Jaxon stared at Freya, her inner fire burning in her eyes.

He’d just told her she was full of shit and she practically thanked him for it.

She wasn’t broken. Or flawed. Those ideas were garbage. She’d been hurt and betrayed. That didn’t mean she was beyond hope. Just that she needed to heal and figure out what came next. It was like physical therapy for the heart.

She’d suffered a long time. She’d lived in the regeneration phase, refusing to give up the injury. It was beyond time she moved on. Healed. And went about living.

He wanted to be part of that, which was why, despite his crumbling resolve to see her and then leave, he’d stay.

“Whatever you need.” Those words killed Jaxon, but he meant them.

The truth was, neither Freya or Jaxon could hide behind the bullshit with the other. They were too closely knit for that. He couldn’t hide the truth from her, though he’d tried to hide it from himself.

He loved her.

How he felt wasn’t new, it was the intensity of it that was.

Maybe he’d been in love with her for a while.

Jaxon hadn’t realized just how far off the reservation he’d gone until those agents started picking at him, ripping apart his reasoning, accusing him of crimes he hadn’t committed. If it hadn’t been for his buddy Javier’s lawyer friend, Jaxon might be digging himself out of a hole right now. One thing that was blatantly obvious now that hadn’t been before, was that where Freya was concerned, Jaxon wasn’t reasonable.

He was more like his dad than he wanted to admit. And that was a scary fact.

His parents hadn’t been able to let go of each other, their anger, or their bitterness, and it’d killed them.

The last thing he wanted was for something bad to happen to Freya. Which was why he should be walking out that door instead of sitting his ass right here.

But what the hell did he know?

God, he could remember the night when he’d looked at her and thought, now or never. She’d been standing under a light in a silver dress so pale it looked white. The chump standing next to him had said something stupid, and she’d glanced at him. As the two oldest in the circle, they often shared looks.

That night, he’d told himself he’d do it. He’d ask her out. When the moment was right. He’d gotten cold feet a few times. It wasn’t like before, when he was the center of attention, at the top of his MMA game with the world at his feet. Jaxon was just a bouncer at a club, nothing to offer a girl with class, and he still didn’t. Which was another reason why he should leave.

When this was over, when she went on about her life, maybe she’d realize that he didn’t have a place in her world. She was moonlighting in his. Would it be wrong to take what she offered, knowing that? When it was truly over, could he let her go? Or would he become his father, his mother, and repeat their mistakes?

Freya kissed his cheek, her breath warming him.

The last of his resolve was crumbling, turning to dust under the gentle press of her kiss. He turned his face toward her lips sliding on skin. Their mouths met, but only for a moment.

He was staying. But not for that.

If Freya didn’t know what she wanted, if she needed time, then he needed distance. He couldn’t keep his promise if they kept this up.

“What is it?” She applied the barest amount of pressure to the back of his head.

He didn’t lean in. He straightened.

Freya peered at him, frowning.

“I’ll stay, but you can’t keep doing that.” He stroked a lock of her hair. So soft and gentle.

“I want to, though. I want you to make love to me. When I kiss you, when you touch me, I feel things.”

Fuck.

He did not need the reminder.

“Me, too. And that’s the problem. You have to decide what you want, Freya.” Jaxon loved her. He cared for her. He wanted her. But he couldn’t let those feelings dictate his actions. That was the lesson he’d learned watching his parents deteriorate. That was the difference in how their story ended, and how he turned the page. His parents had become slaves to their feelings and it had destroyed them. He wouldn’t be like them.

She frowned, her gaze boring into his skull as though she might be able to read his thoughts. She wanted so badly to feel something right now, but that wasn’t how she worked. Studying Freya had become his favorite pastime. She had to lead with her head. Falling in love with him would be a choice, not a feeling, and she had to make that decision on her own. He couldn’t tell her. That was a realization she had to figure out.

“Come on, let’s get some sleep.” He squeezed her hip.

Freya stood, paced to the door and back.

“How does this work, then?” she asked.

“What?”

“Us? If I can’t kiss you, if we can’t...” She glanced away.

“Come here.” He tugged her to him, her arms sliding around his waist.

He wouldn’t admit how much he liked that word. Us. And that she was the one saying it. It didn’t change things. It did mean that he had to be twice as careful.

Jaxon kissed the top of her head.

“I know what I want, Freya.” He bumped her chin so she had to look at him, so there would be no misunderstanding. “I’m also a jealous, possessive man by nature. You might not like that part of me. So, until you decide what you want, maybe we cool it a bit?”

Freya nodded and pulled away from him. She climbed into the bed, still dressed. It might be a while before she learned how to rest again, without being ready for a threat to wake her up in the middle of the night.

Jaxon stripped down to his boxers, hit the lights and slid in behind Freya. She pulled his arm over her waist, no hesitation whatsoever about wanting to be held.

“Did you miss class because of me?” she asked.

“One or two. No big deal.” He wasn’t looking forward to checking his missed assignments tomorrow, or whenever he could get to them. His instructors had a strict policy about no make-up work. He’d just have to pray his other assignments would be good enough for him to get by and still keep his scholarship for the fall.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.”

“I’ll still help you study. I’m good at that.”

“I don’t see a lot of studying happening when you’re around.” He chuckled.

“Hey, I’m an excellent study partner, and I bet there’s some overlap.” She turned in his embrace so they faced each other sharing a pillow, their noses so close they almost touched.

“Maybe.”

“I examined dead bodies for a living to figure out how they died. You look at living bodies and figure out how to keep them moving. It stands to reason I might be useful. What? What is it?”

“I just...haven’t told very many people I’m back in school. Who goes back to school in their thirties?” He was dreading the others finding out.

“You do. I do.” She lifted her shoulder. “It happens. You don’t think your family will be proud of you?”

“I’m not sure they think I can do it. My cousin will be excited for me, I think, but the others...” All he was to them was a failure. A living reminder of the mistakes his father had made.

“You totally can. You’re driven, determined, and you know what you want.”

Freya saw Jaxon in a way he didn’t even see himself. He’d never really shed the mantle of being the unwanted son, a burden, a screw up.

He’d changed by choice. Because when the feds hauled him in when he was a kid and laid out the crimes his friends were committing, crimes he could go down for, he knew he had to. Yet, his parent’s legacy still haunted him.

But they didn’t have to define him. Just as Freya’s fears didn’t have to be true. She could love, once she chose to, though it might not be him she picked.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“You.”

He felt the puff of breath from her muted chuckle, sensed her smile. Her whole body seemed to ripple with it. When Freya was happy, it was obvious.

Her nose bumped his and her lips brushed his chin, then his mouth. He splayed his hand against her lower back, tugging her closer.

“Freya...” He meant to growl her name but it sounded more like a purr.

“Maybe you’re right, and I need to let go of this crutch. Give me something to work toward.” She kissed his cheek, the corner of his mouth.

“What am I? Your carrot now?”

“You’re a yummy carrot.”

“Freya—”

“I want you to make love to me.”

Shit.

How did he turn that down?

This was her choice. Even if it wasn’t the result he wanted.

Jaxon rolled her to her back, settling himself in the cradle of her hips.

Every second, every kiss counted. It might be their last, because she could leave him or he could die. There was no guarantee that just because she was free that she would stay with him. He didn’t want to live in regret, he wanted to live and love her.

He loved Freya. Loved her for her smirks, her smiles, the way she laughed, how she saw him and the kind of selfless love it took to put her life on the line for a sister who didn’t deserve her. If Freya wanted to know love, he’d show it to her, and hope she recognized it for what it was, for what it could be. Even if it left him devastated and alone in the end. At least he’d tried, right?

She griped his hands, their fingers threading together. Her calves wrapped around the back of his thighs, holding him prisoner against her. If he just kissed her every day, for the rest of her life, would it be like this? Always?

Freya nipped his lower lip, everything about her touch insistent.

This was what she wanted right now.

His reasoning for giving in was bogus. It was an excuse.

He loved her.

She knew it.

He knew it.

So why not show her?

He rocked his hips against hers and she groaned, her legs tightening. Her body undulated against his, his growing erection trapped between them.

Jaxon pushed up, pulling his hands from hers, and sat back on his heels. He could see her form in the darkness, but he wanted more.

“Turn on the light,” he said.

Freya didn’t hesitate. She hit the switch on the base of the lamp between the beds, flooding the room with a pale glow.

He flattened his hand on her stomach, inching the shirt up a bit.

She felt when he kissed her? Then he’d taste every inch of her. Make every cell in her body feel.

Jaxon kissed her hip, either side of her navel, and then her other hip. Her fingers slid over his scalp, through his hair. He nuzzled her sweatshirt up, lavishing every part of her he could reach.

“Jax.” She moaned his name, arching her back up off the bed. Her legs tightened around him, pulling him back down.

He shifted to one forearm and slid his hand into her sweatpants.

No panties.

Fuck.

He stroked her mound while he kissed the underside of one breast. Her hands clenched his shoulders and her hips lifted. He spread his knees a bit, forcing her thighs open wider. She groaned, a frustrated, sexy sound he wanted to hear more of. He slid his hand along her slit, caressing her folds, feeling her arousal against his skin.

And she thought she didn’t feel things, that she couldn’t. He had the evidence right there. Still, what the body wanted and the heart needed were different.

Freya pulled the sweatshirt up and off, tossing it over the side of the bed. Her nipples were tight, hard peaks begging for attention. Her face was flushed, her pupils dilated.

He slid a finger inside of her and watched her mouth open, listened to the pitch of her gasp. Her channel clenched around him, drawing him deeper. He added a second finger, pumping her slowly, relishing the way her face changed, the need written on every part of her body. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her feet curled around his ass driving her heels against him, her back arched, her hips shifted—every part of her was here and now. With him.

Jaxon bent his head, licking her breast. She groaned again, her knee sliding higher on his back.

He loved making her forget where they were, what was going on, the whole world, and just focus on them. Here. Now. It was a momentary escape, but one they did together.

“Jax—please?”

He switched to her other breast and rocked his hips against her, in time with his thrusts, driving his fingers deeper.

“Oh—Jax.” Freya tipped her head back, breasts thrust up. She covered her bare breast with her hand, rolling her nipple between her fingers.

He gently closed his teeth around the stiff nub.

Her reaction was immediate. She cried out, a pleasure-filled, keening wail. He felt the ripples of her orgasm around his fingers and the tremble in her body.

It was beautiful.

Just like her.

He kissed her chest, just over her heart, and sat up. His near-painful erection strained toward her.

Freya hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her sweats and shoved them off, too, leaving her naked. Her eyes locked with his. She grasped the elastic of his shorts and pushed them down one hip. She wasn’t a patient woman, his Freya.

He grinned, because he could. Because this was about them and not forgetting where they were, what was going on. They could enjoy this, and he wanted to. For her, for himself, for what they could be.

Jaxon stepped off the bed and shoved his shorts to the floor.

She followed, sitting up and reached for him. Her hand around his cock.

“Freya...”

She bent forward before he could think of a warning. Her lips wrapped around the head of his cock and all polite thought ceased. He fisted her hair and groaned at the lick of her tongue. She moaned around him. He could feel the vibrations down his cock and to his balls.

He closed his eyes and tightened his hold.

She opened her mouth and he thrust, not hard, but damn, that felt good. Not as good as her pussy, though.

He hooked his hands under her arms, dragging her to her feet, kissing her mouth. Her nails dug into his biceps. At this rate he was going to be covered in little crescent-shaped marks, and he didn’t give a fuck. She could mark him from head to toe, if she wanted to.

“I want you.” Freya wrapped her hand around his cock, giving it a squeeze. “Now.”

“You have to let that go.” He glanced down at her grip on his erection. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She released him and he retrieved his last condom from his wallet. He’d no sooner pulled it out than she snagged it from him, ripping the packet open and plucking out the condom.

This was why he’d fallen for her. She wasn’t just confident, she knew what she wanted, even if she didn’t know how to get there. She wanted to feel, to know what love was like, and she was taking the chance. Even if she didn’t love him, he was so fucking proud of her for going after it.

She rolled the condom on, peering up at him through her lashes.

He bumped her chin and kissed her mouth, enjoying the feel of her hands on him, her body brushing his.

Freya let go of him and pushed his shoulders. He rocked back on his heels, frowning at her. She bit her lower lip, the corners of her mouth curling up, and pushed him again. Harder.

He took a step back and his calves hit the other bed.

She shoved his chest and he toppled back, bouncing on the bed once before she crawled over him.

She bent, her breasts brushing his hips as she kissed his stomach, his ribs. He wasn’t sure what to focus on, the feel of her nipples against him, her lips or the sight of her heart-shaped ass.

Freya reached his mouth, but didn’t kiss him.

He liked her like this, free to be herself, take and give what she wanted. It was the version of her that he’d fallen for, not the caged princess in the tower. This person. This wonderful woman who saw deeper, wanted more, and didn’t stop.

She sat back, his cock jutting up between them. She wrapped her hand around him and grinned, her eyes sparkling.

He was a lucky bastard.

Jaxon wrapped her hand around his, guiding the head of his erection through her folds. She shifted, moving with him. She canted her hips, lodging the head of his cock against her entrance.

He groaned, bracing himself for the feel of her.

Freya rolled her pelvis, her body stretching around him, welcoming him.

“The look on your face right now...you make me want to feel things, Jax.”

Jaxon gripped her hips, words slipping through his mind, but nothing came out of his mouth. Freya chuckled, nonplused by his silence.

She let go of him and sank down, taking all of him inside of her, until their bodies pressed together. She planted her palms on his chest, her hair falling over one shoulder. He covered her hands with his, staring up at her in all her glory, free.

Freya bent forward, brushing her lips over his.

She shifted, and he moved with her, his cock sliding from her body, only for her to sink back down, enveloping him in her heat.

This, here and now, was about her. What she needed. What she wanted.

He offered her his hands and she laced their fingers together, using his strength to move, to fuck him. He thrust in time to her movements, their bodies joining in such a way that sent ripples through her each time.

She was close. Again.

He let go of her hand and reached between them, finding her damp clit. He stroked the nub and her eyes lit from the inside. Her jaw dropped and she sat down hard, driving him deeper, harder.

“Oh—yes,” she said between breaths.

Jaxon braced a foot on the box spring and thrust up harder in time with her. Her free hand splayed against his chest, those wicked nails of her scoring his flesh.

She chanted his name.

Her orgasm squeezed him, creating a velvet vice. He drove up, into her, gritting his teeth while pleasure robbed her of her senses. All at once, the room faded from view. He heard his hoarse shout, but was lost to the euphoria, the feel of her body, the drowning wave of bliss.

Freya collapsed forward, against his chest. He hugged her to him, rocking into her, drawing the orgasm out.

God damn, he wanted to do this every night for the rest of his life.

He loved her. He loved her, and he was fucked, because what if she woke up tomorrow and didn’t want him the way he wanted her?