It has been three weeks since Dad burned the house with us in it and died in the flames. He fucking meant to die, I know that now. I ignored the signs because I didn’t want to believe it. Ignored how sick he was. Had I known, I’m not sure I could’ve helped him.

He wanted to cleanse this house. Save us all through sacred fire and flames.

Fucking hell.

I grieve for him, for the father he used to be, the person who read us stories at night and took us fishing. That was light years ago.

But mainly I’m furious at him for putting Miles’s and Teo’s lives in danger. Mine, too, but that doesn’t anger me so much. My brothers… They’re too young to fend for themselves, too vulnerable, and they’re mine to protect. Have been mine ever since Mom walked out. I’ll put aside for a moment the fact they are his goddamn children and focus on the fact he tried to hurt my charges. My boys.

Unforgivable.

And then there’s the inevitable guilt. Could I have done more to help him? What if I’d insisted he tell me what he did when he left a year ago, with whom he stayed, what was on his mind? What pushed him to such extreme actions?

Useless speculation, although my conscience doesn’t care and keeps prodding me like a cattle prong. Nothing can help Dad now, and it’s a miracle me and my brothers made it out alive.

Zane has been helping me make sure I have custody of my brothers, now that Dad is gone. They can’t take them from me. Only over my dead body.

And it’s a weary body, still riddled with disease, a bit charred and achy, but I’m still alive, and things are finally, slowly looking up.

For starters, Tessa is by my side. She never left. And she says she’s staying. We’ve rented an apartment together. For now she’s paying the rent, but I’m working again, and the guys babysit my brothers whenever they can, so I can get extra gigs. Soon I’ll be paying my part, and life will get easier.

As for the boys… They have their own room, across the hall from us, and I made sure our bedroom has a lock, because sleeping with Tessa means I get to have her naked in my arms all night, and that leads to all sorts of interesting activities I don’t want the boys witnessing.

They’re fucking ecstatic to have Tessa living with us. They monopolize her so much I’m glad when the guys take them out of the apartment sometimes, so I can spend some quality time with my girl.

Speaking of whom…

Tessa enters the kitchen where I’ve been for the past hour, preparing one of her favorite dishes: vegetarian pasta and honey-glazed ribs in the oven. She leans her hip on the counter and grins at me.

I stop what I’ve been doing just to stare at her. She grows more beautiful by the day, I swear to God. She’s dressed in super-tight jeans and crazy red high heels. She’s trying to find her own style, she says, so she’s trying different ones.

She looks great whatever she wears—especially if she’s wearing nothing at all—and I’m all for it, especially with the blouse she chose today. It’s also red, and it dips low in the front, showing miles of creamy skin and the swell of her breasts. The sight of them makes my mouth go dry.

“The boys left,” she says, watching me with her bright eyes. “Tyler says they’re going to a kid’s party, one of Jax’s friends. He said it’s no problem to let them sleep over at their place tonight.”

“Sounds good.”

She pushes off the counter and comes to slip her arms around me. I check the oven one last time and turn to pull her to me.

“Mom will be here any minute now.”

I wince. I’m trying hard not to remember that we invited Tessa’s mother over for dinner tonight. That woman never liked me, and even more importantly, over the years I had the distinct impression she didn’t pay much attention to Tessa, never took her side.

But Tessa asked this of me. She wants us to get along. Says her mother has changed.

We’ll see about that. I’ll have to see it with my own eyes to be convinced.

Then again, her mom is probably thinking the same about me. A good-for-nothing who was a jerk to her daughter for years, who lost his scholarship, and has no money to even pay the rent.

Yeah… I guess we’ll have to convince each other.

“It smells great.” Tessa loops her arms around my neck, pulling me down for a kiss.

“You smell even better.” The feel of her lips on mine is the best in the world. Her tongue darts out, touching mine, and I groan, hauling her closer. I kiss her until she’s breathless and I’m rock hard and aching for her. I pull back. “Damn. How about moving this show to the bedroom?”

“I don’t know. Mom will be arriving any second.”

“We can be fast.”

She giggles. “Can we?”

Right. Not sure. I like taking my time with her, kissing her everywhere, making her come again and again with my tongue, my fingers, my dick.

I let out a long breath, looking into her face. I love the pink on her cheeks, the blue in her eyes, the red of her well-kissed lips. I love her smile, her happiness.

She deserves to be happy, and I’m gonna do my best to ensure she is, every single day.

I lean in to kiss those soft lips again, maybe grab her and carry her to the bedroom, when the doorbell rings.

Dammit.

Tessa extricates herself from my hold, sends me a wink that makes my dick twitch and goes to answer the door. For myself, I turn to the oven and run the multiplication table through my head, so I don’t scare Tessa’s mom off with the monstrous tent in the front of my pants.

As I check the ribs and mix the sauce into the drained pasta, I hear footsteps enter the kitchen.

“Hi, Dylan,” an unfamiliar female voice says from behind me.

I take a bracing breath. After all that happened—the sickness, finding the courage to ask Tessa for forgiveness and a second chance, the fire, Dad’s death—this meeting shouldn’t seem too daunting.

“Mrs. Leon.” I take the hand she offers me, small and white like Tessa’s, decorated with a diamond ring and several plain golden bands. “How are you?”

See? I can be civil even when I don’t feel like it.

“Fine, thank you.” She glances at the stove. “Whatever it is Tessa made, it smells delicious.”

“Dylan cooked,” Tessa says, helping me carry the pots to table in the living room. “For you. He’s a good cook. Better than me.”

“Don’t listen to her,” I say, carrying the dish with the ribs. “She cooks just fine.”

Her mother is looking at us, her gaze bouncing from one to the other, her eyes a bit wide. “Really?” she finally manages.

“Mom is just shocked I can cook at all,” Tessa winks at her. “Right, Mom?”

“But she thought you were the one who cooked,” I protest, confused and hating how out of my depth I feel. I’m uneasy enough without contradictory statements flying around.

“She was teasing me,” Tessa says and takes a seat.

Her mom sighs and takes a seat across from her. “It’s true. I was shocked.”

This is promising to be a long, long evening, I think, as I serve the food and sit down with them. Gotta have patience. Gotta be Zen, like Zane. Fuck.

I open a bottle of wine for them, but I stick to water. Not allowed to drink alcohol yet, as I’m still on antibiotics, not until I beat the damn disease one hundred percent.

Tessa devours the food, so I know she likes it, and her mom also digs in, which is reassuring.

As for me, I’m too caught up in watching Tessa eat and the way her bra shows through her cleavage when she lifts her fork. My hard-on is back with a vengeance, and all I want is to push her mom politely but firmly out, sweep the dishes off the table and enter Tessa here and now, pound into her until she comes, and I spill inside her, marking her. Filling her.

Tessa nudges me with her leg, and I tear my gaze off her tits, aware I’ve missed part of the conversation.

“Yeah?” I pretend to be busy eating, toying with my food.

“Dylan, I was sorry to hear about your father,” Tessa’s mother says, catching me by surprise—not so much at the words spoken as at the emotion they convey.

I look up and find her studying me, her eyes kind. “Thank you.”

“Tessa told me a lot about you.”

“Yeah?”

“Good things,” Tessa says, correctly interpreting my horrified gaze. “Promise.”

“She says you’re a quarterback.”

Used to be. The words are on the tip of my tongue—but Coach says I can go back to training as soon as I feel better, and he has a funding plan lined up for me, so who knows? “Yes, Mrs. Leon.”

“Please, call me Karen.”

I glance sideways at Tessa, hoping for guidance, and she nods, her eyes sparkling. “Karen. Fine.”

“And you’ve been taking care of your two little brothers.”

“Yeah,” I say, not sure where this is going.

“And you can cook. And most importantly, you went into a burning house to pull my daughter out.”

“Yes.” She doesn’t make it sound bad, but I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Well.” She leans forward, smiling, and raises her wine glass. “I think you sound like a great guy, Dylan Hayes. Obviously my daughter has really good taste in men, much better than her mother’s.”

Tessa raises her glass too, grinning at me, and I don’t know if I’ll ever recover from the shock. Tessa’s mom—Karen—just approved of me.

A weight lifts off my shoulders, and when Tessa elbows me in the ribs, I raise my water glass and offer a smile.

A historical moment. God, I could sure use a stiff drink right about now.

Karen leaves just before midnight, and I’m surprised to realize I’ve had fun with her. She was nice to me, polite, and as it turns out, she can be quite funny after two glasses of red wine.

She reminds me of Tessa, so I give in. I like Karen Leon. Leaving her husband seems to have made a huge difference.

And Tessa looks pleased. Even more so since her mom told us that motherfucker, Sean, has returned to England and won’t be bothering Tessa again.

If he ever dares come back, I’ll be waiting for him with my fists ready for hurting her.

I watch Tess gather the dishes from the table as I put the food leftovers into the fridge. A faint smile lingers on her lips. I close the fridge and just look at her, at the sexy way that red blouse clings to her curves, the jeans molding to the flare of her hips and long legs. Her cleavage dips as she reaches over the table to snag a glass, showing a hint of her lacy bra. Her hair spills over one shoulder, a heavy gold wave, showing off the pale line of her neck.

My body goes haywire, signals firing on every nerve ending. My cock hardens so fast it gets jammed sideways in my pants, so that I have to reach down and straighten it, and my insides clench with a force that almost drives me to my knees.

Instant ignition. Goddammit, I’ve behaved this whole evening. Enough.

When she straightens, a tower of dishes in her hands, I jump her. She squeals when I suddenly grab her around the waist, and I reach around her just in time to rescue the dishes and place them on the table.

“Leave them,” I growl in her ear and return my hands where they should be—on her breasts, pushing them together, making her moan. “This is more urgent.”

And I show her how urgent it is by pressing my hard-on against her delicious ass and pulling her to me until her back bows. My teeth graze the pulse on her neck.

“Dylan…” she moans my name. Her nipples are hard under the layers of fabric, pushing into my palms like pebbles. “Bedroom?”

“Right here,” I mutter, tugging on the silver hoop hanging from her ear. “We haven’t christened this room yet.”

She laughs, a soft exhale, and I flip her around to lick her smiling mouth. “Right here?” she whispers.

“Right here.” I suck on her lower lip, then pull away to look at her body from up close. “I’ve been fantasizing about it all fucking night. I want you on the table, naked, your legs around my back.”

“That’s specific,” she breathes as I push her down on the table.

“Very specific,” I agree. “With your hair loose, no make-up, no jewelry. Just dressed in your beautiful skin.”

She reaches up and unhooks the hoops from her ears. “Why?”

“Because.” I pull off her boots and let them fall to the floor, one by one. “You’re perfect the way you are.”

Her mouth quivers, then tilts up in a smile that makes her eyes shine. She places her earrings on the table as I unbutton her jeans and tug them off her shapely legs.

“All off?” she whispers, gripping the hem of her blouse. So sexy, lying on the table, her hair spread around her like sunshine.

“All off.” I watch her remove her blouse. Her bra pulls up, pushing her pretty tits together, and I lick my lips. Thirsty for her. Hungry. Famished.

She stretches back, only dressed in her panties and bra. They’re lilac lace, almost transparent, revealing as much as they’re hiding. The panties are small, barely covering the magical place between her legs, and her bra… It cups and pushes up her round breasts, and I’m hypnotized by the dark cleft between them.

“Oh, baby,” I murmur, not even sure what the hell I’m saying. “I’m the luckiest man on earth. You’re fucking hot. Hot as hell. Damn.”

She lifts herself up on her elbows, and damn if the position doesn’t make her tits look even more awesome, full, and threatening to spill from the lilac bra. Her nipples are peeking over the lace, and I reach up to touch them, making her suck in a sharp breath. I tease them with my thumbs, circling their hard tips, until she arches her neck, pushing her breasts into my hands.

The need to enter her, move inside her, is making me grit my teeth. To control myself, I bend over her and scrape my teeth over her breasts, then tease one, then the other with my tongue. Her breathing grows faster, harsher. She squirms and moans softly as I reach behind her and unclasp her bra, so I can take if off.

And when it’s off, she’s even sexier than before, if that’s fucking possible, the roundness of her tits making me want to nestle my hard-on between them and rock until I come.

“Shit.” I have to reach down and squeeze my dick, or else I’ll come in my pants right now. That fantasy will have to wait its turn. It’s just that I want to rub my cock on every part of her, mark her every way I can. Tell her she’s mine, as she should have been all this time.

“Dylan…” she whispers, writhing on the table top, all silken hair, slender limbs, and mouthwatering curves. “Please.”

A growl rises in my throat as I grab the flimsy little thing that functions as her panties and rip it down her legs. I don’t even see where it lands. In two seconds flat, I’ve unzipped my fly, pushed my pants and briefs down, freeing my throbbing cock.

Breathe in, breathe out. Control. I grab my dick and give it a reassuring squeeze. Soon, buddy. Very soon.

I put my hands on her smooth legs and part them. I run my forefinger down her exposed pussy. It’s wet and luscious, perfect like the rest of her, and I can gaze at it and play with it for hours.

Not today, though. I need her right fucking now. I push a finger inside her, and groan out loud when she tightens around it. Oh, fuck. That’s it. No more waiting.

I pull my finger out, grab my cock and push into her in one long thrust. She cries out, bending her knees, giving me better access. The heat, the pressure is incredible. She’s incredible. I grab her thighs and push deeper, the muscles in my legs trembling with the urge to start moving.

“You okay?” I ask, the words barely making it past my clenched teeth.

“Yes,” she whispers and rocks her hips, fucking herself on my cock. “Please, Dylan. I need you. Please.”

Shit, I can feel the orgasm building in the back of my balls, and she’s still moving, gliding up and down my twitching dick.

“Hold on,” I grunt, pulling her legs higher, locking them around my hips. I then brace my hands on either side of her head on the table, draw out an inch or two, and slam back inside.

We both cry out this time. Her nails screech on the wood, her legs tighten around my hips. My hips piston in and out of her, my cock sliding in and out of her rippling passage. My vision is narrowing into a long tunnel, and the only sound I can hear is my panting breaths. My stomach clenches. My balls lift. Our bodies rock together, faster and faster, sweat slicking our skin, and I look up into her eyes as the first shock of pleasure slams into me.

I love you, I think, or maybe I say it, right before my dick jerks and my mind goes white. Wave after wave rolls through me, and she starts contracting around my hard-on as she comes, too, taking my breath away.

She presses her mouth to my shoulder, stifling her cries, her pussy milking me until I think I’ll pass out from the pleasure.

Fuck me.

When I finally pull out and collapse on my back on the table by her side, barely avoiding the stack of dishes there, I see stars.

Shooting stars, I guess, since they’re leaving trails of light in my blurry eyes, and I should make a wish.

But I can’t think of anything I want, anything more important than having Tessa love me and my brothers safe, so I just close my eyes and smile.

“How’s it going, fucker?” Zane grabs my hand and pulls me in for a one-armed man hug. “You look less like roadkill these days.”

“Jeez, thanks for the compliment, man.” I laugh as he releases me and steps back. “I’m okay.” More than okay, in fact. I even talked to Coach West, and it looks like I may get that funding after all and go back to college. “Where’s Tess?”

“I’m putting the final touches on her tattoo. Wanna see?”

“Damn right I wanna see what you inked on my girl.”

“Be my guest.”

Zane leads the way through the shop. Tyler nods at me from the reception desk. Erin and Audrey are sitting in those awful orange chairs, talking. Audrey’s hand rests on her tummy. It’s swelling fast now, going from flat to round in the space of a couple weeks. She smiles and waves at me. I wave back.

As we pass the first booth, Ocean, the blue-haired tattoo artist of Damage Control, gives me a peace sign. I see more of the Damage Boyz as we walk. Shane is fixing one of the heaters, his long dark hair hiding his face, and Micah is talking to a customer, his short, blond hair standing up in spikes.

We enter Zane’s booth and find Tessa seated in a tall chair. She looks up, and her blue eyes brighten.

“Dylan.” She turns to the side, to show me her newly inked shoulder. “Isn’t it brilliant?”

I open my mouth, and close it. Try again. The hell? “A dragon? You inked a fucking dragon on her?”

Zane tsks as if I’ve asked the most idiotic question in the universe. “Of course I inked a dragon on her. What did you expect?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know, man. I thought Dakota asked you for one, and you said no. Your own girlfriend, and you refused.”

“That’s true.” He perches on his stool and picks up his tattoo gun. “Not everyone gets a dragon.”

“And why’s that?” I lean on the booth wall and cross my arms over my chest, genuinely curious.

“In my book,” he says, leaning close to Tessa and putting some final touches on the awesome blue dragon curling on her pale skin, “dragons are for those fucked over by their parents, in one way or another. Life may have screwed you over, swallowed you and spit you out. It doesn’t matter. It’s not the same. The dragon is the people who bring you into this world and then fuck your life up. So that’s why Tessa got one. Cuz her dad is a real piece of work.” He flicks a look at me. “And so was yours.”

“Leave it be, Z-man.” Yeah, I’m goddamn furious at my dad for what he did, but he died in the process, and the grief is there, right under the surface, waiting for the anger to subside so it can surface.

“I know, fucker. This isn’t just for your dad. It’s also for your mom who walked out on you. And it’s for you.” He nails me with that dark, strangely old and wise gaze. “Because you proved them both wrong by surviving and saving your brothers, too. Not just from the fire, but every day, by looking after them, protecting them. Caring for them. That’s what I’m talking about. This is your badge of honor, and it’s badass.”

Tessa snorts.

He turns back to her, lifts his pierced brow. “You don’t think it’s badass, girl?”

“Oh, it’s badass all right.” She glances down at it. “Plus, it’s my first tat.”

“But surely not the last.” Zane winks, and I rub a hand over my face, trying not to laugh. “Now you have a taste for bad, tattooed boys, you’ll want more of this. More ink. Some piercings, perhaps.” He waves a hand languidly, his gaze shrewd.

“I only want one bad, tattooed boy,” Tessa says, looking past Zane’s shoulder at me. “And he’s right here.”

My heart does a weird little flip in my chest. A good little flip that leaves me feeling warm and relaxed.

“See?” Zane doesn’t turn around, but his shoulders shake in silent laughter. “That’s so romantic. Which is why I’m giving you matching tats. Aren’t you gonna thank me, fucker?”

“Matching tats? You’re out of your fucking mind. And there’s no way in hell I’m kissing you, so just forget it.”

“Who said anything about kissing?” He turns to me, indignant. “Who said—”

“If I’m kissing anybody, that’s my girl there, so if you’re done drawing on her…”

“Drawing? Motherfucker.” Now he laughs out loud. “I’m gonna ink a dragon on your dick for this, you ungrateful asshole.”

Tessa slides off her chair. “He really means it, you know.” She winks.

“I don’t need another dragon.” I push up my sleeve, displaying the one Zane inked on me years ago. “Enough of dragons.”

Zane is watching me, his face too damn solemn. “Then what do you want, fucker? Just say the word.”

I scratch my jaw. This may be the stupidest idea ever, but what the hell. Trust your heart and all that shit. So I gesture for Zane to come closer, and I whisper my request in his ear.

He leans away and whistles, eyes widening. “Sure about that?”

“Yeah.” I smile. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

I want her name inked over my heart. Where it belongs. Where she belongs. In big, bold letters.

He shakes his head. “I’ll schedule an appointment for you. Holy shit, man.” But he looks pleased. I know I’ll get ribbed about it by the guys when they find out, but hell, it’s my body, my life.

And my girl.

So I grab Tessa around the waist and pull her out of the booth, out onto the street, because all I need is to take my girl back home and show her, today and every day, how much she means to me.

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