THEY WERE BUSIER THAN hell, which was a good thing, in Max “Shame” Schaeffer’s opinion. Good, because not that long ago, one Charlotte Steele had walked through the doors of Ballz & Bellz, the sports bar with its assortment of pinball machines in the backroom.

He was putting in the time his two best friends had conned him into doing when he became a silent partner—note the word silent. He hadn’t planned on actually working in the damn place. He was just giving the guys the money they needed to open up, because he knew opening the pub was what they wanted, and he had more money than he knew what to do with.

But for some reason, Riley and Connor Steele seemed to think that he needed to be out in the land of the living, not hiding away in his studio or locked away in his library where the rest of the world couldn’t touch him.

He wanted to hide away in his studio, preferred to be locked away from the rest of the world.

When he was hiding or locked away, he didn’t have to deal with people.

And he damn well didn’t have to worry about running into Charli.

Charli Steele, the one thing he wanted more than anything, and the one thing he’d never let himself have.

Currently, she was sitting at the bar talking with her brother while he hauled trays of empties to the kitchen, the one job he could tolerate doing at B&B. Riley had offered to show him how to work the bar or get one of the guys in the kitchen to show him the ropes there.

No, thanks. Hauling trays of empty glasses and plates was easy. Wiping down a cleared-off table was even easier. He didn’t have to think, didn’t have to communicate with anybody, and it wasn’t like he was in this for the money anyway.

Still, even though he’d spent most of the time in various parts of the large, open room, he was acutely aware of Charli and how she sat perched on the edge of the chair.

He just needed to keep his distance until she left.

Of course, that was what he told himself, but when a table opened up close to her, where did he go? To clear that fucking table, even though it wasn’t in his assigned area.

Charli rose on her stool, half leaning over the bar toward Con. It gave Shame an excellent view of her ass, the way the fabric stretched across her curves. He clenched his jaw and tore his eyes away.

“Damn, boy. Kiss her better than that,” came an overly loud, drunken voice.

Shame glanced up just as Con sent the commenter a smile that was just this shy of a sneer. From where he stood, Shame could see the way Charli rolled her eyes as she slid off the stool and grabbed her purse.

“No, thanks,” Con said, his voice easy. “She’s pretty, but I don’t see my sister that way.”

The drunken idiot seemed confused for a moment, then he smiled at Charli. “You need company then, sweetheart? If your brother’s the best date you can find—”

“I’ll pass.” Charli nodded at her brother and barely even glanced in Shame’s direction.

Shame noticed, but he noticed everything about her.

Including the fact that the drunk casually slid off his stool and followed her out the door.

Shame left the table half-cleared and turned on his heel, ice spreading through him like a malevolent disease.

There were too many people in the way, although most of them practically tripped over themselves to get out of his way once they saw him coming.

Shame still didn’t make it in time.

When he got outside, it was to find Charli cornered against one of the patio tables while the asshole dipped his head over hers. She shoved him back and the guy retaliated with a backhand that Charli wasn’t able to block in time. She reacted fast, though, punching him, and the man’s head snapped back from the sharp, short jab to his nose.

He howled, but before the bastard could do anything else, Shame was on him.

He’d touched Charli.

Charli had blood on her mouth.

An ominous silence filled his head as he took the bastard to the ground. He heard nothing, although the man’s mouth was opening, and logically, he knew there were likely screams coming from his prey.

He’d touched Charli.

Charli—

Her voice caught his ears, but he shrugged the sound off and drove another fist into the man’s face, which was unrecognizable by now. He squirmed under Shame like a landed fish and Shame lifted a fraction, adjusted his angle and drove a knee into the man’s balls, then prepared for a kidney punch.

Charli was still yelling.

Something cold and wet splashed his face, and for one brief moment the icy liquid stunned him into stillness. In the next second, a brawny forearm came around his neck.

“Let it go. You can’t kill him.”

Con.

Panting, struggling to breathe around the restriction of Con’s arm, Shame stared down at the man who’d put his hands on Charli.

“That fucking psychopath!”

That sounded like what he’d said.

His nose was broken, and he was likely missing a couple of teeth. But it wasn’t enough. He’d touched Charli.

“I want the cops here! I want him arrested.”

Shame struggled and jerked at Con’s grip. He was going to kill the bastard.

Then Charli was there and he went still once more. He couldn’t risk her getting hurt.

“You don’t want to call the cops.” Charli crouched, her elbows braced on her knees. “If you try that road, I’ll be filing a complaint myself. You assaulted me.”

“I— Fucking liar!”

Shame snarled. Nobody talked to Charli like that. Shame practically threw Con off while his best friend shouted at him, the words nonsensical.

“Max.”

When she said his name, Shame shuddered. But he didn’t look at her.

Not until she said, “Shame, look at me.”

Slowly, Shame did, but he was reluctant. She wasn’t going to let him tear this bastard apart. He knew it.

“Don’t make us have to bail you out of jail.” Her grin was teasing, but her eyes were strained.

“Fuck.” He shuddered again, then nodded. “Let me up, you dumbass,” he said to Con.

As he ran his bloodied hands through his hair, Con moved over to the man who struggled to get to his feet. “You’re lucky I don’t take over. Now get the hell out of here.”

“I want to call the cops,” he said again.

A low noise came from Shame.

“Fine, we can do that. But we got security cameras all over the perimeter of the property,” Con said calmly, agreeable even. “If we see you putting your hands on my sister, I wonder how that’s going to go for you?”

Shame focused on Charli, cupped her chin in his hand. She sucked in a breath and he swayed the slightest bit closer before he stopped himself. “He put his hands on you,” he said gruffly.

Dimly, he was aware of Con leaving.

Dimly, he was aware that the bastard who’d left this mark on Charli had disappeared into the night.

But what he was mostly aware of was Charli, and the faint swell of her lower lip where that fucker had backhanded her.

“I wanted to kill him.”

She closed her hand around his wrist. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

They stared at each other for the longest moment. He was the one to break away, because if he didn’t, he’d do more than just touch her face, and he could never let himself do that.

But as he turned away, Charli swayed. Attuned to her in a way he couldn’t explain, he spun back around and caught her, steadying her body against his.

Everything in him came to life at that light touch. Everything.

His cock stood at attention while his blood began to pulse, thick and hot, through his veins. All from the simple act of him laying his hands on her arms and her swaying a bit as she fought to steady herself.

“Wow,” she muttered, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “Head rush. I think that got to me more than I thought.”

“Are you okay?” he demanded.

She eased backward, giving him a tight, somewhat forced smile. He knew it was forced because he knew Charli’s smile. “I’m fine,” she lied. “I just... I need to go home and lay down.”

* * * * *

WHY DIDN’T YOU KEEP your mouth shut?

Shame cruised down the twisting road that led to the house where Charli, Riley and Con had grown up—the only place that had ever felt like home to Shame.

He hadn’t meant to open his mouth and say those four words, but he had.

I’ll drive you home. He’d seen her swaying on her feet, the faint swell to her lip, and he’d said it—“I’ll drive you home.”

And Charli, damn her, hadn’t argued.

They’d gone inside the bar and he’d told Con he was going to make sure his sister got home okay and the dumb shit hadn’t argued. Nobody had said anything to stop him, and now here he was, trapped in his car with a woman who smelled good enough to eat, who sat there with her hands lying limp in her lap and her head lolling to the side as though she was too exhausted to hold it up.

“You’re okay,” he said in a flat voice.

It was to reassure himself, and Charli seemed to know that. She turned her head and met his gaze with a wry twist to her lips. “Of course I’m okay,” she said. “It takes more than a tap on the chin to take me out.”

“If it was only a tap on the chin, why is your mouth bleeding?” he demanded.

“Because I bit my lip.”

He jerked his gaze away as she reached out with her tongue to probe the small cut.

“It’s not that bad. I got worse wrestling with Con, growing up.”

“Con never busted you in the mouth,” Shame said, feeling that anger rise inside him again.

“No. But I launched myself at him a time or two and busted my mouth on his hard head...and once on his knee.”

To his surprise, he found himself grinning, because he could see her doing that. “That must have been after I left.”

“It was the second year you were at military school,” she said, turning her head to look out the window.

The sadness in her voice twisted at things inside him he thought were dead. But she’d always been able to twist those spaces up for him. She made him feel when nobody else could.

The drive was over too fast, while he was still trying to figure out the right way to assure himself that she was okay, that she wasn’t scared after what the son of a bitch had done, had tried to do, might have done.

By the time he was convinced that Charli was okay, they were parked in the driveway and she was opening the door. That was when he figured out that maybe she wasn’t the one who needed to be convinced. He was.

“I’m going to come inside and take a look around,” he announced.

“Shame,” she said, sighing, “you don’t need to do that.”

“I do.” He opened the door and met her halfway around the car, eying her as she walked and noting that she was steadier than she had been. “You’re steady now.”

“I am. I think it was just the adrenaline. You did him a lot more damage than he did to me,” she pointed out.

“I didn’t do enough.” He waited until she started for the house, then he fell into step with her, taking the keys from her to unlock the door. He held it for her, but with a hand on her shoulder, kept her from moving deeper into the house as he hit the lights and did a quick walk through the kitchen, then the living room and the rest of the lower level.

“Are you going to go upstairs and check my bedroom next?” she asked tartly. “Make sure that guy didn’t follow us out here and somehow manage to hide under my bed?”

“You’ve got a smart mouth,” Shame said, cutting a look at her. And because he was weak, he found himself staring at her mouth.

The faint swell in the middle only made him more aware of the fullness of the entire curve of her lower lip. “I don’t like seeing marks on you,” he said, voice raw.

“I know you don’t,” she said softly. “But I’m fine, and you can stop worrying.”

He told himself to do just that. But instead, he moved closer. “Did he touch you anywhere?” Shame demanded.

She blinked, looking caught off guard. “I... He grabbed my arms. They are sore, might bruise a little, but it’s no big deal.”

“Bruises are a big deal to me,” he said, his vision going a little hazy. He wanted to hunt the bastard down and put a few bruises on him.

“Shame...for crying out loud.” She sounded exasperated. To his surprise, she shrugged out of the gauzy blouse she wore.

His heart started to thud in slow, heavy beats as the material was peeled away, revealing pale skin that never freckled and sleek, toned arms. She turned to the side and brandished one arm, bared completely. She wore a tank top with thin straps and all he could think was that he could strip that shirt away in a second.

Then he saw the mottled discoloration on her arm.

“You are going to bruise,” he said, voice thick. He didn’t remember closing the distance between them, but he had, and now, as he reached out to gently trace the mark with his fingertip, he noticed that her skin had broken out in goose bumps. “You’re cold.”

Charli wasn’t looking at him. “No. I’m fine.”

But a light shiver raced down her spine.

Cupping her chin, he dragged her face around so he could see her eyes. He loved her eyes—steel blue and incisive, all the intelligence she had shining in them.

Sometimes, she looked at him and those eyes were soft, and emotions she shouldn’t be feeling for him would flicker there. When he saw that, it made him weak.

And now, those emotions were glinting in her eyes.

Groaning, he went to pull his hand away.

She caught his wrist.

“Let go, Charli,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because.”

“That’s not a reason,” she said, her voice a challenge.

“It’s reason enough,” he told her. “Let me go. I shouldn’t have come in here.”

“But a monster might have been hiding under my bed,” she teased.

There was a monster standing in front of her and she seemed blind to it. He wasn’t, though, and he needed to be stronger than this. Pulling back, he twisted his wrist, breaking contact with her face.

Charli moved with him and somehow their hands ended up entwined and she closed the distance between them once more.

“Why did you come inside, Max?” she asked.

She was standing so close he could feel the faint disturbance in the air as she spoke. He wanted to eliminate the few scant inches between them and fist his hand in her hair, kiss her, taste her...take her.

But this was Charli...

When he didn’t answer, Charli swayed closer to him.

He didn’t move.

Even when she let her lips ghost over his, he didn’t move.

But when she leaned in closer and pressed her mouth firmly to his, he did move. He caught her chin in his hand and yanked his head back, staring at her. “Don’t, Charli. I’m not one of your pretty, polished doctors with soft hands. You don’t want the kind of things I’d do to you,” he warned her.

“Says who?” she asked, that challenge still in her voice.

“Says me. Just trust me.”

“I trust you more than I trust anybody I know, Max. But I think you’re wrong.” She kissed him again and this time she opened her mouth, letting her tongue flick against his lips.

The first crack in his control happened at that light touch, but he maintained, keeping his hands fisted at his sides.

If he touched her even once, it was over.

Charli didn’t seem to mind his lack of response, running her tongue over his top lip before moving to the lower one, flirting with the seam of his lips before starting it all over again, teasing and taunting him.

When he still didn’t move, she eased away. But if he expected her to be dejected by the fact that he still wasn’t reacting...well, he had to remember. This was Charli Steele. And what Charli wanted, Charli got.

The determination glinted in her eyes as she pulled back.

If he was a smart man, one who believed in self-preservation, he would have turned and run like hell.

But maybe he was tired of fighting a need that tied him in knots.

So he just stood there as she reached for the waistband of her skin-skimming tank top and peeled it away, proving that she, too, could dispose of the shirt in a second.

Under it, she wore a bra the same color as the tank—midnight blue—and her skin gleamed like satin against it. He’d been with women who wore lingerie so exotic it boggled the mind. Yet there was nothing he’d ever seen as sexy as Charli in a dark blue bra and her jeans. She moved closer again and wrapped her arms around his neck. “How long you think you can hold out?” she whispered against his lips.

That was a damn good question.

The feel of her skin against his was a temptation he wasn’t sure he could handle.

It was a torment he wanted more than anything.

He didn’t like to be touched during sex.

He’d do all the touching, all the fucking, all the everything, but having Charli dip her hands into his hair as she slanted her mouth over his was a sweet, sweet pleasure and he groaned as she licked at his mouth.

That faint noise had his mouth open just the slightest and he tensed as she teased her way past his lips, bringing with her his first real taste of her.

It was a drug.

It was the drug.

The drug he’d crave the rest of his life.

And that was the second crack in his control.

As he opened wider for her kiss, she curled around him and thrust her tongue past his lips. Her nails scraped over his scalp and he shivered, thinking about feeling those short, neat nails scraping over other parts of him.

She arched against him, and even though he knew it wasn’t possible, he imagined he could feel the heat, separated by layers of denim and cloth. He wanted to strip away her jeans, peel off her panties and kneel in front of her, taste the wet heat of her pussy, then lift her up and impale her on his cock.

That image didn’t quite shatter his control.

But her shaky voice as she whispered against his lips? That did him in. “I want you, Max. Please don’t act like you don’t want me back.”

His control shattered, falling to tiny pieces around him.

Shoving a hand into her hair, he yanked her head back and took control of the kiss just as she went to slide her tongue into his mouth again. He caught that sweet thing and sucked on her, feeling her shake against him. Her nipples were stiff points, stabbing at him through the silk of her bra and he reached up and yanked the straps down her shoulders to bare her breasts.

He pulled back to stare at her, desperate to feast his eyes on a sight that he’d fantasized about for years.

Charli was petite, but she was also stacked. As he cupped her breasts in his palms, she arched against him, filling his hands to overflowing. “Not want you?” he muttered as he lightly tweaked her left nipple. “I don’t know, Charli.” He caught her hip in his hand and dragged her up against him, letting her feel the weight of his erection against her belly. “Does this feel like I want you?”

She whimpered, her eyes going wide as he boosted her up and planted her against the door. “Maybe you didn’t get a good enough idea,” he said, his cock now cuddled between her thighs. “You think I want you?”

Her breath caught in her throat.

It made her tits rise and fall and he swore, lifting her left breast up so he could close his mouth around her nipple. She shrieked as he bit down lightly.

And this time, he knew he wasn’t imagining anything as a rush of warmth centered between Charli’s thighs.

Dragging his mouth from hers, he met her fogged gaze and said, “You better call a stop to this now, before it’s too late.”

“You think I’ve spent the past few years trying to get you to pay attention to me to back away now?” She reached up and caught his neck, dragging his mouth back to hers.

She bit his lower lip and he growled in response, urged on by the wildness of her kiss. Crazed by it even.

He let her legs go and reached for the zipper of her jeans, desperate now to have her wrapped around his dick.

She didn’t do anything to stop him and in no time, she was wearing nothing but the bra, twisted around her torso. Even that was in the way. He wanted her completely bared to him. Reaching behind her, he freed the clasp and yanked the offending material away and threw it to the floor.

Her hand caught the hem of his T-shirt and he tensed, but at the look from her, one that was a dare, challenge and plea, he let her peel the shirt away. Nobody else would have been able to stand there and run her hands up and down his chest like Charli did. She reached the nipple ring that pierced his left nipple and tugged on it, eliciting a moan from him. With a wicked smile, she dipped her head and pressed her mouth to the silver hoop, then caught it between her teeth and tugged once more.

He hissed out a breath, reaching up to cradle her head as she shifted and went to take the flat circle of his nipple in her mouth, sucking on him. Her free hand roamed across his chest. Each brush of her fingers was a shock, each stroke a treasure.

How long had it been since he’d welcomed the touch of another?

A lifetime.

An eternity.

Yet with Charli, her touch wasn’t just welcome.

It was vital.

She reached between them and freed the button on his jeans before dragging down the zipper of his fly.

He caught her hands then, because he already felt like the top of his cock might explode. Just one touch from her might do it.

She made a mewling sound in her throat, but acquiesced, letting her hands fall to her sides. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He never left the house without taking a couple of rubbers with him, although for the past few weeks, he hadn’t needed to use them.

He’d been too tired, too distracted...or Charli had been there.

Now Charli was here...and he was about to fuck her.

He fumbled with the rubber more than he had in years, his hands almost as shaky as they’d been the first time he’d decided to let some girl take him back to her place for sex.

Not some girl, he thought.

After snapping the rubber into place, he reached for Charli. He hesitated as she lifted her eyes to his. “You sure about this, Charli?” he asked, voice raw.

“If you stop now, I’m going to have to kill you,” she told him.

He caught her hips and boosted her up, her back to the door. “I should take you to bed,” he said, trying to find something that might be gentleness. But he didn’t have it in him. When it came to sex, he only understood one way—fucking.

“I don’t care about a bed.” She shifted against him.

He’d think later that she seemed a little less sure then.

And he’d realize why.

But just then, all he knew was that she was wet and naked and when he boosted her higher and hooked her thighs over his knees, she was open and waiting for him.

Just him.

Angling his hips, he rubbed against her entrance, watching as her lashes fluttered. A soft noise escaped her. “Ooohhhh...please, Max!”

He changed his angle then, slipping the head of his cock inside her. “Is this what you want?” he asked.

“Yes!”

“Good.” He bent forward and bit her neck as he thrust deep, high and hard.

She shrieked, the pain in the noise penetrating the fog of want, just as he figured something out.

She was...tight. Too fucking tight. Shame froze.

Drawing back, he stared down at her, seeing her clearly for the first time since he’d touched her. The pain in her eyes, the nervousness. The nerves had been there all the fucking time and he just hadn’t let himself see them. “Fuck, Charli...you’re a virgin!”

“Not anymore.” Her breathing hitched and she tried to shift, but he held her all but pinned to the door—pinned and helpless and open.

Fuck!

Shame went to pull out.

She caught him around the neck, hooking her forearm around him and pulling him back to her. “Don’t you dare stop, you son of a bitch,” she said, slamming her mouth to his.

He froze, indecision weighing on him.

This was Charli...

And she was kissing him. The greedy bastard in him was quick to point out that, despite the fact the he’d hurt her a little, she was still hot and wet, and clinging to him, and kissing him.

The small sliver of him that he tried to keep decent was reticent, though, and kept whispering, It’s Charli, man. She deserves better.

She did.

But as she clenched and shivered around him, it was hard to think about anything but how wet and tight her cunt was, how good she smelled and the fact that she was sucking on his tongue, kissing him like he was everything she’d ever wanted.

He understood that kind of want, because the one woman he had wanted—the one woman he’d thought was safe because of who she was, was undulating against him as she fought to adjust to the invasion of his cock.

Unable to think, he shoved a hand into her hair and pulled her back, staring down at her through slitted eyes.

“Why?” he demanded.

She didn’t pretend ignorance. That wasn’t Charli. “Because you are the one I wanted it to be, Max. Don’t tell me that surprises you.”

Now that he thought about it, it didn’t surprise him. Now that he let himself think about it, he knew he should have expected this and that was just another reason why he should have stayed away.

He’d known Charli thought she had feelings for him.

When she was a kid, it hadn’t worried him.

But she was far from a kid now.

“Stop thinking, Max,” she whispered, arching closer and tightening her muscles around him. “Stop thinking and just make love to me.”

“Make love?” He bent his head and pressed his lips to her ear. “I don’t make love, Charli. I fuck.”

“Then fuck me. I don’t care. Just move.” She turned her face to his so that the words were spoken against his lips, and the challenge in her tone devastated him.

She wanted this and damn if he was strong enough to stop it.

Swearing, he pulled back and rocked inside her, feeling the drag of her muscles around him, wishing, for the first time ever, that he wasn’t wearing a fucking rubber. Wishing he wasn’t so tainted, that he could do what she asked—make love to her. But all he was good at was fucking.

But damn if he wouldn’t make it good for her.

He set a slow, lazy pace, catching her chin in his free hand and craning her head up to meet his gaze.

He didn’t kiss her again, just watched as he palmed one round, perfect breast, rolling the nipple until it was a hard, tight pucker, then treating the other to the same.

She whimpered as he swelled inside her and he could feel each tremor, counted each hitch in her breathing, marked them down in his memory so he could look back on this.

Her nails sank into his shoulders and he bit the inside of his cheek to hang on to his control. When she twisted around on his cock and whimpered for him, he took her hips and tilted her up, changing the angle so that he rubbed against her clitoris with each stroke. That simple move lit her up and she tightened around him until she was like a fist and he had to fuck his way past tight, silken muscles with each sweet, tortured thrust.

“Open for me, baby,” he whispered against her cheek. “Open... Fuck, you’re sweet.”

She whimpered again, and this time it was his name and it was pure perfection, or at least the closest he’d ever get to it.

Slamming his free hand against the wall next to her head, he ground his teeth, forcing himself not to ride her harder, take more than she was ready to give, but, fuck, fuck, fuck, it was hard. She quaked around him, drawing closer to orgasm, and still he held back.

Then she was coming, her mouth open in a silent scream and he swooped in on her, taking that open mouth and driving his tongue past her lips as he began to ride her harder. She jolted against him, her stiff nipples scraping his chest.

Her arms tightened around his neck as she clung to him, but she tore her mouth away, panting for air and chanting, “Please, please, please...Max!”

He could have said her name a thousand times over, but didn’t let himself, afraid of what it might reveal. Instead, he buried his face against her neck and thrust harder, chasing his climax.

It remained tauntingly out of reach, and in frustration, he jerked his head up and tangled his hand in her hair. Drawing her head to his neck, he said, “Bite me. Hard.”

She didn’t even ask. She just sank her teeth into his skin and at that sweet pain, he exploded.

Shame climaxed harder than he ever had in his life.

And when it ended, only sheer will kept him from going to his knees in front of the woman who owned him, heart and soul.

He stayed upright, panting for breath and reaching for control, because he had to find it before he looked at her.

She couldn’t know.

Charli couldn’t ever know.

* * * * *

CLAY COATED HIS HANDS.

The sculpture had sinuous, feminine lines but it wasn’t done. In his mind’s eye, Shame could see how it would look when it was completed but that was still hours away.

He’d been locked in his studio for hours.

Unconscious thoughts filled him, pouring out of him like water as he ran his hands over the clay—up, then down, pressing here, smoothing there.

It had been three days since he’d spent the night with Charli.

Three days and he was still smelling her on his skin.

It was his imagination and he knew it. It had to be because the morning after, once he’d gotten home, he’d locked himself in his bathroom and scrubbed his skin until it was raw, convinced, if he eradicated all traces of the night with her, he’d forget about it that much quicker.

Or maybe he’d tried to convince himself.

He could still taste her.

Smoothing a thumb over the part of the sculpture that would be the face, he imagined craning Charli’s face back and taking her mouth, licking his way inside, then having her suck on his tongue and draw him deeper.

He remembered taking her to her bedroom, kissing his way down her body and fucking his tongue into the hot wet center of her.

She’d been everything he’d always imagined—more. And she’d been unlike anything he’d ever dreamed of. Two totally conflicting ideals and he knew it. How one woman could be both things, he had no idea. But that was Charli.

Another hour passed as he continued to work the clay, pausing only when thirst drove him to pause and grab the two-liter bottle he’d filled with water before coming into the small, windowless studio hours earlier.

It was the sound of a doorbell that dragged him from the stupor. He studied the sculpture, wondered if he could stop now and be okay.

He could.

The doorbell rang a second, then a third time, as he continued to debate.

When it rang a fourth time, he rose.

There were only so many people who would be that persistent and his gut was hot and tight, telling him who it probably was.

He should stay in the studio and work. If he ignored her long enough, she’d go away.

But he locked the door behind him, sealing away the sculpture and the quiet room where he let down his guard, even if it was only for himself.

Walking through the quiet house, he drew the rag from his pocket to wipe his hands, not bothering to go to the bathroom and wash up. She’d wait. She’d already rang a fifth time and he knew she was patient enough to ring a sixth.

But she was there, waiting for him.

Maybe he’d been waiting for her to come to him.

And when he opened the door and saw Charli standing there, he realized that was the case.

He didn’t know how some part of him had known she’d come, but it had.

She looked him up and down, and he watched her chest rise and fall on a nervous hitch of a breath. “What are you doing here?” he asked, bracing his forearm against the doorjamb.

Charli licked her lips. “It’s my day off. I...” She bit her lip, her gaze falling away for a brief second before she met his eyes dead on. “I thought maybe you and I could grab some lunch.”

From under hooded eyes, he watched her. “I don’t want lunch.”

“What do you want?”

He’d resisted her, resisted the insane pull he’d felt toward her since she was seventeen. But now she stood there, watching him with bold eyes and he knew he couldn’t resist her anymore.

Without saying a word, he pushed the door open wider.

Charli slid inside without saying a single word.

* * * * *

HER NEXT DAY OFF WAS Monday.

He was supposed to work until seven.

He’d given her a key to his house on her way outside and told her when he got off.

She’d just nodded.

They’d said nothing else, but as Shame drove home from B&B the following Monday, he knew she’d be there.

She’d come by B&B for lunch earlier and their eyes had met, lingered. But they hadn’t talked.

Con had given him a funny look.

But his best friend hadn’t said anything.

Still, that look had left him feeling uneasy and he knew sooner or later he’d have to end this. He couldn’t keep fucking Charli Steele. He didn’t know what she was getting out of it, unless she was just looking for the same dirty thrill a dozen—more—other women had come to him for, although that didn’t seem to fit with what he knew about Charli. He knew she thought she had a thing for him and maybe he should feel bad, taking advantage of that to slake the need he had for her.

And he did, whenever he wasn’t with her, or remember what it was like to be balls deep inside her.

Or when he wasn’t pulling his car around the back of the house to find hers already parked there.

She’d be inside, waiting for him.

At times like this, he didn’t have it in him to feel bad about needing to be with her.

It wouldn’t last. He knew that.

But damn if he wouldn’t enjoy it while it did.