She’s so damn tight, and hot, and I’m losing my mind. The need to move faster, thrust harder is driving me up the wall, but I also wanna draw this pleasure out, this moment when I’m inside her, when she’s incoherent with desire and moaning my name, when everything’s as it should be.

And damn, I want her to come again, come with me.

Spread underneath me, all creamy skin and taut nipples, soft curves and loose pale hair, she’s all my fantasies rolled into one. She’s mine, and I can’t fucking believe we’re doing this, rocking on her bed, in the half-dark, trying to keep quiet, trying to take it slow.

And failing when she wraps her legs around my hips and starts rocking, moaning something I can’t make out. The shift in angle means I slip in deeper, and I gasp, my control shattering.

“Damn…” My arms tremble as I attempt to pull back from the brink of what promises to be a mind-blowing orgasm. “Slow down, girl.”

But her hips keep rocking, and she’s making those irresistible little noises. I realize she’s close, so close to coming she can’t stop, like me—so I free one hand to reach between us and stroke her clit.

Two strokes, that’s all it takes on the swollen little nub, and she’s crying out, trembling, her back arching off the bed and nails scratching down my arms.

Fuck. I slam my mouth over hers to keep her quiet, and she tightens around my dick so hard I see stars.

I groan, the sound muffled on her lips, my cock swelling more until I can’t fucking stand it anymore, and then it jerks, my ass and balls clenching as I shoot my load. I empty myself inside her, the pleasure that’s wracking me sharply like pain.

The pleasure goes on and on. I lose track of time. I can’t stop thrusting inside her tight heat, coming so hard I hope the condom won’t burst.

I could put a baby in her. Marry her, make her really mine.

The thought sends ice through me, drains the rest of the pleasure away. I pull out of her carefully, not to hurt her, and tie up the condom, avoiding her gaze.

“Rett? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I roll out of bed, glance around for a waste basket, locate it beside her messy desk and get rid of the used condom.

She’s tugging down her nightgown when I return to bed, and fuck, I can’t.

I can’t tell her this was a mistake.

Doesn’t feel like one. And I feel so many strange things for her, things I never thought I could feel for anyone so deeply, so strongly. Things that are turning me inside out.

“Scoot over,” I tell her, and climb back inside, then pull her into my arms. Where she belongs. She sighs, turning so that she’s facing me, slipping her arm over my hip and burying her face in my chest. “You okay?”

She hums, a small satisfied sound that makes me grin. Then she asks, “When you said you don’t like me earlier... when you said that’s too weak a word, what did you mean?”

I stare over her blond head at the far wall, the slats throwing bright lines on it, and I wonder if it’s moonlight spilling through. “Gigi…”

“You answer a question, I answer one. It’s only fair.”

“What?” I glance down at her, startled. Her face is turned up at me. “Gigi, no.”

“Come on. It’s just you and me here.”

True. Feels like we’re alone in the world.

“I’m… not sure what I meant,” I say truthfully, and yet lying. I’m not sure what I’d meant to say, but I sure as hell know how I feel.

This game fucking sucks.

“Fine,” she whispers, a line appearing and fading again on her forehead. “Your turn to ask.”

I open my mouth and close it. Ask her something about herself? So many questions that I have and not one comes to mind now.

“What really happened in Destiny?” I blurt out.

Shit.

Well, she’s the one who wanted to play.

I expect her to push me away, turn her back to me. That’s what I’d have done. Put distance between us. Close herself off.

Instead she snuggles closer, nuzzles my chest, and my dick starts getting interested in what’s happening once more.

“In Destiny, we were the pariahs,” she says. “We didn’t know our father, and the local bullies had a field day with that. They called us bastards, called our mom a whore. Mostly they did it with my oldest sister, Octavia. I got… a different kind of attention.”

“Shit, woman.” I shift to get a better look at her face. “Did they touch you?”

She gives a quick, jerky nod. “They’d follow me around, especially after school. Try and corner me in quiet spots where nobody would see them, and feel me up. Show me their dicks. Try to get me to suck them. Once they pretended they were going to rape me. They didn’t, though.”

I feel sick. My vision is narrowing like a tunnel. I’m aware of my heartbeat booming. “Holy motherfucker. You’re giving me names, and I’m gonna make them regret the fucking day they were born. Those assholes—”

“Shh.” She rubs her hand up and down my chest. “It’s over, Rett.”

But it’s not, is it? It’s like a thorn in her mind. I know how that feels. And I feel like I’ve failed her, even though back then I hadn’t even known she existed.

“My turn,” she says and turns a smile at me.

“Shoot,” I grunt, too furious and frustrated to care about this little game anymore.

“What’s your middle name?”

I stare at her. “No way. Another one.”

She laughs. “Okay. When I told you we were moving away… You were so pissed at me. Told me to leave you alone. Why?”

“What?” I blink at her, confused. “I didn’t…” Did I? I try to remember the details of those awful days. “I had… Fuck, I’m sorry.” I close my eyes. “Dad… Mr. Lowe had just died. And then you said you were leaving, and I just… I kinda lost it, I guess.”

She lifts a hand to my face, strokes my jaw. Her eyes are sad. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t know about that. God, these past two years I thought you’d been so mad at me.” She sighs. “Your turn.”

“I dunno, Gigi.” My thoughts are all tangled up with memories right now, and my heart’s hammering so hard I feel sick.

“Then here’s another one: why do you limp?”

No way. “Know what? This game is stupid. I think we should fuck again.”

She laughs quietly. “Answer my question.”

“Or what? You’ve never asked me this before.”

“We’ve never done this before.”

Lying in bed quietly together after sex. Talking. Holding on to each other like we’d sink otherwise and disappear.

“An old accident,” I mutter, my heartbeat slowly quieting. “When I was little.”

“I’m sorry. Must have been bad. Were you a—”

“My turn,” I cut in, desperate to change the topic. “I thought of a question. What, uh… What were you doing at the nursing home tonight?”

I hadn’t stopped to think about it much, with everything happening too fast for my overloaded mind, but now I’ve asked the question, I really wanna know.

“Mom bakes cakes for her friends. Has been since ever. And your mom is her friend, so…” A small shrug. “When I realized who her friend Becky was, I asked to deliver the cake myself.”

“What for?”

“I was hoping to find out more about you. To understand you.”

I stare at her. “And what did you find?”

“I found you,” she whispers.

I frown. “In the rain.”

“No, in here.” She taps my chest. “You’re the Rett I knew. And I won’t stop until I find all your missing pieces, because I want the whole of you.”

* * *

“I found you.”

“I want the whole of you.”

Her words stay with me long after we get up in the morning and go our separate ways, as I check my phone and find a nonsensical message from an enraged Seb and a terse one from Angel about a gang meeting, asking where the hell I am.

Then I come to the apartment to find it trashed, my mattress shoved to the floor, my few belongings smashed.

Guess Seb was looking for money. Which I don’t have. What a joke. Did he even stop to think I might not have anything left?

What a dick.

Disgusted, I start straightening things up, then sit down on the bare bed and close my eyes for a minute, gathering my damn wits. Last night was a dream, an illusion. It won’t happen again.

This is your life, Jarett. It chose you. You chose it. So face it.

Fucking own it.

I get up and tidy up the best I can. No use whining and wishing things were different. I promised to Mom, I swore, and…

“Let me take care of you,” Gigi says.

She smiles.

I’m losing my mind. Losing my perspective. The gang owns my ass now, and they’re suspicious of me already. They don’t need Spidey Sense to know my heart ain’t in the business. It’s no secret I’m there to look over Seb, and Angel doesn’t like that.

I wonder how Mav feels about it. What he and Angel have discussed regarding me.

Maybe Seb is right. Maybe he’s important in the gang, and doesn’t need me.

Then I take another look around the apartment and grit my teeth. Yeah, right. A guy who can’t keep a job, who’s either high or in a low and fucking desperate to score his next dose. I bet Angel and Mav count on him so much.

Taking a shower, I throw on some clean clothes and head to work. The place is already bustling, and the boss shoots me a dirty look when I walk in even though I’m right on time.

“About time you turned up, boy,” he mutters loud enough for me to hear. “What happened, up all night robbing stores again?

I freeze. “What did you say?”

“You think I don’t know who you are? You think I don’t know that the gang you’re in robbed my cousin’s store the other night?”

Fuck. Me. “So why the hell did you hire me?”

He snorts. “You think it’s easy to find hired help these days? Fucking hell. Go help Mason in the kitchen and quit asking.”

I tie on an apron and get to work, doing my best not to look over my shoulder as I help Mason fry onion rings and fries, feeling the boss’s gaze like a laser dot, burning a hole between my shoulder blades.

All the tension that had bled out of me at Gigi’s house is returning, tightening my shoulders, spiking a headache behind my eyes.

This is who you are now. A gangster. A criminal. Nobody who really knows you could like you.

Gigi’s eyes flash in my mind, and I scowl down at the fries sizzling in the oil in front of me. No, dammit. Stop.

I try not to think of her when Angel calls later to tell me there’s gang business going down tonight, when the night air hits me, and I feel eyes following me as I limp across the street, or when I pat my gun in the back of my pants.

Come on, Jarett… Face the truth. Face who you are and what the future has in store for you.

One thing’s for fucking sure: it’s not sunlight and roses.

And it’s not Gigi.