I’m pacing around Kennedy’s kitchen, phone clutched in my hand and blanket draped around my shoulders.

Kennedy leans against the sink, watching me nervously. “The police are going to do all they can, Makayla. Why don’t you take a shower and get the blood out of your hair?”

I shake off her suggestion. “He’s out there right now and all I can do is walk in circles in this fucking kitchen,” I snap. “I should be doing something.”

“You have no idea where they took him,” Kennedy soothes. “The police are going to do all they can. The smartest thing you can do is stay here where you’re safe. There are half a dozen cops out there in the hallway and more still in the lobby downstairs. No one is going to hurt you here. If you do something stupid and go driving around to look for him, the bad guys might find you again. Think about it.”

I don’t want to think about it. I just want to do something. I’m trying to sift through the tangle of emotions. The confusing, absolutely incomprehensible emotions. I must have mental whiplash by now with how many times my feelings for Jesse have changed. The truth is I’ve never really believed he wasn’t right for me. I’ve always known, but I’ve spent so much energy trying to convince myself that he wasn’t. Hell, Jesse has tried really hard to convince me too. But behind all of it is the way he makes me feel. When I’m near him my heart sings and my head feels light. I know he’s the one. I know it with so much certainty that it’s a wonder I’ve deluded myself into thinking I could live without him until now.

I just wish I had come to my senses before it was too late.

I’m about to yell something incoherent when the phone in my hand buzzes. “Oh my God. It’s Jesse,” I say breathlessly.

“What does it say?” Kennedy asks, rushing to my side.

Jesse (4:42 p.m.): Coming.

“How?” I ask.

Kennedy shakes her head. She smiles up at me a little uncertainly. “You did say he’s kind of a badass,” she suggests.

I feel tears well in my eyes. “How do I look?” I ask.

We both laugh as Kennedy gingerly lifts some of my hair. It’s matted with dried blood.

“Take a shower,” Kennedy suggests again. “It’ll help you calm down. He’s okay. He’s coming,” she says, smiling and gripping my shoulders. “It’s over.”

Not completely, I think. If what Liam said about my stepfather is true, he’s still out there and he still wants me dead. I told the cops what I knew, but so far everything is circumstantial. Unless something concrete turns up, it’s unlikely they will be able to do anything about him. Kennedy’s right though, everything may be a blur of confusion right now, but I know one thing for certain. I’m going to throw up again if I let this blood sit in my hair any longer.

I strip my filthy clothes and turn on the shower. I pointedly avoid the mirror before stepping into the steaming water, sighing with relief as I work the clumps of gore from my hair and skin. I may be able to wash it off my body, but I have a sinking feeling the memory of what I did and saw isn’t going to scrub away as easily. I have to avoid closing my eyes because I keep seeing the way the hole opened up in Rosenthal’s forehead when I shot him and the faint trail of smoke that rose from his skin. I see the way Edwards’ body jolted with each impact and the way blood sprayed behind him, splattering the floor.

I breathe deeply, wishing I could forget it all, trying to focus on the positive. He’s okay. Jesse is okay. He’s coming here.

I hear a commotion outside but can’t make it out over the water. Kennedy says something loudly and a door slams. There’s a thud as the door to the bathroom opens and I see Jesse storming in. Kennedy follows close behind him.

“I tried to tell him to wait!” cries Kennedy. “But he just… oh,” she says, turning and shielding her eyes when he pulls the door to the shower open and steps inside with me, fully clothed

His hand is covered in blood and his face is bruised and bloody. I’m so happy to see him that it takes a moment to register that I’m standing absolutely naked in front of him and he’s completely clothed. The water rushes over his face, softening the blood caked there and rinsing it away. He looks into my eyes so intensely that I feel heat spreading through my body, and it has nothing to do with the steam from the shower.

His shirt clings to his skin as the water rains down on us, highlighting his cut muscles. I fight for something to say… I should have meaningful words right now, but my mind can’t seem to think beyond Jesse is here. Jesse’s here. He’s here.

It’s the first time since he walked away ten years ago that I’ve felt he was really here, that he wasn’t going to disappear on me again. Maybe it’s because I’ve finally started to understand why he left, and that he has always been my protector, whether I knew it or not.

“Your clothes are getting ruined,” I stupidly say when I finally find my voice.

He slowly reaches for the buttons of his shirt, exposing the tanned skin of his chest. Those expressive eyes of his never waver from mine. He shrugs the shirt off, letting it fall to the shower floor in a wet heap.

“I thought I lost you,” he says, emotion dripping from every word.

“You sure as hell tried,” I say, “but you never could.” I laugh a little, biting my lip and leaning into him. “It’s the only thing you can’t do. You could never lose me,” I whisper, knowing every word is true. Maybe I’ve lied to myself before. Maybe I could convince myself I was over him for days or even weeks, but deep down I always knew. Jesse was the one, and nothing could ever change that.

No matter what happens now, I’m not letting him leave me again--not even to protect me. Jesse’s mine as surely as I’m his. And he’s just going to have to deal with that.

He threads a hand through my soaked hair, squeezing and pulling me toward him, crushing his mouth against mine in a toe-curling kiss.

“I’ll never let you go again,” he whispers, breaking the kiss just long enough to speak, and then pressing his lips back to mine.

I feel all the passion and regret that’s built up within him in that kiss, as if his thoughts crackle across our skin and enter my mind. He never wanted to do anything but keep me safe, and he was just a good man put into impossible situations. A weaker man would have stayed with me and spared me the immediate pain at the cost of enduring long-term pain. Jesse has never been weak.

I reach for his belt, unclasping it and pulling it free. He helps to undo his button and lets his pants and briefs fall to the floor wetly. He kicks the pile out of the way, never taking his lips from mine. His strong hands splay over my lower back, spanning the entire width of my waist. I love how good it feels to be wrapped in his arms, how small I feel and how completely safe I feel.

I thought I would never feel this again. I thought I might never feel anything again, and now it’s all so much at once. I can’t get my footing, as if I’m floating just a few inches above reality, watching everything happen in slow motion. His tongue swirls against mine and I rub my hand down the hard plain of muscle covering his torso. The smooth curve of his chest and the perfect lines of his abs and the diagonal crease of muscle leading down to his massive, throbbing cock.

I circle his thick length with my hand, loving the heavy weight of it as I stroke him. I barely hold back a moan when I feel his body shudder against mine at my touch. I try to lose myself in the feel of him, but my mind is too full of everything that’s happened. One part of me is fixated on the sight of his perfectly hard body glistening as rivulets of water run over the endless rise and fall of his muscles… on the feel of his stiff cock in my hand… on the way I could lose myself in those fiery eyes of his. The other part of my mind is trying to come to terms with not only what happened today, but what has happened over the last few weeks. Has it only been a few weeks? It feels like a whole lifetime.

Then there is a tiny little piece of me that whispers doubt into my ear. Can I really trust Jesse? Will he try to leave me again? Am I strong enough to hold onto him if he does? I’d like to think I am. Something about the way he’s looking at me tells me that it’s time for a leap of faith. Even if I didn’t admit it to myself, I’ve wanted to forgive Jesse since the moment he stepped back into my life. It’s terrifying placing that much power back in his hands, but the second I decide to, contentment washes over me. For better or worse, I’m placing my heart back in his hands. No reservations.

His hand on my inner thigh snaps me from my thoughts. He taps my leg, indicating he wants me to open for him. I do as he wishes and suck in a breath when his fingers slide over my smooth mound. I pump his length in my hand, but lose my rhythm when his fingers slip into my wet folds and circle my clit. A shockwave of pleasure shudders through me and I pull away from our kiss with a cry. I’m transfixed when my eyes find his. I can see so much in those eyes, more than he would ever put into words. I see hunger, lust, need, but the most powerful emotion present is love. I can’t take my eyes off him as we touch each other until the torrent of sensation builds to a breaking point.

“Fuck,” he mutters, gripping my hand to stop my movements against his cock.

Knowing I almost made him cum with just my hand pushes me over the edge I’m teetering on. I squeeze my thighs together, wrapping my arms around his strong, wet body and hold on tight as I’m racked with bliss.

He presses my back against the tiles, giving me a momentary shock of cold that only adds to the pleasure flooding my system. Gripping my hips, he lifts me effortlessly, I instinctively wrap my legs around him as he pins me against the wall with his broad body. With one smooth thrust, his cock is buried deep, stretching my walls. His movements are maddeningly slow, but bone achingly deep. He's filling me so completely and taking me so tenderly. I never thought a man like him could show such tenderness, but he's treating me as if I'm something precious, like he's worshipping me.

I'm lost to the feel of him, distracted by my thoughts, so I don't realize what he's done until he has my hands already pinned above my head in one if his. I half-heartedly try to break his hold and when his grip tightens slightly, my pussy clenches around his cock. He gives me a small smirk, like he knows exactly what that little show of dominance did to me. I watch his face with fascination, transfixed by the way his forehead creases with concentration and effort, by how his shoulders tense and cord with thick muscle, and by the way I’m completely at this man’s mercy and wouldn’t change a thing if I could.

My hands might as well be bound in stone with how he’s holding me. I’m his. He can do whatever he wants to me. His free hand explores my body, running his calloused fingers over my aching nipples and down my stomach. He grips my hip seconds before his cock pistons into me with ferocity, taking me fast and hard. Our bodies crash together and my world melts away into a blur of pleasure. I can’t help the obscene sounds that fall from my lips, that is, until Jesse kisses me again. He invades my mouth just as surely as he does my pussy. Both tongue and cock working in tandem to drive me crazy.

I fist my hands until my nails dig into my palms and cant my hips, leveraging his hold on my wrists to move myself against him, desperate for him to give me more—harder, faster. I want it all. A completely crazy desire slips into my mind, shocking me with it’s intensity. He’s not wearing a condom and I want him to cum inside me. It’s ridiculous and unrealistic, but I suddenly want it so badly. I want him to claim me, to put a baby inside me and make me his completely. The thought of it drives me up the fucking wall and I cling even tighter to him, rocking against him like my life depends on it.

He tenses and I can tell he’s close. He’s going to cum. God, I know somewhere distantly that I’m being insane, but I can’t get a logical thought through the haze of sensation assaulting me. I just want his cum inside me. I want it so bad I don’t care how crazy it is. I sense him about to pull back when he cums, but I don’t let up on my grip, squeezing tight to him. I meet his eyes and see the question there, unspoken but clear as daylight.

You’re sure?

I bite my lip and don’t stop rocking against him, working his cock relentlessly, begging for his cum.

“Fuck,” he growls, grip tensing on my wrists until it almost hurts.

His cock pulses inside me and I feel the heat of his cum spreading deep inside me. Holy shit.

We don’t speak about what just happened in the minutes that follow, but the echoes of the scene don’t stop replaying in my mind. We step out of the shower, kissing when we’re close and never quite taking our hands off each other.

“Wasn’t expecting that,” he says finally.

I blush guiltily, quickly rummaging through Kennedy’s closet to find clothes for us. It looks like one of her exes left behind clothes big enough for Jesse, which I toss to him. “I’m sorry. Maybe I just got carried away. I could get a morning after pill if you want.” The words ring hollow. I know I didn’t just get carried away. I want it. As absolutely insane as it is, I want this.

“No,” he says, stepping into me and pressing a wide hand to my belly. “No,” he says more quietly, kissing me.