rush?

Shoulder angel won.

I glanced at the alarm clock next to the bed and inwardly cringed. It was still only six in the morning. While it was time to get up, shower, and get ready for work, it was thirteen hours before I could call him, assuming he would be home. But what if he didn’t want me to call unless he said so? What if he thought me experiencing happy hour mid REM cycle was news that could have waited until Monday? But no, my shoulder angel was insistent. Of all my sins, this was one that required a confession, which made me question my shoulder angel’s priorities; I was pretty sure I had much more confession worthy sins.

Yet, it wasn’t about cleansing my soul and doing what was right. It was about equality and, believe it or not, trust. Q and I had an unspoken agreement and I was nothing if not honest. Okay, and there was guilt.

Realistically, I shouldn’t have been as enthralled by the man and his smoky, Brad Pitt voice, but I was and I wanted to keep hearing that voice whispering dirty things into my subconscious. It was insane, but having a guy never see my face was apparently the only way I could get a man. No one else would understand me, or want me if they could see me in person. While I wasn’t grotesque, I knew what I was and what I wasn’t and I had worked hard to get to a place where I could finally accept myself and I accepted that I was not any guy’s cup of tea. My own mother had been appalled by the daughter that wasn’t like other children and she claimed it was why she drank as much as she did.

Growing up, my mom hadn’t understood my fascination with keeping to myself, to being that shy little girl who watched people from a distance. She thought it was dirty and abnormal. More importantly, she thought there was something mentally wrong with me. Normal children didn’t behave like that. So, she did what any parent would do; she took me to see a shrink.

Dr. Wilber Woynim was the leading psychologist in child behavior. He believed there wasn’t a thing that couldn’t be solved with fear. If you could scare a gay kid enough, he’d eventually go straight, or a bed wetter, or a kid afraid of the dark. In my case, my perverted obsession deserved humiliation. He wrote me a sign that read: I’m Ali Eckrich and I’m a pervert. I like watching you while you sleep. Which wasn’t true. But I was made to walk up and down the busy sidewalk in front of his office building for two hours wearing it. I never told my mom I watched people again. So in a sense, Dr. Woynim’s methods actually worked; my mom no longer believed I was a sicko and I was saved from further humiliation.

I’d been eleven at the time.

For years after, that was how I saw myself, too. I thought there was something wrong with me. I saw other kids and how they were and I wasn’t like them. I figured my mom was right; there was something wrong with me.

I was eighteen and living at the university dorms when I found a book at the library explaining the mind of an introvert. It went on to describe how most preferred to watch others around them and kept to small groups. Because they weren’t comfortable in a social setting, most saw them as voyeurs. So that was always what I considered myself, a sort of voyeur. I watched people, because I was socially awkward and preferred my own company.

Everyone was a voyeur to some degree. Most of the time, it had nothing to do with sex or being a pervert. Not everyone was pressing their foreheads to bedroom windows, hoping to catch someone naked. Anyone who had ever seen a porno is a voyeur. Anyone who has watched a jogger at the park, or hot, sweaty men play basketball is a voyeur. Even photographers and authors. It was such a wide spectrum and probably one of the only fetishes that everyone shared. For me, it had always been a mental high. It had a calming effect, like knitting or reading a book.

Also, until recently, wanting to be watched hadn’t crossed my radar either. But I knew about those urges. After learning about what I was, I had broadened my view of the fetish world. I had read everything and anything that displayed people in such a way that no one else thought was normal. I read about the sick and twisted and secretly loved everything they were doing.

Then I met Tony, tall, beautiful Tony with his curly brown hair and shy blue eyes. It had taken him a month to ask me out. We dated a year before I finally let him into my bed. A wishful part of me had hoped he would take me the way it had been written in all those books, rough and angry, but gentle and firm. He hadn’t. It had been sloppy and messy. It had hurt and I hadn’t come. My first time had been a joke. But I tried again and again, striving for different results and being left disappointed each time. Finally, I just told him what I wanted. I wanted him to get kinky, not necessarily flogging and ball gags, but just … more. Maybe a spank, here and there, or handcuffs. Little things.

Tony left the next day and I never saw him again. Although, he did leave me a very nice note telling me he just wasn’t into that kind of thing, but good luck. I never thought about it again. Part of me had wondered if maybe everyone else was seeing this whole thing differently than me. Maybe I really was a sick pervert for wanting something so taboo. I had given up on the idea entirely.

Until Q.

He didn’t seem disturbed by the idea of different. I couldn’t honestly say how this webcam idea would go, but I liked it. I was excited for it. I would have jumped into it the first night we talked, but despite my drive, a girl had to be careful.

Rolling out of bed, I padded into the bathroom. The sun was climbing over the building when I finished my shower and dressed. I combed out my hair and twisted the strands into a tight bun at the back of my head. It was contained by a series of pins and a light mist of hairspray. While I loved my hair, it possessed the supernatural ability to piss me off. It was heavy and thick and clung to everything. Done up was the only way to keep my sanity.

As an afterthought, I slicked on a coat of clear gloss. There was no reason behind it. I normally didn’t bother, but something made me reach for the tube and sweep on a layer.

I stole a peek at the alarm clock. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t late for work a second time.

The garage was already open when I got there with ten minutes to spare, making up for the ten minutes I was late the day before. I knew nothing about cars, but there were two parked in the bays. The first one was getting something removed from the bottom. The second one was just sitting there. I didn’t recognize the man gutting the car. I didn’t recognize any of them. The only one I knew was Gabriel and he was just impossible to like. Earl hadn’t returned since his Houdini act at the restaurant so I was on my own to socialize, which would never happen.

Moving quickly and quietly, I jogged up the steps and stepped into the office. The massive tower of papers I had left behind the day before sat exactly as I had placed them. If anything, the pile seemed to be even higher. I couldn’t help wondering what type of business could continue functioning for so long and have such shitty organizational skills. It was incredible. It was mind boggling. I didn’t know whether to be impressed or disgusted.

Tearing the strap up and over my head, I tossed my purse unceremoniously onto the swiveling chair and delved in.

I was still organizing sale slips from waybills when Gabriel tromped in. From my kneeling place on the floor, he seemed extra enormous darkening the doorway. I felt my spine tingle when he took a step in deeper and stopped when the curved toes of his boots were mere inches from the circle of papers around me. In that position, my neck was forced back and my spine straightened in result. I stared up at him, wide-eyed and curious, and maybe it was my imagination, but I could have sworn something darkened in his eyes.

“You can take all of this upstairs,” he said. “There’s a bed up there.”

A bed.

Lord knew what the hell possessed me, but my gaze drifted down the width of that broad chest to stop at the silver buckle on his belt. My dream came back to me in hot flashes of brilliant color, me, on a bed with a dark haired mystery guy working over my body. Two sensations rocketed through me simultaneously. The first was lust at the memory, a deep, sticky rush of arousal that made my core pang for attention. The second was horror that my mystery guy had hair the same shade as Gabriel’s.

Panicked, I darted quickly to my feet, putting some distance between me and the faint outline of his cock leaning a little to the left through the hard grains of his jeans.

I swallowed with great difficulty and forced myself to meet his gaze.

“I’m okay here.”

He studied me for a long, sizzling moment, studied my mouth the way I obsessed over steak, which was to say the way a wolf studied a fresh kill. The gray swirled like an approaching thunderstorm and I was trapped in its path. My skin prickled with an awareness that tightened my nipples and dampened my panties. I felt the stretch of fabric rub uncomfortably against my skin and fought not to shift. My lips parted, not because I had something to say, but because they wanted something I knew was crazy. In reaction, his nostrils flared. The thin material of his top strained over his chest with his sharp inhale. His hand lifted and the place between my legs spiked in anticipation. My lungs constricted and I could barely move as every bit of me waited for contact.

The fingers balled mid reach and lifted to splay across the back of his neck. He rubbed hard before dragging his palm forward over his hair, ruffling the already unruly strands to a rumpled state that did not lessen the sexiness.

“I’ll let you get back to work,” he grumbled, already moving away.

My throat muscles worked to generate spit so I could formulate words, but he had turned away and was jogging up the stairs.

I waited until he was fully out of sight before dropping back down in a graceless heap. I ran a clammy hand over my face, nearly dislodging my glasses. I was almost steady again when he returned, thundering down the stairs like zombies were chasing him. He hit the main level and found me with wide eyes.

“I didn’t do it,” I blurted out of pure reflex.

He blinked. “What? No.” He stepped closer. “Do you sew?”

It was my turn to blink, flabbergasted. “Like a button?”

Of course, my gaze dropped to his midsection and the button on his jeans, which inadvertently, pulled my gaze to the very rigid cock making an impressively long bump against the front. The boy was endowed.

“A costume,” he said, his voice rising in a hopeful ripple of excitement. “You can sew like clothes, right?”

“Uh…” I began, grimacing. “Not really. I mean, I can sew a hole, or a—”

“But if you were given simple instructions?” he interrupted.

I scratched absently at the back of my head. “I guess…”

He beamed and the sheer force of that smile smacked me upside the head. It was a hot smile. There were even dimples, deep, beautiful dimples hidden behind that ugly patch of hair covering his face. I stared. I gawked. I was sure my mouth was hanging open and drool was escaping down my chin.

“What are you doing Saturday?”

Jesus, was he asking me out? I hadn’t been asked out since Tony and I wasn’t sure what the protocol was for rejecting ones boss.

“I’m kind of in a semi relationship?” I only semi lied, thinking of Q. “It’s really recent, but—”

His smile morphed into the sort of frown I would have given someone if they suggested I start making a living flinging poo at unsuspecting pedestrians.

“I’m not asking you out.”

Ouch.

Despite having wanted to reject him only moments earlier, the offense in his tone was insulting.

“Oh,” I mumbled, smothering my hurt. “Well, I guess in that case, I’m not doing anything.” I narrowed my eyes. “Unless you want me to work. Then I have plans.”

Humor shone in his eyes that I liked to think was brought on by my adorableness, but I knew it wasn’t. His smile returned and it was all kinds of sexy. I kind of hated that I noticed.

“It’s not work,” he promised. “Tammy’s got this school play and she needs help with her costume.”

“Oh!” I said for a second time. “Okay … what do you need from me?”

It was unclear how I got roped into helping a sixteen year old with her school costume, but it was sort of worth it to see the brilliant flash of Gabriel’s smile again. The full thing was a breathtaking sight. It would have been better if he didn’t have a face bush, but regardless, I thoroughly enjoyed seeing all those straight, white teeth in something other than a sneer.

Then I mentally smacked myself and reminded myself why we didn’t like him and why we needed to stop thinking pervy thoughts about him. Aside from being my boss, he was a grade-A douche bar and I needed to remember that.

The rest of the day seemed to wear on, not really going fast, but not taking forever. I stayed in the office, dutifully righting a very tragic catastrophe. The crew stomped in around one and trudged upstairs, no one stopping to say hi, or introduce themselves. It was day two and I was still the pariah. The only one that darkened my progress was Gabriel.

“It’s lunch,” he told me as he had the day before.

“Not hungry,” I told him, lying through my teeth.

I was starving. My head was pounding with the force of my hunger. But I didn’t eat in front of people, not unless it was something small, and I wanted a giant steak burger with chili fries and a salad.

“You should eat something,” he pressed.

I managed not to ogle his crotch this time as I lifted my head to peer up at him.

“I will,” I lied, yet again. “I’m just going to get through this stack.”

His eyes narrowed. He continued to hover over me for several more minutes, like he was trying to Jedi mind meld me into complying. But his batteries must have been low, because I felt nothing, except a mild sense of irritation that he was intensifying my headache.

“Make sure you do,” he said at last, giving up our showdown.

I would have saluted him if I had the energy. Instead, I could only sit and watch as he pivoted on his heels and disappeared upstairs.

The throb between my temples had escalated to a dull roar by the time six o’clock rolled around. I could barely see straight as I returned the leftover piles to the desk, grabbed my purse and hurried from the office. Gabriel glanced up from the tire gauge he was attaching to the back tire of the car he’d been working on. Then he peeked at his watch.

“It’s six,” I assured him, struggling to keep my voice even. “I’ll see you tomorrow at your sister’s school.”

He rose from his crouch. It was so unexpected, or maybe it was because my head was spinning, I jumped and staggered back into a metal toolbox. The momentum drove it backwards with a noisy clatter that sounded like a bomb going off inside my skull. I grabbed it before it could go too far and hit the sports car behind me. Then I used it to steady my weight when the room swayed beneath my feet.

“Ali?” Gabriel’s fingers closed around my elbow. “What’s wrong?”

I gave a shake of my head. Bad idea. Spots exploded across my vision. I squeezed my eyes closed, counted to ten before opening them again and forcing myself to meet his gaze.

“I’m just really tired,” I said, rolling my eyes in emphasis. “Too many papers.”

“You look pale.

“I’m fine.” I dislodged him from my arm and ducked around his frame. “Night.”

I left before I could pass out at his feet, or worse, before he could stop me.

The walk home was barely twenty minutes, but it felt like forever. Between the hunger and the heat, I was sure I was going to die. It was sheer willpower that got me to my apartment and through the door. My purse hit the table, along with my keys and I staggered into the kitchen for the Chinese I’d ordered the night before.

I ate it cold, straight out of the takeout container with my fingers while standing over the sink. My stomach roiled in both protest and greedy delight as several egg rolls, chow mein noodles and sweet and sour pork dropped into its empty abyss. I stopped when the containers were empty and the tremors in my legs had subsided. I cleaned up my mess and made my way into the living room to strip and change into my robe. The headache was still there, but it was nothing a couple of aspirins wouldn’t take care of, if I had the energy to find any. Instead, I pushed open the terrace doors and stepped out into the sweltering heat.

My neighbors weren’t home. They wouldn’t be for another fifteen minutes. It irked me that I would miss them for the third day in a row because seven was when Q wanted me to call. I made a mental note to tell him to change the time to eight. That gave me an hour to relax my mind after spending the entire day organizing files.

Regardless, at six fifty-eight, I wandered back into the apartment and picked up the phone. It rang. Once. Twice. Four times. Five.

I started to hang up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, I know it’s not Monday,” I rushed on before he could speak the words I knew were coming. “But I hope it’s okay I called.”

“Have you already decided?”

I looked down at my comforter, my face twisted in a grimace I knew he couldn’t see. I traced a finger along the neat little diamonds stitched into the floral pattern.

“Not exactly.”

“Is something wrong?”

Wrong? No. There was nothing really wrong exactly.

“I came last night,” I blurted, kind of the way one would tear off a band aid—quickly. I blew out a breath. “I didn’t mean to,” I went on, much more calmly. “It happened in my sleep.”

“I see,” he said at last with a slow contemplation. “Tell me about it.”

I hadn’t been expecting that response and was thus unprepared. It took me a few moments to slip out of my surprise and pull up memories of my dream.

“I was in bed,” I began. “It was night. The lamp was on.” My cheeks warmed, as did the junction of my thighs as every moment of that dream came into focus. I willed my voice to remain steady even while my insides shivered. “It spilled over the sheets, a soft, pale gold and shone over…”

“Yes?” he prompted gently when I faltered.

I swallowed and darted a nervous tongue over my lips. “I was on my back and he was leaning over me. His weight pushed me into the mattress and I could feel his naked skin pressed into the length of me. Everything about him was hot and I could feel myself burning up just from him being so close. His mouth…” I drew in a sharp breath as my nipples tightened in recollection and twanged in a sweet sort of pinch. “His teeth … his tongue … they were on my breasts,” I gasped, more than a little breathless. “Nipping, sucking … biting.”

“Do you like your nipples bit?”

Tony had never paid very much attention to my breasts. He was an in and out sort of guy. Foreplay and working for his meal never crossed his mind.

“I don’t know,” I whispered honestly. “I did in my dream. I loved it.”

“You’ve never had your nipples sucked on?”

Aside from groping, squeezing and the occasional fondle, Tony seemed not to have gotten the memo where men were supposed to love and worship boobs.

“No,” I said.

“Have you ever been with a man?” Q asked.

“I had a boyfriend,” I told him. “Years ago, but he wasn’t a breast guy, or a clit guy, or a fingering guy.”

“God,” he whispered with a sharp hiss. “What did he do?”

I chuckled. “A lot of missionary that involved him grunting and pumping.”

I immediately felt bad about throwing Tony under the bus like that. It hadn’t been entirely his fault. He’d been raised in a strict, religious household where sex was seen as a sin that should only take place between a husband and wife. He wouldn’t even let me give him head, because that would be considered sacrilegious. Apparently, my mouth should only be used to speak the lord’s name, which I would have done so happily if Tony was a more thoughtful lover.

“And there has been no one since?”

I considered telling him about Mr. Happy, my dildo, but I wasn’t sure that counted.

“Not a person, no,” I said.

“That’s intriguing.”

My cheeks warmed and I bit my lip. “I can’t tell you all my secrets.”

And there was the sex goddess. I wanted to applaud her impeccable timing.

He groaned, low and husky and I tingled all over. “That’s fine,” he purred in that deep rumble that made my pussy want to hump his voice like a dog in heat. “I’d rather see them.”

Oh god.

“When?” Because I was hot, horny, and ready.

“Whenever you’re ready to decide,” he answered smoothly.

I’d nearly forgotten I was the reason we were waiting. I kind of hated myself in that moment. I also wanted to say screw it and grab my laptop. But what did that say about me? I didn’t want him to think I was a flaky, indecisive nymphomaniac that couldn’t control herself.

I growled in my throat.

Stupid pride.

He chuckled. “At least you came.”

“It doesn’t count.”

“Tell that to my cock. It’s feeling very lonely and left out right now.”

I had a vision of him on the bed, cock in hand, stroking lazily, kind of the way he had the first night. I shivered.

“What are you wearing?” I whispered, fingers moving to the sash keeping my robe in place.

I heard him give an almost ironic chuckle. “A towel,” he said. “I was just getting out of the shower when you called.”

That image cinched around my lungs, cutting off my air and making my libido go ape-shit. My over excited sex pulsed in greedy excitement.

“Are you still wearing it?”

Silence strained for two full heartbeats.

“Not anymore.”

I shed my robe and kicked my panties off after it. Despite the humidity, the air was deliciously cool stroking the wet pool between my legs. I widened my knees, kneeling in the middle of my bed, naked and flushed. My clit, pink and slick with arousal jutted proudly from between bare lips.

“What are you wearing?”

My pulse quickened. “Nothing.”

He made a quiet growl and I nearly had a micro orgasm. A tremor rocked down the length of my spine.

“God, you don’t play fair.”

“I didn’t realize I had to,” I teased, feeling unusually bold.

“You do,” he said. “It’s how this is going to work, by both of us playing by the rules.”

“And what are the rules?” I wondered.

“That we both agree that this is what we want. I won’t play with you if you don’t give me the green light.”

Fuck. Did he have to be so noble about it? I felt almost like some sick pervert trying to seduce someone against his will. Damn if it didn’t make me respect him, though.

“You’re right,” I whispered. “I’m sorry.”

I heard him draw in a deep breath.

“I’m not,” he said. “But I made you a promise and I won’t go back on my word. You will call me Monday with your answer and we will go from there.”

We both agreed and hung up. I stayed in my kneeling position on the mattress. My desire hadn’t weaned, but his semi reject had slapped most of the heat down to a mild simmer.

The headache from the day before followed me into morning. I woke up feeling it pulsing behind my eyes. I would have happily stayed wrapped in my blankets and gone back to sleep, but I had promised Gabriel I would help his sister at her school and I still had to hunt down aspirin.

I found them in the junk drawer in the kitchen. I took three with water and then zombie shuffled my way into the shower. The hot water felt incredible drowning my sorrows. I shut my eyes and leaned into the spray. I stayed there for twenty minutes before scrubbing myself dry and pulling on jeans and a loose t-shirt. I bundled my hair up into a knot and grabbed my purse before leaving the apartment.

Saint George’s school for the young and gifted was a cathedral style structure almost an hour away. I had never been there before, but my GPS was kind enough to point out no less than sixteen donut shops along the way. At one point, I actually had to wonder if it was mocking me. But I got there without incident, or relapses, and parked a block away. My keys jingled in my grasp as I made my way down the sidewalk, admiring the looming oak trees shading me along the way.

There was a surprising amount of activity for a school on a Saturday. The wide, arched doors were left open to the hot summer breeze and people kept coming in and out in a flurry of movement. I jogged up the steps and stopped at the top, trying to locate the person in charge.

“Ali!” Gabriel, in all his lumberjack glory, stormed over to me with wide, angry strides. “You’re late!” he snapped in the way of a greeting.

I glanced at my watch. “You said eight. It’s a minute after.”

“Don’t mind him,” came a voice from behind him. “He’s had a pickle up his ass since he arrived.”

Gabriel shifted aside so I could get my first glance of Tamara.

Intense, was the first thought that came to mind. Everything about the girl was sharp and bold. But not with bright colors. Her hair was pale purple that hung in a sleek, shiny sheet around her thin shoulders. Her eyes were an enormous silver that looked even larger with the dark eyeshadow and eyeliner. She wore fishnet stockings under a short, plaited black skirt and a black t-shirt that read: people like you are the reason why I have a middle finger. I momentarily wondered what type of school allowed a student to wear something like that, but who was I to judge?

On her feet were thick, clunky boots in shiny leather that went all the way to her knees. Black nail polish adorned each sharp nail, contrasting with her milky-white complexion. She grinned at me and it was all mischief.

“You’re Ali.”

I nodded. “I am. You’re Tamara.”

Her grin broadened and she did a little curtsy. “That’s me.” She swayed from side to side, looking from me to Gabriel. “So, Gabe says you’re going to make my costume.”

I grimaced. “I’m going to attempt to make your costume,” I corrected.

“Awesome!” The girl beamed. “I was thinking of making her into like a Goth swan.”

I blinked. “A … Goth swan?”

“Odette,” she said. “Didn’t Gabe tell you which play we’re doing?”

I tried to remember and came up with nothing. “Uh, no, no he seemed to have forgotten that part.”

“Well, I got the lead,” Tamara stated, dramatically puffing up her chest and spearing her hands on her hips. “I’m Odette, you know? The white swan?”

I nodded. “I have a vague recollection of the story.”

“Right. So, I was thinking, we can make her costume black.”

I frowned. “Wasn’t Odile the black swan?”

Tamara stilled. She stared at me with those eyes, filled with disapproval and suspicion.

“So?”

I dared a peek at Gabriel. The man hadn’t said anything since my initial arrival. He stood next to his sister, towering drastically over her by a good three feet. His attire made me question if the guy owned anything other than jeans, white t-shirts and flannel. Also, I kind of wanted to set his boots on fire. A bit drastic, but someone needed to put them out of their misery.

“Well, if you’re Odette, you’re white,” I explained, turning my attention back to Tamara and not the man studiously glowering at his phone like it was personally responsible for the slaughter of his family.

Tamara’s eyes narrowed and I immediately saw the family resemblance. “Are you being racist?”

I could think of nothing to say to that. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to. Part of me actually wanted to start edging the hell out of there and pretending I had the wrong place.

Tamara burst out laughing. “Chill. I’m screwing with you. Seriously though, I want like black wing tips, or something.”

Wing tips?

“Just what kind of costume do you need?” I wondered, feeling genuine panic starting to swell in my chest.

“I need two, actually,” Tamara said breezily. “One as a swan and one as a girl. I want something awesome like The Black Swan with Natalie Portman. Can you do that?”

No!

“Isn’t there somewhere online—?”

“It has to be handmade,” she interrupted. “It’s like fifty percent of our grade.”

“No pressure.” I muttered. Then sighed. “Okay, well, we should measure you, or something. I guess.”

Tamara nodded like that had been her idea the whole time. “Everyone’s downstairs.”

With a wave of a slender hand that sent light sparking off the many silver rings adorning each finger, she guided us down a long hallway lined with lockers on one side and wide, bay windows overlooking a courtyard on the other. It ended at a set of metal doors that opened to a series of stairs winding downward. We trudged down three until we reached the end. Silence was thicker in the basement. Sharp strobes of light punctured the pool of shadows making residence in the stone corridor. Someone had thought to brighten the place up by painting a cheerful mural of rainbows and children frolicking playfully over a lush landscape of green grass and dandelions. I would have bought it, if the children hadn’t reminded me of hostage victims trying to put on a brave face.

“Like it?” Tamara caught me staring.

“It’s…” Spooky… “Really nice.”

She stopped walking and turned to face the painting with her hands clasped loosely at her back.

“I painted it,” she said proudly, but with a hint of dismay. “I call it Purgatory. See, all the children are told to believe they are in a beautiful, safe place, but in reality, they’re all stuck in an illusion.” She turned bland, gray eyes on me. “They’re waiting to be judged.”

I liked her. Her morbid fascination really spoke to my soul. Even if I was slightly creeped out.

“Stop messing with her,” Gabriel muttered, still fiddling with his phone.

“I’m not messing with her,” Tamara defended hotly. “It’s my rendition of how I see school.”

“I like it,” I said honestly.

Tamara shot her brother a haughty smirk that he didn’t notice, before twirling on her clunky heel and flouncing onward.

The flat, stone walls ended at a sharp turn that delved even deeper into the bottomless void that seemed to be the school’s basement. There was only one dingy bulb illuminating this section and it dangled midway between us and the metal doors at the far end. My survival instincts immediately sat up and took notice of what could potentially turn out to be where I was captured and used to perform a series of horrific acts in order to survive a macabre maze of death. I also knew that if it came to that, I would most likely sacrifice Gabriel in a heartbeat to get out.

I glanced sideways at the man in question and found him peering down at me with an accusation that made me flush.

Crap. Had I spoken out loud?

“Is your phone working?”

“My phone?” I muttered a bit stupidly.

He held up his like I really was an idiot. “Yeah, you’re phone.”

I had to dig it out of my bag, which was a task considering I couldn’t see inside. The whole process turned into a scavenger hunt that ended when I located my flashlight and clicked it on.

“Why are you carrying around a flashlight?” Gabriel was nice enough to ask with a dryness I did not appreciate.

“The question is, why aren’t you?” I shot back. I located my phone and glanced at the screen. “No signal.”

Gabriel sighed, turned to his sister and gave her the glower usually reserved for me. “I can’t stay down here,” he told her. “I’m expecting a call.”

“On a Saturday?” Tamara replied in a great exaggerated lift of her finely penciled eyebrow. “Seriously? Who works on a Saturday?”

“Your dad,” Gabriel reminded her.

“Yeah, but have you met him?”

Gabriel ignored the question. “Look, this is important.”

“So is my education, apparently,” Tamara stated loudly. “I’m all for flunking and living the rest of my life in your basement as a starving artist.”

“I don’t have a basement,” Gabriel reminded her. “And you’re not flunking. Just hurry up.”

He delved into the darkness without waiting for a response.

I waited to make sure nothing jumped out of the shadows and ate him before following with Tamara taking the rear.

The low hum of chatter greeted us at the threshold. I couldn’t see around the wall that was Gabriel’s enormous frame blocking the doorway, but either there were people inside, or it was haunted by the spirits of the other idiots that willingly ventured into the bowels of hell.

“Will you move?” Tamara snapped, shoving at her brother’s back.

Gabriel edged in deeper, but not very far. There was just enough room for Tamara to slink past, but I had more body than a gangly teenager and there was no graceful way to squeeze in without rubbing into him. My body liked the idea. The cheerleaders were in full horny hump mode. My brain was more reluctant.

“I can’t walk through doors,” I mumbled loudly so he couldn’t miss the sarcasm dripping from my voice.

He shot me a frustrated glare from the corner of his eye, but thankfully got the hint and moved further away.

The room was one large, open space crowded by no less than forty people of varying ages broken into three groups. The men on the right. The women on the left and the teenagers all clustered around the door. It was like a high school dance gone horribly wrong. Yet the peeper in me perked with greedy exhilaration at all the faces, all the stories that came with those faces and me, smack dab in the middle of it all. The sensation of being a kid at Disneyland wafted through me and I nearly squealed. The pervert in my head did a series of pelvic thrusts and parts of the Macarena before I quieted it down.

“Come on!”

Tamara motioned us to follow her through the throng of people. My gaze had become a game of ping pong, bouncing from person to person in heady delight. I was so busy watching others that I didn’t see Gabriel stop until I walked into his back. My hands instinctively shot out to steady what would have been a painful face-plant, except I never made it to the ground. I was gathered into a hot, solid chest by the strong arms that banded around me. I was suffocated in his masculine scent of motor oil, soup, and grilled cheese. His hands splayed over the span of my back, burning me through the thin material of my top. My skin rose with goosebumps and a shiver worked through me that he couldn’t possibly miss.

“Careful.”

The skin at my temple prickled, but I couldn’t be sure if that was just my imagination, or if his lips had really brushed the spot.

I opted not to dwell on it. Instead, I carefully extracted myself from the emotionally wrecking embrace and straightened my glasses.

“Thank you,” I whispered, struggling to keep my gaze on his chest.

He didn’t respond, but I could feel his eyes drilling holes into my soul.

“Okay.” Tamara stepped up, drawing our attentions back to her. “Gabe, you get to help the dads over there.” She gestured to a group of men standing over a small pile of wooden planks. “Ali, you get to sit with the moms over there.”

The moms over there looked exactly like how one would picture moms to look like with their freshly pressed khakis and pretty little blouses. They had the whole Stepford Wives meets Weeds thing going on. They reminded me of cheerleaders at a football game, pretty to look at, but you know they’re several different shades of crazy should you venture too closely. Plus, I could smell the valium and desperation swirling around them. These women were two espresso shots away from snapping and they were armed with pointy needles. Someone clearly hadn’t thought this out properly.

“Why?” I turned back to Tamara. “I mean, are they helping with your costume?”

“No…” Tamara said slowly. “But they’re like experts, or something. I thought you’d like to get pointers.”

I eyed the women again and determined just how willing I was to risk my life. I decided not very.

“You know what?” I turned away from them. “I think I would rather sit over here and figure out how to make your dress without distraction.”

Tamara stared at me. “It’s okay,” she said at last. “They’re all bitches.”

“Tam!” Gabriel snapped, head coming up from the phone he’d been dutifully watching.

Tamara rolled her eyes at me before twisting around to face her brother. “Why are you still here? Go do something manly like build a stage for your adorable sister.”

Gabriel didn’t seem to be listening anymore. He checked the screen on his phone again. Whatever he was waiting for must not have been there, because he cursed—worse than Tamara—and stuffed the phone into his pocket.

“What do you want?” he snapped at his sister when she just kept staring at him expectantly.

“Stage!” she snapped back, waving a thin arm towards the men.

“This is ridiculous, Tammy!” he growled. “Shouldn’t you guys be doing this? It’s your play!”

“I am doing something. I’m supervising.”

Even I couldn’t blame Gabriel when the muscle in his jaw twitched. But I was distracted by the arms he lifted to cross over his chest. The stance was all manly and hot. I was especially thrilled by the hard bulges straining the soft material of his sleeves. He had the type of torso every woman needed as a pillow, an edible one.

“I’m not doing all the work so you can get the credit,” Gabriel told her. “I’ll help, but you sure as hell are going to pull your weight.”

“I’m too delicate to build things!” Tamara shot back, looking genuinely horrified.

“You’re full of shit,” Gabriel said without batting an eyelash. “You’re just lazy.”

Tamara huffed, but didn’t disagree.

“Now, you can either help me, or you can help Ali.”

Was it wrong that I kind of tingled all over when he said my name?

“Ali,” Tamara muttered.

“Fine.” Gabriel said. Then he rounded on me. “Make sure she actually does the work and that she doesn’t con you into doing everything.”

“I don’t know how to sew!” Tamara protested.

“We’ll be fine,” I assured them both.

“Well, you have to do something,” Gabriel said. “This is your play and your credit.”

“I have the hardest job already!” Tamara said. “I have to memorize an entire play and I have to sum up the courage to kiss Tyson Walsha. Do you have any idea how traumatic that is going to be for me?”

“I’m sure you’ll survive,” Gabriel said without a hint of remorse.

With all the rage only a teenager could muster, Tamara stomped her foot viciously into the worn linoleum with a snarl.

“You’re the worst brother ever!”

She stormed off, shoving several people out of her way in her rush to get to the doors.

“Well, that was interesting,” I decided.

Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb. “I don’t have time for this,” he muttered.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, sincerely concerned.

His response was to fish out his phone and check the screen again.

“Girlfriend problems?” I guessed, not sure why that was my initial thought.

“I have a crew coming into the shop in the next week, or so. The guy was supposed to call me with the available dates and I want to grab the soonest one before it’s gone.”

“What kind of crew?”

He turned those intense eyes my way. “I’m going to find Tammy,” was his response.

I watched him leave and stayed where they left me, surrounded by a crowd of people and no desire to watch. So I stood there, seemingly lost without my model to measure.

“You seem to be having about as much fun as I am,” came a voice from my right.

I turned to the man smiling down at me from a remarkably charming face. Fine, gold strands gleamed in the dim, dingy basement lighting and reflected in the cobalt blue of his eyes. He was all teeth, straight, blinding teeth that glistened brighter than search and rescue lights at night. He reminded me of a TV anchorman on his day off in jeans and a navy blue polo shirt. He extended a large hand to me.

“Carl Doray,” he said.

I accepted his surprisingly soft palm in a brisk handshake. “Ali Eckrich.”

He let me go after a friendly squeeze. His gaze swept over the room, narrowed with concentration.

“No idea what we’re supposed to do,” he stated, planting his hands on his hips.

“Well…” I started cautiously. “It seems to be every feminist’s worst nightmare with women doing the domestic work and the men the hard, manly work.”

Carl huh’d and nodded his head slowly like that made perfect sense.

“I guess I should go sit with the women then,” he mused. “I can’t build if my life depended on it.”

“Can you sew?” I asked.

He laughed. “Nope, but!” He turned those shimmering blue eyes on me. “I make a mean steak.”

I chuckled. “So are you a parent?”

I didn’t want to assume, especially since me and Gabriel weren’t Tamara’s parents and yet we were there.

“Yeah.” He pointed to a group of teenage girls clustered together by the doors. “My daughter Alyssa dragged me here on my only day off. But since I only get to see her one day a week, I figured why not.”

“Divorced?” I asked, looking him over again.

No wedding band, nor was there a faint tan line that there had ever been one. So, either he’d been separated a long time, or he was never married, but had a daughter.

“Yeah, four years now.” He glanced at me again. “You?”

“Oh!” I laughed. “No, not married and no kids.”

He arched a brow. “Sister?”

“Nope.”

His eyes narrowed. “Teacher?”

I shook my head. “But you’re getting close.”

He ran the tip of his tongue over his upper lip and continued scrutinizing me. “Okay, I like a challenge.” He scratched his chin. “You’re part of an underground smuggling ring.”

It was my turn to raise an eyebrow. “Would I pick teenagers? I mean, have you seen how annoying they are?”

Carl laughed. “Good point. Okay, so what brings you to a high school musical?”

“I was asked by my … boss,” I finished lamely, realizing how weird that sounded even to my own ears.

“Ah! Dating?”

“Oh God, no!” I blurted a little too loudly. “The guy’s an asshole.” Even if he was smoking hot when he smiled.

“So, overtime?”

I squinted. “That is a good question.” I would have to talk to Gabriel about my end of this bargain.

“You hate the guy. You’re not getting paid. But you’re here…”

When said like that, I could see how he would be confused.

“I’m a very giving person,” I decided.

“Did he at least say please?” Carl wondered.

I had to really think back on my conversation with Gabriel, and Tamara.

“No,” I realized. “Or thank you.”

Carl chuckled. “You really are a nice person.”

We were still talking when Gabriel returned, a sullen Tamara sulking behind him. He stopped at the sight of Carl and his eyes narrowed.

“How’s that dress coming along?” he asked me, after casting wary glances at my new companion.

“Practically finished,” I said with a broad smile.

Carl made a sound that could have been a laugh, but he was a smart man and kept it locked behind a cough.

“Hi,” he said, getting himself under control. “Carl Doray. You must be the boss.”

Gabriel gave a stiff nod, like if he flexed his neck muscles too much, his head might snap off.

“Gabriel.”

The comfortable atmosphere Carl and I had created with our easy conversation thickened to a tense silence that was made immensely awkward by Gabriel’s accusing glower. I loved that we were back to that. I had almost missed it.

“So…” Carl cleared his throat. “I should go see where Alyssa wants me.” He turned his head to me. “It was nice to meet you, Ali. We should get together later and compare notes of our day, if you’re up for it?”

“Oh, possibly, if you promise to bail me out of jail first.”

Carl laughed and dug into the back pocket of his jeans. He produced a card and passed it to me.

“Only if you promise to let me take you for coffee afterwards.”

I accepted the card, amused by his adorableness. “You got it.”

With a grin to Gabriel, a nod to Tamara, he walked away, leaving me alone with the pair staring at me like I was personally responsible for the internet’s fascination with cat memes.

“If you’re done picking up guys,” Gabriel began. “We have work to do.”

“I wasn’t picking up guys,” I muttered, stuffing the card into the side pocket of my purse. “We were talking.”

Gabriel twisted his head over his shoulder and peered out in the direction Carl had gone. I followed his gaze and found Carl already looking our way. He smiled and waved. I waved back, because that was what you did when someone you knew waved.

“Yeah, talking,” Gabriel bit out. “Looks to me like he has more on his mind than just talking.”

“And if he did?” I retorted, feeling my own annoyance flaring. “I don’t have to explain my personal life to you, Jack.”

Cutting gray eyes pivoted around and zeroed in on me with the force of twin laser beams. Toned arms lifted and crossed over a broad chest.

“I brought you here to help my sister, not get a date.”

“I am perfectly capable of doing both,” I countered. “It’s called multitasking, and if I want to go out with Carl—” Which I totally didn’t. “—I’ll go out with him.”

It wasn’t going to happen. Carl was nice, but that was the problem. He was nice, a lot like Tony and that was a mistake I was not going to make again. Plus, he had a teenage daughter. While I had nothing against a man with children, teenagers were like a bad case of hemorrhoids—mildly amusing when they were someone else’s problem, but not something I wanted personally.

“That’s Alyssa Doray’s dad,” Tamara stated in a slow, clearly disgusted, tone. “She’s the biggest whore in the school.”

“That’s not nice,” I said.

“No, it really isn’t,” Tamara agreed, but I had a feeling we weren’t talking about the same thing.

“Language,” Gabriel said absently to his sister while still squinting at me with those judgy, disapproving eyes.

I stared back, determined to win.

I did. He averted his gaze first and I mentally high fived myself on the minor victory.

“I’ll be over there,” he said in a half growl, half grumble.

With that, he stalked off to join the men and I watched him with a building sense of frustration. I just did not understand that man.

“He’s not really a jerk,” Tamara said, reminding me she was still there. “He just likes to act like one.”

“Oh well, we all have dreams.”

“He’s been through stuff,” Tamara went on, giving me that unwavering look that made me think she was trying to telepathically feed me information.

“What kind of stuff?” I wondered, because apparently our telepathic link was broken.

She shrugged. “I can’t tell you if he hasn’t already, but just give him time. He’ll come around.”

I started to tell her I didn’t care if he came around, but opted against it. Truthfully, I kind of wanted to see this non-jerk Gabriel, kind of the way I wanted to see a flying unicorn.

But I turned my attention away from the impossible and focused on the task at hand. I had never sewn an outfit, but I knew how to follow instructions and, really, how hard could it be?

“Okay, why don’t we sit down and try to at least draw something close to what you like,” I decided. “Then we’ll—”

I was interrupted by the sickening crunch of shattering bones and the howl of pain. The outburst seemed to be the only sound ripping through the room as all other conversation screeched to a halt and heads swiveled in the direction of the crowd clustered a mere few feet away.

I recognized Carl in his blue polo and jeans. What took me a moment longer to understand was why he was huddled on the floor, clutching at his face.

Blood streamed past his chin and through his fingers in a thick, crimson gush. It rained down the front of his shirt and pooled across the white floor. His face was white with pain and shock and he seemed incapable of catching his breath. Others were rushing to help him, but my gaze had moved past the blond to where Gabriel stood, barely a foot from Carl, a wide plank tucked against his side. He watched the scene with a frighteningly calm expression and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what had happened.

Horror propelled me over to him.

“Did you hit him?” I hissed, careful to keep my voice down.

Calm, gray eyes rolled down to me. “He walked into it.”

“Are you…” I couldn’t even finish that sentence. My anger and disbelief were suffocating. “What is the matter with you?”

He adjusted the wooden beam more firmly in his grasp. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” But as he walked away, I could have sworn I heard him mutter, “Get that coffee now, asshole.”

Chapter Six

Gabriel

“Gabe hit one of the parents at the school yesterday.”

Sitting straight across from me at the dinner table clad in her self-expression, Tammy leered at me with a sadistic sort of pleasure, the way I suspected the Grinch would have while he stood on the mountain side and watched as the Whos woke up to find their shit gone.

Our mother, a bird-like creature with delicate features and a panache for over exaggerating a situation, immediately went on alert. Her gray eyes widened until I was sure her eyeballs would drop into her shrimp salad.

“Gabriel?”

“I didn’t hit him,” I assured her.

“He did,” Tammy insisted. “There was blood everywhere.”

Now Mom looked simply horrified. The tacky knot of wood Jonas had given her as a ring on their wedding day contrasted against the pale skin of her fingers when she gasped behind her hand.

“Gabriel!”

“I didn’t hit him!” I protested, louder. “We went for the same board and I reached it first.”

“So you hit him?” Mom cried.

“I didn’t—”

“He asked Ali out,” Tammy kindly assisted. “Gabe was pissed.”

Mom blinked. “Who’s Ali?”

“Who asked Ali out?” Earl jumped in from the seat next to Tammy.

“Mr. Doray,” Tammy said. “He gave Ali his card and said—”

“That wasn’t why I hit him,” I snapped, inwardly cringing at the spark of light glistening in Earl’s watery gaze.

Mom caught on to my slip up like a shark on an injured scuba diver. “So you did hit him.”

“Told you.” Tammy smirked.

There were nineteen years between Tammy and I. I was already in college when Mom and Jonas found out they were expecting. Yet, despite the years between us, we had always been fairly close, except on days like when I wanted to reach across the table and strangle her.

“It was barely a tap,” I said to Mom. “It was an accident.”

Tammy snickered. “Oh, but you should have heard Alyssa. She was hysterical!” Her sniggering grew into spine-chilling cackles. “Daddy! Daddy!” she mocked, laughing harder. “It was awesome.”

I stared at my sister in absolute astonishment. “There are days I wonder if we shouldn’t get you institutionalized.”

Tammy snorted. “So I get pleasure from other people’s pain. Sue me.”

“Tam, we don’t laugh at other people’s pain,” Jonas embarked in his breathy whisper. “We must respect others and their feelings. Gabriel, we should never use our fists to resolve conflict.”

Jonas would have been a big hit in the sixties when free love and pot were rampant. He was all about feelings and embracing one’s own positive energy. In short, he was a hippie nerd with organic sweaters and a zen attitude. Yet somehow, he made my mother happy so I put up with him.

“I used a board,” I said.

“Come on, Dad,” Tammy cut in. “You have to admit it’s kind of funny.”

Jonas opened his abnormally large mouth to answer, but Mom was still stewing on her earlier question.

“Who’s Ali?”

“Gabe’s girlfriend,” Tammy supplied helpfully.

“What?” Mom’s head snapped around to me. “You have a girlfriend?”

“She’s not my girlfriend. I barely like her.”

“Which I personally don’t understand,” Earl piped in. “She is amazing. The sweetest little thing I have met in a long time.”

“I like her,” Tammy agreed. “She’s funny.”

“Well, you’re old and you’re crazy,” I said to the two across from me. “Neither of your opinions count.”

“Don’t flatter me,” Tammy said with a grin.

“I want to meet her,” Mom decided.

“Why?” I blurted. “I told you, she’s not—”

“Well, everyone else has met her,” Mom protested with a slight pucker in her bottom lip.

“I’ll bring her next Sunday,” Earl said. “You will love her, Lydia,” he promised Mom. “She’s a doll.”

My phone chirped in my pocket, sending my knee crashing into the underside of the table when I jumped. Everyone at the table jumped with me in surprise. Mom lost her fork with a resounding clang when it hit the side of her salad bowl.

Apologizing, I dug the devious out of my pocket and answered it right there at the table, which in my mother’s world, was a big no-no.

“Hello?”

“Gabriel! Not at the table!” Mom hissed.

I ignored her. I had been waiting all weekend for the construction crew to get back to me and hadn’t. I wasn’t going to miss them because Jonas thought technology was the devil’s tool and Mom went along with it.

“Hey, we still on for later?” Lloyd’s voice filled my ear and deflated my shoulders.

“Yeah, I’ll see you at your place,” I muttered.

Lloyd snorted. “Don’t sound so excited. See you then.”

He hung up, so I hung up and stuffed the phone back into my pocket.

Damn it!

“Gabriel, you know the rules,” Mom started in on me. “No phones at the table.”

“Sorry,” was the best I could manage.

“Were you hoping it was Ali?” Tammy coaxed.

“No, you little demon,” I snapped without heat. “It was Lloyd. We’re going to watch the game later at his place.”

Tammy perked. “Lloyd?”

I scowled at her enthusiasm. “He’s too old for you.”

Tammy frowned. “By like…” Her eyes rolled upwards as she did the math in her head.

“Nineteen years,” I mumbled. “That’s two decades.”

“One decade and nine years,” she corrected smartly. “See? I can do fancy math, too.”

“You’re only sixteen,” I pointed out. “Lloyd isn’t into babies.”

Tammy gasped. “I am a very mature sixteen year old. Besides, I don’t want to get married to the guy. I just want to get him naked and—”

“Tamara Nicole Pierce!” Mom exploded, face as red as the pretty silk scarf around her throat.

“What?” Tamara cried. “I was going to say draw him. Geez! Someone’s a pervert.”

But I knew that wasn’t what she was going to say. I could see it in the sideways smirk she sent me across the table.

“You’re sick,” was all I said.

Tammy shrugged, still grinning. “Yeah, but my imagination is fucking amazing.”

Mac was already at Lloyd’s when I got there straight from Mom’s place. The apartment was dark with only the pale light from the TV to guide me around the bulky furniture. I could just make out Mac’s head poking up from the back of the sofa as I made my way forward.

“Shit that was a long week,” Lloyd said in the way of a greeting as he handed me a cold beer.

I twisted off the top and took a swig before dumping myself into the lumpy armchair.

“What are we watching?”

“Figure skating,” Mac answered from the sofa.

Sure enough, a skinny blonde in a glittery, white get up twirled and swished across the ice.

We weren’t picky when it came to the type of sports we watched. I was almost certain it didn’t even matter. Sundays were our unwind days and we spent it vegging at Lloyd’s and staring blankly at the screen while we finished off a case of beer. There were seldom any words exchanged. But that was what our friendship had become, sports and silence. There were days I wondered why we bothered. What we once had would never return. It was too ruined to be repaired. But we always tried.

“So, that Ali chick’s interesting.” Lloyd took himself and his beer to the armchair opposite mine. The cap hit the coffee table between us with barely audible ping. “Surprised you hired her.”

It seemed to be that the universe wasn’t going to let me get away from that woman. She was on everyone’s mind and everyone felt obliged to bring her up to me, like I was somehow responsible for her.  It irritated me because only a week ago, I hadn’t known she existed. Now I couldn’t get away from her.

“I didn’t,” I muttered, watching the figure skater do a flawless twirl in midair. “Earl did.”

“She’s weird,” Mac said without taking his eyes off the screen. “Kind of creeps me out.”

Ali twisted a lot of feelings out of me, none of which I appreciated. But I never thought she was creepy. Odd, yes. Eccentric, yes. Infuriating, fucking right. But not creepy.

I turned towards Mac, the lip of the bottle hovering inches from my bottom lip.

“Why?”

I took a swig.

He shrugged a thin shoulder beneath his ratty, green t-shirt. “Because she’s always watching.” It was said in a low, almost conspiratorial whisper, like Ali might hear him if he wasn’t quiet. “She reminds me of this movie I saw once about this girl who was cornered by these five guys and they raped and murdered her. She came back to seek revenge and for the first half of the movie, she’d just sit in a corner and watch her victims before killing them in some seriously fucked up ways.”

“Dude,” Lloyd mumbled around a mouthful of beer.

“Exactly,” Mac agreed. “Every time I go into the office, she’s just sitting there behind those fucked up glasses … watching. It wigs me out.”

Lloyd burst out laughing, which made me chuckle.

“Maybe she secretly likes you.”

The swig I’d taken went down like a lump of rock, making my throat burn and my eyes water. I coughed, thumping one fist against my chest to loosen the knot blocking my airway.

“Maybe,” Mac agreed with a lazy shrug. “Maybe if she got rid of those glasses…”

“I bet she has a smoking hot bod beneath those ugly dresses,” Lloyd surmised. “She’s younger than us, isn’t she?”

They were both looking to me for the answer while I struggled not to die.

“I guess,” I forced out. “She graduated university a year ago, or something.”

Lloyd whistled through his teeth. “Someone that young shouldn’t be dressed like they’re on their way to a bridge club.”

“How the hell do you know what people wear in a bridge club?” Mac shot back.

Lloyd shrugged. “She dresses like my grandmother and my grandmother lives at those places.”

“But you know what?” Mac put up the hand not holding his beer. “I would still fuck her, doggy style with the lights off.”

Lloyd flicked a bottle cap at him that Mac deflected with the forearm he threw up to shield his face.

“I bet she’s insane in bed,” Lloyd chimed in. “The quiet ones usually are.”

Mac laughed. “I’ll let you know.”

“That’s enough!”

My own voice made me jump. But it was nothing like the wide-eyed surprise on my friend’s faces as they gawked back at me. I shifted in the worn leather, my anger an uncomfortable heat coming off my skin.

“You calling dibs, Gabe?” Mac asked tentatively.

No, I wasn’t fucking calling dibs, I wanted to snarl at him. Dibs meant I wanted her and I didn’t. The girl infuriated me and drove me to commit unspeakable crimes, like breaking a guy’s nose because … I had no idea why, but he deserved it. Nevertheless, lines always seemed a bit blurred where Ali was concerned.

“Knock it off!” I snapped, more to the tug o’ war going on in my head than the two watching me.

“Gabe?” Lloyd hedged quietly. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” I shot back. “You guys should just know better than to talk like that.”

It was a low blow. I knew it the moment it left my mouth and my friends stiffened. A fine chill crystallized around the warmth that had filled the room only moments ago and settled like a fine dusting of frost. I felt it cut into my skin and nearly hissed at the pain. But it was too late to take it back.

“Do you guys ever think about her?” Mac was barely audible over the cheer of the crowd on TV.

I didn’t answer. Neither did Lloyd.

“I do,” Mac went on, a bit numbly while staring at the bottle in his hand. “We really fucked up with her.”

“Mac…”

Mac sucked in a shaky breath and straightened his shoulders. He heaved his pipe cleaner frame out of the sofa.

“Gonna grab another drink.”

We watched him shuffle into the kitchen. Then my gaze caught Lloyd’s and I knew we were both thinking the same thing: yeah, we thought about her every damn day, too.

Her terrace doors were closed and the blinds were drawn when I dared a peek through my curtains. I couldn’t tell if anyone was home, but there was a faint shimmer of light turning the sheer fabric a pale gold against the light blue and pink darkening the sky around it. It made me wonder what she was doing. It made me want to throw something at the glass to get her attention. I wanted her to call and I had no explanation for it, except that I missed her voice. The predicament of my situation fanned the flames of frustration raging through me. It had been too long since I had allowed myself to miss another person, to miss the warmth and desires of a woman, that I could no longer trust my own wants. I couldn’t distinguish between loneliness and lust, and that was dangerous. I had to remain in control. I had to remember what happened when I let myself go. People got hurt and I couldn’t allow that to happen again.

Lloyd opened the shop the next morning. There was a Taurus parked in bay one. The hood was up and Lloyd was checking the spark plugs when I got to work, an hour before Mac would. None of us were morning people, but Lloyd and I were reasonably better at getting up than Mac, who couldn’t even function without six cups of coffee.

“Morning,” I called in passing.

Lloyd barely shot me a glance. “Morning. Ali’s up in the office.”

The first thing I noticed when I stepped through the office doors was that Ali was indeed there. The second thing was that she wasn’t kneeling, nor were her lips that sexy pink they had been the last time. Both were a relief. My sanity had barely survived the up rise of hunger. Between them being parted and tipped up to me in offering and her kneeling before me with a blush on her cheeks, it had been hard to remember why I shouldn’t undo my pants, close a hand in her hair, and guide her forward. The fact that I had jerked off to that very image just the other night hadn’t helped stave off the blinding need.

She sat in the chair, neatly tucked beneath a desk I hadn’t seen in years. There were small stacks of paper still placed in neat piles on the scarred surface, but the rest was gone and I couldn’t fathom what she’d done with them. From some unknown place, she had unearthed three metal filing cabinets and each one was tucked in a neat row against one wall. I assumed the papers had gone in there.

“Wow,” I said, seriously impressed. “This looks amazing.”

She swiveled around in her chair, not exactly surprised to see me, but maybe mildly startled. She recovered quickly.

“There were a couple of phone calls last night,” she said. “They left messages on the machine. I took notes.”

She passed me a slip of paper with neat scribble across it. Both were for appointments.

“Just write them in the book,” I told her, passing the paper back.

One slim finger poked her glasses higher on her face and then moved up to sweep back a coil of hair that had escaped the bun.

“What book?”

I tore my gaze away from her and scanned the desk, then the top of the filing cabinets. I was about to call Lloyd when I remembered.

“I took it upstairs the other day.” I muttered to myself. To her, I said, “Hold on.”

Leaving her there, I hurried up the stairs to the loft. My feet carried me quickly to the bed and the leather bound book resting on the edge of the night table. I snatched it up and jogged back down.

Ali hadn’t moved. She stood waiting for me. I handed her the calendar.

“This is where we keep all appointments,” I said. “If there’s already a car booked for a specific time, call the person back and see if they won’t take a different time, or date.”

She nodded, studying my practically illegible chicken scratches. I waited for her to make a comment about it. I know I would have. But she said nothing. That, oddly enough, concerned me.

“Everything okay?”

Her head came up and I saw it on her face before she spoke.

“No.”

“What is it?” I asked, ignoring the little voice telling me it was none of my business.

She shook her head. “Just personal stuff. Nothing you’d be interested in.” She closed the book and turned towards the desk. “I’ll get these appointments down and then finish filing.”

I wanted to push. I started to. But the voice in my head was right. It wasn’t my business. I had already become more invested in the woman than I liked.

I walked out.

By lunch, Ali’s problems were all I could think about. Every time I saw her, the nagging questions would resurface, stronger than before. I was beginning to think my brain couldn’t make up its own damn mind. Yet I refrained. She seemed preoccupied, whether it was by the filing, or her thoughts, it was impossible to tell.

“It’s lunch,” I told her as Mac and Lloyd stomped up the loft steps ahead of me.

Ali looked up from the papers in her hands. She gave a nod of comprehension.

“Thanks.”

It struck me that, aside from that very first day, I hadn’t seen her go up there since. Part of me wondered if maybe she thought it was someone’s apartment. Another part wondered if maybe she was just uncomfortable being alone with people she didn’t know. Whatever the reason, I felt responsible. Truthfully, I felt like an outright bastard. It was my job to make my employees feel comfortable and welcome. It was my job to make sure they felt secure. But from the moment Ali had waltzed into my life, I had been treating her the way a little punk on the playground would. She kept herself locked up in the office, because I had done nothing to make the situation easier for her.

“Why don’t you come up?” I suggested gently. “I’ll introduce you to Lloyd and Mac.”

She seemed to still at the request. Her chin tipped up in my direction and I found myself captivated by those lips again. The hand at my side physically twitched with an impulse I had to spear down with all my strength.

I wanted to touch her. I wanted to take her chin in my hand, tip it further up, and run my thumb over my obsession. I wanted to part them and watch passion flare across her eyes before I claimed that mouth.

Fuck!

“Thank you,” she whispered, oblivious to the torment she was causing. “I want to finish these files before I leave.”

The well of anger had nothing to do with her and everything to do with my own weakness. Yet when I spoke, it radiated in my voice and shimmied down the length of my spine.

“You get an hour for lunch,” I snapped. “You don’t get paid for that hour.”

Her shoulders tightened. “I’m aware of that.”

“Then have lunch!”

“I’ll eat when I’m hungry.” she shot back, some of her old spark returning.

“When is that exactly?” I demanded. “I never see you eat.”

Her lips slammed together, forming a thin, white line. Her cheeks however blazed a radiating crimson that reminded me of a traffic light.

“That isn’t your concern.” Her lips barely moved around the words.

She was right. It wasn’t my concern. She wasn’t my concern, so why the fuck did I want to throw her over my shoulder and find the nearest restaurant?

“You are the most stubborn, pigheaded woman I have ever met,” I hissed finally.

She shot out of her seat in a blur of rage. “And you are the most insufferable, egotistical—”

“Egotistical?” I cut in, dumbfounded by that deduction.

“Asshole!” she snarled.

My hands were on her then. I had no control over them. All I saw was a burst of red and then I had her face between my palms. I had my thumbs wedged beneath her chin like brackets, forbidding her from looking anywhere but at me. I drove her back into the desk and nearly broke when she gasped.

“That is the third time you’ve called me an asshole, Ms. Eckrich.” I tightened my hold just enough to drive my warning home. “Next time, I will put you over my knee.”

I expected her to be horrified, furious even. But she stood trapped between me and the desk with her lips parted and her chest rising and falling with such force, I half feared she was having some kind of panic attack. Beneath my touch, her skin blazed hot. Her scent rose around us, a rich swirl of woman, arousal and soap. My cock hardened against the soft flesh of her abdomen and I knew she could feel it. There was no way she couldn’t. But I couldn’t bring myself to give a shit.

“Hey, you coming up?”

Mac’s voice shattered the shimmering web of desire knitting thickly throughout the room. Beneath my hold, Ali stiffened. I felt it as surely as though she had shoved a brick wall between us. I released her and took several quick steps back, never once taking my eyes off her. She straightened, dragging unsteady hands down her blouse and over her skirt. She was still panting, but I was no longer sure from what.

A pink tongue swept over her bottom lip before it was drawn in between her teeth. She kept her head turned away and it only fueled the urgency writhing through me.

God, I shouldn’t have put my hands on her. I shouldn’t have threatened her. Damn it!

“Ali…”

“I … I need to finish,” she whispered, already turning away.

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to fix what I’d done. All I could do was stand there and stare uselessly at the curve of her back.

I walked out. Not to join my friends, but to leave the shop entirely.

I spent the remainder of the day lost in a thick cloud of my own self-loathing. Not even throwing myself headlong into work kept the snapping guilt nipping at my heels at bay. It got to the point where I couldn’t stand it any longer.

Ali was just throwing her purse strap on over her shoulder when I ducked into the office at six and shut the door. Her head came up fast, surprise widening her eyes.

“I want to talk about earlier,” I said. “About the things I said—”

“It’s fine,” she said cutting me off. “Really.”

“It was wrong,” I corrected. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper with you.”

She fumbled with the strap running lengthwise across her chest, but said nothing. I wasn’t sure there was anything for her to say. She had every right to be furious.

“Did I hurt you?”

My gaze went to her jaw, to the soft, pale skin of her throat. I saw no bruises, or marks, but that meant nothing. I would never forgive myself if I hurt her.

Ali shook her head. “You didn’t. I’m really okay,” she promised. “But I have to go.”

What could I do except move aside and let her leave? I stayed rooted to the spot long after the click of her sandals faded through the garage and out the doors.

Christ, what a mess.

I dragged my exhausted bones home well after six and practically crawled into the shower. The warm jets rinsed away the grime and grit while pounding against my throbbing muscles. I would have stayed there forever if I hadn’t been expecting a phone call in mere minutes.

Dressed, I padded into the living room in search of the phone. I had spent the better part of my spare time righting my apartment. Most of the boxes had been emptied out. My things had new homes. I had finished my bedroom, the bathroom, and parts of the kitchen, but kept struggling with the sitting area.

It wasn’t because I had a whole lot of stuff, but no matter how I fiddled and twisted, my furniture refused to fit. The room wasn’t large enough for my single sofa, love seat, and armchair and I had nowhere else to put them. So they sat in odd angles while I decided what to do with them.

Lifting the phone off the coffee table, I wandered my way to the terrace doors and I slumped into the glass. The drapes kept the cold at bay, but I still felt a slight chill seeping off the window and through my clothes. I leaned my head back and shut my eyes.

It was Ali’s face I saw behind my closed eyelids. It was her mouth and her scent and the way she trembled in my arms when I touched her. The front of my sweats tightened as my need for her blossomed to a thrum of pain. I took the source of my agony in hand through the worn material of my pants and stroked languidly, eyes still closed. My breath came out in jagged pants as my body built much too quickly and my release surged up in a sudden rush that had me scrambling to untangle my cock from my pants. Thick, white ropes burst from the top and splattered across the floor before I could even groan in relief.

“Shit!” I gasped, slumping back against the doors, my knees too weak to support me.

Shame singed my cheeks with heat. I couldn’t believe I had come so fast. For Christ sakes, I was thirty-five years old, not some horny teenager. I had stamina and more finesse than that usually. Yet the mere thought of Ali and I was once again reduced to a mere fraction of myself.

My eyes opened and I flicked a glance at the clock. It sat stubbornly at six fifty-eight. The phone was quiet in the hand not stuffing a limp cock back inside my pants.

I felt dirty and cheap. But more than that, I felt like an utter pervert. That was the third time thoughts of Ali had made me come. The third time the climax had hit me like a punch in the gut. I hated myself a little more each time. But it also strengthened my resolve that I needed my new neighbor. I needed to get Ali out of my head.

I pushed away from the window and shuffled off to clean up my mess. The phone never left my grasp, not even when I went to grab myself a bowl of cereal.

It rang.

My gaze jumped to my watch.

Exactly seven.

My heart rocketed in my chest with excitement. But I waited the mandatory five rings before picking up.

“Hello.”

There was a quiet exhale on the other end and it made me wonder if she thought I wouldn’t answer.

“Hi,” she whispered, and the small, wariness in her voice cut at me.

“What’s wrong?”

She was silent.

I counted each second she didn’t speak. Then every minute.

“I had a long day,” she whispered at last. “Stuff at work mostly and I’m helping a … friend with a school project, so I haven’t been sleeping much.”

My heart wrenched at the misery echoing between us. I hated that I couldn’t gather her up into my arms and make her hurt stop. All I could do was abandon my cereal and make my way to the terrace. I kept the drapes firmly over the glass, but rested a hand on the frame like that could somehow bring me closer to her.

“Go out on your veranda,” I told her.

I heard the faint whisper of sheets and momentarily imagined her on her bed, clad in nothing but her robe and panties. I could have been wrong, but I really liked that picture.

There was a click and the squeak of hinges being forced to open. Then I heard a chuckle.

“I haven’t been out here since Friday. I have no idea what my neighbors have done in my absence.”

“Do you watch them often?”

“Every night if I can,” she said honestly. “It’s like my sitcom, which actually reminds me.” She paused. “Do you think we could move our calls to eight?”

I laughed. “Eight?”

“Yeah, everyone gets home at seven and I don’t want to seem like I’m ignoring you.”

I shook my head, still chuckling. “You can watch them while we talk, but only for an hour. After that, you’re mine.”

“Oh!” Her breathy whisper rippled through me and tightened in my pants. “I can live with that.”

“Are you watching them now?”

“Yes.”

I turned and settled my back against the frame. “Tell me about them.”

“Really?”

The excitement in her voice made me smile.

“Yeah.”

My head turned in the direction of the doors and the thick curtains keeping her from me and I fought not to break my own rule. The fingers not clutching the phone to my ear twitched and reached for the fabric hanging at my side. It would be so simple to steal a peek. It was impossible not to when I knew she was right there.

“The first window is a man and his not daughter,” she began. “For the longest time, I thought he was her father,” she explained, laughter in her voice. “Until he started fucking her against the window one night.”

My eyebrow lifted. “Did you like it?”

“No.” She sighed. “I was stunned the first five minutes, then disturbed for the rest of it. I stopped watching and they never did it again. Plus, he’s sixty and she’s like eighteen.”

“Interesting,” I mused.

“I don’t judge,” she went on. “But he reminds me of Santa Claus. Between that and her being so young…”

I chuckled. “I get it.”

“Plus, he has a thick, gross beard.” She made a gagging sound. “I’m not a fan of facial hair. I mean, I like a nice, neat stubble, but not a full on beard.”

Rolling my tongue over my teeth, I rubbed at the thick carpet covering my own jaw. The damn thing itched like a motherfucker, but I kept it because I was too lazy to shave. Truthfully, I hadn’t had a reason to.

“Don’t like beards, huh?”

“Not really,” she said automatically. “My boss has one and it drives me nuts. Do you have one?”

I bit back my laugh. “Tell me about the rest.”

I listened as she went on, describing each window around me. I hadn’t met my new neighbors, but with her in depth description of each one, I may as well have. What I loved most was her enthusiasm and the sound of her voice as the sadness that had been clasped around it dropped away. Her delight made me want to stay there and listen forever.

“I can’t see the other floors,” she finished. “But my regulars keep me entertained just fine.”

I opened my eyes and started across the almost organization of my apartment. My stomach rumbled, reminding me I was hungry, but it could wait.

“It’s eight.” I heard the quiet click of her doors shutting. “I’m yours.”

My groan of pleasure at those words rumbled in my chest. It was torture just how badly I wanted her, how badly I wanted to be there, sitting on the edge of her bed, waiting for her when she closed those doors. I would draw her between my knees and slide her robe off to bury my face between her breasts. The whole scene was beautiful in my mind with the buttery gold sunlight spilling through the glass behind her, ghosting over her bare skin. For some godforsaken reason, she had Ali’s mouth and it was curved in a grin as I pulled her down to me.

“Q?”

I blinked and cursed myself for thinking of Ali when I should have been focused on the woman on the phone.

“Did you pick a name?”

“Yes!” she said with an excited laugh. “I thought about it and it took forever. But I went online and did a search of some names and finally found one I really like.”

“And?” I coaxed when she went quiet.

“Aoife.” She paused, maybe waiting for me to comment, maybe for affect. “She was a warrior princess who was conquered by the hero, Cúchulainn. But he promised to spare her life on the condition that she, well, cease the war, but also to spend the night with him and give him a son.”

“That is an interesting choice,” I mused, feeling myself grin.

She sighed. “Yeah, but he leaves her and later kills his own son.”

“Are you sure that’s the name you want?”

“Yes.”

I shrugged. “All right then.”

“Do you like it?”

I pushed away from the doorframe and wandered my way towards the kitchen for food. I decided against cereal. It was too crunchy and I didn’t want to be munching into her ear while we talked. Instead, I settled on a peanut butter and jam sandwich.

“I do,” I answered her while I wrestled the jam jar open. “It’s unique.”

“I originally thought Rosie, because it’s my middle name, but it’s so common and I’ve never heard Aoife before. Plus, I love how it’s spelled A-o-i-f-e, but is pronounced Eeefa.”

“I like Aoife,” I assured her. “Did you think any more about what we talked about?”

Sandwich in hand, I walked back to the living room and sat on the sofa. The phone was cradled between my ear and shoulder, angling my neck at an odd slant.

“I know you wanted my answer today, but I have a few conditions before I say yes or no.”

I nodded, giving myself time to finish chewing and swallowing before answering. “All right. Read them to me.”

There was a rustle of pages in a book.

“Okay.” She took a deep breath. “One. No video or audio recording at any time.”

“Deal and agreed,” I mumbled.

“Good.” I heard the hiss of pen striking the question off her paper. “Two. No humiliating requests.”

I dropped my half eaten sandwich down on my plate and set my plate down on the coffee table. I rose and began to pace.

“Define humiliating.”

She cleared her throat. “No making me walk out of my apartment naked.”

I chuckled. “Deal.”

“Three. No getting freaky with animals or kids.”

My spit caught in my throat, doubling me over as I struggled between laughing and coughing.

“Deal!” I choked out. “Double deal.”

“Good.” She paused, possibly to consult her notes. “Four. Are you single? I know you said there were no other women, but that could mean anything.” She waited a full heartbeat before adding, “Did that make sense?”

I nodded. “Yes, and no, there is no one else.”

“Five. Is this an exclusive relationship, or are we free to see other people?”

“I don’t share.” I didn’t attempt to conceal the finality in my decision. “For the time you are with me, you are mine and mine alone and I will extend you the same courtesy.”

“I can live with that,” she murmured. I heard the scratch of pen on paper. “Six. Are you a criminal?”

I blinked at that one. “A criminal?”

“Yeah, have you ever committed a crime that you have, or haven’t been arrested and charged for?”

“I know what it is, and no, I’m not and no, I haven’t.”

“Seven. Are you patient?”

I considered that a moment. “I am controlling and domineering. I like to think I’m fair, but with this, with you, I would be patient.”

“If I told you I have over two hundred questions on my list?”

The corner of my mouth lifted. “Do you?”

“Possibly.”

I chuckled. “I would be fine with that. I prefer you ask me everything now and get comfortable with me before we go too far and you find this isn’t what you want.”

“Fair enough. What number were we at?”

“Eight.”

“Right.” She cleared her throat. “No inviting your friends over for fun time.”

Maybe laughing at such a reasonable remark wasn’t the best way to assure someone of your seriousness, but I did.

“I promise,” I choked out at last. “No fun time for my friends.”

I heard her chuckle on the other end. “A girl has to cover all her bases.”

“I completely understand.” I moved to the sofa and dropped into it. I took up my half eaten sandwich and took a bite. I chewed a few times. “Now I have some questions for you,” I said around a mouthful. “Unless you have more conditions?”

“No, I think we’ve covered the more important ones.”

“Have you done this before?”

“No.” She answered so fast, I could have sworn she was on some gameshow.

“Do you work?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have children?”

“No. Do you? I should have added that to my questions…”

I chuckled. “No, no children. Are you with someone in any shape or form?”

“No, my last relationship was four years ago. He was my first and only to date.”

That perked my interest.

“Why? Did it end badly?”

“Um…” She sucked in a deep breath. “Kind of. I told him I wanted more … kink, and he thought it was too much.”

“What kind of kink?”

“Nothing crazy, light spanking, maybe minor bondage. I’m not hardcore into that kind of stuff, but as I mentioned before, he was very into missionary.”

“Mm,” I hummed, remembering all too well. “Do you drink, smoke, or do any sort of drugs?”

“Occasionally, mostly socially, no, and definitely no. You? I swear I should have let you ask the questions first…”

I chuckled. “A beer on the weekends, occasionally during social gatherings, but not normally. I used to smoke, but I quit about six years ago and no, no drugs. Never even tried.”

“When’s the last time you had sex?”

“Hmm…” I felt myself blushing and was almost glad she wasn’t there to see it. “It’s been a while.”

“Months or years?”

“Definitely years.”

“Why?”

I looked down at the sandwich still in my hand. “My last relationship ended very badly.”

“Tell me?”

I could choose to ignore it, tell her I wouldn’t answer. But honesty was a big part of building trust and she had a right to know why I set the rules the way I did.

“Her name was Regina,” I began slowly. “I met her in college. She was the one who turned me onto the lifestyle.”

“You mean…?”

I drew in a deep breath and held it until my lungs hurt. “Yes.” I blew out the air in a rush. “We were both eighteen, but she had been going to sex clubs since she was sixteen via a fake ID her then boyfriend had given her. She was crazy. Wild and full of life. It was impossible to resist her pull when she got excited about something.

I knew she was different the first time we had sex. She wanted me to tie her down and spank her. I had never hit a girl in my life and I was … horrified, but a part of me was also intrigued. So, I spanked her, once, lightly on the ass. To my … amazement and teenage delight, she came from that. After that, I got bolder. She taught me new things and each one was better than the last. We started going to clubs together and making friends with others who were in the lifestyle. But the deeper we got into it, the more destructive she became. The changes were subtle, but I should have seen them.” I paused long enough to drop my sandwich piece back into the plate, rub the crumbs off my fingers on my thigh and get to my feet. “A few years after college, we moved in together. I loved the idea of having her so close.

With Regina, there were no hard limits. There were no red lights. She was into anything and everything, the dirtier the better. She had no threshold for pain and I refused to act on the level she needed. I think that was what pushed her to turn to my two best friends, and I let her. I figured if it was the only way she could get what she needed, there was no one I trusted more to give it to her. But it wasn’t enough. It was never enough with her. Even between the three of us, she was still hungry for something none of us could give her.

She left.

There was no note, or explanation, but we knew why. I went looking for her, but she had disappeared underground, deep into the clubs I refused to go to with her. Two years later, we got news from her sister that they found her body in the sewer. She’d been hung up from the pipes, naked, cut up, stabbed, raped, and beaten to death.”

“Oh my God!”

I rubbed a shaky hand over my face. “That was three years ago. I haven’t been with a woman since she left. Not because I loved her, which I did, but because I don’t know if I can trust myself.”

“Are you still in that lifestyle?”

“No, and I never will be again.”

Chapter Seven

Ali

I woke up the next morning with a weight settling on my chest. The predawn hour was a faint, white light spilling through the terrace doors and coloring my room a pinkish gold. I sighed and turned my head in the direction of my clock. There was no real reason for it. I knew what time it was. But I stared at the blinking, red numbers and thought about Q and our conversation the night before.

We’d hung up shortly after his confession about Regina. I could tell from the tone of his voice that talks of her had drained him and I hated that I had pushed him to relive those days. My chest ached with the knowledge that there was nothing I could do but stare at the space that separated us and long to pull him into my arms. Part of me wondered if he would have been upset if I went over, if I just showed up at his door and said screw it to the mystery and the kink and the secrets. But I knew it wouldn’t go over well. If he had wanted me there, he knew he only had to ask.

Nevertheless, everything in me hurt for him.

Feeling the world dragging at my ankles, I tumbled out of bed and headed for the shower. I dressed, had breakfast, stuffed several granola bars into my purse for lunch and then did something I normally didn’t do in the mornings: I checked my email.

It had been weeks since I logged in. I had to rub my temples a few times to remember what my password was. But I managed to get on with only two error attempts.

Aside from five thousand junk mails and a couple of emails about my student loan payments having been received, there was nothing about potential employment. Of the hundreds of applications I’d submitted over the year after I got out of university, not one had returned my email. Thank God I hadn’t waited on them, or was in dire financial restraint. But if there was anything my mother had taught me, aside from never wear spandex, it was to always have a backup plan when it came to money. Mom was on her fourth husband, Albert something fancy pants, whose family was richer than the husband before him. He kept my mom happy by keeping her fabulously wealthy and by doing so, he would never see the other end of a divorce table.

Only, I wasn’t into marrying for money. My luck came in the form of a generous inheritance my father had set up for me to receive—as per the divorce settlement—once I turned twenty-one. That didn’t include the six figure child support payment he made to my mother monthly until my eighteenth birthday, which I never saw a penny of. But despite the existence of my pot of gold, I had refrained from touching any of it. All through university, I had worked every minute I wasn’t studying. I lived on nothing but granola bars and water for months and tucked every penny away for the three months I spent doing nothing. It had been grueling and painful, but I had done it. I didn’t touch my inheritance until I moved back and got my apartment and even then, I had barely made a dent in the numbers. I hadn’t touched it since.

While I could live comfortably on my father’s money, I had gone to school for a reason. I had spent hours studying and beating my brains in for more than to become some trust fund baby. Plus, in a lot of ways, that money always felt like a bribe. Here’s several thousand dollars, just leave me alone, which was basically what my father did after Mom left him. I hadn’t seen him since my sixth birthday. Just before the cake was cut. Just before my mother served him.

It was a warm and fuzzy memory.

My inbox was empty of anything important, save for an email from Lena asking how I was. That was a sure sign that it was the second Tuesday of the month. That was the only time I ever got word from my sister, which served us both just fine. My excuse was because I hated texting and emailing, but I preferred emailing over texting and phone conversations over both, and Lena hated anything that reminded her of Mom, which included me.

Our relationship had always been something between two acquaintances. While we shared a mother, we did not share a father. Hers was husband number one. Mine was husband number three. But that wasn’t the reason we both broke out in hives when were were forced to socialize.

Lena, despite her many attempts, was a lot like Mom. She was about image, about perfecting oneself to become socially acceptable. I was about staying hidden behind enormous clothes and even bigger glasses. Lena considered that unacceptable. Our monthly emails were just her way of appeasing her conscious.

I sent her a quick note back, telling her I was fine, everything was good, and that I found a job. All the basic stuff. I didn’t mention Q. She wouldn’t understand. Plus, I wasn’t sure how to bring that up in acceptable conversation. So I opted to leave it out.

I hit send and closed my laptop. Then I grabbed my purse, my keys, and walked to work.

Earl greeted me at the office door, his brown eyes shining with excitement.

“There you are,” I said, jogging up the steps. “I was beginning to think you abandoned me.”

“Shuffle board,” he said. “Took my lady friend for a weekend getaway.”

I feigned mocked outrage. “You have a lady friend? I thought I was the only one.”

I did a quick glance around to make sure Gabriel wasn’t nearby and listening. Last thing I needed was for him to think I had dirty intentions towards his grandfather … again.

Earl chuckled. “He’s not here yet,” he said. “But I was hoping to talk to you before he arrived.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’re not going to offer lunch and then escape again, are you?”

He had the decency to grimace. “I thought it would benefit the two of you to have a little one on one and clearly it worked, because here you are.”

I edged around him and stepped into the office. I took my purse off and dumped it into the bottom drawer of the desk and kicked it shut.

“The only thing you managed to do was get him a free bath in my iced tea.”

He winced again. “Went badly, huh?”

“Just a tad,” I answered with a sigh. “Your grandson has a very unique talent in pissing me off.”

Earl patted me lightly on the arm. “Go easy on him. He’s had a rough few years.”

I started to ask what that meant, but he went on talking.

“Anyway though, that isn’t why I’m here. What are you doing Sunday?”

I frowned. “Uh, I don’t know. Why?”

“I told Lydia, Tammy and Gabriel’s mom, that I would invite you over for Sunday dinner. It’s nothing fancy, just the family. She wants to thank you for helping Tam with her costume.”

I felt myself visibly pale at the thought of meeting the parental unit. I had bad luck with those. Mine hated me and the one time I met Tony’s they hadn’t liked me either. Apparently his mother hadn’t thought I was … pure enough for their precious son. If only they had known he’d been my first, whilst I had been his fifth. But it hadn’t ended well and, to date, had been the most awkward dinner of my life, which was saying something since I spent my childhood listening to my mom telling me how fat I was over meals.

“I don’t know, Earl…”

“Please?” He gave me big, innocent brown eyes that were impossible to resist. “I promised her I would and she’s already got her heart set on it.”

“Damn it, Earl!”

“I know, I know! I’m sorry. I should have asked you first. But what do you say?”

I sighed. What could I say?

“What time?” I grumbled.

“Be there for five.” He fished into his pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper. “There’s the address and Lydia’s number in case you get lost.”

I raised a brow. “Not if I can’t make it?”

He chuckled. “I know you won’t do that to me.” He squeezed my elbow. “Thank you again, darling.”

“I can only stay until six,” I told him. “I have to be home after that.”

Earl shook his head. “You’ll be in and out.”

“Okay then.” I picked up the office phone and dialed the voicemail. “But you owe me!”

He chuckled and started for the door. “I’ll see you there. Oh! Gabriel’s here.”

I turned away to punch in the access code to get into the messages. In the background, I could hear Earl talking and the scuff of boots as Gabriel climbed the stone steps. I jotted down the first message into the calendar; some woman who wanted her transmission looked at. I was in the process of getting her number down when I made the mistake of glancing up.

The phone hit the desk with a deafening crack that made Earl and Gabriel jump. I didn’t notice. I was too busy gawking at the mythological god that had stepped into the office.

“Holy…” I couldn’t even think of a proper sentence to finish that.

The beard was gone. Not just trimmed, or buzzed down to stubbles, it was gone, leaving behind smooth, taut skin and lips … oh, dear god, his lips were just … orgasmic. Full and lush and firm … I wanted to do dirty things to them. Then he’d gone and combed all that thick, silky hair back from his gorgeous face and I was weeping. Only the tears were running down my legs in streams of hot arousal. Jesus, the man was delicious. And he was staring back at me with that ever present scowl of his.

“What?” he muttered.

“What … what happened?” I barely managed.

“I shaved,” he said like I should know this.

“Uh huh,”

I couldn’t stop staring and I was pretty certain my jaw was somewhere at my feet. I mean, I had known he was good looking, but damn the man cleaned up real nice.

“You’re making me uncomfortable,” he mumbled.

“Uh huh…” I mumbled stupidly.

Cheeks darkening to match his deepening frown, he stalked past Earl and disappeared upstairs.

Maybe it was the fact that Q had me all kinds of horny most of the night, and the fact that I hadn’t had a man in four years, but I actually wanted to jump Gabriel. I wanted to rip off his clothes and feast on all those beautiful muscles. I wanted him to slam me into the nearest wall, hike up my skirt, and fuck me like the existence of his cock depended on it. I didn’t think I had ever been so aroused. I sure as hell never thought it would be over Gabriel. But I wanted him like my body was on fire and he was a firehose.

“The door has a lock on the inside.”

I jolted at the intruding voice. I had forgotten all about Earl, but saw him now, grinning at me as he shut the office door behind him.

My face burned until I was sure my skin would melt off. I hurried over and yanked the door open, more to stave off the temptation than to prove I wasn’t going to follow through with my lusty urges.

It wasn’t until midday that I realized I didn’t like Gabriel shaved. In fact, I hated it. I missed his face bush and only because shaved Gabriel flustered me like a virgin on her first night of deflowering. Every time he walked into the room, I dropped whatever I was holding, walked into walls, or suddenly and inexplicably forgot how to speak. Words that I was usually so good with, came out in garbled mumblings that made no sense even to me. My face would heat up to temperatures I wasn’t sure were safe and I won’t even start on how tight my nipples would become, or how hard my clit would throb, or how I was ready to cry at how much I needed to come.

By six o’clock, I had toilet paper wedged between my fun box and my soaked panties to staunch the flow of juices from running down my legs.

“Hey.” The object of my frustrations—sexual and otherwise—stepped into the office, holding a greasy lump of circular metal with small rods jetting out of it. “Can you call the scrap yard real quick and ask if they have a wheel bearing for a Dodge Ram?” His boots scuffed against concrete as he shifted closer.

Grateful for something to do that didn’t require speaking, I punched in the number and waited for someone to pick up.

They had the piece and promised to have someone bring it down in the morning. I relayed the message to Gabriel before climbing out of my seat, careful not to look at, or touch him.

He was still standing there watching me when I jerked my purse out of the desk drawer and straightened. His gray eyes were contemplative and steady, the sort of look that made me nervous, especially since being in that room with him reminded me of the previous day and the sensation of his hands on my jaw. His touch had been so hot, so firm and unyielding, and the way he’d moved to claim my space had done incredible things to my insides. Every inch of me had silently willed him to end what he’d started, to kiss me, or better yet, follow through with his promise and put me over his knee. The mere thought had stolen every rational thought and left me lightheaded and breathless.

“What?” I asked, holding my purse to my midsection.

He shook his head slowly. “Just trying to figure you out.”

I frowned. “I’m not all that complex.”

“Are you sure about that?”

I dropped my gaze, the power of his attention too intense to maintain for long.

“I need to go,” I whispered. “It’s six.”

“What happens at six, Ali?” The quiet question was tainted with a dark undertone that made me painfully aware of just how small the office really was. The fact that the question was followed by a slow, forward step only intensified the situation. “Is there a boyfriend waiting for you?”

My gaze jumped back up to his. “No.”

Something in his eyes flickered, it was quick, but it made my mouth dry and my palms sweat. I hurriedly threw my purse strap over my shoulder and edged towards the door.

“I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I was thankful when he didn’t stop me. I practically threw myself down the stairs and bolted out of the shop at a near run.

At home, I tossed my purse and keys onto the table and kicked off my shoes. I padded quickly into the bedroom and hurriedly undressed. The cool air skimmed over the moist folds of my sex, sending a shiver through me that littered my skin with goose flesh and puckered my nipples. My hand went to the pins containing my hair and I yanked them out hastily. Some dropped to the floor and I left them. The rest were tossed onto the nightstand with one hand while the other shot to the drawer.

Mr. Happy was a birthday present to myself. He’d kept me warm and, well, happy for over a year now and the best part was that we got along amazingly well. He never left his socks on the floor, or whined about my cooking, or lack thereof, and he always made sure I came first.

What a gentleman.

The best part was that there was no vibrator attached. Real men, in the real world, didn’t vibrate. The whole sensation wigged me out. The flesh colored phallus was an acceptable seven inches with a smooth, fat head and rugged veins running up the thick shaft from the twin balls at the end. The base was flat and could suction onto just about any flat surface. I didn’t need a surface. I didn’t even get on the bed. I stayed right where I was, too worked up to wait. My grip was barely steady as I guided the rubber head between my parted thighs and nudged at my opening.

The phone rang.

The unexpected intrusion to my moment of bliss dropped the dildo from my hand and nearly sent me clean out of my skin. The rubber cock bounced on the carpet and hit the top of my foot before wiggling to a stop. My gaze shot to the phone, my heart somewhere in my throat.

“Jesus!” I exhaled a few times before reaching for the phone. “Hello?”

My annoyance must have echoed in my tone, because there was a pause, then, “Uh, is this a bad time?”

It took me several tense seconds to recognize the voice.

“Tamara?”

“Hey!”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and regretted ever giving her my number. “What’s up?”

“Just calling to check in on the costume,” the girl stated. “We’re starting rehearsals in like a week and I was wondering if it would be ready in time.”

I glanced at the small mess taking over the armchair tucked in the corner of the room. From a distance, it looked like a lace factory had exploded.

“Um…” I grimaced slightly. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Awesome! Okay, I have to jet, but I’ll catch you later.”

She hung up without waiting. The line went dead in my ear. I set the receiver down on the end table and dropped down on the bed to stare broodingly at the ceiling.

That had not been how I had envisioned myself hearing bells.

With the moment ruined, I rolled to my feet and grabbed my robe. It slithered over my hot skin and settled comfortably around my shoulders. I drew in a breath and checked the clock; there was still half an hour before seven o’clock. Nothing to do but wait.

I made a can of steak and potato soup and ate it while watching reruns of I Love Lucy and waiting to make my call.

“Hey.”

He picked up on the fifth ring and tingles rocketed up my spine.

“Hi.”

“Are you ready?”

I didn’t have to ask for what. I knew and I was ready.

“Yes!”

He chuckled and the sound filled me with a weightless light that glowed bright in my chest. I loved how husky and gentle it was. I also loved that I could make him laugh. But more than anything I loved that he was willing to neighbor watch with me. He didn’t think my hobby was odd, or disturbing. It was such a surreal sensation not to be judged.

“What do we have today?” he asked.

I stepped onto the terrace and waited for the windows across from me to come alive with life. I waited for lights to come on and for people to get home.

“Nothing yet,” I said. “But it’s still early. How was your day?” I paused, before asking, “Am I allowed to ask that?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, it’s fine. Exhausting. How was yours?”

I rolled my shoulders in a shrug he couldn’t see. “Pretty much the same. I think I’m going to start looking for another job soon.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

I sighed, hoping it would lessen the weight settling on my chest. It didn’t.

“There’s lots of reasons.” I broke off, not sure how to explain my rollercoaster ride of emotions whenever Gabriel was around. It was just not something you talked about with a guy. “I’m just not sure I belong there.”

“Someone over there giving you a hard time?”

Heat prickled in my cheeks. “Not exactly. At least it’s nothing I can’t handle. I just think it’s the right choice.”

“If that’s what you want to do, then I think you should.”

I nodded in agreement and focused once more on the windows. Most of the top floor was dark. The Asian couple with their daughter came home first. The girl, in her pretty, yellow sundress, was having a meltdown.

“Oh! We got one!” I exclaimed happily into the receiver. “Row two, window one. Asian Couple and Their Evil Spawn.”

Q chuckled. “Do you not like children, or something?”

“Oh, no, I love children,” I protested. “Mine. Other people’s kids not so much.” I squinted at the window. “Evil Spawn is throwing oranges out of the fridge.”

“Why?”

I inwardly grinned, having already expected that question. “It’s Tuesday. That means tofu night. Evil Spawn doesn’t like tofu night.”

“Who does?” Q wondered contemplatively.

“Last week, she threw apples,” I went on. “I think it’s good that she changes her fruit. It shows character.”

Q laughed. “What are the parents doing?”

I squinted at the glass. “The father is attempting to reason with her. The mother is yelling at the father and pointing at the daughter. I think she blames him for the child being such a little monster. Oh! Dad is moving to the phone.”

“What does that mean?”

“Pizza,” I answered simply. “Evil Spawn has won. Crises has been averted for another day.”

Q whistled softly through his teeth. “That was really close.”

“Slutty Blonde, window two, second row, just got home,” I noticed. “She’s alone … oh, nope, never mind. Looks like Handsome Dark Haired Dude, window three, second row, has been relieved of his sex duties. Guess his extra-large cock wasn’t cutting it anymore.”

“I really need to meet my neighbors,” Q stated with a mild hint of amazement. “It’s going to bug me now.”

I chuckled. “Well, Slutty Blonde will definitely go for you.”

“Why’s that?”

“You have a cock and thus are her type.”

He made a humming sound. “I’m not into blondes. I like brunettes.”

“Are you saying that because I’m a brunette?” I teased.

“Are you? I hadn’t noticed.” I heard something squeak in the background, the sound of disturbed leather and imagined him shifting on the sofa. “Tell me what you look like.”

I had to think about it a moment. Of all the things in the world I hated, it was talking about myself, even something as simple was describing my features. So I stuck to the basics.

“Brown hair, hazel eyes.”

“And?” he prompted with a chuckle when I stopped.

“Roughly five-five. What do you look like?” I evaded.

“Black hair, gray eyes that sometimes look blue in certain lights. Six-nine and roughly two-thirty.”

Wow, a big boy, was my initial thought, before it jumped to places I didn’t want to visit, like how Gabriel had black hair and gray eyes and roughly seven feet. It was ridiculous to think he was the only one with those measurements, but I couldn’t help stamping his face over the dark silhouette that had been Q. I immediately felt guilty, but not enough to erase the image.

“It’s eight,” I stated, already turning away from the windows and venturing back into the seclusion of my apartment. I kept the windows open to let in the warm, evening air, but shut the drapes. “What are you doing?”

I heard him grunt. “Sitting here thinking about you.”

“What about me?”

I stepped around the bed and started in surprise when my toe sent something rubbery rolling into the nightstand. My forgotten dildo glared up at me, outraged at being forgotten. I grimaced and scooped it up.

“Just how much I want to watch you again.”

My fingers tightened around the rubber cock. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His low husky purr sent shivers scuttling down my spine. “But you still haven’t given me your answer if this is what you want.”

I chuckled weakly and dropped the dildo back inside my drawer. “I thought I did.”

“No.”

My tongue moved nervously over my lips. “Yes,” I whispered. “I want this.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

His groan rumbled with satisfaction and my insides trembled. “Are your blinds open?”

“No.”

“Open them and the terrace doors.”

I didn’t bother telling him those were already open. I shoved back the curtains and stared at the doors across from mine.

“They’re open.”

“Do you still have that bench at the foot of your bed?”

“Yes.”

“Drag it near the doors, but not too close.”

I had to put the phone down as I followed his instructions. I pulled the bed bench near the patio doors, leaving it lengthwise rather than widthwise.

“Done.”

“Take off your robe.” The demand came out in a growl that tightened my nipples and sent a whip of fire lashing up the core of my body. My fingers trembled as I undid the sash. “Lie on the bench with your legs open towards me.”

My heart rocketed in my chest, sounding impossibly loud as I did what he said. I straddled the bench and reclined. I scooped my hair up and let it cascade over the end in a thick waterfall.

“Done.” Even to my own ears, my voice sounded breathless and excited.

“Stay reclined,” he said. “Keep your head back.”

I was panting. I couldn’t help it. I stared at my ceiling while the muggy air whispered over the moist lips of my sex and tried not to think of anything except how much I wanted this. A small part of me kept assuring me that he was too far, and in my reclined position, he couldn’t possibly see all the flaws. Plus at that vantage point, all he could really see was my pussy.

“Are you going to watch?” I asked the man on the other end of the phone.

“Yes.”

I barely staved back the quiver that lanced through me. In my ear, the quiet squeak of rusty hinges made me jump. I squeezed my eyes shut as my entire body stiffened. His husky groan snatched at my pussy, making it clench in anticipation.

“Put me on speaker phone,” he ordered. “You are going to need both hands.”

Sucking in a breath, I fumbled with the buttons until the right one was selected. Then I set the phone just above my head.

With it gone, my hands felt infinitely empty and useless. I didn’t know what to do with them except set them on my shuddering abdomen.

“Touch yourself,” he instructed.

Having never done this for an audience, I was lost for a moment. I wasn’t sure where I should begin.

I started by taking a breath and blocking out all other thoughts. The clamor of noise and voices in my head was tearing at my concentration. It didn’t help that there was someone seeing me naked for the first time since before I learned how to bathe myself. That alone had me tense and I was too scared to check and see if he was still there. He hadn’t spoken since his command and I couldn’t help wondering if maybe he’d taken one look and darted back inside.

I suddenly felt exposed and vulnerable. It took all my resistance not to roll to my feet and lunge for cover. It also made me wonder just how good his eyesight was. Maybe he couldn’t see me very well. Maybe it was too dark.

“What’s wrong?”

I gave a start at the intrusion.

“Nothing,” I lied. “I was just getting comfortable.”

I took a deep breath, held it for two whole heartbeats before letting it out slowly and willing my hands to move.

They went almost automatically to my breasts. The hard points skimmed beneath my palms. I felt the first crackle of heat slide up the length of my spine to pool at my center. My heart thundered against my ribcage, egging me on as I expertly played the tune of my own arousal across the planes of my excited body. My thighs parted of their own volition and I shifted my hips for something that wasn’t there. My thumbs ghosted over my nipples, teasing them just enough to make me ache for more. Something moist trickled down the crevice of my ass to soak into the cushions beneath me.

“Do you know how frustrating it is to be this close and not be able to kneel between your legs?”

I shut my eyes and let the deep rumble of his words wash over me in a hot wave.

“To not spread your lips and lick your pussy clean?”

A gasp escaped me at the same time as my hips gave an involuntary jerk, like his tongue really was just there, waiting to sweep over me. It was met with only air.

“That’s how I would make you come the first time,” he went on. “Then I’d make my way up your body and slide inside you slowly, inch by inch until I was so deep you wouldn’t be able to stand it.”

I couldn’t take it anymore. My hand rushed down to my mound. My fingers parted the cleanly shaven lips to locate the thick pool in between.

“Oh my God!” I gasped. “I’m so wet!”

“How wet?”

Two fingers effortlessly worked their way deep into the cavity of my body, all the way to the knuckles. The walls gripped the intruders with enthusiastic vigor and I swore loudly. My feet jerked off the floor and anchored on the edges of the bench by their heels. The knees dropped so I was lewdly sprawled and open for him. My free hand drifted off my breast to take up the phone. I held it down between my legs and hoped he could hear the wet, sucking sound my pussy was making with every thrust.

“Christ…” I heard him groan. “Faster.”

I didn’t argue. I worked the muscles with the pad of my fingers, dragging them along the walls, seeking that little bundle I could never seem to find. But my body didn’t care if I found my g-spot or not. It had spent a long day on the edge of desperation and it was wound too tightly to hold off much longer.

“I’m coming!” I choked, hips lifting to meet every hungry slap of my palm. “God, I’m coming!”

My eyes screwed shut as the pressure snapped like an over coiled elastic band. I felt the sharp sting trigger my clit and I fell with a deep sob of relief. A kaleidoscope of colors shimmered to life behind my closed eyelids, exploding in time with the roar in my ears. My climax continued to milk at my fingers with an excitement I hadn’t felt since watching Q the first night. I was vaguely aware of my companion’s grunt somewhere in the distances, but I couldn’t bring myself to focus, not even as the world slowly righted itself once more.

“Aoife?”

It took me a moment to remember that was me, but it took longer for me to shake away the fuzzy haze of exhaustion long enough to answer.

“Hm?”

“Are you okay?”

“Mm.”

I heard him chuckle. “I’m going to head back inside, okay?”

I didn’t answer. But I heard the squeak of his window hinges shutting. I continued to just lie there, eyes closed, legs sprawled apart, fingers still knuckle deep in my pussy. Honestly, I was content to stay there forever.

“Are you falling asleep on me?”

It took energy I didn’t possess to lift the phone off my pelvic bone all the way to my ear.

“Possibly.” But I forced myself up. “Did you come?”

“Yes, I did. Thank you.”

I made a sound I hoped was satisfaction as I dumped myself down on the bed.

“Me too.”

He made a humming sound. “I heard.”

“Was I too loud?” I wondered.

“No, you were perfect. I liked hearing you.”

I yawned.

“You are falling asleep on me,” he teased.

I chuckled. “I’m awake. Promise.” But I could feel myself drifting no matter how much I fought it. “Okay, maybe a little.”

There was amusement in his tone when he spoke.

“Go to bed. Call me tomorrow and have your laptop ready.”

“My laptop?”

“Mmhm. I want to do that again, but closer.”

Chapter Eight

Gabriel

I woke up the next morning and for the first time in a long time, I felt … happy. I felt content. I felt like I had a reason to smile and it wasn’t because the day was bright and the sky was clear, or that the construction crew I’d been waiting to hear from for over a week finally got back to me via email regarding the upgrades I wanted to do to the garage.

I got to work with an almost skip to my step. I wasn’t sure where my usual dark cloud had gone, but it could stay there. Lloyd glanced up from the wrench set he was cleaning with a shammy cloth.

His brow lifted. “What’s her name?”

I waved him off as I jogged my way up the steps to the office.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about. Morning.”

At the desk¸ Ali glanced up. One finger poked her glasses higher up on her face and she blinked at me from behind the lenses.

“Morning,” she repeated with a wary sort of hesitance. “There were no calls today.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

I sprinted up the stairs to the loft. The early morning light cast a dim glow over the space. Speckles of dust scattered when I trudged through the beams of light to the dresser. I was yanking on my jumpsuit when Ali appeared at the top of the stairs.

She looked different. I wasn’t sure what it was, because her hair was still in its habitual bun and her face was obscured behind her glasses, but something about her had my hands stalling on the zipper and my eyes narrowing.

“Sorry,” she said quickly. “I just wanted to tell you that Earl invited me to family dinner this Sunday. I thought I would warn you in case you weren’t aware.”

I yanked the zipper up all the way to my throat.

“I know,” I told her. “Mom really wants to meet you.”

“Why?”

I prolonged having to answer by rolling the sleeves up on my suit.

“She’s nosy,” I semi lied. “Plus we haven’t had a woman work here since…” I broke off, cleared my throat and tried again. “In a long time.”

Her brows furrowed. “Oh.” She rubbed her hands anxiously at her midsection. “I guess that’s it then. I’ll let you get back to work.”

“Ali?” Her name shot out of me before I could stop myself, or even think of a reason why I said it.

“Yeah?”

I had nothing. But I still didn’t want her to go. Not yet.

“How’s Tammy’s costume coming along?”

She shrugged. “Good. I talked to her last night on the phone about it. I think she said she needed it for this weekend, so…”

I moved slowly towards her. I told myself it was because she was standing by the only exit, but I had no interest in the stairs.

“She’s not giving you a hard time is she?”

Ali shook her head. “No, what she wants done is actually pretty simple so…”

“That’s not what I meant.” I stopped when there was a safe distance between us. “I know my sister. She’s spoiled and a brat. She can sometimes forget she’s not the queen of the universe.”

Her laugh filled the silence and it struck me—not for the first time—I liked the sound of it.

“She’s fine,” Ali assured me. “But thank you.”

I drew in a breath and inhaled her delicious scent of … that was when it hit me. Her scent was different. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it was sweeter, like an orchard in spring.

“You smell nice.”

I wasn’t sure which of us was more stunned by my verbal diarrhea. I did know that I was horrified by my inexplicable inability to keep my damn thoughts to myself. What the hell was wrong with me?

“Thank you,” she whispered, her cheeks a soft, baby pink. “My sister gave it to me for my birthday a few years back.”

“I like it.”

Her head lifted and I had a distinct impression she was looking at me, but the fucking lenses kept reflecting light, keeping her eyes concealed. It took all of my restraint not to tear the damn things off her face.

“Thank you.” She ran her hands down over her skirt, took a deep breath and edged back a step, then another. “I should get back to work.”

I lunged for her when she took another step and met air. My hands closed around her arms before she could go tumbling backwards down the stairs and I jerked her back, back to me.

She struck my chest and I kept her there with both arms around her middle. Her glasses slipped down the length of her nose on impact and caught on one ear. Thick, dark lashes swept up and I was captured in her wide, brilliant eyes.

They were a splintered gold across a bed of moss green, surrounded by an endless fan of lashes. The contour was wide, dominating against her otherwise delicate features. It amazed me that I had never noticed before.

“Are you okay?” I asked, finding my voice.

Ali nodded. Her hands were shaking when she shoved her glasses back into place.

“Yes, thank you.” She wet her lips with the tip of her pink tongue. “I need to go.”

I released her when she took a step back and I didn’t stop her when she turned and hurried downstairs. All I could think was that her eyes were hazel.

The day was unnaturally slow. We had no business at all and I found I actually liked the lull. It gave my mind a chance to escape while I helped Lloyd scrub down the tools. Ali kept to the office. I wasn’t sure what she was doing up there, but I was relieved for that, too. The woman complicated too many things and I could never think straight when she was around. It didn’t help that she made me want things I had sworn I would never again allow myself. She brought out a side of me that I kept locked up and that made her the type of dangerous I needed to stay away from. The last woman I let myself fall for had destroyed any and all chances of me ever touching that life again. She tainted the thing I had once cherished. Those were now shoes I would never don again.

But Ali made me want to. She made me miss a life I had spent the better part of five years burying deep into the ground, right alongside Regina. I couldn’t be that man anymore. I couldn’t let my own wants and desires destroy another person the way it had destroyed her. If I had stopped sooner, if I had been better, stronger, Regina might still have been alive. Instead, I had let my own arrogance blind me to the razor’s edge she was walking.

Regina was dead because of me and I wouldn’t let that happen to Ali, or Aoife.

“Gabe?”

I blinked out of my spiraling depression and focused on Lloyd standing a few feet away. He jerked his chin over my shoulder and I turned just as a man stepped into the shop, darkened to a silhouette by the afternoon glare. I squinted and set down the cloth in my hand.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

The man stepped in deeper and any good mood I could possibly ever possess, evaporated.

“Hi again!” Carl Doray smiled brightly at me around the twin black eyes and busted nose wrapped in thick, white tape. “This place isn’t easy to find.”

It clearly hadn’t been hard enough, I thought to myself.

“Is there something I can do for you?” I asked, unable to keep my contempt at bay.

“I’m actually here to see Ali, if that’s all right?”

No, I wanted to tell him. It wasn’t all right.

“Ali!” I called up, never taking my eyes off the asshole.

Carl just kept on grinning. It made me want to hit him again.

Ali appeared at the top of the stairs.

“Yes?” She spotted Carl and gave a visible start of surprise. It made me feel a little better that she hadn’t actually invited the douchebag. “Carl?”

“Hello!” he said, moving towards the stairs.

Ali started down towards him. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

Carl chuckled. “Trust me, it wasn’t easy. But Alyssa knows your sister,” he said with a glance at Gabriel. “I did a Google search after that.”

“You Googled me?” I said, annoyed.

The man shrugged. “Well, Ali mentioned she worked for you and Alyssa may have mentioned you owned an auto body shop. The rest wasn’t very hard.”

I wasn’t sure why, but I had an overpowering urge to punch him in the mouth. Maybe it was the smug little grin on his face whenever he looked at Ali, like he was expecting her to pat him on the head and tell him what a good boy he was.

“Was there something you needed?” Ali asked, before I could follow through on my urges.

“Actually…” Carl edged a step too close to Ali and lowered his voice. “I was hoping you’d have lunch with me. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Ali frowned. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes! Yes, of course, I just want to discuss something. It will be very quick.”

Ali checked her watch. “The shop closes at one for lunch. That’s in ten minutes.”

Carl gave an enthusiastic bob of his head. “Great. I know just the place. I’ll wait outside.”

He walked out and silence descended on the shop. I watched Ali, who watched Carl walk away, and wondered if it was murder if they never found a body.

“Are you really going to have lunch with that tool?” I demanded.

Ali turned her head towards me and pursed her lips. “Are you going to hit him again if I say yes?”

“Possibly,” I muttered.

“It’s only lunch,” she said. “I promise not to elope with him, although, if he gets me a donut, I might consider it.”

With that, she left me glowering at her back as she hurried upstairs.

“Was that your handiwork?” Lloyd cut into my frustration with his amused question.

“He walked into it,” I mumbled, stomping back to the drill bits I’d been cleaning.

Ten minute later, Ali jogged down again, purse in tow and hurried out of the shop without a word to anyone.

Lloyd closed the doors and put up the signing telling people we’d open again in an hour. Then he left me alone to stare at the door and wonder what the hell was so important Doray had to take her to lunch to discuss. The bastard was probably going to try and weasel a date out of her.

Realistically, it really shouldn’t have bothered me half as much as it did. But it infuriated me, which surprised me since I wasn’t the jealous type. Regina had slept with other men while we were in the club scene, a fact I hadn’t been aware of until she left. What had bothered me most was the fact that I hadn’t been surprised. I had known from the moment I met Regina that she wouldn’t be satisfied with only me. She was just too wild, too unpredictable. Nothing anyone ever did was ever enough. It hadn’t mattered to her that we had been together for ten years.

But maybe a lot of that was my fault. I wasn’t the right person to Master her. Not because I wasn’t strong enough, but because I hadn’t cared. I had used her for my own personal needs as much as she had used me and at the time, that had been enough. At the time, it had all been about fucking. Lots of fucking, fun and exploration. It was why when Regina started sleeping with Lloyd and Mac, it hadn’t fazed me. It had just been another fucked up aspect of our relationship. But with Ali, I knew without a doubt that I would knock my friends out cold if they went after her.

That feeling alone was enough reason to keep Ali at arm’s length.

She returned promptly an hour later. I was opening the doors when she hurried up the driveway and ducked inside. She said nothing to me, nor did she make eye contact as she walked to the stairs.

“How’d lunch go?” I called after her.

“Fine,” she called back over her shoulder.

“What was so important he had to cyberstalk you?”

She waved a dismissive hand. “Nothing. He just wanted to know if I would have his baby.”

My rolling anger propelled me after her.

“What?”

She stopped on the third step and pivoted around to face me.

“I said no, clearly. I haven’t worked here long enough to qualify for maternity leave. But I assured him we could at least practice. He’s going to come by my place later.”

She was lying. I knew she was. Her flippant tone was evidence of it. Yet the anger I felt rising up in me wasn’t aimed at her, or even that dickhead. I was pissed at myself. My behavior was one expected of some hormonal teenager trying to prove his dominance over a girl. I was too old for that shit. Aside from that, I had Aoife to think about. I hadn’t been joking when I told her there would be no one else. I wasn’t made like that. I wasn’t the type of man who needed more than one woman to satisfy him. What I had with Aoife was enough. I didn’t want anything else and Ali was the type of woman who deserved more.

With a disgusted shake of my head, I turned away just as Lloyd ambled his way down from the loft. He mumbled something to Ali that sounded like excuse me, then he was standing next to me.

“I’m going to cut out early today,” he said. “Got some things to take care of and since it’s a dead day…”

I just nodded and realized too late that meant I would be alone with Ali for the next five hours. But Lloyd was already heading out the doors and there was no way to stop him.

Ali stayed up in the office for the remainder of the evening. Because of that, I made sure I stayed in the shop, mindlessly tinkering and cleaning while counting down the minutes until six o’clock.

At five thirty, she came down. Part of me hoped she was about to tell me she wanted to leave early and I was all prepared to let her when she stopped a distracting three feet away and peered at me levelly.

“What does your mother like?”

I wasn’t expecting that at all.

“What?”

She shrugged and folded her arms around her midsection. “For Sunday,” she stated. “I don’t want to go there empty handed and I don’t know your mother so I thought I would take something she would like.”

I had to really think about that. After my father’s death, Mom had more or less checked out, leaving me parentless. So I didn’t know overly much about her, except that she had a flare for over dramatization, something Tammy had acquired over the years. That and the fact that neither parent gave her any real sort of boundaries and gave in quickly when they did.

“Does she like wine?” Ali suggested.

I thought about that a moment. Jonas wasn’t a fan of alcohol, but Mom did occasionally drink the stuff.

“Yeah,” I said at last.

“What kind?”

“Red?” I thought.

Ali nodded. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do.”

I had hoped she would leave once I’d answered her question. She started to turn away only to stop and turn back.

“It wasn’t anything important,” she murmured, staring down at our feet. “Lunch with Carl, I mean. His company is looking for a marketing team and thought I would be interested.”

I hated that she thought she had to explain herself. I hated it even more that I was relieved she had.

“What did you say?”

Her shoulders lifted with her deep inhalation. “I said thank you, but no. I had a job and I wasn’t interested.”

I couldn’t help myself; I turned to fully face her. That single gesture brought us a full foot closer.

“Why?”

Her head tilted back so I could see my own reflection in her glasses, but see nothing of her eyes. It only made me hate the damn things all the more.

“Because if I had accepted, I would have had to move to San Francisco.”

Whatever her reasons were for wanting to stay, I couldn’t lie, I was grateful to them.

“That’s strange,” I mused. “Him wanting to move you all the way out there when he’s here.”

Ali wrinkled her nose. “It wouldn’t have mattered. I’m not interested.”

“In San Francisco?” I hedged.

“Carl,” she said with a slight chuckle. “He’s nice, but not who I want.”

Something tightened inside me at the quiet implication that hung between us. I wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but I couldn’t help wondering—partially hoping—she meant me, while at the same time, hoping she didn’t. The complexity of our nonexistent relationship was becoming a headache.

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you decided to stay,” I murmured.

A smile bloomed across her face that pulled all my attention to her mouth.

“Yeah?”

I nodded. “Yeah.” I offered her a lopsided grin. “No one else knows that filing system the way you do.”

Her laugh made me chuckle.

“I’m glad I could be of service.” She sobered and eyed me. “It’s almost six. I should get ready.”

I felt my eyes narrow at how insistent she always was to leave at six.

“What happens at six, Ali?” I asked, as I had previously in the past.

Her grin, if I had to put a name to it, was seductive and almost playful. The tip of her tongue traced the upper curve of her lip and I nearly groaned.

“I don’t think you could handle it, Jack,” she purred in a tone someone with glasses should never possess unless they were playing a naughty teacher in some dirty porno fantasy.

Then she whirled on her heels and strolled away without a backwards glance.

Damn if that right there didn’t drive me about eight more inches deeper into the mess that was my feelings for Alison Eckrich.

She left exactly at six. She shot me a quick wave before disappearing out the doors, leaving me completely alone to close up. The process wasn’t a long one, but it was tedious, especially when all I wanted to do was go home, eat, shower, and wait for Aoife to call.

I closed and locked all the doors before making my way to the office. The day had been unusually uneventful so the process of cashing out was fairly simple. I was tallying up the zero sales we’d had that day when my phone chirped. I fished it out of my pocket and crammed it against my ear.

“Madoc.”

“Yeah, this is Jeff Nelson. I emailed you about the work you wanted done? I’m just calling to confirm our appointment tomorrow.”

I blinked. “Tomorrow?”

“You said you wanted something right away. Tomorrow is the earliest available opening we have. Otherwise, you’re looking at some time in October.”

“Tomorrow’s fine,” I said quickly. “I’ll have to call my crew and let them know. What time will you be here?”

“We start at eight, take an hour lunch about around noon and leave at six.”

I inwardly swore. That was a whole day, which meant closing the shop entirely until the job was done.

“How long?”

Nelson paused. I wasn’t sure if he was checking his papers, or trying to guess a timeframe, but he was quiet for nearly five minutes.

“I’d say a week, maybe two. It all depends on how much work you want done. From what I have here in front of me, you want to convert two sets of stairs into ramps and replace a stone wall with glass, is that correct?”

I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. “Yes.”

“I’ll have about five men with me, not including me. We don’t work weekends, but we can push to get it done in two weeks at the most.”

Two weeks of having the shop closed would burn a fat hole in our budget, but it was a risk I was willing to take.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” I told Nelson and hung up.

No sooner had I set the phone down, when it sprung to life again. For a moment, I thought Nelson had more to say, but it was Tammy’s face grinning up at me from the flashing screen.

“Tam?”

“I need you to come over. Like now!”

I frowned at my sister’s broken voice, my body already pushing to my feet. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t handle this anymore, Gabe. They’re driving me crazy!”

“Who?”

I shoved the papers into the drawer, made a mental note to finish closing in the morning, and grabbed my keys.

“Mom and Dad!” Tammy wailed. “They’re being unreasonable and I’m ready to kill them.”

I checked my watch. “Can you hold off on that for an hour? I promise I’ll be there, but I have something that I have to do at home first.”

Tammy sniffled. “Okay, but hurry!”

Normally, I didn’t get involved in fights between Tammy, Mom, and Jonas. Their arguments were legendary and never really got resolved. It was a lot of screaming and crying from Tam, anxious fretting from Mom, and pacifying garbage from Jonas. None of which ever bothered to give an inch. But Tam rarely called me in a state of tears and if there was one thing I hated, it was hearing my sister crying. I knew she was spoiled and lazy, but she was still my baby sister.

Closing shop, I headed home to shower and wait for Aoife to call. I didn’t bother eating. I knew my mom would force me to eat there and she’d get upset if I didn’t. Instead, I nibbled on a couple of slices of cheese and watched the phone.

It rang at exactly seven.

“Hey,” I said, picking up on the first ring.

“Hi!” She sounded surprised, but amused. “I’m all ready.”

I grimaced and inwardly swore. “I can’t tonight,” I told her softly. “I have a family thing that needs my attention, but I promise we will tomorrow.”

“Oh, is everything okay?”

I exhaled. “Yeah, it’s nothing serious, but I promised I would be there.”

“Oh, well, that’s okay. We’ll talk tomorrow. I hope everything turns out tonight.”

“Aoife…” I broke off, having no idea what I wanted to say. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Q.”

She hung up.

I dropped the phone down on the sofa, grabbed my keys and stalked out of the apartment.

My mom’s house sat between two enormous oak trees that had been there since before man populated the earth—I was assuming. They loomed over the squat little two story structure with their gnarled branches and shivering leaves. As a kid, I would try to climb as high as I possibly could before Earl would hurry out and tell me to get my ass back on the ground. After falling out when I was eight and breaking my arm, I never did it again.

The front door was unlocked and I walked in, not that I needed to be inside to hear the chaos.

Mom and Tammy seemed to be competing to see who could reason with the other loudest. Occasionally, I could hear Jonas trying to intervene with ridiculous things like, okay, let’s calm down a minute. But it was clearly not working.

I stalked into the kitchen and without missing a beat, I cleared my throat.

Everyone in the room immediately ceased fire. All eyes snapped in my direction and I crossed my arms.

“What the hell is going on here?” I demanded. “I can hear you guys from down the block.” I put my hand up when both Mom and Tammy opened their mouths. “Stop. Tam, sit down. Mom, what happened?”

“Why does she get to go first?” Tammy retorted, but dropped her butt into a chair at the table.

“Because I said so!” I said back, shooting her a look that said clearly not to push it.

“Your sister wants to go camping with a bunch of boys that don’t even go to her school,” Mom said.

“They’re not a…” Tammy broke off when I narrowed my eyes at her.

“I said no. You’re only sixteen years old and I’m not letting you go traipsing through the wilderness with people I don’t know.”

Tammy opened her mouth, caught my eye, and quickly snapped it shut.

“I agree with Mom,” I said.

Tammy’s jaw dropped and her eyes bulged. “What? You haven’t even heard the whole story!”

“Okay, who are these guys?”

“They’re not guys,” Tammy said. “I’ve known them forever, and it won’t be just them. Chelsea, Diane, and Casey will be going, too. So I won’t be alone and it’s only for like the one weekend.”

“No,” I said evenly. “You’re not going.”

“What the fuck!” Tammy raged, leaping to her feet. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“Language!” I snapped back. “And I’m on the side of your safety. I don’t care how long you’ve supposedly known these guys, you’re not going out to the middle of nowhere with them.”

“That’s bullshit!” Cheeks flushed, eyes shining, Tammy glared at everyone in the room once before storming to the door. “I hate all of you!”

No one spoke as we listened to the thundering of Tammy’s boots on the stairs. Then the deafening bang of her door slamming shut.

“Thank you, Gabriel,” Mom said softly, slumping wearily into her chair. “It doesn’t seem to matter what I do, I am always the bad guy.”

Jonas rose out of his seat and went over to her. Only to stand behind her and settle his hands on her shoulders.

“It will get better,” he assured her. “We just need to show a united front.”

I wanted to ask where his united front was before I arrived, but I decided not to. Mom had enough on her plate.

“I’m sorry you were brought into this,” Mom said to me. “But I’m glad you’re here.” She shoved out of her chair. “Supper will be ready in a moment.”

Chapter Nine

Ali

It surprised me when I finished Tamara’s costume in a single night. It wasn’t anything elaborate or Hollywood worthy, but I liked it, and from the pictures I texted Tamara, she liked it, too, so I supposed that made it perfect.

It was a design I’d found on Pinterest. I’d gone to the dance store and bought a tutu, white and very lacy and a white bodysuit with thin straps. Then I sewed the two together, added a yard of white fabric to the back of the tutu with buttons to double as her non-swan costume and added glittery feathers to the tutu and the bodysuit. Then, because it was Tamara, I died the hems of the tutu black. For someone who didn’t sew, I thought it looked pretty good. It gave me hope that if I ever needed a fall back career, I could always become a costume designer for children’s plays, or Halloween.

I took it in to work with me the next day, hoping to give it to Gabriel, or Earl to give to Tamara. Instead, I walked into the shop and found the entire place in disarray.

The stairs leading up to my office were gone, literally blown out of the wall. Hell, even the wall was gone. There was a giant hole overlooking a landing where my desk and cabinets used to be. Six men were moving back and forth, heaving cinderblocks and planks of wood and creating a pile along the side. There were no cars on the hoists, no other crew members. Just Gabriel, standing a few feet away, arms folded, watching the scene with narrowed eyes.

I went to him. “What’s going on?”

He glanced down at me in surprise, like he hadn’t been expecting anyone. “What are you doing here?”

It was my turn to squint at him. “I work here … right?”

“I tried to call you.”

I stiffened. “Am I fired? Because you didn’t have to blow up the office to make your point.”

“I’m getting ramps installed,” he said. “And no, you’re not fired.”

“Ramps? Oh!” Earl, I realized. “That’s nice of you.”

He peered at me. “Do you know you have no paperwork with us?”

I blinked. “Really?”

He nodded. “I was going to call you last night to let you know not to come in, but there is no record of you.”

I grimaced sheepishly. “I’m sorry.”

Reaching into his back pocket, he withdrew his phone. “Give me your number for now and I’ll call to let you know when the construction is finished.”

I gave it to him and watched as he programmed it into his device and stow it away once more.

“Here.” I held out the bag with Tamara’s costume. “Can you give this to Tamara? I finished it last night. Tell her to call me if something doesn’t fit right.”

He took it and our fingers grazed in passing. An electric current of livewires zapped up my arm and I hurriedly snatched my hand back. But my skin continued to tingle as it always seemed to do when Gabriel touched me.

“Thanks,” he murmured, setting the bag down at his feet, completely unperturbed by the spark.

He dug into his other back pocket and emerged with his wallet. He pulled out two crisp bills from inside and held them out to me.

I stared. “What?”

“For whatever you spent on the costume,” he said, shaking the two hundred dollar bills at me. “And your time.”

I took a cautious step back. “I didn’t using gold thread.” I chuckled. “Really. That’s too much. I can’t even remember what I spent, so…”

He eyed me. “Take it.”

“Uh, no.”

I started to walk away. I got two steps when his hand closed around my wrist and I was drawn back to him. Closer, if possible. My heart jumped even as curiosity had my head tilting back.

“Take it,” he repeated in a tone that left no room for noncompliance.

The money was stuffed into the hand he held and my fingers were curled around it. His grip remained firmly clasped around my wrist, forcing me to stay and breathe him in while falling into his eyes. I could feel the familiar ripple of longing and arousal hissing through me and I tried to pull away. Thankfully, one of the crew members took that moment to call Gabriel over, giving me the perfect exit strategy to make my big escape.

At six thirty, I made my bed up with new sheets, took a shower and pulled on my robe. I set my prehistoric laptop up on a bed tray at the foot of my bed and plugged it in. Then, I checked the webcam. While I wasn’t certain Q still wanted to video chat, I figured I would be prepared.

At six fifty-five, I sat and stared at my terrace doors.

At seven, I reached for the phone and dialed. I waited the habitual five rings.

“Hello.”

I wet my lips. “Hi, how did things go last night?”

He sighed heavily. “Fine. It really wasn’t anything overly serious. Just teenagers being overdramatic.”

I chuckled. “I’m glad everything turned out okay.”

“Me too. Do you have your computer?”

I glanced at the tray and machine mere inches from my feet.

“Yes.”

“Turn it on, but keep me on the phone. The speakers on mine are shit.”

It was on, but I scooted closer and folded my legs under me. I moved the mouse and the screensaver faded to my desktop.

“Ready and that’s okay. I’m not even sure my laptop has speakers.”

I was pretty sure it did, but I didn’t want to waste time trying to figure it out.

He walked me through the steps of opening a browser and putting in a series of letters that were completely random, but when I hit enter, took me to a fairly elegant website. The background was the black leather of a brand new sofa, indented by thick, fat buttons. In the center were two white boxes framed in a thin, burgundy lines. I had been around enough chatrooms in the past to recognize a chat box and group name list. Another box popped onto the screen, demanding my name and email.

“Is it asking for your email?”

“Yes.”

He gave me an email address that consisted of my name in small lettering and a password—Mine01. The latter sent butterflies erupting in the pit of my stomach. But I typed it in carefully and hit enter.

The popup vanished and another one materialized in its place, thanking me for signing in and to enjoy myself. I found that highly amusing. The little box on the right where it showed the names of the guests was empty, except for my name, and I wasn’t sure how, because I never typed in a username, but it already had one set up for me with just my name. I figured he must have done it. Out of curiosity, I clicked my name and my profile came up. There was no icon, or barely any information under bio, except for a single word: Taken. Was it strange to get so excited about being so openly claimed? Maybe. But it filled me with an overflowing surge of warmth and I loved it.

“I’m here,” I said into the phone, my tone breathless to match the flutter in my chest.

A second later, the group had two names: Aoife and Q. It was irrational how excited I became at his arrival. If I had a tail, it would have been wagging … erratically.

“I see you,” I breathed, anticipation thickening my voice.

“I see you, too.” There was a pause. I could hear keys being stroked, rapidly, like maybe he was on the computer a lot for a living, which made me wonder what he did. I figured it was one of those things we weren’t going to talk about right away. “A screen’s going to come up in a moment,” he told me. “Make sure your webcam is positioned down far enough so I can only see your shoulders before you accept.”

After propping the phone between my ear and shoulder, I reached for the laptop screen and adjusted it to roughly my chest area. I figured I could fix it better once the video came up. But at least this way, he wouldn’t see my face.

“Ready.”

True to his words, an invitation for live chat popped onto the screen. My fingers shook as I drove the clicker over to the accept button and selected.

Several seconds passed, although probably not as many as I imagined. The screen turned black and flickered with strips of color. Then it cleared and there he was.

My breath caught. My mouth became inexplicably dry and my heart drummed wildly between my ears.

I couldn’t see more than a man sitting on a brown, leather sofa wearing a gray t-shirt and gray sweats. But that body looked exactly as I remembered it from our first encounter. Perhaps more. Up close, his shoulders seemed wider, his chest fuller. The muscles strained against the thin fabric of his top. I reached up to adjust my glasses and stared some more.

“Aoife?”

“Yeah?” Even to my own ears, my voice was no more than a fan-girl sigh.

I heard him chuckle. “Sit back, baby. I want to see you.”

I hadn’t realized I’d started leaning closer and closer to the screen until he mentioned it.

“Oh!”

Clearing my throat, I leaned back, watching the small box on the bottom left hand corner to make sure I didn’t pull too far back. I stopped and adjusted the screen so it framed everything from my shoulders down to my waist.

Nerves swelled through me. Fear curdled at the back of my throat. My hands twitched with the need to cover more, to pull the blankets up and around me. Every inch of me felt exposed and horribly on display. It was made worse by the fact that I looked enormous in the tiny window. My torso seemed to take up the whole square. God, he was disgusted. He had to be. He wasn’t saying anything.

“Please say something,” I whispered, or maybe it was in my head.

“Christ.” I didn’t know what that meant. A thousand different endings to that flared through my mind and I began to panic. “You’re beautiful. Aoife?”

Struggling to regulate my breathing and swallow back the sting of tears, I forced my voice to be even. “Yeah?”

“What’s wrong?”

Had I made a sound? He couldn’t see my face and the badly shot image of my body had barely moved. How could he know anything was wrong?

“Nothing.” I winced at how badly my attempts at sounding upbeat came out fake.

“You’re lying to me.” There was no mistaking the disapproval and hint of warning in the four little words.

I drew in a breath and willed my body to relax. “I wasn’t sure what you would think.” It wasn’t a lie.

He made a soft hum of contemplation. “I think you’re overdressed, but otherwise…”

I laughed and loosened a fraction.

“You’re delicious,” he purred in that deep, rich voice of his.

I felt my cheeks warm. “You can’t even see all of me. I could have a tail.”

His groan lifted his chest and filled my ears in silky shivers that skated down my spine. “Oh but I have seen all of you, but I’m willing to check again.”

That hadn’t been my intention, but the thought of being asked to lower my panties and lift my robes so he could check soaked the patch of fabric between my legs.

“You’re not saying anything,” he teased darkly.

I giggled and it was filled with tension and nerves. “I honestly don’t know what to say. I’ve never done this before.”

“Do you want me to check?” he cajoled.

“Yes.”

His chuckle was low, throaty. “In a minute.” He shifted and the camera shuddered slightly before he straightened once more. “Did you watch today?”

Instinctively, my gaze went to the terrace doors.

“Not yet.”

“Take me with you.”

I turned my head back to the screen. “Really?”

“Yes.”

Abandoning him on the bed, I scurried off and hurried to doors. The small table was weightless when I hefted it out onto the terrace. I positioned it carefully before hurrying back to disconnect the laptop from its cord and haul it outside, careful to keep the camera aimed downward. Once positioned properly, I tucked the phone back to my ear.

“Can you see?”

“Open your robes.”

I tensed. My gaze shot to the windows around us.

“Here?”

“Not all the way. Keep your breasts covered, but leave the front open for me.”

Keeping the phone balanced between my shoulder and ear, I lowered trembling fingers to the sash. On screen, I watched as the band came undone and the silky fabric parted down the front, revealing a long stretch of skin and the neat little triangle of lace barely covering my mound. As underwear went, it wasn’t one of my favorite. I had a problem walking around with a strip of string flossing my ass crack, but it was sexy and that was how I wanted him to remember me.

“Turn around and show me the back.”

Cotton mouthed, I did as he said. I turned, folded my arms against the railing, parted my feet and thrust out my hips just enough to drive the robe hem over the globes of my ass.

Q groaned in my ear. “Do you think the neighbors would notice if I were to fuck you right there?”

“I don’t think I would care,” I panted.

“You wouldn’t mind if I stripped you naked, leaned you over those bars, and rammed my cock deep inside you?”

I shifted as the pressure pulsed between my legs like a second heartbeat. The bit of soaked fabric nestled against my core rubbed uncomfortably against my flesh. Every nerve in me wanted to shove the useless pieces of string down my legs and touch myself.

“Take off your panties.”

God, it was like the man was inside my head.

“No, stay there.”

Another hot rush of arousal further ruined my panties, but I stopped myself from heading inside. My fingers reached inside my robes and hooked into the straps running over my hips. Gingerly, I lowered them down my legs and over my feet. The warm air kissed my bare lips and smoothed over the dampness now exposed to the entire world.

“Toss your panties to me.”

My eyes widened as I stared at the dark drapes keeping him from me. The distance wasn’t far. I could easily pitch the wad over. But then he’d have my panties, dripping with my juices.

Heart thumping loudly beneath my breast, I bunched the fabric up tight, drew back my arm and heaved it across. I bit my lip as I watched it soar and prayed the wind didn’t snatch it up and carry it off to someone else’s veranda. It didn’t. It landed perfectly in the middle of his terrace.

“Good. Now, turn around.”

I turned away from his doors and faced the webcam, my robes open to the day and him. But his window was empty save for the sofa.

“Q?”

“Stay there.”

I stayed and waited, and jumped when the doors behind me opened. I heard the shuffle of movement and pictured him bending down to pick up my present. I held my breath.

“You’re so wet, Aoife,” he drawled into my ear and my stomach muscles wrenched. I felt the wet slither of my arousal trickle down the insides of my thighs. “Make yourself come for me, right now. Spread your legs, press your ass against the bars and let me watch.”

He was still right behind me. I could feel the heat of his presence without turning around. Plus the video on my laptop was still only showing the sofa.

“I want to watch you this time, too,” I gasped into the receiver.

“Fair enough.”

There was silence as I waited for something to happen. Behind me, something wooden squeaked against concrete. Then the video gave a shudder and began to move away from the sofa. A minute later, I had a view of the terrace, of my back and my window. He appeared in view, topless with his pants jerked down around his hips and his large hands wrapped around a long, hard cock.

“Better?”

“Yes!” I half moaned, half breathed.

“Play with her.”

I did. I shoved aside the robes to give him full access to all of me. With my back to the other windows, I felt a little braver as I let my fingers dance over the rigid peaks of my breasts and down the expense of my stomach to delve into the place I wanted him. In the video, his hand stroked in time to my pumps, so I quickened my pace, picturing my fingers being his cock. The hand gripping the phone to my ear trembled and I clutched the plastic tighter as I slumped back into the cold iron, my muscles tense.

“I’m coming,” I choked out.

My body tensed as the first wave slammed into me. My toes curled into the concrete and my head dropped back with my delirious whimper of his name. In my ear, Q grunted and I watched as his cock twitched and thick, white ropes of come splashed to the ground. The fat, purple head glistened and the veins pulsed along the bottom. I had an inexplicable urge to lick him clean.

“Aoife?” He sounded as out of breath as I was.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” He blew out a breath. “I need your pussy. I need to be inside you.”

The place he wanted clenched with enthusiasm and willing eagerness.

“Me too,” I whispered, my fingers moving lazily over the swollen nub already begging for another round. “I want you so much.”

I knew he was watching. I could feel his eyes on my hand as I came a second time and it only heightened my desire to feel him stretching me around the cock reawakening in his hand.

“We’ll think of something,” he promised darkly. “I will have you.”

“God, when?” I choked out as two fingers slipped seamlessly past the tight ring of my pussy.

“Soon!”

Chapter Ten

Gabriel

The construction on the ramp was going to take a week, the one named Jeff informed me as we went over the very thorough plans I had drawn up for him and his men. Several of the parts had to be ordered in and he wasn’t sure when they would arrive.

As someone who dealt with ordering parts, I knew the process. It didn’t mean I liked it. That was a week of money going out and no money coming in. But I had known that when I started saving up for it almost a year ago. It was a lengthy and costly project, one that needed to be done.

Earl was very seldom at the shop anymore, not like he used to be when I was younger. I knew it was his leg. The old coot was too proud and stubborn to say as much, but I knew. I also knew that the shop was his life and being away hurt him.

“Get her done,” was all I told Jeff. “I want it done by Wednesday.”

Jeff blinked. “That’s only seven days.”

“That’s a week,” I said evenly. “You said a week, Jeff.”

He nodded with a reluctance that would have made me laugh if I had the patience for it.

I left him to tell his men and made my way out of the garage towards my Jeep Cherokee parked out in the driveway. Using the front bumper, I hefted myself up and sat on the hood; with the stairs up to the loft gone, there was really nowhere else for me to go without leaving altogether and I wasn’t leaving a bunch of strangers alone with thousands of dollars’ worth of tools and equipment.

Most of the day had been lost watching them work. I wasn’t one for playing games on my phone, or texting. My phone never even got used unless it was to make a call. Tammy thought I was insane and couldn’t understand why I didn’t worship my phone the way she did hers. I didn’t even have any apps downloaded. It was basic with my contacts and the odd photo. So I had absolutely nothing to preoccupy my mind as I sat there, in temperatures that could fry eggs and watched as my shop was put back together.

“Hi.”

The quiet murmur of uncertainty propelled my heart up into my throat with a jolt of excitement and dread.

It wasn’t because I wasn’t expecting anyone to come up behind it. It was because that voice sent a scuttle of electricity coursing down the length of my spine to fill my cock with blood, and there was no reason for it.

I turned my head, not sure who to expect and was surprised to find Ali inching towards me, face bunched against the sun. A tote bag hung from her fingers, bumping against her legs. Her hair was twisted up in its habitual knot and she had her purse strapped across her chest like a machine gun. But it was her outfit that gave me pause. Her usual baggy blouse and flowy skirts were replaced by a white t-shirt tucked into a short, navy blue skirt that stopped inches from the tops of her knees. A slim, brown belt nipped around her waist, matching the sandals strapped to her feet. I had never seen so much skin on her before. I honestly hadn’t even been sure she had legs, yet there they were, long, toned and beautiful with slender feet that were tipped with coral pink toes. Her body was lithe with curves in all the places I liked them on a woman, especially around the hips and the swell of her breasts straining the front of her top. My sanity almost missed her old clothes.

“Hi,” I forced, praying to God she wouldn’t notice the bulge pushing up the front of my pants. “What are you doing here?”

She shifted uncomfortably. Her hand drifted down the front of her skirt and twisted around the strap of her purse. I followed the motion and my gaze lingered on her legs; she had great legs. The kind that could wrap forever around a man as he drove her into the mattress with every vicious thrust. It was completely inappropriate and did nothing to appease my hard on, but I couldn’t stop staring.

“I walked by earlier and noticed you were sitting out here,” she explained. “I kind of figured you still would be.”

That didn’t really tell me anything. But I wouldn’t complain. She was a better sight than the six hairy men working on rebuilding my shop.

“Did you need something?” I wondered.

“Need?” she echoed, testing out the word. “No, I was actually thinking … I mean…” She set the tote bag down at her feet and bent down. I watched the rise of her skirt over her thighs as she shook out a brown paper bag and held it out to me. “I thought you might be hungry.”

I blinked, having been too caught up in the new stretch of skin exposed.

“It’s only a pizza,” she said. “And I didn’t touch it.”

I hadn’t even thought of that. I honestly wasn’t sure I would have cared. Food was food and I was starving, more for her than food, but I would take whichever I could get.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said instead, eyeing the bag.

“I know.” She gave it a little shake. “But I was out anyway so…” Her arm began to lower. “If you don’t want it—”

I grabbed it before she could take it away. She continued to stand there and watch me as I tore it open and peered inside.

There were three slices of pizza wrapped in silver foil, a bag of chips and a cold bottle of water. I took out the first slice and pushed back the wrapper.

“Well…” She began edging away. “I’ll let you eat and see you—”

“It’s going to take a week,” I said, chomping down on the juicy explosion of tomato sauce, pepperoni, and cheese.

“That’s crazy,” she said, but made no further effort to leave. “What are you going to do for a week?”

I shrugged, taking another bite. “Wait for them to finish.”

Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth and she peered contemplatively at the shop again.

“That’s going to suck for business,” she mused at last. “Being closed that long.”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“Couldn’t you stay open while they worked?” she wondered. “True no one can get to the loft for lunch, but you can still work in the shop.”

I paused eating to study the bay doors. “What about the phones and paperwork?” I glanced at her. “Your space.”

She shrugged. “I can work from anywhere,” she said, fishing her phone out from somewhere in that monster-sized purse of hers. “I’ll forward the office to my cell and all I really need is a chair and a clipboard.”

I eyed her. “Do you really want to come back to work?” I teased her. “This could be like a vacation.”

She snorted. “I’ve been on vacation for three months.”

I rubbed the pizza crumbs off my fingers onto my worn jeans. “I’ll think about it.” Now that some of the gnawing pain had subdued, I focused more closely on the sliver of crust gripped between my fingers. “How did you know pepperoni and cheese was my favorite?” Or that I usually had three slices, or that Mamma Tomas was my favorite pizza.

“I’m observant,” she stated simply. “You always have pizza on Wednesdays from the same place, except you always get Dr. Pepper, but I figured since you’re sitting out in the heat all day, water was a better option.”

I wasn’t sure which of those things caught at my attention more, the fact that she watched me, or that I was so predictable.

“Thanks,” I said, not sure what else to say.

She nodded.

“What do you eat on Wednesdays?” I asked, realizing I had never once seen her eat anything.

Ali shrugged, refusing to meet my gaze. “I don’t know.” She sighed. “I should leave you to eat. I left a mess on my bed that needs to be cleaned.”

With a wave of her fingers, she was gone before I could pull myself out of images of her bed, which oddly enough, looked a lot like Aoife’s.

I was exhausted from the heat by the time I got home and showered. All I could think about was climbing into bed and sleeping. I even glanced longingly at the sheets before reminding myself I promised Aoife I would see her at seven.

Something was different. I couldn’t momentarily put my finger on it. Then it hit me; she wore a different robe, but it wasn’t just that. There was a light radiating on her that seemed to illuminate her pale skin in all the places the scrap of fabric didn’t cover. It shimmered over the thick waves cascading down around her shoulders in a dark waterfall. Unlike her peach colored robes, this one was white and lacy and delved deep between high, firm breasts that strained the material to an inch of its life. It was pinned together by a sash, but even that seemed to be knotted very loosely, like at any moment, the whole thing could come undone.

“Christ.”

“Hi,” she whispered, her voice holding more than just a hint of nerves.

“Open your legs.”

If at any point I ever doubted her outfit change wasn’t designed to deliberately torture me, it was overruled when her knees immediately parted and I was given a glimpse of the white triangle of lace nestled in between.

“Did you wear that for me?”

“Yes.” Her fingers toyed with the end of the sash. “I bought a few new outfits today.”

“Jesus.” I scrubbed a hand over my face. “Are you trying to kill me?”

Her giggle was endearing. “Yes.”

I let my hand drop down into my lap and I traced the curves and lines of her body hugged by that useless bit of clothing. It concealed nothing. I could clearly make out the faint outlines of her nipples, and with her knees parted, the indents of her pussy lips.

“And what were you hoping to accomplish by wearing that?” I wondered, my voice tight with my own building, and painful, arousal. “Would you take it off if I tell you and sit there beautifully naked for me?”

Her chest rose and fell quickly, pushing the spongy mounds tighter against the front of her robe.

“Yes.”

“Do it,” I instructed. “Take it off.”

Her fingers were visibly trembling when she reached for the sash. It came undone easily and the robe slipped over her shoulders and down her arms. It was carelessly tossed aside and she sat before me with her knees folded beneath her and her hands resting lightly in her lap. In that position, with her shoulders squared and her back straight, her breasts were thrust forward proudly, the nipples tight and dark against the soft pallor of her skin. The sight of them made my mouth water and my hands ached to touch, to tease and torment until she was a writhing mess beneath me.

“Open your legs wider.”

Her knees parted until I could see the narrow stretch of fabric thinning to practically a thread all the way up the valley of her ass.

“Turn around.”

She scooted back and turned. The camera shuddered as she showed me the slender length of her spine to where an elaborate rose design sat at the small of her back, keeping the bits of string in place over her pussy.

“Bend down on your forearms and lift your ass to the camera.”

There was no hesitation. Her body slid forward. Her back arched as she lifted her hips into the air. The bit of string nestled along her sex barely covered the smooth, wet stretch of skin. But it did the job. It gave me just enough to want more. It made me want to be back there. I wanted to be the one to push aside the string and reach between her thighs. I wanted to be the one to push her forward and line myself up with her opening. Instead, all I could do was envy a piece of fabric and palm my cock.

“Touch her. Slowly.”

Slim fingers glided up the lips of her pussy and spread to cover her mound. She traced the thread from ass to clit in a slow stroke and I inwardly swore. The pale material was soaked over her slit and getting wetter the longer she touched.

I was tempted to tell her to show me, to push the barricade aside and let me see what I would claim first chance I got. But I refrained. I let her run the show. I let her play the instrument that was her own body and enjoyed the symphony she made with every gasp, moan, and sigh.

My patience paid off. Her fingers hooked her panties and nudged them aside, revealing smoothly shaven lips and delicately folded skin making up one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen.

While all women had a vagina, any man will tell you that no two ever look the same, and odds were, most were downright frightening. I had only ever been with one other woman, but I had seen enough pussy in my life just from visiting the clubs with Regina that I recognized the difference. Sex was an open concept in most underground playgrounds. Not all pussies fascinated, or turned me on. Aoife had a beautiful pussy. It was perfect, tight and compact and just the right amount of pink. Her slit glistened like an invitation that was liberally leaking down to coat her swollen clit.

She slid her fingers into the pool, coating them and dragging them from hole to clit in slow, even strokes. Her moans were little pants in my ear and I knew them well enough to distinguish just how close she was.

I wasn’t ready to come, not that I couldn’t if I put my mind to it. But I wasn’t the kind that needed to go every time his woman did. There were times I was perfectly content just watching her. This was one of those times.

I palmed my cock through my sweats and enjoyed the sight on screen. On the phone, Aoife whimpered. Her hips thrashed against her pumping fingers. The clear fluid that had coated her opening moments ago thickened and trickled over her knuckles and dripped onto the sheets.

“You’re so wet,” I groaned. “Are you coming, baby?”

Two fingers sunk deep inside her and came out coated in sleek, white cream that was rubbed over her clit before delving back inside her pussy.

She made a sound between a sob and a gasp. “Yes!”

I didn’t have to hear her low, guttural wail to know when she came. I could see the tightening of her ring around her fingers and the rapid pulsing that followed as her pussy milked at the object giving it pleasure. I could only imagine having them grip me as I slammed deep inside her, making her ride out that orgasm until the very last shudder. I wanted to feel her rushing hot and wet around me. Truthfully, I wanted to do things to that pussy that would forever ruin it for anyone else but me. The bone deep desire shocked even me.

“Keep rubbing your clit,” I told her when her fingers slipped free, leaving her opening winking at me through the screen.

Her slick fingers rolled over her clit and she gave a violent tremor. Her choked gasp filled my ears. Her slit clenched and I gritted my jaw as the hunger rampaged through me. I wanted like hell to slide up behind her and fuck her until she couldn’t sit for a week.

I told her so and watched with dark fascination as she climaxed again.

“Just tell me when,” she panted into the phone mid third orgasm. “She’s yours.” She emphasized by circling the tight ring of her opening with one finger. Then using two to pry it apart in invitation. “I want your cock stretching me.”

Christ.

I came in my sweats.

I could have sworn the days just kept getting hotter and hotter. I found myself roasting alive the next day as the crew worked on installing the framework. Even with the shade, the hood of my Jeep burned beneath me. I was sure my ass was getting one hell of a tan.

Most of the upstairs had been done. Both sets of stairs had been converted into a wooden ramp that had to be adjusted and aligned to properly fit the angle. The only thing left was the wall of windows I wanted put in to overlooking the shop below. That had been a last minute decision brought on solely by images of Ali sitting up there in that concrete prison for ten hours every day. Also, a part of me that I refused to acknowledge in my decision making process, liked the idea of seeing her whenever I glanced up.

“Back again?”

The teasing taunt had me glancing over my shoulder and watching as the object of my constant fascination walked towards me, tote bag in tow. She wore a dress in soft purple that hung off her shoulders and fell in a wave of fabric around her legs. There was a straw hat on her head, concealing part of her face, but I knew, even before she tipped back her head who was underneath.

“So are you,” I noted, enjoying the sight of Ali walking towards me.

She sighed dramatically and rolled a bare shoulder. “What can I say, I have a bleeding heart.” She stopped two feet away, both hands clasped around the tote bag dangling nearly to the ground. “I feel bad about letting you stay out here alone.”

I leaned back on the hood and propped my weight up with my hands, ignoring the hot metal stinging my palms.

“I’m not alone. I have six very interesting men just inside.”

Her nose wrinkled. “I’m not sure how to take that.”

I couldn’t help it, I chuckled. “Definitely not like that. What?” I said when I caught her studying me with a peculiar look on her face.

“Nothing. I was just thinking how laughing looks good on you.” She shifted. “You should do it more.”

“Laugh?”

She nodded. “Not that scowling doesn’t do wonders for your complexion, but…” She shrugged. “Anyway, I brought lunch.”

She drew out a Styrofoam takeout container and held it out to me along with a plastic fork.

I hesitated. “You don’t have to keep bringing me food, Ali.”

“I know, but I also know you won’t get yourself lunch, so…” She wiggled the container at me. “As your secretary, it’s my duty to make sure you eat.”

I took the offered meal, surprised to find it still warm.

“I didn’t realize that was in the contract.”

She withdrew two bottles of water, but only held out one. I took it.

“It’s written in invisible ink.”

I chuckled. “Like the squirrel?”

Ali grinned. “Something like that.” She set the second bottle down next to my hip. “For later.”

I studied her as she drew back and closed the tote bag.

“Didn’t get yourself anything?”

She shrugged and shook her head. “No, I don’t like parmesan penne with extra parmesan.”

I would have chuckled, except my mind was overcrowded with other thoughts, like how well she knew me and how I knew next to nothing about her. That bothered me, not because she paid so much better attention, but because I didn’t pay enough of it.

“I guess I should—”

“Stay,” I blurted before she could take a single step away from me. I raised my head and peered at her. “I’d like the company.”

She fidgeted uneasily with her purse strap. Her gaze went to the open shop window and the men hammering away inside. Then darted back to me.

“Are you sure? I know I’m not your favorite person.”

It took all my restraint not to do something irreparably stupid like gather her up in my arms and tell her … hell, I didn’t know what, but something that would get me into a whole mess of trouble.

“I’m sure,” I said instead.

She hesitated a moment longer before edging around to stand on my other side.

I patted the empty spot next to me on the hood. “Hop on.”

“Oh … um…”

She eyed the fender, then the hood, clearly uncertain about how to go about getting on without touching the scalding metal. I chuckled inwardly as I set my food aside and hopped down.

“Hold on.”

Leaving her watching after me, I moved quickly to the back of my jeep and unearthed a moth eaten blanket. I dusted it off the best I could before moving back to her and laying it out on the hood.

“There.”

I took her by the waist without thinking, intending to lift her up. Her hands jumped to my shoulders for balance, maybe from surprise. Her head jerked up and I was caught by how close she suddenly was. Her heat radiated through the thin material of her dress to burn my palms. Her sweet scent was a physical force rushing over me and I felt myself drowning in it. It took everything in me not to push her back into the front grill of my Jeep and take that damn mouth of hers the way I’d been fantasizing about for weeks.

Instead, I lifted her up and settled her down gently on the hood. I released my hold on her immediately and stepped back, already berating myself for being such a pig. There I was, thinking about all the ways I wanted to ravage Ali when I had Aoife satisfying me almost nightly. It made me a unique brand of sick.

“Thank you,” Ali murmured as I hoisted myself up next to her.

I inclined my head, but kept busy peeling back the cover on my penne.

The rich, tangy scent of tomato sauce, melted cheese and pasta impregnated the air. It filled my mouth with saliva and made my stomach whimper. But being the gentleman Earl raised me to be, I offered my fork to Ali first.

“Want a bite?”

She shook her head a little too quickly. “No, thank you.” She moistened her lips and I looked away. “How did Tamara like her costume?”

I shrugged as I speared penne onto my fork. “We’re not exactly talking right now,” I said and shoved pasta into my mouth.

“Everything okay?”

I nodded, stalling while I chewed. “Just teenage drama. She’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure.” She agreed. “So I did some recon today.” She cleared her throat. “While I was out, I talked to some of the other business around here if they wouldn’t mind doing a trade of advertisement. We would put up their flyers and point our customers to them, and they’ll do the same for us. I figured it might help since we’ll be closed for a week.”

I turned my head towards her. “You did that?”

She nodded. “Ben Carter from up the street, he runs an art gallery that caters mostly to rustic, urban sculptures made of car parts and just stuff most people think are junk. He offered to put Madoc Auto Body Repair as his supplier if you shoot him a few spare parts here and there. I’m especially proud of that one, because he’s a big deal in the art community and artsy people have cars so … win!” She dug out a little notepad from inside her purse and flipped it open. “There were a few others. I got their numbers. I thought we could contact them once we were operational again. Do you have any flyers made up?”

I shook my head mutely.

“Okay, I’ll look into getting some made.” She scribbled it down. “I was also thinking about getting one of those corner street signs made up. Ben said he’d put it in his showroom if we wanted. Also—”

“Who are you?”

Ali ceased speaking. Her head came up, her eyes wide behind the glasses she had to nudge back into place with a knuckle.

“What?”

I closed the lid on my lunch and set it aside to really focus on the woman next to me.

“Who are you? Where did you come from? Why are you here?”

She shut her notepad.

“Are you interviewing me?” It was said teasingly, but there was an uncertainty in the question.

“Yeah,” I decided. “I am. You’ve been here, what? Four weeks?”

“Three,” she corrected.

“Whatever. And no one knows a damn thing about you.”

The pink tip of her tongue poked nervously at her bottom lips as she busied her hands stuffing her notepad back inside her purse.

“Maybe because there really isn’t anything worth telling.”

“I don’t believe that.”

She opened her mouth when Jeff stalked out of the garage door and made a beeline towards us. His gaze darted to Ali before settling on me.

“Don’t mean to interrupt, but I got some measurement questions I’d like to go over with you.”

I didn’t want to leave. I finally had Ali where I wanted her. But she was already sliding off the hood and I knew the moment was over.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she whispered, barely looking at me.

“Ali…”

But with a wave, she was gone.

Chapter Eleven

Ali

I considered not meeting Gabriel for lunch the next day. His questions were becoming too insistent and, while I understood the reason behind them, I hated being unable to answer. The truth of the matter was that I had no idea who I was. I did and I didn’t. I spent so much time watching other people, judging who they were, that I never gave myself a moment of thought. Plus, what I did know about myself were things I couldn’t just share with him. They were things no one would understand, except Q. But he was a rare find and I was sure that if we ever met face to face, I would never be so willingly open with him either. My natural born introvert would never allow it.

Nevertheless, I found myself strolling down Pine towards the shop with a club sandwich on rye. Usually, the sandwich was bought from Top Lick Sandwiches, but I refused to pay ten bucks for a sandwich I could make at home. If Gabriel didn’t like it, that was just too damn bad.

The day wasn’t nearly as hot as it had been the last month. The temperature had dropped drastically due to the canopy of darkness looming overhead, threatening rain. But the humidity remained, frizzing my hair and making my skin clammy beneath my jeans and long sleeved top.

It wasn’t one of the newer outfits I’d dared myself into buying during an insane moment of weakness where I blamed Q for making me feel sexy enough to pull off. But they were comfortable. Plus the new clothes were a gradual process. I was still working up the courage to wearing some of them. The few that I had been brave enough to don were moderately more like what I would normally wear, minus the leg baring and a few yards less fabric. The others, I would really need to talk myself into. Maybe with booze.

True to my assumptions, Gabriel sat on the hood of his jeep, one booted heel propped on the fender and his eyes squinting in the direction of the garage doors. He wore his habitual jeans, white t-shirt, and flannel. His hair was combed back and only slightly tousled by the wind. There was a fine layer of stubble along his jaw that only made his rugged features all the more dangerous. I would be lying if I said it didn’t make my knees weak.

“Hello again,” I said and watched as he turned his head and focused those silver eyes on me.

“Hello.” His gaze dropped to the tote bag dangling from my fingers. “Sandwich?”

I grinned and held the bag out to him. “Homemade.”

He took the bag, but didn’t open it. His eyes were on me again, watching, dissecting. I looked away.

“How’s the construction coming?”

“Slow.” He answered, setting the bag aside on the hood and hopping down. “Come here.”

Something in the way he said it, the authoritative finality, propelled me forward without question. The two steps brought me inches from him and his hands.

They closed around my waist. Mine went straight to his shoulders. As it had the day before, my mind wondered what would happen if I slid my hand around to cup the back of his neck, if I drew his head down, if I went up on my toes and met his lips. But like the day before, I shoved the idea aside, knowing full well he would be appalled and the tenuous bridge we had forged the last few days, would crumble into the rapids below.

He hoisted me up effortlessly onto the hood and left me there as he rounded the car to yank open the driver’s side door. For a moment, I wondered if he was going to start driving with me just sitting there like some hood ornament. But he returned with a plastic cup in one hand and a box in the other. I recognized both.

“How did you know my weakness?” I teased as the items were shoved into my hands.

He heaved himself up next to me and took the box.

“You’re not the only one who pays attention,” he said, flipping back the lid and showing me an array of donuts. “I mean, you were willing to marry a guy for one.”

I laughed, long and hard, because it was the sweetest and strangest thing anyone had ever done for me. Plus, I remembered all too well my comment to him about marrying Carl if he bought me a donut.

“Are you asking me to marry you, Mr. Madoc?” I asked. “Because I don’t see a Boston cream puff in there and I’d have to decline.”

He hissed through his teeth and eyed the assortment. “Good to know. I guess I’ll have to toss these then.”

I snatched the box from him before he could follow through on such a crazy notion and shot him a glare.

“That is just uncalled for,” I said, barely suppressing my grin. But I broke into another fit of chuckles before forcing myself to sober and hold up the drink. “And the Frappuccino with whipped cream and chocolate syrup? How did you know about this one?”

He rubbed at his jaw with his fingertips and squinted at the iced drink. “I recall you threatening for one while demanding a raise your first day.”

I chuckled. “Remember that, huh? Thank you.”

“Does that mean you’ll share the donuts?”

I snorted, setting my Frappuccino down on the hood between us. “Not after you threatened to toss them.” To prove it, I took out a chocolate glazed one and held it to my mouth. “You’ll have to get your own.”

One of the crew men ambled over then, a large man with a head full of curly black hair and skin the color of dark coffee beans. He held a tape measure in one hand and a hammer in the other. He stalked over to where Gabriel sat and stopped.

“Jeff is measuring the doorframe and wants to know if you agree with the numbers.”

Gabriel sighed. He hopped down to join the man on the pavement.

“Yeah,” he said, but he didn’t sound happy about it.

The man spotted me and my happy box of donuts. He whistled under his breath.

“Easy there, girl. Shouldn’t you be watching your figure, or something? You should let me and the boys finish that for you.”

I knew he was only teasing. Anyone would have said the same thing if they’d seen a girl with a whole box of donuts in her lap. But the question hit too close to home for me. My self-esteem took a nosedive all the way to my ankles and splattered across the concrete. All desire to eat said donut evaporated in a cloud of sugary dust that made my stomach churn. Mortification burned a hot path up my back, over the column of my throat, and filled my face with fire. The sensation prickled behind my eyes in the form of tears that I couldn’t squelch. I quickly set the donut back inside the box and closed the lid. I dusted my hands on my jeans and started to slide down.

“I just remembered I have an appointment I have to get to,” I choked out, staring hard at the ground and willing the tears to stay in check until I was far away. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I made it three feet before I was captured. Gabriel’s hand formed an indestructible shackle around my elbow, forcing me to stop.

“Don’t,” he warned quietly.

“I have—”

He didn’t let me finish. His fingers tightened around my arm and I was dragged forcibly backwards until my spine ran the length of his chest.

“Don’t move,” he hissed into my ear, and I didn’t.

I stayed perfectly in place as he moved away. I watched him follow the man back into the garage without a backwards glance to see if I would comply. His confidence in his own abilities would have irritated me, if I wasn’t so busy trying to get myself back under control.

I wasn’t normally so sensitive. It had taken me years to build that wall of outer indifference when it came to my weight and normally, I wouldn’t have been caught dead eating where people could see me. But it wasn’t even that he had made such a stupid joke. It was the fact that Gabriel had been sitting right there, listening that stung. While he wasn’t blind, I didn’t want my flaws brought to his attention. I didn’t want him to see what I saw every time I looked in the mirror. What made it worse was the fact that I was just beginning to build a modicum of confidence in how I looked, which was now stained with shame.

What the hell had I been thinking? Of course I couldn’t pull off those new clothes, not now when all Gabriel would see was how disgusting my body was.

I wanted to die.

Raised voices had my attention pulling away from my own misery to focus on the two men arguing by the bay doors. The man who had made the seeming harmless joke was storming out of the shop, yelling at the top of his lungs about something being bullshit. The crew manager was left standing in the doorway, arms crossed, watching the other man stalk away with a look of annoyance. Behind him stood Gabriel, looking fierce and royally pissed off.

“What happened?” I wondered to myself, as the man jumped into a beat up truck and peeled out of his parking spot like his tailgate was on fire.

The crew manager turned to Gabriel. The two shared words I couldn’t hear, but it looked like the man was apologizing and Gabriel was just shaking his head. Curiosity propelled me forward.

“He won’t be returning,” the crew manager was telling Gabriel when I joined the group. “Bill’s a great guy. He just forgets sometimes to watch his mouth.”

It took me a moment to realize what was happening. It took me a bit longer to formulate words. My gaze shot to Gabriel.

“Did you get him fired?” I exclaimed, horrified.

“He’s lucky that’s all I did,” Gabriel answered tightly.

“But he didn’t mean anything by it.” I protested, guilt ridden. I turned to the crew manager. “Please don’t fire him.”

“He’s not fired,” the man assured me. “I sent him to a different project. Like I said, I know my men. Bill’s a good worker, but he sometimes lets his mouth run off with him. My wife doesn’t like him around either so I can understand where your husband is coming from.”

“Oh, he’s not … we’re not…”

Crew Manger put his hands up, like he didn’t want to know what type of relationship Gabriel and I had. He turned his attention towards Gabriel.

“About those measurements?”

Gabriel nodded and motioned the other man to lead the way.

“Gabriel,” I called after him before he could follow the man.

Maybe it was the sound of me saying his name for the very first time, or maybe it was the hand I closed around his, but he stopped. His head turned in my direction and he stared down at me with surprise lifting his eyebrows. I released him, slightly embarrassed for having grabbed him in the first place. It took some effort not to rub my now tingling hand.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said.

The surprise dissolved into exasperation. “I don’t care how funny he thinks he is, he needs to learn to watch his mouth. You’re mine, Ali, and I…” He seemed to freeze at his own passionate declaration the same time I did. Our gazes clashed as the air around us crackled sharply. “I meant part of my team,” he corrected. “You’re part of my team and that makes you one of mine and I don’t like people upsetting those who work for me.”

I tried not to let disappointment tighten in my gut. Of course that was what he’d meant.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He inclined his head without meeting my eyes. He started to turn away and I was going to let him, fully prepared to make my own escape the minute he turned his back when the phone in his pocket buzzed. I watched as he dug it out and frowned at the screen before shoving it to his ear.

“Mom?” He was quiet while he listened to whatever was being said. The high pitched chatter on the other end pierced through loudly, but not loud enough for me to make sense of it. Yet the longer Gabriel listened, the darker his expression became. “What? When? No. No, I’ll be right there. No, don’t do anything. I’m on my way.”

“What’s wrong?” I demanded the second he’d hung up.

“Tammy’s taken off.”

“What?”

Rather than answer me, he sprinted to the garage doors and pulled the crew manager aside. The two spoke quickly with a lot of hand gesturing from Gabriel. Finally, he jogged back to me, digging into his pocket.

“I need you to make sure they leave and lock the shop up after them. Can you do that?”

I nodded, taking the keys he shoved into my hand. “Yes, but is everything okay?”

His answer was a shake of his head and a frustrated exhale.

I watched as he hurried away from me to his jeep. The items on the hood were gathered up and shoved into the backseat. My untouched Frappuccino was tossed into a nearby wastebasket. Then he was gone.

The construction crew vacated the premises a full fifteen minutes later, which to me, felt like hours. But only because my mind was still on Tamara and Gabriel. I couldn’t stop wondering if everything was okay if the girl was okay and what had Gabriel meant she had taken off? Taken off where? As someone who had often wished she could just pack up and runaway, I knew all too well the desire to escape something that felt ultimately out of your control, but if Tamara was hurt, I couldn’t just do nothing, not just because of Gabriel, but Earl.

Setting the alarm and locking the garage up tight, I ran home. All the while, I contemplated what I was doing. The fact of the matter was that it wasn’t my business. If Tamara had run away from home, Gabriel and his family would sort it out. I was merely an employee, as Gabriel had stated. Part of me also wasn’t so sure how grateful he would be if I just showed up offering my help. It would be mortifying if he turned me away.

Yet, that didn’t stop me from climbing into my car and following Earl’s directions to Gabriel’s mom’s place.

It was a nice little house with an array of colorful blooms and shrubbery taking up the majority of the front yard. There was a thin, cobblestone path leading from the sidewalk to the front steps, but otherwise, it was like walking through some fairy garden. The homes around it seemed bland and lifeless in comparison. Even the gloomy promise of rain wasn’t enough to dull the beauty. I was almost tempted to just make a home on the walkway until fall when everything shriveled up and died. It seemed like a substantially better option than having to face what I was about to do.

I rang the doorbell before I could second guess my decision and waited with my purse clutched to my midsection as protection. It was also to soothe the writhing pit of snakes that had taken residence in my abdomen. The nipping winds picked at my clothes and cooled the sweat collecting along my spine. I shivered and tightened my grip on the purse.

It felt like an hour before the door was thrown open, but it couldn’t have been more than twenty seconds. Gabriel’s hopeful expression melted into one of confusion when he spotted me. I guessed he must have been expecting Tamara.

“Hi,” I said, feeling ever so stupid. “I was in the neighborhood and I thought…” I blew out a breath. “Okay that’s not true. I was worried.”

He eyed me for several minutes in silence, like he was trying to read my mind, which I prayed to God he couldn’t. Then, to my surprise, he shifted aside.

“Come in.”

I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I had honestly expected him to turn me away. It took some coaxing to get my knees to bend and for my legs to move, albeit, a bit stiffly over the threshold. My shoulder brushed his chest and that whole side went inexplicably numb. I shook it off and pretended like I walked into people’s homes all the time. Truthfully, I couldn’t remember the last time I was ever in another person’s house. Tony’s parent’s maybe and the disastrous supper.

Not pure enough for their precious son. Please. Assholes. Granted, now that I think about it, maybe I was a sexual deviant. Who knew?

“Any news?” I asked, turning my body in the cramped little foyer to face the enormous man closing the door behind me.

He shook his head. “Mom’s calling some of Tammy’s friends now to see if they know anything.”

I nodded, because that was the logical thing to do when a teenager went missing: call the friends, unless the friend covered.

“Did something happen?” I asked. “To make her want to run away, I mean.”

“She didn’t run away,” he said. “She’s gone camping. Come on.”

I followed, because there was really nothing else to do.

The corridor bent at a sharp right angle that opened into a comfortably furnished sitting area. The room was cluttered with plants and family photos. A single sofa sat facing an empty fireplace, flagged by two end tables and a coffee table in front over an area rug covering the worn hardwood. An ancient TV sat on a rickety table tucked against one corner. I noted it wasn’t even plugged in and there were no game systems, or even a DVD player in sight.

Definitely not a family that watched TV, I thought.

I did another glance over the room, taking note of the photos. Each one was taken outside during some type of activity, or family outing. In each one, Tamara was sullen and miserable in her black attire and ever changing hair color. Gabriel was in a few, not as many though. Most contained a delicately built woman with auburn curls and luminous gray eyes standing in the embrace of a tall, rail thin man with appalling fashion sense; who even wore sweater vests anymore with khakis? Plus, the guy reminded me of a Muppet what with his abnormally wide, thin mouth and riot of unruly brown curls over an oblong head.

“Ali?”

I turned away from the picture I’d been studying to find Gabriel standing beneath a wide opening leading into a formal dining area. I started towards him, eyes moving over the space he’d grown up in, trying to find pieces of him in it.

But while there was plenty of Tamara hidden throughout the place, Gabriel didn’t seem to exist there. Maybe because he hadn’t lived with his mom in a long time, but aside from the occasional picture of him as a man, there were none of him as a boy.

“Why are there no earlier pictures of you?” I asked, tilting my head back to peer up into his face.

“Because my mom didn’t raise me,” he said evenly, but quietly, like he didn’t want the other occupants of the house to overhear us. “Earl did.”

I remembered him mentioning that when he’d hired me, but I hadn’t realized the extent of it.

“Come on,” he said when I could think of nothing else to say.

We walked through the dining area and into a brightly lit kitchen that reminded me of something straight out of the thirties with yellow wallpaper, cabinets, and vinyl flooring. The only thing not yellow was the appliances and countertops, which were white. So basically, it was like standing in the center of a lemon meringue pie. I wasn’t sure if I should be hungry, or disturbed. Instead, I focused on the trio sitting around a five piece table set—also yellow—and recognized all three. Two were from the pictures in the living room. The third…

“Ali!”

Earl shoved out of his chair, using the table to brace his weight as he hobbled around it towards me.

I smiled. “Hello!”

He limped towards me and took my arm. I was propelled forward.

“Lydia, this is Ali.” He patted my shoulder and left me standing there as he made his way back to his seat. “Ali, Lydia. Gabriel and Tammy’s mom.”

I smiled at her, praying it wasn’t as stiff and uncomfortable as I felt. “Hello.”

Lydia rose and I was amazed by how short she was. I wasn’t monstrously tall, but most fully grown adults came to my eyelevel. Lydia barely reached my shoulders.

“Hello Ali, it’s nice to finally meet you, although, I do wish it had been under better circumstances.”

I took the tiny hand the woman offered and gave it a shake.

“It’s nice to meet you, too. I’m sorry to barge in like this. I was hoping I could help.”

Lydia nodded and released my hand. “This is my husband, Jonas.”

“Nice to meet you, Ali,” Jonas said in a very calm, rational tone.

I gave the man an inclination of my head and a slight smile before focusing on the rest of the room once more.

“Is there anything I can do?” I asked, turning back to Lydia.

The woman sighed and threw up her hands before dropping into her seat once more. “What is there to do? She packed her things and left without a single note, because nothing I say is important. I’m only her mother after all. Why should anyone listen to me?”

“So she went camping?” I guessed, still not sure what was going on.

“That’s what she told us,” Gabriel answered, moving across the room to stand at my side.

“And I’m guessing she wasn’t allowed to?” I said.

“Nope.”

Gabriel motioned me to take the only remaining seat at the table. I declined with a slight shake of my head. I did my best thinking on my feet.

“Well, did she mention where she was going? A rough direction?”

Gabriel shook his head. “Only that she was going with friends and would be back Sunday.”

That didn’t give us a whole lot of clues to go by. But it also made me wonder why they all seemed so concerned if she only went with her friends. While I understood she was sixteen and she’d been told not to go, it was hardly a death sentence. She would be back in two days.

“Are they bad friends?” I wondered.

“Her friends are fine,” Lydia stated with a catch in her voice.

“She went with a group of boys,” Gabriel finished where his mother couldn’t. “We don’t know who.”

“Oh!” I said, finally catching on. “Yeah, that’s not good. Well…” I pulled in a breath and tried to think, but it was hard to do when I could feel Gabriel’s silvery eyes boring into me. I turned away and paced to the sink. “She’s sixteen. It’s all about boys and having fun.” I assumed. I had no personal experience in this. “And bragging!” The idea hit me fast and hard as I whirled around to face the others. “I think I might know how to find her.”

Moving back to the table, I yanked off my purse and rummaged through the pockets.

“Why does your purse have so many pockets?” Gabriel wondered, peering over my shoulder.

“Because.” Was all I told him as I hunted. “I know it’s here somewhere … Ha!”

I found Carl’s card at the very bottom of the largest pocket. I dug it and my phone out and started dialing, ignoring the vibrating tension hitting my back where Gabriel stood. I held the phone to my ear as it rang.

“Carl Doray.”

I took a deep breath and put as much cheer into my voice as possible when I answered, “Hi Carl, it’s Ali.”

“Ali! Hi! Did you change your mind about my offer?”

My chuckle was tense as I turned away from the several pairs of eyes drilling into me. “No, sorry. I was actually hoping you could help me with something.”

“Anything. What’s up?”

“You remember Tamara, right?”

“Gabriel’s sister? Yes. Is something wrong?”

I made a face at the fridge. “Well, she kind of left home to go camping with some friends without telling her parents and they’re worried.”

Carl hissed audibly in my ear. “That’s rough, but I know the feeling. What can I do?”

“I’m hoping Alyssa might know where they went. You know kids, they’re always bragging about stuff like this.”

“Alyssa’s in school right now, but I can ask her when she gets home, if you like?”

“I would really appreciate that. Thank you, Carl.”

“Hey, no problem, and maybe we can go to dinner this weekend.”

“This weekend?”

“Yeah, if you’re free?”

“Uh, I would love to,” I began, edging quickly out of the room and away from Gabriel’s listening ears. “But I’m kind of seeing someone right now and…”

“Say no more. I get it. Thought I’d give it a shot. But I’m at work right now so I have to go. I’ll call you when I get Alyssa from school.”

“Thank you again, Carl. And I’m really sorry.”

He chuckled. “Don’t be. I’ll talk to you soon.”

Thanking him again, I hung up and braced myself before moving back into the kitchen.

Four pairs of eyes pinned me in the doorway. I deliberately ignored Gabriel’s as I crossed back to the table.

“He’s going to call me back when he gets Alyssa from school,” I said, dropping my phone and Carl’s card back into my purse.

“Thank you, Ali,” Lydia said.

I nodded, not sure what else to say.

The room was quiet, and tense, but that could have maybe only been me. Being in a stranger’s house made me feel like an intruder. It made me wonder if I should make an excuse and leave.

“It’s raining,” Lydia stated unexpectedly, getting out of her chair to cross to the window over the sink where the rain was an angry force against the glass. “It’s coming down hard. I hope Tammy remembered to pack warm clothes.”

“She’ll be fine, Mom,” Gabriel assured her.

Lydia sighed and turned back to the rest of us. “Is anyone hungry?”

Not waiting for anyone to answer, she hurried to the fridge and began yanking items out. I glanced at Earl.

“Maybe I should—”

“You can’t leave,” Lydia said before I could finish. “You haven’t eaten.”

I opened my mouth to tell her I wasn’t hungry, but Gabriel beat me to it.

“And Carl Doray might call you with a location.”

“I insist,” Lydia chimed in when I started to suggest I just call him when Carl called me.

Shit.

She made tortilla chips and black bean dip. I’d never had black bean dip. Something about it looking like elephant poop kind of turned me off. But I stepped up, because everyone was watching and Lydia insisted—as a guest—I get first taste.

“It’s my specialty,” she stated proudly.

“It’s what won me over,” Jonas said, smiling fondly at his wife.

With no choice, I took a tortilla chip and dipped the corner into the thick, brown substance.

“That’s not how you do it!” Lydia scolded. “Gabe, show her.”

I felt Gabriel move. His heat shifted and moved into my space. The hard, lean build of him settled against my back as he reached past me for a chip, caging me between him and the table. His breath was a warm whisper along the skin of my neck. I shivered involuntarily. If he felt it, he made no comment as he scooped his chip into the dip.

“You have to really get it in deep,” he murmured into my ear.

My pussy clenched, sending tingles up my body to tighten my nipples against my satin bra. I fought not to notice how my left ass cheek was a mere breath away from brushing against the front of his jeans. I fought not to bump back against him.

Then he, and his glob of dip and chip were gone, leaving me disappointed and cold without his heat.

Damn him!

“So, Ali.” Lydia regained her seat. “Tell us about yourself.”

The plain chip I’d been nibbling on stilled against my bottom lip. “Sorry?”

“Ali doesn’t like talking about herself,” Gabriel said. “I’m convinced she works for the CIA.”

“There just really isn’t anything to tell,” I said. “I’m very boring.”

“Nonsense,” Lydia said, waving a dismissive hand. “Earl and Tammy speak very highly of you. Plus, I saw the costume you made for her play. It’s very lovely.”

“Oh…” I felt my face warm. “Thank you.”

Lydia wasn’t about to let it go though.

“How are you liking the shop?”

“It’s great,” I answered.

“Are the boys treating you nicely?”

Not wanting to lie, I stuffed the chip into my mouth and nodded while making incoherent noises.

“Is Gabriel being nice?” his mom cajoled with a teasing frown at her son. “I know he can be quite … intimidating when he wants to be.”

I said nothing.

What the hell time did school end anyway? Why was it taking Carl so damn long? I felt like I was being interrogated by the government. Any minute now, they’d bring out the waterboarding.

“Gabriel!” his mother scolded.

“No!” I blurted. “I mean, yes, he’s being very nice.”

It wasn’t entirely a lie. The last few days with Gabriel had been nice and I had actually come to enjoy them.

Lydia eyed me, clearly not believing me.

“Are you seeing anyone, Ali?”

I thought of Q and the exclusivity we both promised the other and I wondered if not seeing someone qualified as seeing them?

“Uh…”

I was saved by a very quirky rendition of I like big butts and I cannot lie whistling from my purse. My choice in ringtones made me want to facepalm. But since no one ever called me, it had been my secret, guilty pleasure.

Had I not been expecting a call from Carl, I would have pretended like I had no idea what that sound was, or where it was coming from. As it were, I dove for my purse and ripped it open. The song only seemed to increase in volume.

I looked at no one as I fished my phone out and hurriedly hit talk.

“Hello?” Even to my own ears, I sounded breathless.

Carl chuckled. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“No, no, no, I was just … no, not a bad time.” I blew out a breath. “Did Alyssa know anything?”

“She’s with me right now. One sec.”

While he passed the phone to his daughter, I put my phone on speaker and set it on the table for everyone to hear.

“Hello?” The girl sounded like every girl I had ever hated in high school, high pitched with just enough bitch to make my teeth clench.

“Hi Alyssa,” I said, struggling to keep my voice even. “I’m Ali. I’m a friend of Tamara’s. I know you and she aren’t friends, exactly, but I’m hoping you might have overherad her mentioning something about a camping trip.”

“Yeah, I heard her telling everyone they were going to River Canyon with some college guys. It’s like the backway into River Port National Park so you don’t have to pay.”

“Do you know how to get there?” I asked, even as Gabriel dug out his phone and pulled up Google Map.

“You just turn off before the park entrance,” Alyssa said haughtily, like I was an idiot. “Everyone knows how to get there. You just hike up like twenty minutes until the trees clear.”

“I got it,” Gabriel said, showing me his phone.

“Okay, thank you, Alyssa,” I began, but the girl had already hung up.

“College boys?” Lydia squeaked, wide eyes darting to her husband. “She told me they were in high school.”

“Not really,” Jonas interjected. “She only mentioned they went to another school. You assumed it was another high school.” He reached over and took Lydia’s hand. “Which is an absolutely understandable mistake.”

“I’m such an idiot!” Lydia exclaimed. “I should have done more to stop her. if anything happens to her, it will be my fault.”

While Jonas consoled her, I turned my attention to Gabriel. “What’s the plan?”

“It’s a two hour drive from here,” Gabriel stated, also ignoring his mother. “I can get there and back by tonight.”

“It’s raining,” Lydia pointed out. “How will you ever find her in this? Oh, Gabe, it’s too dangerous. We’ll just have to—”

But Gabriel was already moving towards the doorway. “Maybe it’ll stop before I get there. Even if it doesn’t,” He stuffed his phone into his back pocket. “I’m bringing her home. Then I’m going to strangle her. Possibly in that order.”

“Wait!” I grabbed my purse. “I’ll go with you.”

He stopped and turned to me. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know.” I slung the strap over my shoulder. “But you can’t drive and follow the map in this weather and it’s not safe to go into the wilderness alone at night.”

I wasn’t so sure about that last part, but it must have been convincing, because he nodded.

“Okay, but keep up.”

I followed him to the door before remembering my manners and hurrying back into the kitchen.

“It was nice to meet you,” I told Lydia and Jonas. “Thank you for the bean dip. It was delicious. Bye Earl.”

With a wave, I jogged back to the door where Gabriel was standing, waiting for me.

“You’re a strange little thing, you know that?” he said.

I blinked. “What? Why?”

He just shook his head. “Do you have a jacket?”

I peered down at my sweater, jeans and sneakers. “No … we might need to make a stop at my apartment.”

“No need. I have an extra coat in the jeep.” He bent down and grabbed a pair of gumboots off a plastic rack and set them down in front of me. “They’re Tammy’s so they should fit.”

I wasn’t sure if I should be insulted, or flattered that he thought my feet were those of a sixteen year old. Yet, oddly enough, they fit so I made no comment.

I tucked my jeans into the boots and hooked my shoes onto my fingers.

The rain pounded the ground in a waterfall of pure rage, its deafening rumble muting all other sound. I contemplated the wisdom of driving in such conditions, but I knew Gabriel would go with or without me and I wouldn’t sleep that night if I let him go alone.

“Okay, on the count of three,” I said.

Gabriel looked at me, his brows furrowed over eyes shining with amusement. “Come on.”

He took my hand—the one not holding my shoes—and plunged headlong into the mess. I gave an unflattering squeak as the shards of ice penetrated the wool of my sweater and plastered my clothes to my skin in the ten seconds it took to get to the jeep. My glasses fogged and I had to rely on Gabriel to get us there without faceplanting in the begonias.

He opened my door first, propelled me into the seat before slamming it shut and disappearing in the rain. I was panting and wiping my glasses on my sweater hem when he threw himself behind the wheel. The rain continued to pummel us from all sides, sounding impossibly loud in the tight confines of the cabin.

“Wow,” I breathed, shoving my glasses back into place on my face.

“Yeah,” he said, stuffing a hand back through his damp tresses, shoving the thick strands away from his face.

I watched as he punched our directions into the GPS built into the dashboard and wondered why he agreed to let me come along if he had a machine to tell him where to go. I didn’t bother pointing this fact out, not wanting him to come to his senses and leave me behind. Instead, I reached up and released the band knotting my hair. The long waves tumbled down around my face and back. I fluffed a hand through the wet strands before scooping it all back up and twisting it into its usual bun.

“Has your hair always been…?”

I glanced over at Gabriel’s unfinished question. “Sorry?”

He watched my hand as I finished putting my hair up and shook his head. “Nothing. Ready?”

I nodded and strapped in.

We drove the first hour in silence broken only by the elements beating against the jeep and the splash of water under the tires. Most of my clothes had dried, but I continued to shiver despite the heat blasting from the vents.

“There’s a blanket in the backseat,” he said without taking his eyes off the road.

I shook my head. “I’ll fall asleep if I get comfortable.”

Gabriel chuckled. “I’m going to be pulling over soon to gas up. Want anything?”

Again, I shook my head. “Nope.”

“Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Do you have to pee?”

I looked at him. “Do I look five?”

I could have sworn there was a hint of a grin twisting around his mouth. “No ma’am, you do not.”

I didn’t know how to take that, so I said nothing.

Sure enough, ten minutes later, he pulled into a rundown gas station and hopped out. I watched through my side mirror as he filled the tank. The overhead awning kept him dry, but he didn’t seem bothered by the lashing winds.

He returned several minutes later with two bottles of water and two bags of chips, both original.

“I figured you can’t go wrong with regular,” he said when I stared down at the bag he offered me. “Since I don’t know what kind you like.”

“I don’t have a favorite,” I murmured, feeling like I was divulging something intimate.

“Huh.” He tore open his bag and popped a chip into his mouth. “I would have pegged you for a ketchup chips type of girl.”

“I used to like those when I was younger,” I confessed. “I liked how it would make my lips red, like lipstick.” Which, saying it out loud, made me feel really stupid. “I haven’t had chips since I was seven.”

“Really? What made you stop?”

My mom did by telling me the way I chomped my chips made me sound like a little rat and if I kept eating that garbage, she would have to get a crane to get my fat ass out of the house.

“Just outgrew them, I guess,” I mumbled, feeling my gut tightening.

“Outgrew chips?” He chuckled. “Never heard that one before.”

But he didn’t push, to which I was eternally grateful for, nor did I open my chips.

“We’re almost there,” he said, motioning to the GPS screen.

“The rain is slowing down, too,” I added, noticing the thinning in clouds.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and be back on the road before it starts again.”

Maybe, I thought, squinting up at the roiling smear of gray. It was barely five o’clock and already it felt like nightfall. Even if we found Tamara in time and started straight back, we would be stumbling around in the dark. I was about to tell Gabriel so, when something else stuck me.

“Oh no!” I gasped.

“What?” Gabriel shot me a quick, panicked glance. “What’s wrong?”

I dug out my phone, knowing it was pointless.

“I had to call someone tonight.”

“Don’t you have a signal?”

I did, but I didn’t have Q’s number. It was programmed in my house phone and the paper with the number on it was folded away in my nightstand.

“I don’t have his number,” I mumbled, stuffing my phone back into my purse.

He didn’t ask who, or why the call was so important and I didn’t tell him. I just made a mental note to explain what happened when I called Q tomorrow.

The rain had slowed to a light drizzle by the time we reached the muddy little trail barely visible amongst the dense wall of trees flagging either side of the highway. Gabriel drove past it and kept going almost five minutes before pulling into a wide clearing reserved for resting. There were signs telling people not to park their vehicles there overnight and that the park wasn’t responsible for lost or damaged property. There were other cars already there, nine in total and I wondered if they belonged to Tamara’s friends.

“What’s the plan?” I asked, unsnapping my belt.

Gabriel did the same and yanked his keys out of the ignition. “Hike back to the trail and follow it to Tammy. Then you’re responsible to keep me from killing her and burying her body in the woods.”

I squinted at him. “Is that why you brought me?”

“Mostly,” he answered with a slight shrug.

I laughed and shook my head. “We better hurry. It’s getting dark fast.”

Nodding, he threw open his door and hopped out. I did the same and joined him on the other side as he yanked open the back door and rummaged through the assortment of garbage tossed carelessly into the backseat. He withdrew a heavy wool coat and handed it to me after shaking it out.

It smelled like him, with a hint of Thai food and musty fabric that had been in a damp place too long. He drew out another one, shook it out once before slinging it on himself. That one smelled worse.

“How long have these been in there?” I wondered, gingerly pushing my arm through the sleeves.

He shrugged. “Since winter, maybe spring.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Ew.”

“It’ll keep you warm,” he stated, slightly offended.

I refrained from commenting by slinging my purse on over the jacket. I grabbed all the water bottles I could find and stuffed them into my purse, too.

“In case,” I said when Gabriel arched a brow at me.

He didn’t comment. Instead, he locked the car, set the alarm, and motioned me to follow.

The scuffle of our feet broke the tranquility only found in isolated places. Gabriel seemed in no hurry. I wasn’t sure if that was because he really wasn’t in any hurry, or if he was keeping pace with me, but I was grateful either way. Tamara’s boots may have fit me, but that didn’t mean they were comfortable.

“Tell me about when you were a kid,” I panted, scrambling up an incline made up of mud, twigs, and wet leaves.

“Not really much to tell,” he answered, twisting his body to offer me his hand. I accepted it appreciatively and let him haul me up. “After my dad died, my mom wasn’t fit to raise me so Earl and my grandmother stepped in.”

“Is Earl your mom’s dad?”

“Dad’s.”

“Did you live with him?”

He nodded, relinquishing my hand and continuing onward over the trail. “Until I was fifteen. Then I moved back with my mom.”

“Why?”

“Because she needed someone to look after her.” He stopped walking and faced me, eyes narrowed. “Now that I’ve told you about me, I think you need to share some stuff about you.”

Fuck. I hadn’t seen that coming.

“Why are you so interested?” I muttered.

“Why are you?” he countered. “Why do you get to ask questions, but I can’t?”

I huffed. “Fine, but for every one question, I get to ask you one in return.”

“Fair enough.” He started walking once more. “You’ve asked me, what? Four questions, so I get four off the bat.”

I hated that he was smart.

“Don’t sulk. Fair is fair.”

“Yeah, yeah, ask already.”

Gabriel laughed. “You really don’t like being asked questions, huh?”

I shot him a sidelong glower. “I don’t like talking about myself.”

“I promise to start off small.” He held back a low branch and waited for me to pass. “Where are you from?”

“Alberta.”

“Why did you leave?”

“School.”

“Why did you pick a school out of the country?”

“Are you going to use all four questions on my education?”

“Possibly.”

I rolled my eyes. “The experience.”

“You’re lying. You could have gotten that same experience just by going to another province, but you chose to move out of the country. Why?”

I was really beginning to hate this game.

“I don’t know. I just did.”

He glanced over at me and I looked away.

“What’s your favorite color?”

That momentarily threw me for a loop before I caught myself.

“Green.”

“Like your eyes?”

Heat prickled my cheeks. “Jade green. That was more than four questions.”

“Okay, your turn.”

But I didn’t ask any more questions. I knew that if I did, he would ask questions in return and I didn’t want to answer anymore.

“It’s getting dark,” he observed, peering up at the canopy of tree branches overhead.

“Hold on.” I fished into my purse and came out with a flashlight. “Here. It has a built in compass.” I pointed to the spinning needle just above the button. “The GPS said we needed to go south east.”

“You’re like a girl scout,” he mused.

I snorted. “This is as close to nature as I have ever gotten.”

“You’ve never been camping?”

I thought of my mom’s idea of camping, which consisted mostly of luxury hotels with spas and white sandy beaches.

“Not really. My mom doesn’t like nature unless it comes with a side order of low fat salad dressing.”

Gabriel laughed and the sound made me laugh. Together, it rang through the trees.

“Does she still live in Alberta?”

“Oh, God no. She hated it there. Last I heard, she was somewhere in Europe. Spain, I think.”

“Don’t talk to her much?”

It was only when my boot caught a root and I stumbled that I realized what he was doing. It hadn’t even dawned on me that he was asking sly little questions, distracting me into answering.

“No,” I answered. “I don’t and don’t ask me why.”

“I wasn’t,” he said, as though expecting that. “I was going to ask if you liked seafood.”

He was so random. I almost missed the quiet, sullen Gabriel.

“I’m allergic to seafood,” I stated.

“Good to know.”

Thankfully, that was the end of our twenty questions. I think a lot of that had to do with the steep incline we had to clump our way up. He didn’t seem to have any trouble at all, while I was practically crawling to keep my footing.

“Are you sure this is the right way?” I panted. “I don’t see a bunch of teenagers trudging their way…”

The ground slid out from beneath my boot and I went down with enough force to knock my glasses off as I tumbled back down to the bottom. Twigs snapped beneath my weight and the world kaleidoscoped around me in a blur of darkness. Then it all stopped. I found myself on my back, staring up at a wall of black that had become the sky. My frantic breaths fanned out around my face, hot against the evening chill. I lay there, feeling the damp earth soak into my jeans and mat in my hair and tried to determine if anything was broken.

“Ali!”

A beam of light swung wildly overhead, mirroring the pounding of feet. Then Gabriel was there, leaning over me. The light was gone from his hands and his hands were cradling my face, brushing away hair and dirt.

“Ali? Say something!”

“I lost my glasses,” I blurted.

I felt his hot exhalation wash over my face.

“Forget your glasses, are you okay?”

“Nothing’s broken.” I assured him. “Except maybe my pride and I think I might have fractured my dignity.”

He chuckled. “You’re fine. Come on.”

I let him haul me back to my feet. I even let him brush some of the dirt off with his hands, just because it felt nice. But I knew it was no good. I was a mud covered monster.

He took the flashlight in one hand and my hand in the other and we started back up the hill.

“Are you humming Jack and Jill?”

I sighed. “It seemed appropriate.”

With his help, I made it all the way to the top. Unfortunately, my glasses were gone. Even with Gabriel using the light to search, they had been swallowed by nature. That meant I had to rely on him to get us to where we needed to go, which thankfully, wasn’t too far off once we stumbled our way down the other side of the hill once more.

The noise assured us first. It was insanely loud, like a rave without the fun lights and acid. I could just make out the shadowed humps surrounding a column of fire that crackled eight feet into the air. Ambers blew away with the wind towards some unknown location and I prayed to God it wouldn’t start a forest fire. Faces were obscured, but I could make out their silhouettes bumping and grinding to the heavy thump of bass and laughter. No one even glanced up when we stepped into the clearing. Beer cans, discarded chip bags and the occasional article of clothing littered the ground. Most of the tent flaps sat open, but the majority were zipped closed and, judging from the sounds coming from inside, were occupied.

“How do we find her?” I wondered, squinting at the figures, trying to make out faces.

“The normal way,” Gabriel muttered. Then, before I could ask what that meant, he shouted, “Tamara! Get your ass out here now, or I’ll open every tent to find you!”

He started moving towards the tent closest to us, and for a horrified second, I honestly thought he was actually going to do it.

“Gabe?” The tent on the other side of the fire rustled. The zipper hissed open and Tamara’s head poked out and parts of a bare shoulder. She kept the tent flap held firmly to her chin, but I had a feeling she wasn’t wearing a whole lot on the other side. “What are you doing here?”

Abandoning me to find my own way around drunken pyros, Gabriel stalked forward.

“Me? What the hell are you doing here? Get the hell out now!”

“One sec!”

She disappeared inside. There was several seconds of the tent jerking and twitching before she stumbled out, yanking on her boots. Behind her, another figure emerged.

“Who the fuck are you?” Gabriel growled.

“Just chill. This is Eddy,” Tamara said, as if that was going to appease him.

“Hey, Eddy, did you know she’s only sixteen?” Gabriel bit out.

“Look, I don’t want any trouble,” Eddy slurred out, putting both hands up.

“How old are you, Eddy?” Gabriel pressed. “Because I’m guessing you’re not in high school.”

“He’s twenty,” Tamara answered. “Which is only like—”

“Statutory rape,” Gabriel finished for her. “You’re sixteen. I have every right to beat the ever loving shit out of this guy right now.”

“Will you calm down!” Tamara cried. “We weren’t doing anything.”

“Where’re your friends?” Gabriel swung a glance over the group now watching the show. “Tell them to come out. I’m taking you all back.”

“It’s just me,” Tamara said. “They couldn’t get away.”

“You mean they actually listened to their parents,” Gabriel corrected. “They stayed home where it was safe, but not you.”

“I’ve known Eddy for like forever, okay?” Tamara waved a hand towards the guy standing next to her, swaying slightly as she did so. “He’s cool.”

“Are you...” Gabriel grabbed Tamara’s arm and yanked her closer to him to sniff. “Were you drinking?”

“Oh my God!” Tamara wrenched free of him. “I had like one beer! Jesus, Gabe, what’s the matter with you? You act like you didn’t have fun when you were my age.”

“Fun? You call this fun? Sneaking off, worrying the hell out of your family to party with people who are too old for you in the middle of godforsaken nowhere … that’s fun? What’s the matter with you? Do you have any idea how dangerous this was? Did you even stop to think what could have happened?”

“I’m not Regina!” Tamara screamed.

I wasn’t sure who froze first, me or Gabriel. But it was around that time I realized the music had died and the only sound came from the roaring inferno a few feet away and Tamara’s labored breathing.

“I’m not going to get myself used and killed in some fucking sewer, okay?”

Gabriel reared back like she’d slapped him, and maybe she had. Just not physically.

“You have no idea…” He broke off, took several steps away from his sister. “Get your things. Now. We’re leaving.”

That didn’t seem to be in the cards when rain began to splatter down over the clearing in rapid successions. Most of those around the fire darted for cover. A few of the boys stayed to help extinguish the fire and I knew that once it was out, we would plummet into a darkness found only in the wilderness. But I couldn’t bring myself to move. I could scarcely tell if I was even breathing. I was stuck on a single fact that refused to be ignored: Gabriel was Q. I wasn’t sure how that was possible, but I had no doubt. What was worse, I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed. Maybe because it was such an impossibility, or maybe it was because I hadn’t wanted to believe it, but the fact remained … Q was Gabriel. Gabriel was Q. I was having cybersex with a guy who hated me.

Okay, maybe hate was a strong word, but definitely didn’t like. I had shown him my … everything. God, I had come for him. I had watched him come. I had done things with him … for him I wouldn’t have done with anyone. I had told him things, secret things that I hadn’t shared with even my diary. He knew things about me that could potentially destroy me and he didn’t even know it was me.

Or did he?

Did he know I was Aoife? Had he known all along? Had everything we shared been a sick joke?

I wanted to vomit. I would have too if I could just focus.

“Ali?” He was standing in front of me. His hands were on my arms. Rain slashed down on us, soaking through our clothes and skin and still I couldn’t move. “Ali?”

Did you know? I wanted to scream. Were you secretly laughing at me while I bared myself to you? I couldn’t do it. Already the hurt, betrayal, and mortification burned behind my eyes. His touch made my skin crawl and my chest hurt.

“Ali, say something!” He shook me.

“Did you know?” I croaked.

His hands stilled. “What?”

I nicked my tongue between my chattering teeth. The sharp tang of blood filled my mouth but I ignored it.

“Did you know?” I repeated, my voice breaking, adding to my humiliation.

“Know what? What’s wrong?”

I wasn’t sure if it was rain or tears, but they slid down the hot contour of my cheeks. It was a wonder steam didn’t rise from the surface. I warred with myself about telling him. Somehow, admitting it felt like defeat, like I had allowed myself to be conquered. But I had to know.

“Did you know I was Aoife?”

Chapter Twelve

Gabriel

I had no idea how I got us home. There was a vague recollection of trudging through the wilderness with Ali’s flashlight as a pale guide bobbing a few feet ahead. Ali hadn’t let me take her hand and I couldn’t blame her; I wasn’t sure what I would do if I touched her.

The rain had really started picking up when we reached the Jeep. But even with the light downpour, we were already soaked by the time we climbed into the jeep. I kept the heat on full the whole way with Tamara in the seat next to me and Ali a dark lump in the backseat.

No one had said a word the whole way. At one point, Tamara had fallen asleep with her head propped against the window and I wondered if I should say something, but what? What could I possibly say? What could I possibly tell her? I’d had no idea she was Aoife. How could I? And yet, I felt like I should have. The signs had all been there. Maybe a part of me had always known and ignored it as an impossibility. Who the hell knows?

At Mom’s, I shook Tamara awake and marched her inside. I knew Ali would be gone by the time I returned and I was right. The backseat was empty and her car was gone. I went home that night and pushed back the curtains on my terrace doors and stared at the apartment straight across from mine, feeling like I was seeing it for the first time.

“Is Ali coming tomorrow? Your mom wants to thank her for helping with Tammy.”

I shifted the phone from my right ear to my left ear and stared harder at the adjacent window. I had been studying the sheet of glass and bricks for most of the morning, waiting for the doors to open and prove what I already knew. I wasn’t sure why it was so important, but I felt like I couldn’t rest until I knew Ali was Aoife, which I already knew beyond a shadow of a doubt. The whole situation had my head in loops.

“I don’t know, Grandpa,” I mumbled.

“Well, didn’t you talk to her last night after you dropped Tammy off?”

“No, we didn’t.”

Truth be told, I had been relieved when I found Ali gone the night before. I wasn’t sure I was stable enough to have that conversation when I was exhausted, wet, cranky, and just downright blown over. I had needed a few hours to regroup, well, as regrouped as one could get after finding out the two women he’d been obsessing over were the same. Most men, I assumed, would have been thrilled. But I was only just getting used to the idea of having Aoife, of having that strings-free relationship with someone I owed nothing to and had no obligations to make any obligations. And Ali … I didn’t even know where I stood with her. She was just too guarded, too much of a mystery. I didn’t need that kind of problem in my life. I had wanted something simple, something I could control and that was something I had found with Aoife. Now it was gone.

“Gabe?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“I asked if you could call her and let me know so I can assure your mom.”

Call Ali? The mere thought gave me a headache.

“I can’t.”

“Don’t tell me you guys are fighting again! Jesus, Gabe!”

“It’s complicated, Grandpa.”

“You listen here, boy. Life is full of complications. It’s how you deal with them that determines the type of man you are. Now, call that girl, apologize for whatever you did and call me back.”

The line went dead before I could even think to be offended by his assumption that I was the reason Ali and I weren’t speaking. Honestly, was it really either of our faults? When I looked at her from across the fire and seen her face, I thought she was going to faint. I thought maybe she’d hit her head during her tumble and had a concussion. I never thought it could be for the reason I was now glowering at my phone and trying to think how to be a man about this problem.

But I did as my grandfather asked. I called Ali. Not because I was told to, but because I knew the matter had to be resolved. Come Monday, she would still be my employee and I would still be her boss and I needed to know where we stood and just how big the damage was.

She picked up. Part of me had been hoping she wouldn’t.

“Hello?”

God, how had I not recognized that voice? Now that I knew who was on the other end, all I heard was Ali.

“Hi.”

I heard her draw in a sharp breath and felt my own chest tighten.

“Hi.”

“We need to talk,” I blurted, knowing it was up to me to just rip off the band aid.

“I know.”

I rubbed a hand over my stubbled jaw. “Coffee?”

“Okay.”

We made plans to meet at the bistro around the block. It was a good fifteen minute walk, but I thought it would be enough time to get my head together before I saw her. It would certainly give me enough time to think of what to say. Yet, the moment I reached the coffee shop and saw her standing outside the doors, my mind went stupidly blank. My heart picked up in a strange patter of excitement and my hands actually ached to touch her. I felt like every part of me had suddenly turned traitor. It was as though now that my mind and body knew who she was and how she made me feel, they didn’t care about anything else.

She was dressed in a brown skirt over a white t-shirt and wedged sandals. Her enormous purse hung from her fingers down at her side and swung slightly with her anxious fidgeting; she looked as nervous as I felt and somehow, that didn’t make me feel any better about this. If anything, seeing her disrupted everything I had originally wanted to tell her, like how we could never be Q and Aoife again, or how we could never again do the things we did. If anything, seeing her standing there, the late afternoon sun tracing the pale contours of her face and shining through the thick plait of hair falling over one shoulder, all I wanted was to find a way to do all of it over again. It made me want to drag her into my arms and finally do what I’d been dying to do since she first walked into my life: kiss her. But I knew that couldn’t happen. At the end of the day, she was still my employee and even if she wasn’t, I wasn’t ready for what she deserved.

As though sensing my turmoil, big, beautiful eyes unhindered by hideous glasses rounded on me and fixed. Her lips parted, but no sound emerged. Her knuckles whitened around the straps gripped tightly in her hands and she seemed to stiffen all over. I realized it was up to me to make the first step.

I went to her, careful to keep my strides even and casual. Something about the way she was watching me reminded me of a spooked rabbit preparing to flee at the first sign of danger. I hated it.

“Hi,” I said when I was close enough to be heard, but not close enough to do something stupid like touch her.

“Hello.” She twisted the straps tighter around her hands. “This is where I first met Earl,” she said with an uneven smile. “Kind of funny if you think about it.”

“Ali…”

She shook her head, smile gone. “I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to have this talk.” She drew in a loud, shaky breath and straightened her shoulders. “I don’t want you to be Q.”

That hurt. While I should have expected it, it still stung hearing her say it.

“It’s not ideal, I get that,” I murmured. “But we do have to talk about it.”

“I know.”

Her gaze kept skipping over me, touching everything on me and around me, except my face and that annoyed me. I had waited so long to see her eyes, to see her without her mask and now she wouldn’t even look at me.

“Do you want to go inside?” I asked.

She glanced at the shop, her jaw set. “No.”

But she walked over and yanked open the door. I followed her inside.

We both ordered iced coffees and found a booth at the far, back corner, away from all the mindless drones huddled over their laptops. We seemed to be the only ones without any type of devices inches from our noses. I ignored them and focused on the woman seated across from me, picking idly at her drink lid.

“Ali.”

Something in her expression propelled me to break my own rule and reach for her. My hand settled over the one she had on the table and I almost hissed at how cold her skin was. She jumped, but didn’t pull away and I considered that some kind of progress.

“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered, staring at our hands. “This wasn’t supposed to be complicated.”

“I know.” I gave her soft fingers a squeeze.

She raised her eyes to my face for the first time and I was struck by the vulnerability shimmering across the velvety surface.

“You really didn’t know?”

I shook my head. “I had no idea.”

She sucked in a breath. “What now?”

I knew what I wanted and I knew what needed to be done. The two were completely different things and neither wanted to come out of my mouth.

Instead, I heard myself saying, “Earl wants to know if you’re still coming tomorrow night.”

Guilt shimmered in her eyes and she sat back. “I don’t think it would be a good idea.”

While I agreed with her, I also knew running wouldn’t solve anything.

“I think you should come,” I said honestly. “Unless you’ve decided not to work at the shop anymore, we can’t avoid each other forever.”

“Do you still want me working at the shop?”

I wanted more than that. It was selfish, but I didn’t want to give any of it up, to give any of her up.

“Yeah, I do.”

She gave me a weak half grin. “Because I’m the only one who knows your new filing system?”

“Partially,” I answered with a slight grin of my own.

Her smile vanished and her gaze went back to studying the drink she had yet to touch. “I have to think about it.”

Saturdays were usually reserved for sleeping in and doing nothing. Already, by leaving my apartment, I had done more that day than any Saturday in a very long time. Yet it felt like I had accomplished nothing.

I returned from my meeting with Ali and went straight back to bed. I didn’t even bother undressing as I threw myself face down on the mattress. My boots hit the floor and I burrowed into the pillows. But sleep never came. I lay awake, staring at my bedside table and wondering what Ali was doing. Had she gone home as well? Was she in her apartment that very moment, naked except for her robes? Last we spoke, she had mentioned having bought a few different ones. I would be lying if I wasn’t curious to see them on her, or off her. Mostly off. It had only been a day and I already missed the sounds of her moans.

At seven, my phone never rang. I watched it, waiting for it to spring to life and nothing. The disappointment was crushing. I felt like a child at Christmas without any presents under the tree.

Rolling out of bed, I left my bedroom at last, finally finding a purpose. I moved into the living room and went straight to the terrace doors. The steel hoops hissed along the rode I shoved the curtains apart and peered through the glass at her apartment.

She stood with her shoulder propped against the doorframe. Her arms were folded beneath her breasts and in one hand, she held her phone. I didn’t know what part of that made my insides hurt more, that she was there and hadn’t called, or that she was there and wanted to.

I pulled away. I had to. The alternative was to open the doors and step outside with her and I couldn’t do that. Not when I couldn’t tell her what I wanted, when I couldn’t even tell myself. Going out there would only confuse things further and she was hurting enough.

Closing my drapes, I moved back into my gloomy apartment and returned to bed.

Tamara refused to speak to me when I arrived for Sunday dinner. She sat sullen and stone faced in the kitchen with her arms folded and her face stubbornly averted. I didn’t care. She could be pissed off all she wanted. I honestly would rather see her hate me, than see her dead, or worse.

Mom was tense. She kept rattling on about random things that I was sure no one was listening to. Jonas occasionally bobbed his head like whatever she was talking about made perfect sense, but Earl and I were lost in our own thoughts, which suited us both just fine.

Earl had invited a friend to dinner. He hadn’t mentioned her name, but it must have been serious, because he hadn’t brought a woman over since grandma died almost twenty years ago. I could tell he was nervous, and it also made sense why he wanted Ali over as badly as he did. Maybe he thought his friend would feel more comfortable if she wasn’t the only outsider at dinner. I wasn’t sure if Ali was coming, or not, but part of me was equally anxious to see her.

When the doorbell rang, Earl and I both jumped. No one seemed to notice, except Tamara, who arched a brow at us.

“I’ll get it!” Mom said, cracking the ladle against the side of the steaming pot and rushing off, ladle still in hand.

A moment later, we heard her excited exclamation as the newcomer was welcomed in. I couldn’t tell from the muffled voices who it was, but my palms were sweaty and I had a whole jungle going crazy in the pit of my stomach. I would have laughed at myself for acting like a guy on his first date, except nothing about my situation was funny. At least not to me.

Mom returned with a figure in tow.

It wasn’t Ali.

This woman was tall with a smile that lit up her brown eyes. She moved with the grace of a dancer, or a model, but was dressed like a woman who took on powerful men in a boardroom. Her crimson dress suit was cut to perfectly compliment her willowy silhouette. Her hair was sheered to a regal chin in a sleek bob that gleamed like a platinum helmet on top of her head. In one slender hand, she held her purse, in the other, a bottle of wine.

“Beatrice!” Earl leaped out of his seat and hurried across the kitchen to greet his guest. “You came.”

Beatrice chuckled, a deep throaty sound of someone who had spent the better part of their life smoking. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

Earl waved her apology aside with a shake of his head and took the hand holding the purse. “Come in. I want you to meet everyone.”

While Earl made the introductions, I peeked at my watch. It was already after five.

She wasn’t coming.

“Gabe, can you get the—”

The doorbell chimed.

I was out of my seat before the tinkle of bells fully faded from the air. I might have shouted something about getting it, but I couldn’t be sure as I sprinted to the front door.

Ali peered up at me from the front porch, a boxed pie in her hands.

“Hi,” she whispered.

I had never been so happy to see anyone in my life.

“Hi.”

“I brought pie,” she said, holding the dessert up for me to see. “I thought wine, but Tamara can’t drink and it wouldn’t be fair so I…” She pulled in a breath. “I’m sorry I’m late. I kept arguing with myself whether or not to come. At one point, I think I even declared war on myself, I’m not sure, but I think I won, so … here I am.”

I wanted to kiss her like my next breath depended on it.

Her unbound hair danced behind her with the breeze. The array of colors seemed to shimmer beneath the late summer sun in a way that tempted me to comb my fingers through the rich strands. She wore a soft, gray skirt over black stockings and a white blouse. Black heels adorned her feet, making her lush legs appear endless and sexy as fuck. Her purse was missing, as were her glasses, and I couldn’t say I missed either.

“Can I come in?”

Feeling like an idiot for staring, I backed away and let her into the tiny foyer. Her scent seemed to conquer the space almost immediately. It tangled with the scent of baked apples and my mother’s jungle of flowers outside.

I shut the door behind her.

“Don’t,” I said when she started to take her shoes off.

“Are you sure?”

She looked up at me with those green eyes made up in that way only women knew how and I had never been more sure of anything.

“Keep them on.”

She straightened, her shoes still strapped to her feet. With them on, she just came to my shoulders, just tall enough to make taking that mouth of hers all the easier. God, I knew it was wrong, but with her stockings, short skirt and neatly buttoned blouse, all I could think about was how badly I wanted her, how badly I wanted to tear her stockings, rip open her blouse, and hike up her skirt to get to that pussy she had spread open for me only days ago. The fact that she was watching me with those wide eyes and parted lips didn’t help matters. If anything, I could have sworn she was thinking the same thing.

“Gabriel…”

“Go!”

The growl caught us both off guard. It burst out of me before I could let the beast inside get his taste of her sweet flesh.

Ali gave a jolt and started down the corridor. Her strides were uneven, like her legs were unsteady, but she reached the end and paused. One hand settled on the wall as she turned her head over her shoulder to peer back at me. But it wasn’t uncertainty or fear in her eyes when they met mine again.

It was longing.

I spent the remainder of the evening fighting and failing not to stare at Ali’s legs. I tried not to notice how long and toned they were, or how perfectly I would fit between them. I tried not to imagine them around my shoulders while I feasted on her pussy. I tried not to imagine them tangled in my sheets the next morning. But it was a losing battle, one that steadily ate at my sanity until I was sure I would either explode in my pants, or fuck her right where she sat, screw whoever else was in the room.

The woman in question was no help at all. She sat so innocently with her legs neatly folded and her attention on the people around us. She talked and laughed with my family like she’d done it a million times. And my family loved her. I could tell. Oh, but if only they knew what a little tease she was.

At first I wondered if it was my horny imagination, the sidelong glances, the shy little smiles, the accidental nudges under the table. But when she excused herself to use the washroom and met my gaze in passing, I knew exactly what she wanted and my pants grew several inches tighter with giddy delight. The only problem was that I couldn’t, not when the bathroom was separated from the sitting area and kitchen by a mere wall and my entire family was on the other side, and I knew she knew that, which made me all the hotter to have her.

When she returned, I felt her brush along the length of my forearm in passing. She was close enough that I could count the stitching along the seam of her skirt, so close, she nudged my hand on the armrest. I watched the sway of her hips all the way to the other side of the coffee table.

Christ, what the fuck was she doing?

“So, Ali, Earl tells me you work for the garage?” Beatrice settled a fond hand on Earl’s knee. “That must be exciting.”

Taking the seat next to Tammy on the fold out chair, Ali chuckled. “You should have asked me that when I first started.”

Earl laughed and patted Beatrice’s hand. “Ali had to organize the paperwork.”

“Which hadn’t been sorted in … how many years, Earl?” Ali teased with a mock glower.

Earl grimaced sheepishly. “We’re not filers,” he told Beatrice. “It was…”

“A nightmare?” Ali supplied. “Cruel and inhumane torture?”

Beatrice laughed. “But at least you get to work with Gabriel, right? That must be a perk.”

Ali’s gaze shot to mine, her confusion mirroring my own before she turned to the woman once more.

“Why would—?”

Beatrice’s smile dimmed. Her brown eyes darted to Earl for an explanation.

“I thought you said—”

“You know what we need?” Earl rose quickly to his feet. “That wine you brought. I think we can all use a glass.”

“Me too?” Tammy jumped in excitedly.

“No!” three people said simultaneously, forcing her back in her seat with a pout.

“Why don’t you help me with that cork?”

Earl propelled Beatrice off the sofa and led her towards the kitchen.

On my left, Mom shifted forward and settled a hand on Jonas’s knee.

“Darling, did I turn the stove off?”

“I’ll check.”

Patting her hand reassuringly, Jonas rose to his feet and disappeared into the kitchen as well.

Mom sighed, shaking her head. “I always forget to turn it off.”

“She left it on for a whole night once,” Tammy said. “The house smelled like burnt chicken for a week. Oh! Speaking of burnt chicken, my play’s next month,” she said to Ali. “Are you coming?”

Ali’s eyes widened. “Me?”

“Well, yeah, you’re like my costume designer. Shouldn’t you be there to see your piece at work?”

“Oh, I didn’t think—”

“It’s the only fun thing I’m allowed to do until I’m thirty, which legally, isn’t even possible, but whatever. So you have to come.”

Ali nodded. “Okay.”

Tammy beamed. “Awesome. You don’t have to bring flowers, but if you do, black ones.”

“Tamara!” Mom gasped, outraged.

Ali laughed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Tammy nodded. “Oh, and if you could boo when Alyssa comes on—”

“Tamara!” Mom looked like she was going to pop an eye vessel.

“What? She’s a little snitch. She’s lucky I don’t fill her locker with dog shit and set it on fire.”

“Okay, that is enough. I think it’s time for bed. Now!” Mom snapped when Tammy continued to sit there and glower.

Rolling her eyes, Tammy shot to her feet and stomped out of the room, just as Jonas returned with Earl and Beatrice. Each carried two wine glasses.

“Where did Tammy go?” Beatrice wondered, handing me a glass.

“To bed.” Mom said shortly, accepting the drink Jonas passed her. “So how did you and Earl meet, Beatrice?”

“Well…” Beatrice took her seat once more next to me and smiled at Earl when he slid in on her other side. “I was at the park, watching the ducks on the lake and he walked by. Our eyes met and he smiled.” She gave an embarrassed little chuckle, her cheeks pink. “Then, as he was walking away, he dropped his wallet. I hurried after him and we got to talking…”

“We spent the whole day feeding the ducks and wandering the park,” Earl chimed in, beaming widely. “I would have stayed there all night had this one not gotten tired.”

Beatrice swatted at him fondly. “It was already well after midnight!”

“So I asked her out for coffee the next morning,” Earl went on.

“That was six months ago,” Beatrice finished, smiling lovingly at him.

“Aw!” Ali sighed. “That’s really sweet, but I do notice a pattern here, Earl. You drop things a lot.”

Earl frowned. “I’m an old man! My hands aren’t what they used to be. Arthritis,” he said to Beatrice.

“You’re not old!” Beatrice protested.

While they argued about their ages and the downfalls of getting old, I watched Ali. I noted she never touched her drink. She held it, but it never went to her lips, just like her fork at supper hadn’t. While it moved around on her plate, she never actually ate anything. Afterwards, she had settled her napkin overtop and helped Mom clear away the table.

Now, I had seen a great number of skinny girls in my day. I knew how to recognize those who never ate to maintain that level of thinness. But Ali wasn’t one of them. She clearly ate, or I would know. So I couldn’t understand what the problem was.

As though sensing my eyes on her, she peeked over through dusky lashes. Green eyes bore into mine, unwavering, unflinching, and filled with everything I was fighting like hell to suppress.

“Didn’t you bring pie?”

She looked momentarily surprised by my question, but she recovered quickly and nodded. “Yes.”

“I love pie,” I said, never breaking eye contact.

“Pie!” Mom said excitedly. “Yes, pie would be amazing with this wine. Gabriel, why don’t you go cut it up for everyone?”

I rose without question.

“Why don’t you give me a hand?”

She hesitated, but gingerly set her wine down and rose. I waited until she’d passed me before following her into the kitchen.

“I’m not really hungry for pie—”

I grabbed her around the waist, just above her hips and I dragged her back into me with just enough force to show her I was in charge. Her palpable gasp fueled my hunger. It tightened my grip on her. It was still not the right place to do what I wanted, but we were out of eye shot and that was enough for now.

“Neither am I,” I growled into her ear, walking her forcibly to the table. “Are you a pyro, Ali? Do you like playing with fire?”

“What—?”

I took her by the wrists and pinned her hands palm down on the flat surface, far enough away from her body so she was bent forward and I was curved into her back.

“Don’t!” I hissed, letting the warning crackle in my voice. “Don’t pretend like you have no idea what I’m talking about. I’ve been playing this game for so much longer.” I kicked her feet apart. “And I am much better at it.”

“Gabriel…”

My intentions were to shock her, maybe even scare her enough to stop looking at me like she was picturing us fucking. But the moment I had her in my grasp, had her pert little backside settled perfectly over my throbbing erection, I forgot all about the plan. There was nothing but the snarling beast urging me to take what she was so eagerly offering, what she had already proclaimed as mine.

“Is this what you want?” I pushed my bulge harder into the crevice of her ass. The heat of her core burned through our layers to singe me. “Were you hoping I would follow you into the bathroom, bend you over the sink, and fuck you?” I closed my hand into her hair and dragged her head back as far as possible without hurting her. “Answer me!”

Her panting drove me crazy. It made me want to take a knife to her clothes and then spend the night beating five years of sexual frustration into her pussy.

“Yes,” she gasped, rocketing me back to the present. “I want you.”

“Me, or Q?”

Her hesitation spoke before she did. “Q.”

Waves lapped over me in a white hot surge of fury that stunned even me for a moment. I couldn’t believe I was actually jealous of myself. It was insane, but I was. I hated that she wanted a fictional part of me over the real me. Like I wasn’t good enough. Part of me wanted to take her anyway, just to prove I could satisfy her like Q never could, which was also insane. I did, however, know that had she chosen me, I would have taken her home that very night and never let her go.

“Q is gone,” I bit out, shoving away from her. “He’s not coming back, and if he’s the one you want between those legs, stop looking to me to make it happen, because I can only give you me and if that’s not enough … I can’t help you.”

I walked out before I could change my mind.

Chapter Thirteen

Ali

Mortified. Disgusted. Ashamed.

I couldn’t list enough words to describe my level of self-loathing. My behavior the night before was one I would have expected from a whore, or a dog in heat. Not from someone who had gone four years without sex and survived. What was worse, I had flat out told Gabriel it wasn’t him I wanted, but I still wanted him to fuck me. The insanity of that alone made me want to bash my brains in. I didn’t blame him at all for smacking me down. I deserved it. But what kept me up that night wasn’t my behavior, it was him not giving me a chance to explain. By the time I had returned to the living room with pie, he had already left. I had stayed another hour so as not to be rude before making my own departure, but the guilt had eaten me alive the whole night. The only consolation was the knowledge that I would see him in the morning and hopefully he’d let me explain.

I arrived at work promptly at eight. The garage doors were open and the construction crew were already hard at work rebuilding the wall. I ignored them. My gaze was already sifting through the faces in search of one. My heart jumped when I spotted him.

He was half buried beneath the hood of a station wagon parked in the third bay, the last bay from the group. He wore his mechanic’s jumpsuit with his filthy boots, but I knew he had jeans and a white t-shirt on underneath. His hands were blackened all the way to his forearms as he took a wrench to the engine. Nervous, my fingers tightened around my purse as I moved closer.

“Gabriel?”

He stopped his tinkering and glanced up. His expression was closely guarded, but at least he hadn’t turned me away.

“Hi.” I tried to smile only to have it slip into nothing. “Can I talk to you, please?”

He turned back to the engine, started to twist the wrench, but stopped. He sighed heavily, released the tool and straightened. He faced me. I had his full attention.

I drew in a breath, as deep as I could before speaking.

“I’m sorry about last night. It was wrong of me to do what I did and I honestly have no excuse. It was…” I shook my head slowly, cheeks hot enough to shame the sun. “Disgusting how I acted and I don’t blame you for the things you said. You were right.”

“Ali—”

I put my hand up, stopping him. “Please. I need to finish.” At his nod, I continued. “I know Q is you and you are Q and you’re the same person, but you’re not. At least, not to me. When I think of you, I think hard, angry, and someone who was doesn’t want me around. When I think of Q, I think funny, sweet, caring, and passionate. He understood me and accepted me.” I nibbled hard on my lip when it threatened to tremble. “And he wanted me.”

A deep line formed between Gabriel’s brows, knitting them together over darkened eyes that seemed to be drilling into my soul.

“And I don’t?” he said tightly.

“You said you didn’t,” I reminded him. “All the time.”

“No!” He tore out a dirty rag from his pocket and twisted it around his hands, cracking bones in the vicious attack to wipe off the grease. “I said I didn’t want you here, in the shop.”

His implication had my heart galloping heedlessly into notions and longings I would never come back from. It ignored my head’s warning to stop. It didn’t seem to care that it was heading straight for a cliff.

“I guess it doesn’t matter anymore,” I whispered at last. “We both agreed that it was over and I promise last night will never happen again. We’ll carry on as we have been and pretend none of this ever happened.”

Insides in agony as though I’d swallowed broken glass, I turned away before he could see just how badly it hurt to look at him. I couldn’t believe how seamlessly he had gone from being the asshole who made my temper flare to the man I couldn’t get out of my head. I partially couldn’t help hating myself for not being strong enough to forget him the way I managed to forget Tony. I had barely felt anything when he’d walked away and we were together a year. I’d known Gabriel a month and already he had crawled so far beneath my skin that I could barely function properly. What hurt the most was the fact that I lost the one person who actually understood me in the process.

I spent the next two weeks acting like the sight of Gabriel didn’t cut me up inside. I went to work every day, did my job, and went home to wander an empty apartment. Even my neighbor watching lacked its usual thrill. I missed Q. I missed sharing my hobby with him. I missed hearing his voice, which was ridiculous, because I talked to Gabriel every day about one thing or another. Several times, because I had no life, I logged into the chatroom just to see if he was there, but he never was.

By the third week, I came to the soul crushing realization that I was obsessing and heading down a path reserved for crazy, controlling ex-girlfriends; Gabriel didn’t want me, I needed to come to terms with that and let go, especially when it seemed like I was the only one hurting. It didn’t help that he was always there like a sick reminder. But that was to be expected when you worked with someone. It was why work relationships were such a bad idea.

Lesson learned.

The night of Tamara’s play, I dressed carefully in an outfit that would be comfortable and sensible for a high school. I had never been to one before, so I wasn’t sure how fancy one dressed up for such an event. I figured it wasn’t the opera, so I went with a sleeveless, black dress, black heels over black stockings and a silver belt. On a whim, I curled my hair and applied a light coat of makeup, mainly around my eyes. All in all, I could be going anywhere and would still look fine. Unless it really was the opera.

I left my purse at home, but stuffed my credit card, driver’s license, lip gloss, and cell phone into a small clutch purse. The weightlessness of it was unsettling, but I let it go as I hurried out of the apartment to my car.

Tamara had texted me a week before to let me know she had reserved me a seat and that I could get the ticket at the doors. I wasn’t sure if I needed ID and prayed I wouldn’t have to drag Tamara out to vouch for me.

For a high school play, the streets leading up to the school were insane. Cars lined almost three blocks, circling like vultures over a dead carcass. The building itself was lit up like Time Square. Against the evening backdrop, it appeared to shimmer like some fairy castle. I would have been impressed if I wasn’t busy trying not to ram into the car in front of me for going five kilometers an hour.

It took fifteen minutes, but I found a parking spot three blocks from the school. I cut the engine, grabbed my purse, and the bouquet of black roses I had specially ordered for Tamara and ran—it was more like walked really fast in five inch heels—to the school. I was panting by the time I climbed the steps and shouldered my way to the table guarding the way in.

“Hi,” I said, trying to regulate between talking and breathing without wheezing. “I have a ticket on hold under Ali.”

The shrewd little girl with too many freckles and not enough facial expressions stared at me, all judgy and skeptical.

“Ali what?” she demanded with a mouth full of twisted wires.

“Seriously?” I ventured. “You think I’m going to crash a high school play by stealing someone else’s ticket? How many Ali’s could you possibly have on your list?”

Green eyes narrowed behind thin rimmed glasses. “Are you going to answer, or do I have to call security?”

I didn’t know what part of that surprised me more, her attitude, or that they had security at a high school play.

“You have security? What? Are you showcasing the Hope Diamond?”

“Bob!”

Her unexpected shriek made me jump. My head jerked up just as a short, round boy with rosy cheeks and soft, curly brown hair hobbled to the table. He folded his arms and stared at me. Hard.

“Is there a problem?”

“Wow!” I said, seriously impressed. “Things just got real, huh?”

“Ma’am, do you have a ticket?” Bob asked in a gruff tone that was clearly forced to make him sound tougher than he was.

“Ma’am?” I started to laugh, but caught myself, because Bob didn’t seem amused. “Eckrich.” I turned back to the girl “Ali Eckrich.”

Devil Spawn folded her hands on the table. “Do you have ID, Ali Eckrich?”

And people wondered why I hated children.

I dug into my purse, all the while staring at Devil Spawn with the full force of my death glare, and unearthed my driver’s license. I passed it over for inspection. Devil Spawn took a damn long time examining it. I could hear the people behind me mumbling and shifting restlessly.

“Fine.” My license was returned. “You can go in.”

I blinked. “That’s it?”

Devil Spawn shrugged. “You’re on the list. See? Middle aisle, seat twenty seven. Follow the arrows.”

She pointed to my name on a clipboard alongside several other names and seat numbers.

“So why…?”

I decided not to get into it. There was a good chance I would strangle the little brat and there were too many witnesses.

I left and followed the bright, red arrows taped to the wall all the way to a large theater. The dome shaped chamber sunk deep with rows upon rows of plastic, orange seats. Straight ahead, thick, red curtains fell over the stage. All around me, people bustled, rushing to get to their seats before the show began. It took me a moment longer to figure out how the rows were labeled. Someone had gone through a great deal of trouble to slap handwritten numbers on the backs of each seat. I had to push my way through the masses to the center row and make my way down to seat twenty seven.

“Ali!”

Earl waved at me from his seat, which was sandwiched between Beatrice and … Gabriel. On Beatrice’s other side was Jonas and Lydia. My seat, seat number twenty seven, was on Gabriel’s right.

Awesome.

Forcing a smile, I made my way forward.

“Hi!” I pulled my seat down and propped my butt into it before it could fold up again. “Have you guys seen Tamara yet?” I asked, talking around Gabriel. “Is she excited?”

“She could barely sit still all afternoon,” Earl said, chuckling.

“What a lovely arrangement!” Beatrice said, eyeing my bouquet. “I’ve never seen black roses before.”

I chuckled. “Right? Me neither, but apparently they’re quite common. Go figure.”

“You didn’t have to get those, Ali,” Lydia said, leaning forward in her seat.

“I know, but it’s Tamara’s big night so…”

Lydia smiled. “That was very thoughtful of you.”

With no one else saying anything, I had no reason to continue ignoring the man taking up most of the armrest. I drew in a shot of air to calm my nerves and turned to him. My heart jumped in my chest to find him already watching me.

“Hello,” I said, forcing my smile to appear neutral and friendly.

He looked beautiful in his jeans and long sleeved shirt. His hair was still damp and curled around his ears and the back of his collar. I tried not to stare, but I knew I was.

“Hi. You look—”

I never got to find out how I looked when a shadow draped over my back and a familiar voice called out my name.

“Carl! Hi!”

The blond dropped into the seat on my opposite side, all the while beaming at me.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Good! Thank you. How are you?”

He shrugged, wiggling higher in his seat. “Can’t complain.” He gave me the once more. “You look … phenomenal!”

Heat swelled beneath my cheeks. “Thank you.”

I sat back and rested my purse and flowers into my lap.

“You’re not wearing your glasses,” Carl pointed out.

I touched my face out of habit. “Yeah, I lost them, which was the perfect excuse to start wearing my contacts.”

He nodded like that made sense. “Well, you look great either way.”

Uncomfortably aware of the man on my left, I just smiled.

Thankfully, the play took that moment to begin. The buzz of chatter dimmed as the lights did. The curtains were drawn back and the stage lights snapped on to halo Tamara, center stage in her costume and chunky boots. I thought her choice in footwear really made the getup. It was just so her, unique and bold and dancing to the beat of her own drum. Alyssa, Tamara’s arch nemesis, played Odile, the black swan, which I found somehow symbolic and kind of funny. The pair were incredible together. They held the entire audience under their spell. I was almost sad to see it end.

The theater exploded in cheers and applause. Everyone leaped to their feet as the curtains dropped and reopened as Tamara took her bow, followed by the cast and crew. The best part, in my opinion, was when Tamara and Alyssa had to hold hands and bow together. It lasted all of five seconds before the pair parted and stalked off in opposite directions.

“I can’t believe it’s been four hours already!” I said as the house lights flared back on and people began gathering up to leave.

“Right?” Carl agreed, getting to his feet next to me. “All the kids did an amazing job.” He tugged on his coat. “Are you going to the after party?” That was news to me. No one had mentioned an after party. “All the cast families are invited.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “Oh, um, I don’t think so. I’m just going to get these to Tamara and head home.”

“Are you sure? Because I have a spare ticket and it’s a free meal. Plus I would really like for you to join me. As friends,” he added quickly. “I know you’re seeing someone so I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”

I looked down at the flowers. “I’m not, actually. We’re not together anymore.”

I had to give Carl credit, he almost managed not to look gleeful at the news.

“Well, in that case, I insist.”

The smart thing to do would have been to decline, gone home, got out of those shoes, and gone to bed. I even considered it before I realized I actually did want to go, not because it was a free meal, I didn’t care about that, but because I was never invited to things. I never got invited to dances or parties. I was kind of curious to see what a high school after party was like.

“All right.”

He wrote down the address of the banquet hall the party would be held at on the back of one of his cards and promised to meet me there before hurrying off. I slipped the card into my purse and turned to ask Earl, or Lydia where I could find Tamara, but everyone was gone, except Gabriel. I hated the cold swirl of guilt that twisted through me. There was no reason for it. He let me walk away. I was allowed to move on.

“Are you waiting for me?” I wondered.

He unfurled his massive frame out of his seat and towered drastically over me. His gray eyes burned into me with an intensity that made my knees weak.

“Mom didn’t want you to get lost.”

“Oh.” I nodded slowly. “Thank you.”

He said nothing, but turned on his heels and started down the empty aisle towards the doors. I followed.

“Are you going to the party?” I asked, mostly to make conversation.

“No.”

He didn’t elaborate and I didn’t push.

The crowd was directed into the gymnasium. I supposed it was because it was the only place large enough to hold everyone. The noise level was deafening. Everyone was shrieking and laughing and congratulating each other on a job well done. Most of the children were still in their costumes. Gabriel’s family stood tucked away in a far corner, surrounding Tamara who looked flushed and happy in her swan costume. She spotted me and gave a little squeal of joy as she bounded over and took the flowers.

“How did you know?” she gushed, hugging the roses to her chest.

I laughed. “A little birdy told me.”

She grinned. “Thanks for coming and the kick ass costume. It was so much better than she who shall not be named.”

Chuckling, I inclined my head. “Happy I could help, and you were amazing out there.”

Cheeks darkening with pleasure, gray eyes rolled heaven ward dramatically. “I know. I rocked it.” She sobered and met my gaze. “So are you coming to the party?”

I nodded. “Yup.”

“Awesome. I wasn’t sure if Gabe asked you, or not.”

It was just another hard punch in the gut.

“Carl Doray asked me,” I said, barely masking the pain gouging into my chest.

A look of confusion twisted Tamara’s glittery face. Her gaze shot past me to where her brother stood talking to their mother.

“Gabe didn’t ask you?”

It was getting harder to speak, but I managed a sharp jerk of my head.

“That’s so weird,” she mused. “He’s the one who asked for two tickets. I guess I just assumed one was for you.”

Or someone else.

“You know what? I’m going to head out and get there before all the parking spots are taken.” I cut a smile across my face that contradicted the swelling knot in my chest. “I’ll see you there, okay? Again, great job!”

With a wave, I slipped into the crowd and hurried to the doors. My heels cracked a little too furiously through the empty hallway all the way to the main doors. I hit the stairs going down at a jog, holding tight to the iron railing.

Once outside, I stopped on the sidewalk and sucked in the night. I stared at the sky and willed myself to pull my shit together. I was an adult, for god sakes, not a teenager. The world would not cease spinning because of some guy. I would be fine.

I would be.

I had to be.

Fueled by a new surge of determination, I marched to my car. My keys jingled in the silence as I fished them out of my purse. I got in behind the wheel and followed the address eight blocks to a Taj Mahal style hall with beautiful ivory columns and marble domes that seemed to glow in the evening. Inside, the walls were lined with vivid oil paintings and the floor was a pathway of brightly colored cut glass. People were already there, making their way into a wide, lavish chamber made entirely of glass that opened to the night. It made the space seem endless and almost magical. Round tables circled the room, draped in white cloth and topped with a single white candle that flickered with all the movement around it. Fine china decorated each place setting and held a single nametag.

I inwardly swore. Whose name did I look for? Carl’s?

“Do you need help finding your name?” A short, thin man in white trousers and a long silk top appeared at my elbow. He smiled kindly and held up a clipboard. “Your name?”

“I don’t think I’m on there,” I confessed. “I was asked at the last minute.”

“Then your friend’s name?”

“Carl Doray?” I peered over his shoulder as he scanned his table chart and blinked when I spotted my name. “There.” I pointed. “That’s me.”

The man beamed. “The Pierce family. They are—”

“Oh, I’m not with them,” I said, immediately feeling horrible. “I mean, I’m very fond of them, but I—”

“Ali!” Carl jogged up to us, digging into the inside pocket of his coat. “Sorry I’m late. I have our tickets here.”

The man took the three purple tickets and peered them over before consulting his charts.

“Here we are,” he said at last. “This way.”

“Where’s Alyssa?” I asked, noticing the girl’s absence.

Carl chuckled as he guided us after the seater. “She’s driving with her friends. They should be here soon.”

Our table was in the front row next to the wide open space reserved for dancing. It was also fairly close to the stage where a band was setting up. My head spiked and no music was even playing.

“Here you are.”

The man pulled out my seat for me and waited until I was seated before nudging me under the table.

“Thank you.”

Inclining his head, he hurried away to help someone else, leaving me alone with Carl.

“This place is breathtaking,” he said, sliding into the chair next to mine. “I’ve never been here before. Have you?”

I shook my head and peered down at the neat little card in my plate. “Who’s Stacey?”

Carl grimaced and snatched the name tag from me. “My wife … ex-wife. Alyssa’s mom.”

“Is she not coming?”

Carl eyed the gold, loopy font. “She was supposed to, but I haven’t seen her.”

“So there’s a chance she could just show up in the middle of the meal and demand her seat back?” I only half teased.

He shook his head. “It’s unlikely. She tends to forget things, like the play.”

I gasped. “She didn’t come to watch Alyssa’s play?”

“She said she would, but like I said, she forgets.”

I couldn’t even wrap my head around that.

“How do you forget your only daughter’s play?”

Carl merely shrugged. “It’s one of the reasons we’re no longer together.”

“I’m sorry.”

He waved away my sympathies. “Let’s not talk about that. Tell me how you’ve been. The last time we talked, you were on the hunt for a missing teenager.”

I laughed and told him about my adventures through the woods with Gabriel, leaving out the part about finding out that my boss was also my secret fantasy lover. I honestly wasn’t sure how to work that one into the conversation. So I opted to leave it out.

“You know, I have never met such a diligent and loyal employee before,” Carl mused. “You’re always there for them.”

“It’s Earl,” I only half lied. “He makes me feel like family. Plus, I like Tamara. She’s … interesting.”

“And Gabriel?”

I couldn’t help it. My gaze dropped to my plate.

“We have a complicated relationship,” I mumbled.

“Were you together?”

I thought about Q, but even then, we were never really together.

I shook my head.

“But you love him.”

It was said so evenly, like it couldn’t possibly be anything else.

“No!” I blurted a little too fast. “Definitely not.”

Carl scrutinized my face until I wanted to snap at him to knock it off. I wasn’t a damn book. But he merely shrugged and sat back.

“If you say so, but I will tell you this, if I had someone like you on my team, I would—”

Alyssa arrived with an entourage of giggling girls still in their Swan Lake costumes. Alyssa was the only one in black and the one heading the group. She spotted me and her expression went from I just won an Emmy to what the fuck is this shit in the span of two seconds.

“What’s she doing here?”

“Alyssa.” Carl gave his daughter a frown that clearly warned her not to go there.

“That’s Mom’s spot,” the girl protested, jabbing a finger at my seat. “Why is she in Mom’s spot?”

“Because I asked her to join us.”

“But that’s Mom’s spot!” the girl shouted, causing several heads to turn in our direction.

“You know what, maybe I should—”

Carl stopped me with a hand on my arm when I started to get to my feet. His gaze never left his daughter.

“That’s enough, Alyssa. You’re being rude.”

Brown eyes widened on a stunning face. “I’m being rude? You just invited a complete stranger to take Mom’s place. How are you going to explain that when Mom gets here?”

“She’s not coming, Al,” Carl said sharply.

The girl’s head reared back like her father’s words had smacked her. Her bottom lip trembled.

“You don’t know that!”

Turning on her slipped heels, she stormed away. Her little group hurried after her.

“I think you should go talk to her,” I decided, my heart hurting for the girl.

Carl sighed. “Yeah.” He rose. “I’ll be right back.”

While I wasn’t alone at the table, I didn’t know the couple sitting across from me. Both were in their early forties, and from the looks of them, not the chatting type. Both caught me watching them and quickly looked away. It suited me just fine. I wasn’t in the talking mood anyway. Honestly, I was actually hoping Stacey would show up, not just because I really wanted to leave, but for Alyssa.

No such luck. Carl returned, sans Alyssa and regained his seat.

“I’m so sorry about that,” he said.

I just shook my head.

The meal consisted of two options, chicken or lamb with a side order of steamed vegetables, or wild rice. I chose lamb with wild rice. Not that I ate any of it. There were too many people and Carl kept looking at me. I picked at what was probably the most delicious looking dish in the world and tasted none of it. Occasionally, I would bring the fork to my mouth, or cut a piece of the meat and move it from one side of my plate to the other, just to make it look like it was touched. My stomach whimpered in protest and part of me wondered if I could somehow slip the food into my purse without anyone noticing and eat it in the solitude of my home. But all too soon, the dishes were cleared away and dessert was brought out. Then coffee and tiny cakes. All the while, I just wanted to go home.

It was torture to be starving and not being able to eat. All I could think about was my face and my chewing and how much food was on my fork when I brought it to my mouth. Eating in front of people was like stripping and standing there naked for everyone to judge. My mind was in a constant state of panic wondering if I looked like a pig when I was eating, or if I was chewing too loud. Or worse, what if I ate too much and everyone saw what my mom always saw: a fat slob that could do with losing a few meals? The thought always left me in cold chills.

“Ali?”

I jolted at the intruding voice prodding me out of my spiraling dilemma. I focused on Cal and tried to smile.

“Sorry. What?”

He nodded with his chin towards the dance floor and the other figures already swaying to the sweet flow of trumpets.

“I asked if you wanted to dance.”

“Oh.” I nodded slightly, grateful for the excuse to get away from the table. “Sure.”

He helped me out of my chair and led me onto the floor. The music was slow and soothing as he drew me into the circle of his arms. One hand settled comfortably on my waist while the other one took mine. We swayed back and forth, not going anywhere.

“I have to ask you something,” he said after several minutes. “What’s the real reason you won’t leave your job? Is it the pay? The location? Because I’ll double whatever they’re paying and even pay for your move and apartment in San Francisco.”

His persistence made me chuckle, even when I found no humor in being asked to move.

“Why is it so important I work for you?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light.

“Because I think your talents are being wasted and you’re not appreciated the way you deserve,” he stated boldly. “If you work for me, I can promise I would utilize all your abilities to their full potential. You’d get weekends and holidays off and you’d get to see the world.”

It was tempting. I knew it was stupid to turn it down, but the hidden strings came with a price I wasn’t willing to pay.

“I can’t move to San Francisco,” I told him. “I just moved here. I have a year lease on my apartment and…”

That was it. I had no friends. No family. No reason otherwise to stay.

He seemed to realize that as well.

“I’ll buy out your contract, or we’ll get someone to take over the lease. It’s not a big deal, but giving up this opportunity is. It’s him, isn’t it,” he said when I continued to hesitate.

“Who?”

“Gabriel. I’m not blind, Ali. I see the way you are around him and I’ve seen the way he watches you.”

I hadn’t realized I’d stopped moving until he forcibly had to drag me back into motion.

“It’s not … he’s not…”

“Tell me you love him and I will never bother you with this again.”

What he was asking was ridiculous, and quite frankly, none of his business. How I felt, or didn’t feel about Gabriel was personal and I didn’t need to explain myself to anyone. I certainly shouldn’t be made to feel rushed and cornered, especially when I was trying so hard not to think about the guy. The last thing I needed was for another reason to get him stuck in my head.

“I don’t…” The words wedged in my throat and I had to swallow several times before they dislodged. “I can’t.”

I expected him to be upset, or disappointed. I didn’t expect him to grin sadly and stop moving.

“I didn’t think so.” His hold on me loosened and fell away. “But if you ever change your mind…” He let his words trail off. “I’ll see you around, Ali. Take care of yourself and remember what I told you.”

Then he just left me in the middle of the dance floor and walked off. I started to call after him when I felt it, felt his heat gliding along my spine before he even spoke.

“Can I have this dance?”

I turned, my heart already careering out of control with delight. My gaze traveled up the length of him to fix on his face and I felt myself sink even further in the quicksand that was Gabriel Madoc. So it was no surprise when I reached for him. His hand caught mine. The other one went to my waist, just above my hips, exactly where he’d touched me in his mom’s kitchen. The spot prickled with awareness, alerting every nerve ending in my body of his touch that seemed to sear through my dress to singe skin. My involuntary gasp was caught by the music, but I knew he felt the tremor that rocketed through me.

He held me much closer than Carl had. His grip was firm and possessive. It left no doubt in anyone’s mind who I belonged to and that alone sent a thrill through me that I knew was wrong. He imprisoned me in the unwavering chains of his gaze, leaving me powerless to break away while he scrutinized my soul. I wondered what he was looking for.

“You came.”

The hand on my waist slid over the swell in my spine where it connected to the rise of my backside. His palm flattened against the spot and I was drawn even closer, eliminating what modicum of space there had been between us. My soft frame was cradled seamlessly into the unyielding length of his in all the places that counted, thighs, pelvis, stomach … breasts. I couldn’t even breathe without feeling the skim of my hardened nipples against his chest. I couldn’t move without feeling his cock reaching for me through miles of fabric to prod into my midsection.

He was long and hard and I grew wet from that knowledge alone.

“Gabriel…”

“I couldn’t leave without having this dance with you.”

My fingers tightened around his shoulder. “Why?”

His quiet exhalation whispered over the curve of my cheeks, smelling of mint and despair. “Because the further away I got from you, the more it felt like if I kept driving, I would lose you for good and that scared me like nothing else.”

His gruff declaration slammed into me and, even while my brain debated what my ears were hearing, my heart had already dissolved into a warm, useless puddle in my chest.

“You had four weeks to say something,” I whispered, uncaring of the emotions in my voice. “You had chances after chances to make me stay.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t want you to stay. I spent the better part of three weeks talking myself in and out of asking you here with me tonight. I even started to tonight at the play, but Doray beat me to it.”

I remembered what Tamara had said about Gabriel having bought two tickets and my name on the seating chart at his table next to him and again during the play.

“You said your mom told you to wait for me,” I accused.

He gave me a dry frown. “There were arrows everywhere. I doubt you would have gotten lost.”

“Why didn’t you just ask me?”

“Because I couldn’t. I told you from the beginning, both times, that I can’t have a relationship.”

It was with some difficulty that I managed to swallow down the lump in my throat just long enough to speak.

“Because of Regina?”

I hated bringing her name up. I hated the pain that filled his eyes before he turned them away. I hated the tightness in his jaw and the stiffness rippling along his shoulders.

“I didn’t go after her out of love, Ali. When she left, it was guilt that made me look for her. It was self-loathing, because I made her that way.”

I was shaking my head even before he stopped talking.

“You said she was into that lifestyle before you guys met.”

He nodded. “But I encouraged her. I indulged her and gave her no boundaries because of my own curiosity. While I took the lifestyle seriously and tried to learn everything I could, I was young. I was stupid. I wasn’t ready for the type of obligation that came with being responsible for someone else. I haven’t been with another woman since her death because I can’t trust myself, because despite how much losing her hurt, I know I would never recover if I ever let anything happen to you because of my carelessness.” The hand on my back lifted and lightly skimmed the side of my face, sending warm ripples along my spine to pool in the pit of my stomach. “I never burned for her the way I do for you, Ali. I was never consumed with the need to possess her, to claim and mark her as mine. Thoughts of her never kept me up at night. They never had me reaching across the bed for her. They never filled me with so much rage at the thought of someone else having her that I wanted to run them over with my car.” A shimmer of laughter replaced the darkness in his eyes when I chuckled. “You bring out things in me that I’m not equipped to handle.”

Humor faded into heart palpitating pleasure that coursed down my spine in rivulets of anticipation. It took all my reserve not to kiss him, not to give in to everything he was saying blindly.

“What do you want, Gabriel?” I searched his eyes. “Am I yours to keep, or are we picking up where Q and Aoife left off?”

He kissed me.

No. He branded me with his mouth. He branded me with the urgency and promise I could feel moving through him.

“You’re mine,” he growled in between kisses.

I pulled back, oddly breathless despite the brief contact. “Not as an employee, right? Or part of the team?”

His beautiful face broke into a smile that stole whatever little oxygen I possessed and had me melting lightheaded into him for support.

“Mine,” was all he said before he was on me again, hungry and wild this time.

The hand on my face slid back to close into my hair and tugged with just enough strength to terrorize my senses. The subtle pain hissed down my body in a hot flood that rushed over my panties. It yanked back my neck so I was fully at his mercy. One toned thigh wedged between mine, lifting me up when I buckled. My pussy settled on the hard muscles and I whimpered at the wetness rubbing over my lips. My clit throbbed with the sort of pain only he could quench.

“Gabriel…” His name was a torn sound between a plea and a sob. “Stop. God, please stop, or I’ll come right here.”

His response was to band both arms around my middle and drag me closer, higher against his body and kiss me until all thoughts of protest died with a weak moan.

“You’re soaking through my jeans,” he hissed against my mouth.

Sure enough, there were wet patches up his thigh in all the places I had rubbed against him. The dark stains fanned my arousal, and my embarrassment. But the need for him was stronger.

“I’m so close,” I panted, trembling from head to toe.

“We’re leaving.”

I didn’t argue. I let him propel us off the dance floor and straight out of the hall. My heels scraped and slid across the shiny glass with my unsteady pace. It was only by sheer grace of will, and Gabriel’s hands, that I was even able to walk.

“My car is—”

“We’re taking mine.”

His jeep was parked on the side of the building, beneath a patch of shadow that pooled around it like an ink spill. His was the only vehicle in sight and I wondered if that had been intentional, or because he hadn’t wanted to find a spot. I didn’t think about it for long. He didn’t give me the chance to when he pinned me against the cold metal and reached beneath my skirt for the source of agony between my legs.

“Christ!”

His vicious snarl burned the side of my face as his fingers violently tore my panties off my body and violated me right where we stood. No forewarning. No teasing. Just a mindless surge of two fingers all the way to the knuckles.

I came with a scream that was captured by his palm while I rutted and thrashed like a wild animal over the invaders pounding into me with brutal anger. My nails clawed at the back, passenger side window of his jeep as my entire world exploded around me and I came again on the heels of the first orgasm. His fingers bit into my face, suffocating and silencing my wails as he broke me in the darkness. My shredded panties had barely slid all the way to my ankle when I came a third time and nearly blacked out between the splintering intensity and the hand smothering my air.

The hand pulled away and I wheezed as I fought to breathe. The fingers in my pussy withdrew, leaving my slit feeling empty and used to rub my mound, spreading the juices from ass to sensitive clit. Each cruel roll of his heel sent an electric current sizzling through me until I couldn’t stand it anymore.

Behind me, somewhere beneath the numbing buzz between my ears, I heard the hiss of a zipper, the rustle of fabric. Then his hands were on my hips, shoving me forward and pulling me back at the same time. I had to plant my palms against the glass to brace myself when he kicked my feet apart wide. In the dark window, I caught his eyes, hard and ravenous as he gave me two seconds to decide if I wanted his cock.

“Yes!” I panted, pushing back against him. “Fuck me!”

It wasn’t gentle. He slammed into me hard enough to blind me with exploding stars and lift me up onto my toes. His triumphant snarl bit into the skin of my neck with sharp teeth, leaving marks to match the bruises I knew I would have in the morning from his hands. The cool metal clashed with the heated sweat of my body as I was pinned against the jeep and the man beating into me like my pussy was air and he was suffocating. Each mindless thrust shot fingers of pain and pleasure bursting through me.

I cried out.

“Too much?”

My head rocked wildly. “Don’t stop!”

His satisfied grunt came with the sharp nip of his teeth on my earlobe. He sucked the sensitive flesh as he fucked me. His fingers slipped up my thigh to flick at the helpless little nub begging for his attention. He rolled and pinched and tormented it until the only escape was to leap off the edge and fall forever into the exquisite bliss he promised. My climax wasn’t as strong as the first three times, but I came with a croak of his name. My body pulled and sucked at his cock, hugging it tight as he squirted inside me. The hot rush of his release filled me with a new prickle of arousal that had me dragging his hand back to my mound.

“Like my come filling your pussy?” he taunted as I came weakly with the expert coaxing of his fingers.

I nodded, too numb and exhausted for words. My breath fanned across the glass pressed into my face in a white plume.

He held his cock inside me until the very last shudder had left my body. Then he withdrew, slowly. The head popped out, spilling his come over the gravel beneath our feet. I gasped and shuddered at the loss, at the cool night licking at my bruised, exposed, and slick skin. My pussy throbbed. My clit panged. My knees hurt from hitting the side of the jeep and I was sure I would be sore for a long time. But it was worth it. I would do it all over again if he would just give me an hour to recover.

“Ali?”

Tender hands pulled me away from my slumped position against his car door. I was turned and pulled into his chest where I happily snuggled and closed my eyes.

“Say something.” While his tone was teasing, I could hear the underline concern and shook my head.

“So … happy,” I breathed into the front of his shirt. “And so tired.”

His chuckle tickled the top of my head. His hands roamed lovingly over my back.

“Want me to take you home?”

I hummed and forced myself not to fall asleep. “I should say goodbye to everyone.”

“Are you sure you want to go back in there?”

I tipped my head back to peer up into his face. “Yes, why?”

His grin was devious, as was the nip of his teeth over my bottom lip that elicited a moan from me.

“Because you look like you’ve been thoroughly fucked.”

I chuckled. “Then I guess I look like I feel.”

I pulled away from him and willed my legs to hold me. I glanced down at the scraps of fabric clinging around one ankle and blushed. Bending down, I dragged my ruined panties over my shoe and stuffed them into a ball that I had nowhere to hide.

“Want me to hang on to those?”

Not meeting the shimmer of amusement in his eyes, I passed it over. “Yes, please.”

Chuckling, he shoved the wad into his pocket. “So, what do you want to do?”

Sleep came to mind. Possibly a shower. But I knew I had to go inside. My purse was in there. Plus, I couldn’t just leave without saying goodbye to everyone.

“Inside,” I decided.

He didn’t take my hand, but settled an almost possessive arm around my waist that curved me into his side. It bumped our hips with every step and it gave me a spot to rest my head.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked as we climbed the steps to the hall.

I chuckled. “Did I sound hurt?”

He stopped at the top and took my face in his hands. The heat of his touch made me want to lean into him.

“I mean it, Ali.”

“You didn’t,” I said, settling my hand over his. “I would tell you if you had.”

It must have shown on my face that I meant it, because he relaxed and gave a slight nod. His hands slipped away and his mouth found mine in a warm, tender kiss.

“For the record, I would have said yes if you asked me,” I told him when he drew away. “I don’t want Carl. I never did. I don’t want anyone, but you. I’m yours, Gabriel. ”

His face tightened, becoming as fierce as the hands he fisted into my hair. He yanked me forward to settle his brow against mine.

“Damn it, Ali! You don’t play fair.”

I smiled and kissed him lightly. “And I won’t if it means keeping you.”

Taking his hand, I tugged him inside. I grabbed my purse first from the table I’d shared with Carl. Then followed Gabriel to his family’s table, who were all in the process of leaving.

“Ah, you’re back!” Earl said, grinning at us. “We weren’t sure we would be seeing you two tonight.”

I felt the hot burst of mortification singe my cheeks. Earl laughed and was swatted by Beatrice.

“Be nice, you old coot!” she teased, smiling at me. “We were all young once.”

Still chuckling, the two walked away, arm in arm. Lydia and Jonas were a little less amused by the situation. Lydia refused to meet my gaze, even when she pulled me in for a quick hug. Jonas stuttered something about it being nice to see me again and hurried off after his wife. Tamara stayed. She stood watching us with a wide, cat who ate the canary smirk.

“You two are nasty,” she said, strolling around the table. “Goodnight.”

With that, she skipped away after the others, leaving us staring after her.

“Oh my God!” I gasped, horrified. “Your family thinks I’m a sexual deviant who humped their son at a school event, in front of children!”

Gabriel burst out laughing at my dilemma. The rich sound of it carried through the nearly empty hall, over the fading sound of music as the band played their final set. His arm slinked around me and I was pulled into his chest. His warm breath burned my temple.

“I’d do it all over again.”

So would I, but that didn’t mean I’d be able to look his family in the eye again for a very long time.

Chapter Fourteen

Gabriel

I let a week pass before I even considered taking Ali again. I knew I had been rough with her the night of the play and though she never said it, I knew she was sore just by how gingerly she would take her seat. While it made my cock swell knowing it was a reminder of what we shared, I was careful to give her time. Not that that stopped me from fingering her pussy and making her come at every opportunity. Making her beg and sob my name had become my new addiction. Making her wet and slippery was practically what I lived for. I had a lot of regrets in my life, things I would change if I could, but breaking my vow for Ali wasn’t one of them. Having her was a type of peace I never imagined I deserved and I knew I would fight heaven and hell to keep her.

Granted, there were nights I would lie awake with her curled up next to me and dread all the things I couldn’t control. My mind would run rampant with images of losing her and I would reach for her, satisfied only when my hand slid over silky skin and her soft sigh filled the room. I knew the fears would never truly go away, but they were manageable when she was around.

I just had to make sure it stayed that way.

“You have an oil change booked for two, but they haven’t arrived and no one’s answering at the number they left.” Ali looked up from the calendar in her hands. “There’s a tire rotation on a Honda booked right after, did you want to take that one in case oil change comes in late?”

I wiped my hands on a rag and glanced out at the blue Honda parked out in the waiting area.

“No, I actually need to do something else.”

Ali frowned. “What?” She peered over her neatly kept notes. “You don’t have anything else booked for the rest of the day.”

I chuckled inwardly. “It’s upstairs.”

She followed me, as I knew she would. Our combined feet shuffled up the ramp to the newly designed office. I paused at the top to peer back at where Mac was installing a new muffler on a Ford Probe.

“Going to help Ali with some papers,” I called down. “Call up if you need anything.”

Mac waved, but never glanced up.

“What papers?” Ali asked, hurrying after me as I crossed the new laminate flooring and headed for the second ramp leading to the loft.

I had the concrete walls plastered over and painted a soft pink, the same shade of pink as her mouth, and redid the floors and changed the one wall to glass to overlook the shop. Ali loved it, which made me happy. Plus I got to see her every time I looked up, which also made me happy.

The loft was left exactly the same, but Ali was making noises about adding some color. I didn’t know what she meant, but I would let her do whatever she wanted.

“Come here, woman.”

I turned to her and hooked a finger in the waistband of her skirt. I dragged her with me as I walked backwards to the bed. Heat flared behind her eyes and I knew she would already be wet for me.

“Take it off,” I told her. “All of it.”

She hesitated and I wondered if it was because mac was downstairs, or because we were at work.

“Is there a problem?” I asked.

The smooth column of her throat bobbed with her swallow, but she shook her head. Her fingers moved down the front of her blouse, unhooking buttons all the way to the bottom. Her eyes stayed on my face, the uncertainty and doubt puzzled me, but I didn’t stop her.

She dragged her top off and let it fall to the floor. Her skirt slithered down her legs to pool in a soft puddle around her ankles. She stepped out of it and stood before me in her lacy panties and bra.

Her gaze dropped and she caught her lip between her teeth as she worked the hooks on the bra. Her cheeks glowed bright red as the bands gave and her beautiful breasts spilled free, firm, round and just the perfect size for a man’s hands. I had yet to really enjoy them. Most of the time, she was always dressed, or had enough on to cover most of her and I allowed it, because I was only interested in her pussy. But now I wanted to see all of her, everything that now belonged to me.

“Now the panties,” I instructed and heard the barely suppressed desire raging through me.

Her fingers trembled, but they hooked into the elastic band and the fabric was sent floating to the ground. Then she stood before me, perfectly naked, flushed and aroused.

“Christ, you’re beautiful,” I breathed, devouring her with my eyes.

Her lashes lifted and I found myself caught in the question.

“What?” I urged, going to her.

She shifted nervously. “I know I’m not perfect…”

“Says who?” I lay her down on the bed and reclined over her fully clothed. “Do you know how hard I get just by looking at you? Fuck, I can come just by watching you walk. Every inch of you is like a fantasy come true.”

“All of me?” she whispered, peering down at me as I kissed my way down her chest to the dusky nipples reaching for me.

Rather than answer her, I showed her by licking and kissing every hill and valley of her lush little body. I sucked on her nipples until the buds were hard little points that I pinched and rolled between my fingers. All the while, Ali writhed beneath me, unable to do more than grip the sheets and beg me to make it stop. I kept my parted knees between her thighs, holding her open with nothing to rub against but air. Her clit glistened and the sheets were soaked beneath her squirming hips. The stain kept getting bigger the longer I withheld her release.

When I finally broke through the tight ring of her pussy with my cock, she wailed. Her back tore off the mattress and she nearly scalped me with her fingers. I sank inside her with a painful slowness that I knew drove her crazy. I watched her face as she watched me disappear inside her and the look … God, the look of pure euphoria was nearly enough to send me over.

“Like that?” I teased, settling home to the hilt.

“God, yes!” she growled, breathing hard. “Don’t stop!”

I drew out all the way to show her the thick, white cream she had left on my shaft.

“Put it back!” she sobbed, drawing her knees to her chest and holding them there.

In that position, I had a clear path to both her holes.

“Where, baby?” I nudged her pussy. “Here?” I slid down the seam of her ass to the puckered hole I had yet to explore, but had every intention of doing so. “Or here?”

“Pick one! I need you in me.”

I adjusted my position so I sat on my knees. My hands closed around her hips and I dragged her into my lap. Her legs anchored my waist and I let her impale herself on my cock. I let her roll and grind and rut over me with all the passion I loved in her. As shy as she could be sometimes, once I had her aroused to the point of no return, she was a vixen in heat. She was wild and horny and instable.

“That’s my girl,” I encouraged, holding her close. “Fuck me.”

“I’m coming!” she gasped, gripping my shoulders hard as her body shuddered. “Gabe, I’m coming … Shit…”

Her heat rushed over me and dripped over my balls to soak into the sheets. She jerked involuntarily as she used me to ride out the last of her orgasm.

“Feel better?” I asked when she’d slumped forward in my arms.

“Yes.” She drew back to peer down into my face. “But you didn’t come.”

“I will,” I assured her. “I’m just enjoying my pussy.”

A slow smile spread across her face. “I love when you call it that.”

I kissed her and I would have kept on kissing her, because her mouth was my life force, but she pulled away. She broke away from me and grinned with a dark sort of coyness that made my cock twitch inside her. Never breaking eye contact, she reclined. I parted my knees until she was on the mattress with her legs fastened tight around my waist. Her arms lifted and her hand wrapped around the headboard of the bed. In that position, her breasts strained, proud and full for my taking pleasure.

“Fuck her then,” she coaxed. “Fuck her like you’ll never have her again.”

I did.

Hard, fast, and mercilessly, I pounded into her until she was a limp, sated mess and I had filled her with my come. Only then did I release her and only when I pulled out did she unfurl her fingers and let her arms drop on either side of her head in exhaustion.

She was wheezing. Her chest rose and fell violently with every breath. Her legs slid open, liberating me now that she was thoroughly satisfied.

I sometimes wondered who was fucking whom. But I wouldn’t change it for anything.

“Have dinner with me tonight.”

I pressed the words into the soft skin of her throat. The little pulse that had begun to calm quickened and I knew it wasn’t out of pleasure. The woman beneath me stiffened.

“I can’t.”

She tried to roll out from beneath me, but I held her to me, keeping her legs around my hips and my body pinned to the mattress.

“You agreed that we both wanted this to be about more than just sex, Ali,” I reminded her. “That means dinners, and movies, and all the stuff that comes with being in a relationship.”

Her green eyes met mine, shadowed with doubt and insecurities I never understood.

“I can’t,” she whispered again, making no effort to pull away. “I can’t eat in front of people.”

That had my interest perked.

“Explain.”

When she nudged against my chest, I released her and watched as she dragged the sheets up around herself and sat up. Her hair had come undone from its knot and tumbled carelessly around her face and shoulders. She brushed a strand back and tucked it behind her ear.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” she murmured so quietly, I almost didn’t hear her. “I don’t know how to explain anything about myself. I’m a lot screwed up, Gabe.”

“Hey.” I skimmed my fingers over the curve of her cheek and slipped them beneath her chin. I tipped her face back to peer into her watery eyes. “Try me.”

For several long minutes, she simply searched my face and nibbled anxiously on her lip. I held her gaze, never blinking.

“My mother used to joke that watching me eat made her sick. She would invite people over just to watch me. They would laugh and point and…” She broke off when her voice hitched. She turned her head away from me. “My mom would call me a pig and throw food at me. If I was going to eat like a pig, then she would treat me like one.”

“Ali…”

She flinched away when I tried to touch her. The sheets rustled as she climbed off the bed.

“For eighteen years, I was taught to hate everything about myself. I can’t look into a mirror without spotting my flaws and I have never had a friend. I watch people because I don’t know how to be normal. I don’t know how to act like everyone else.” She took a deep breath. “You asked me once why I went to another country to study what I could have learned here.” She turned to me, face wet with her tears. “Because it was the only way I could get away from my mother without killing myself.”

I moved carefully across the bed until I was on her side. I kept my gaze locked with hers even as I reached for her and breathed a sigh of relief when she didn’t push me away. She crawled into my lap when I drew her down and I held her like a small, broken child, my own heart breaking.

“You’re snarky,” I murmured into the top of her head. “Which is sometimes even funny when it’s not aimed at me. You’re caring and organized. You have a temper, but you’re good at controlling it, so long as you’re kept away from iced tea.” I felt her back shudder with a silent chuckle. “You’re soft and one of the most sexually open women I’ve met in a long time. You’re a good person, but a better friend when people get to know you. You’re shy, but you make up for it by being observant of those around you. You’re beautiful, both inside and out, which is a rare thing to find. You also have exquisite taste in men, by which I mean me. And you don’t need to act like everyone else, because your normal is perfect.”

Sniffling, she lifted her head out of the crevice of my neck and peered up at me with shiny, green eyes surrounded by spiky, wet lashes. Tears dried on her cheeks in streaks and I lifted a hand to lightly brush them away for good. I slid the pad of my thumb along the slash of her jaw to settle lightly against her chin.

“You’re my kind of perfect,” I went on, quieter.

“Even if I really eat like a pig?”

I never batted an eye. “Even if you ate with your feet.”

She kissed me.

I met Ali at her apartment that night at exactly seven. I had taken great care to dress casual in slacks and long sleeved top. I even shaved and combed my hair back. I hadn’t been on a date since I was eighteen, but I hoped the same rules still applied, because I had no new material planned.

I knocked and waited, wondering if I should have brought flowers. Earl used to tell me that flowers on a first date were mandatory, but that was when Earl was dating back in the fifteen hundreds and things were different in the twenty first century. Regina had laughed when I brought her flowers on the first date, calling me old fashioned, but sweet. I hadn’t liked either analogy. Ali was different and that complicated my nonexistent game plan. I opted to forgo the flowers.

The door opened and Ali smiled at me from the other side. The pull on her lips was tight and I could see the reluctance shining in her eyes, but I ignored both.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Ready to go?”

She nodded.

I stepped back as she shut the door and locked it. Her hand strayed absently to her face before she remembered she didn’t wear her glasses anymore and moved to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear instead. I took the hand when it began to slide back down to her side and held it.

“Where are we going?” she asked as I led her downstairs.

“Was there somewhere you wanted to go?”

It didn’t surprise me when she shook her head.

I had chosen a quiet little Greek restaurant Earl used to take me to as a kid. The staff had changed over the years, but I recognized a few faces as we waited to be seated. I had already called a head and asked to book a table in the back, but not near the bathrooms. Somewhere away from the windows and too much chatter. I figured if the only person Ali had to worry about watching her was me, then she would be more comfortable.

“This is nice,” she murmured as we slid into the booth.

“Earl used to bring me here all the time when I was a kid,” I said. “Used to be my favorite place.”

She took up the menu the hostess had left behind and flipped through it. Her fingers rapped nervously on the plastic covering.

“So, what’s good?”

“I’m a fan of the lamb souvlaki,” I said, taking up my own menu. “But the gyros are really good, too.”

She set the menu down and folded her hands on top. Her gaze moved past me to the painted portrait of Venus over my shoulder.

“Aphrodite,” she said around a deep breath.

I looked, even though that painting had been there forever.

“They have it labeled wrong,” she went on. “The Romans called her Venus. She was Aphrodite in Greek mythology.”

I glanced down at the gold plaque on the bottom of the gilded frame. Sure enough, it said Venus. I turned back to Ali.

“You know your mythology.”

Her nose wrinkled. “Not really. Just the basics.”

Well, I hadn’t known that. I didn’t tell her as much.

“You look beautiful,” I told her, pulling her wandering eyes back to me. “I should have mentioned it back at the apartment.”

Some of the strain lifted from her face and she smiled at me. “Thank you.”

I held out my palm to her across the table. My fingers closed when her hand settled into place. Gingerly, I rose out of my seat and rounded the table to her side. She said nothing as I slid into the leather bench next to her. My free arm slipped over the back of the seat and I leaned into her.

“I love the smell of orchards on you,” I murmured, releasing her hand to ghost my fingers along the curve of her cheek. “I love waking up to it on my sheets and on my skin and filling my apartment.” I hooked my index finger beneath her chin and tipped her face up to mine. “I love knowing you were there.”

The misty glaze in her eyes almost made me chuckle, if the subtle parting of her lips hadn’t drawn my attention.

I kissed her, softly, delicate little nips that coaxed an intoxicating moan from her that deepened the need growing in me. But I reined it in by drawing back.

“I have a question for you,” I said, trying to cool the fire crackling between us before I ruined my chances of ever being allowed back to the restaurant by taking Ali right there in the booth.

“Yeah?”

“Who’s Jack?”

Ali blinked. Then burst into a fit of giggles that echoed through the restaurant. I watched her, chuckling myself because her damn laugh was so contagious and waited for an answer.

“When I first met you,” she began, shoulders still trembling. “And you had that horrible facial hair, you reminded me of a lumberjack.”

I tried to be insulted, but I could actually see the humor in that.

“It wasn’t horrible.”

“Oh, it was,” she corrected. “You had this smoking hot body and then your face … ugh.”

“Thanks!” I muttered, jabbing her in the side with my finger.

“Then you shaved and … mmm.” She took her bottom lip between her teeth and stared hungrily at my mouth. “God, I was so turned on.”

Damn her! There I was, trying to be a gentleman and keeping my dirty thoughts to myself and she was watching me like I was the whipped cream on a sundae.

“I shaved for you, you know,” I told her. “Aoife said she didn’t like men with facial hair.”

She chuckled. “I remember. It should have been obvious right then who you were.”

I hissed through my teeth and sat back a notch. “Yeah, there are things I think of now that should have clued me in as well, but, since we’re sharing.” I twisted a coil of hair around my finger. “The night you first saw me jerking off…” I peered deeply into her eyes and gave a light tug of her hair. “I was thinking of you.”

Her eyes widened. “Me?”

I nodded. “It was that morning when you were on your knees in the office and your lips were parted and your cheeks were pink and all I wanted to do was fuck your mouth.”

The leather squeaked beneath her wiggling bottom and I knew that if I slipped my hand beneath her skirt, she would be wet.

“I wanted you to,” she breathed.

The strand twisted around my finger unraveled as I closed my whole hand into all that thick mess and dragged her to me.

“Christ, woman!” I growled against her mouth. “You’re turning me into a fucking sex addict.”

Her slow, heart stopping smile wrapped around my chest like a silk band. “That makes two of us, Jack.”

The waitress arrived and I was forced to taper down the hard on straining against the front of my pants. We gave our orders and watched as she hurried away.

I kept the conversation on normal things while we waited. I asked about her sister and got a vague answer about not really knowing much.

“We didn’t get along very well,” she explained. “We didn’t exactly fight or anything, but we were more like two strangers living in the same house. Occasionally, we would meet at meals and family events, but I couldn’t tell you two things about her.”

“When did you last see her?” I wondered.

“I haven’t seen her, or my mom, since I left for school, so about five years. But I do get emails from Lena once a month asking how things are.”

“Well, that’s something.”

Ali shrugged and nodded. “Yeah, I guess.”

“So, you don’t talk to your mom?”

She shook her head. “I don’t even think she knows I’m back in Canada, not unless Lena told her.”

“And she doesn’t contact you?”

A contemplative frown drew her brows together. “I guess she could if she asked Lena for my email address.”

I blinked. “Your sister doesn’t have your phone number, or address?”

Ali shook her head. “She never asked for them, so I never offered.”

I didn’t know what to make of that. I wasn’t raised by my mother, but I still went to see her almost every day. Earl would have boxed my ears if I didn’t. Whatever she was going through, she was still my mother. But I supposed comparing my mother to Ali’s was like comparing a frail bird to a vicious, man-eating shark. My mom might not have been the best mother in the world, but Ali’s had been a downright monster. I was actually glad she had no contact with that woman.

“Do you have any other siblings?” I asked, changing the subject.

“I might. I’m sure my dad got remarried so … maybe.”

“Where is your dad?”

Ali shrugged. “I don’t know. After my mom divorced him, he paid child support for eighteen years and set up a trust fund for me for when I turned twenty-one, but I haven’t seen, or heard from him since my sixth birthday.”

“Jesus,” I muttered.

She looked at me, her mouth grinning sadly, but her eyes mournful. “My past isn’t pretty, Gabe. And I’ve never told anyone.”

“No, it’s not,” I agreed. “But thank you for telling me.”

Our food arrived. The steaming plates of roasted meat and steamed vegetables were set in front of us and we were left alone to enjoy.

I rolled up my lamb and pita and took a big bite, not because I was trying to prove anything, but because I was starving. I chewed and swallowed before stealing a peek at Ali.

She had her head down over her plate. There was a fork and knife in each of her hands and she looked like she was trying to find the right way to dissect her meal.

“It’s a skewer,” I told her. “You just pick it up by the sticks.”

“I know!” she snapped.

But she set her utensils down and pinched the two ends of the stick like they might be hot. Her gaze flicked to me and I quickly pretended to be engrossed in my own plate.

“Do you know I hate peppers?” I ventured. “Like red, yellow, and green. It doesn’t matter if they’re cooked or raw, they gross me out.”

“I don’t like olives,” she stated. “They remind me of fish eyes.”

I nodded slowly. “That would be a good reason.”

I caught her take a nibble of her skewered lamb, inwardly grinned and went back to my own food.

“Do you like ice cream?”

Ali nodded. “Oreo, or chocolate mint.”

“Earl used to crush nuts and bits of chocolate into a tub of ice cream and we’d eat it while we watched football on Sundays,” I recalled with a fond smile.

“You and Earl are close, huh?”

I shrugged. “He’s like my dad, but old and a total manwhore.”

Ali laughed. “Well, I guess now that he has Beatrice, you can stop accusing people of wanting to sleep with him.”

I paused mid chew and peered at her. “You know what, that was a legit assumption. But now that I know you, I think I did Earl a favor.”

She cupped one hand over her full mouth. “How so?”

I grinned. “He would never have been able to keep up with you.”

I laughed as she gasped and turned a brilliant shade of crimson.

“You’re awful.”

We went for ice cream afterwards and spent the last minutes before nightfall strolling through the park. I stopped at the lake and we sat to watch the ducks while the leaves around us shivered with the cool breeze.

Fall was approaching. The leaves were laced with hints of orange and brown. People had traded their shorts and t-shirts for jeans and sweaters. But it wasn’t cold enough to be uncomfortable.

“Thank you for tonight,” Ali murmured from beside me, her ice cream sundae in one hand, her plastic spoon in the other. “I haven’t been this comfortable with anyone … ever.”

I planted a kiss to the side of her head. “You don’t ever have a reason not to be, Ali. I want the person you are when you’re alone.”

She sighed and settled her head on my shoulder. I tucked my arm around her and drew her in closer.

“So naked and eating a cup of pudding,” she decided baldly.

I laughed. “Definitely won’t say no to that.”

Epilogue

THREE YEARS LATER…

Ali

“God, I don’t know what’s in this salad dressing, but I think I want to marry it.”

Gabriel laughed as I shoved crisp blades of lettuce into my mouth. “Is there any type of food you wouldn’t marry?” he teased, stealing one of my French fries.

“Seafood.” I smacked his hand. “Stop that! You have your own fries.”

“I ate all mine,” he protested, going for another one.

Spring wafted through the open terrace doors, tangling in my unbound hair and filling my apartment with the beginnings of summer.

Against my back, clad only in his gray sweats, Gabriel nuzzled the side of my neck where my robe had slipped off—thanks to his sneaky fingers. His hot breath felt amazing against my chilled skin, but I didn’t want to get up, or get dressed.

The blankets we’d lain down on the balcony had bunched beneath us from our fooling around earlier and I was sure my neighbors had seen things that they probably would rather not have, but at that point, I was sure they were quite used to seeing either Gabriel, or me naked. Part of me even wondered if there was some website out there dedicated to just the two of us fucking like wild rabbits. If there was, I didn’t want to know about it. Not that it would stop me from wanting that man like my life depended on it.

“I swear, I will bite you,” I threatened as another fry was stolen from my Styrofoam takeout container.

He stuffed it into his mouth before I could stop him and laughed when I poked him in the forearm with my fork.

“Look, fair trade. I’ll share my salad with you,” he promised.

To prove it, he speared several blades onto his fork and brought it to my mouth. My lips parted eagerly and he slid the side order in. He kissed me once the fork was removed.

It had taken a long time to get me to finally eat around him and to do so without taking six hours to finish a bowl of soup. I was still leery about eating around others, but not as bad as I used to be. Gabriel assured me I was adorable when I ate. So adorable that it looked perfectly normal. I took his word for it.

“So we have twenty minutes before our neighbors get home,” he murmured into my ear. “What do you think we should do in that time?”

I moaned as his fingers worked down the inside of my bent knee and traveled downward. My thighs parted, the junction already slick with both our releases.

“I like what you’re thinking,” I purred, setting my supper aside and hooking one arm back and around to thread my fingers through his hair.

His container was placed down next to mine and his free hand went to the sash on my robe. It came undone easily and my breasts were freed to the air. The nipples shriveled and tingled with anticipation.

His fingers dipped into the hot pool of my arousal and slid past the tight ring to settle inside me. I groaned in appreciation and arched my hips. My fingers tightened in his hair.

“I love my hot little pussy,” he drawled into my ear. “It’s always so wet for me.”

“I like it better stretched around your cock,” I breathed.

“It will be,” he promised darkly.

He withdrew and lifted me up into his arms. I was carried into the bedroom and placed down on the bed.

No longer was the room only mine. Since moving in with me a year earlier, the place had doubled in stuff, but I loved seeing his things alongside mine. I loved seeing the things we bought together. It was our place and he was mine.

“What’s that smug little smile for?”

The grin in question blossomed into a giggle. “Just thinking about you.” I pulled him to me, on me, and cradled him between my legs while he kicked off his sweats. “How much I love everything about you.”

His hands closed on my hips and I was forced higher on the mattress, giving him room to climb over me.

“Yeah? Like what?”

I kissed him. “Like your mouth and your hands and your … yes!” My words became a mewl of pure pleasure as he sunk his cock deep inside me arched my back and raked my nails down his hard back.

“Love that, too?” he taunted between shallow thrusts.

“Love that,” I moaned. “Love it so much. Deeper!” I hissed, sinking my nails into the taut globes of his ass and urging him closer until the slight pain curled my toes and rippled along the walls of my pussy. “God, I can’t get enough! It’s never enough.”

I thrashed and bucked while he bent his head and teased my nipples with his tongue. His hips rose and plunged in time with mine. The slow, sweetness was maddening. But I loved it as much as I loved his dark, hungry side.

He pulled away, taking his cock with him. My juices glinted along his thick shaft as he staggered away from the bed.

Breathing hard, I pushed up onto my elbows. “What…?”

He shrugged. “That’s all you get for today.”

I watched horrified as he wandered his way around the bed and flopped down onto his back. He folded his arms beneath his head and closed his eyes while his erection lay long and hard against his chiseled abdomen, the fat head a violent purple.

“Are you serious?” I gasped.

He merely rolled his shoulders.

Oh hell no! I thought, my body buzzing with the need for release.

Scrambling up, I jumped him. My knees went on either side of his hips and I braced my weight on his chest as I rose and impaled myself on his delicious cock.

“He’s mine!” I growled, riding him hard and fast. “And I want him!”

He popped one eye open and peered up at me. “This is unwanted physical contact, woman.”

My own eyes narrowed. “Unwanted, is it?” I rolled my hips in slow, teasing circles I knew drove him crazy. “Maybe I should take my pussy elsewhere if that’s the—”

His hands were in my hair before I could finish my empty threat. With a movement I never saw coming, I was rolled beneath him.

“Whose pussy?” he snarled into the side of my neck as he pinned my arms over my head and pounded into me, no longer sweet, or slow. “Whose pussy is this, Ali?”

I thrashed wildly as my body screamed for more. My heels dug into the mattress in my desperation to meet his every brutal thrust.

“Answer me!” he growled, jerking hard until I couldn’t breathe as the world shuddered between my ears.

“Yours!” I cried. “Yours! Yours!”

With a sob of his name, I clamped down hard around him, holding him prisoner in my body as he ripped me apart and rebuilt me. I was crying and whimpering as I came down from the most beautiful high and found him moving inside me, slow and sweet again.

He grinned. “Welcome back.”

“I think you killed me a little that time,” I choked out. “God, I want more.”

Gabriel chuckled. “Of course you do, my little cock fiend.”

I purred and stretched around him. “Only yours.”

Lowering his head, he kissed me hard. “Damn straight only mine.”

It was nightfall by the time we lay in a sweaty, tangled heap in the middle of the bed. Lights danced in the windows outside the terrace doors, but I didn’t care enough to want to move. Truthfully, I had everything I wanted in that bed. I no longer felt like I needed to live through other people when Gabriel refused to let me. He broke my walls and saved me from my isolation. He gave me a friend, a lover … a family. He gave me the world by giving me him.

“I love you, Gabriel,” I whispered into his damp chest. “I love you so much.”

The fingers combing languidly through my hair stilled. The muscle beneath my cheek gave a hard kick and I pressed a kiss to it before lifting my head to peer into his dazzling eyes.

“Close your eyes.”

I did as he asked without question and felt the bed move and bounce as he left it. I stayed in his leftover heat and waited, listening to his footsteps as they moved around the apartment. But it wasn’t for very long. The bed dipped and he was there again.

“Come here.”

I rose and moved blindly in the direction of his voice. His hands caught me and I was drawn back against his chest. The sweet scent of vanilla filled my senses, tangled with the residual scent of sex, sweat, and fabric softener. I heard the rustle of cardboard.

“Open.” His voice whispered against the side of my face.

I held my breath as my eyelids parted. The world was a smudgy black broken by sharp flickers of orange. I had to blink several times to bring everything into focus.

The lights were off. The only glow came from the open terrace doors and the scatter of candles lit throughout the room. It illuminated the bed and us and the pink box in Gabriel’s hands.

“Open it.”

I did, slowly, with unsteady fingers and peered down at the items inside with my heart pounding in my chest.

It shouldn’t have taken my brain as long as it did to figure out what was happening, but the damn thing had fainted, leaving me alone to stare with my heart in my throat as Gabriel waited silently behind me.

I had to swallow, a few times to get past the lump choking me and bringing tears to my eyes. My hand shook as I tipped the box further to let the light slice off the Boston cream donut’s chocolaty glaze and the loopy white frosting circling a beautiful, square cut diamond with two heart stopping words.

“Gabriel?”

“What will it be, baby? Will you marry me?”

I couldn’t set the box down fast enough, or get my arms around him tight enough. I was laughing and crying and squeezing the hell out of him, but I didn’t care.

“Yes!” He exhaled into my shoulder, which made me laugh/cry even harder. “Of course I will!”

“It was the extra cream puff, wasn’t it?” he teased once I’d gotten myself under control and he’d settled his ring on my finger. “I knew it was the right call to get two. Plus, I couldn’t get Marry Me to fit on one.”

I laughed, staring starry-eyed as the candlelight sparked off the smooth surface and glided down the silver band.

“It’s so beautiful,” I sighed, unable to tear my gaze away, but forcing myself to look up at the man who had given me everything. “But I didn’t need it. I would have married you for the cream puffs alone.”

He chuckled and pulled me down onto the bed. He reclined next to me and searched my face.

“I’d give you the damn world if I could, Ali.”

Heart swelling painfully, I pulled him to me and kissed him.

“You already have.”

The End

Acknowledgement

No one ever tells you how hard it is to finish a book, to beat your head on the keyboard through the first draft, then the second, third, forth, twentieth, hundredth and that’s all before the edits. But there’s a silver lining. You get to find a group of people who will stand by you and support you and cushion those brain numbing keyboard blows. I’m fortunate enough to call all of them family.

My real life Family—I’m obsessive, insistent and demanding, just to name a few flaws. But you’re always there when I need you and you hold my whole world together. I love you guys so much.

Katherine—Thank you for never letting me down and for always being so thorough.

Amber—For four years of unwavering friendship. May it never die.

Kimberly, Krystal, Kia, and Jaime—You ladies hold it all together. Thank you for being my glue.

My amazing Street Team—I have the best. There is no doubt about it.

My readers—You keep me humbled by your love. Thank you for being so incredible.

Love always,

Airicka <3

About The author

Airicka Phoenix is a romance junkie with an incurable addiction to chocolate. She is also a prolific author of several novels written for young adult and new adult romance addicts who love bad boys, hot kisses and a gritty plot. Airicka prides herself in producing quality material her readers can fall in love with again and again.

When she's not hard at work bleeding words onto paper, Airicka can be found cuddling with her family, reading, watching TV shows, or just finding excuses not to do chores.

To find out about upcoming books, teasers, giveaways and more, check out her website @ www.AirickaPhoenix.com and be sure to join her newsletter!

Table of Contents

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue

Acknowledgement

About the Author