Sunlight peeks through the blinds as I open my eyes and awaken. As consciousness comes to me, I realize I’m not in my bed, in my apartment above the bar.

And I’m not alone.

There’s a soft body curled against my back, small fingers resting on my hip, gentle breaths puffing along my skin. Aubrey. I’m in her apartment after we had sex last night. Sex that was so fucking hot it was ridiculous. Sex that ended in a weird moment where we had some kind of deeper connection.

Discomfort makes my body hot, and once again around her I feel the urge to both get closer to her and run the fuck away. She saw me last night, saw beneath my normal demeanor. And I could tell that she was nervous, so I tried to get her to relax and go to sleep.

Then I fell asleep beside her, and I slept better than I have in months.

I let myself indulge for just a moment in the pleasure of her against me, still asleep. Sex with her was different than any I’ve ever had.

I shift to lying on my back, and Aubrey moves in her sleep in response, pressing against my side. She’s so vulnerable and small in her sleep that I feel a surge of protection over her. I move my arm so she’s lying on my chest. Above her right breast is a small bruise, where I bit her last night because I fucking couldn’t hold it back.

I bet she has a matching mark on her inner thigh.

My cock bounces. Images flood my mind, of me putting cuffs on her hands and wrists, her helpless and wet and writhing below me. I haven’t played in so long, too absorbed with work at the bar, stress over my brothers. That old hunger fills me as I let my thoughts wander. Would Aubrey even be open to something like that? She seemed to really like me taking control. But there’s a difference in having a small bite mark and the pain that comes with BDSM.

I shouldn’t even ask her.

But I can’t seem to stop thinking about it now, and I am so fucking tempted to palm my cock and stroke myself. Maybe see if she’d be interested in round two.

Something about her is getting under my skin far too fast. I need to cool my shit before I get in too deep and someone gets hurt. At this point, I don’t know if that someone would be her or me.

Because at the core of things, nothing has changed. I’m still the same man I was. My last girlfriend was so freaked out by my dark hunger that she called me a pervert and a creep and told her whole family that I’m messed up in the head. They still shoot me dirty looks when they see me in public.

The accusations she flung at me in the heat of our last fight still sting. How she called me an animal, a user, said my needs were degrading and made her feel cheap.

Maybe she was right about me. After all, this sweet woman is lying beside me, trusting me, and I’m thinking about wanting to tie her up and spank her. She’s too good for me.

I need to get the fuck out of here.

I delicately remove myself from her side and slide out of bed. She barely moves, just gives a small, sleepy exhale as she digs deeper under the sheets. It’s a shit move, sneaking out when she’s not awake, but I need to get my head on straight without being swayed by her eyes.

It takes just a moment to get dressed and in my shoes. I don’t let myself turn back to look at her as I exit her bedroom door. I know if I do, I’ll be far too tempted to get naked and crawl back in bed by her side.

When I reach the front door, I see a baseball bat propped up on the wall. Is Aubrey extra paranoid about someone breaking in or what? This neighborhood isn’t that bad. Something about that niggles at me, but I push the thought aside and leave her apartment, closing the door quietly behind me.

* * *

The week crawls by in a tedium of work. Bar business keeps me busy enough, and when I’m not at work, I’m either getting shitty sleep or running. My already surly attitude is brewing over into the red zone. Jax tried to crack a joke about me needing to get laid and I shot him a look so angry that he just walked away, hands up in the air.

I know I shouldn’t take my mood out on them. Because I know the reason I’m feeling so fucking off.

I haven’t seen Aubrey in days.

And why should I expect to? I snuck out of her apartment like a total asshole. I don’t have her number. The only information I know about her is where she lives.

When Friday comes, I’m extra on edge the whole night. The minutes tick by in a painful slow cadence. Maria tries to flirt with me but I pretty much ignore her.

My gaze keeps being dragged back to the door.

The door where Aubrey never comes through.

And it’s my own fucking fault. Even though I know it’s best for both of us, I still want to see her face, hear her laugh, push her buttons and make her snipe right back at me.

Run my tongue along her skin and elicit a groan so sexy it makes my dick throb.

Aubrey intrigues me, compels me, attracts me like no woman has in a really long time. But I can’t have her, because I’ll end up fucking it all up and ruining her. Ruining myself, too.

For once in my life, I’m trying to do the noble thing. The selfless thing.

And I hate it so damn much.

“Are you okay?” Asher asks me as he brings a tray of dirty mugs over to wash. “You’ve seemed…especially angry this week.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m fine.”

Asher’s lips thin as he presses them together, and he turns to face the sink and wash the mugs. When he finishes that and puts them on the rack to dry, he faces me yet again. “Smith, I’m fucking tired of this.”

“Tired of what?” The anger in his eyes both takes me aback and brings my own surliness back to the surface.

“Of you punishing me for coming home for the summer. I have the right to make my own choices, whether you like it or not.”

“Yeah, you do. And you made a stupid one. You could have stayed there and gotten an internship in your major and building up experience, but instead you’re here, slinging beer at this place. You’re not going to get anywhere by working here.” The words are blunt. I’m not filtering myself with him about this topic. He fucked up on this one.

“Maybe I should’ve stayed, but I came back. It’s my right to do what works for me, though. Keep being pissed if you want, but I don’t regret it.” His eyes flare as he lobs the words at me.

A customer waves at me; I pour her a beer, trying to keep my frustration from boiling over, and shoot her a tight smile. Then I make my way back to Asher. “Of course you don’t regret it. You have the luxury of being able to just do whatever you want.”

“You can go to school too, you know,” he retorted. “You’re not dead.”

“There’s no way this business will make it without me.”

“God, you’re so fucking arrogant.” His voice is filled with shocked wonder. “You really think Jax and I are so stupid that we couldn’t handle things here ourselves? That we’d just drive Dad’s business into the ground without your saintly presence to keep us all alive?”

My lungs tighten at the accusation in the words. Because the truth is, that is how I feel. That neither of them could handle it. And given the fact that Jax is a complete fuckup and Asher just started growing facial hair recently—I’d say that my gut is pretty accurate on this one.

Without me saying a word, Asher can still read it on my face. “Fuck you,” he tells me quietly, then leaves.

A flood of emotions are surging through me—anger, guilt, frustration. My life isn’t what I wanted it to be, not at all. Not even close. I had my own dreams and aspirations. Then Dad died, leaving me with two teen brothers to raise and a failing bar to tend to.

My chest is tight as I serve customers. I can barely keep a restraint on my rampant feelings. They threaten to explode. I cannot lose my shit right now. I have to be the responsible one, the father figure. Asher might not like it, but I do have a point to how I’m feeling. He could have used the experience to help him after he graduates next year.

I pour a beer for myself and take a long draw of the refreshing liquid. Maybe alcohol will take the edge off. I rarely drink at work unless a customer buys me something, but I need it tonight.

The tension keeps ramping up in me, tightening my chest. God, why am I so fucking worked up right now? I know exactly why. It’s because I keep screwing shit up in my life. I try to make things right and I end up making people pissed. And I’m tired and need to feel good.

I want to feel Aubrey in my arms, to hold her close and feel her warmth—forget all of this nonsense. But that’s not going to happen and I need to put it out of my mind for at least a little while.

When I head back to the office, Jax follows me in there.

“Not now,” I tell him, a warning clear in my tone.

“Dude, you’re a fucking mess. You need to go. Take a night off. Pretend you remember how to just be a man and not a business owner.”

“I can’t take a night off,” I reply. I dig through the papers on the desk, looking for last night’s totals for comparison against tonight’s. It seems like a better crowd in here right now.

“As part owner, I insist. Get the fuck out of here. You’re stressing the customers.”

I stare hard at him.

Jax gives me a small smile and laughs. “Okay, not really. But you’re stressing me. Please. Just go. You can’t keep working at this pace, man. Take the night off and enjoy yourself. Have fun. Find a chick to bang. I promise we’ll be okay. We can always text you if there’s an issue.”

I have to admit, it’s tempting. I haven’t taken a night off in so long I can’t remember the last time.

Jax can see that his words are working on me. He goes for the death blow. “Dad would not want to see you killing yourself like this. You know it would hurt him.”

My breath exhales in a hard whoosh, and I run my fingers through my hair, over my beard. “Fuck.” All the fight leaves me at the mention of Dad. No, he wasn’t the best businessman, but he did the best he could for me and my brothers. Made sure we went out and did things together. Fishing, baseball games, skiing.

The familiar pain that I always feel when I think about Dad comes creeping back in, and my chest grows tight.

He comes over and pats my shoulder. “One night. It won’t be the end of the world. Stop being our dad and remember that you have a right to a life, too.”

“You have to text—no, call—if anything goes wrong.”

“We will.”

“And if someone starts a fight, make sure to break it up immediately so it doesn’t get worse.”

“Yeah, we know.”

“And keep an eye on the kegs—”

“Fucker, we know. Shut up, idiot, and get out of here.” Jax shoves my back. I growl at him, and he laughs. “Yeah, yeah, big guy. Don’t forget, I can take you.”

“One time, when you were like twelve.”

“Best day of my life.” He winks. “I was thinking of getting a trophy for it.”

I can’t help it. I laugh. Asshole knows how to work me. I glance at the time on my phone. It’s only nine-thirty. A whole night off…what am I going to do?

I grab my keys and head out the crowded bar toward my motorcycle. Crank it up, rev it, then back out of the spot and just drive. I’m not sure where I’m going. I just need to feel nothing but the street beneath my tires, the power of the bike. It was my dad’s, and he left it to me in his will, knowing how much I loved helping him restore it.

Whenever I ride it, I feel closer to him.

Mile by mile, the tension starts to fade, and my shoulders loosen. The wind whips through my hair. I take the back road up to the small lake in the park. A good place to be alone with my thoughts.

Think about what it is I want and how to get it.

When I get to the parking lot, there are a few other cars there. I hear a couple of kids playing in the playground at the far end of the park. The air is warm but not humid tonight. I park my bike and head right to the water’s edge.

There are a few ducks swimming on the surface; the sun has already set, so it’s dark over here, lit by a couple of ambient lights around the park. The sky is an explosion of stars above me. I work my way around the perimeter of the water to my favorite thinking spot, a small grassy patch in the back.

Been a long time since I’ve come here. This used to be one of my retreats from the world, where I’d lie on the grass and not worry about anything.

I bet Aubrey would like it here.

The thought stops me right in my tracks.

I’ve never brought a woman to this place. Not because it’s that big of a secret or anything—it is in a fucking public park, after all. But something about doing a thing as regular as going with a woman to a park seems like real dating.

When the fuck have I last gone on a real date, not just a one-night stand? And why does Aubrey make me think about these things? That’s not what I’m interested in.

I’ve been telling myself that very thing all week, that I don’t want more than just fucking. And the entire time, I’ve known I’m lying to myself. Because dating Aubrey would give me a chance to hear more of her laugh, make her smile. Give us the chance to tease until we’re so sexually aroused we can’t see straight.

Maybe trying a date wouldn’t be so bad. Just one.

If she’ll even have me. I did creep out of her place without a goodbye. Shit move for sure. Jax, the king of one-night stands, would even kick my ass for that.

Is she pissed at me? Regretting what we did?

Guilt sinks my stomach hard, and I sigh. This week has fucking sucked because I’ve been running from the truth, and I know it. I want to know Aubrey more. Maybe take her out to dinner or whatever.

One date couldn’t hurt, could it?

Fuck me, I want to see her again. Feeling that tight cunt wrapped around my cock was one of the hottest moments in my life. Her innocence, mingled with that dirty curiosity, that eagerness…I need it right now.

Aubrey could drive away the shithole this week became.

I just have to get her to give it a chance.

I go back to my bike and hop on it. Get back on the roads and weave my way to her apartment. I’ll convince her to see me. I know she feels our sexual connection too. That look in her eyes wasn’t manufactured. That pussy was drenched for me, her body craving my hands, mouth, dick.

Aubrey’s name is a pulse in my head as I ride to her place, pull into the open spot in front of her building. Stroll to the door. The front light is on—good indicator she’s home. Which means she is avoiding Outlaws, that I pushed her away.

I can make it up to her though.

I refuse to acknowledge the small flutter in my gut and push that shit right aside. Knock on her door with a firm rap.

After a moment, the door cracks open. Aubrey’s wearing a pair of faded jeans and short-sleeved pink shirt. Her breasts are molded by the fabric; it’s hard to fight the way my mouth waters at the sight. Holy fuck, her tits are gorgeous.

I look up into her eyes and see wariness. “You can’t possibly be this desperate for customers,” she says in an airy tone, contradicting the tension I see around her eyes, her mouth.

“Not for customers,” I tell her. “Let me in, Aubrey.”

“No, thanks. I already met my quota for guys running off in the middle of the night while I’m sleeping.” She moves to close the door, but I block it with my foot.

“It wasn’t night. It was morning.”

She huffs a frustrated breath. “Oh, awesome. Thanks for the correction. That’s good to know.”

“Come out with me tonight.” I look down at her lips and watch them part ever so slightly. Aubrey might be trying to play cool, but she still responds to me. A small thrill whips through me. “Let me take you to dinner.”

“I already ate.” She glances at the ground. “Why are you here, Smith? Seems like you got what you wanted.”

Fuck. I can tell she’s trying to sound casual, but I see the tension in her shoulders. Her feelings got hurt by me running off like that.

I scrub my face with my hands. “Look. I’m shitty at all of this. I haven’t been on a date in probably well over a year.”

That makes her look up at me. She raises a brow. “I wouldn’t exactly call what happened between us a date.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, no shit. I mean I want you to come out with me tonight. I’ll buy you dessert or get you drunk. Your choice.”

She furrows her brow, studying my face. I try to keep myself steady, tell myself that this isn’t that important, but I can’t help feeling like everything is hinging on her response right now.

The more she thinks, the worse it gets for me. So I throw out another possibility, hoping to catch her interest. “I know a place that makes the best damn key lime pie you’ve ever had in your entire life.” It’s a stab in the dark, a random hope that she might be tempted enough by food to give me a chance.

I’ve never had to work to get with a woman before. Why am I pushing this so hard? I know the answer when I look down into her eyes, see nuanced emotions flickering right in front of me. Because the moment she opened the door, I felt like I could breathe after living underwater for a week.

Aubrey is oxygen.

She draws her lip between her teeth, and I see in her eyes that she’s getting swayed by my argument. “I haven’t had a good key lime pie since I visited Florida a couple of years ago,” she admits.

“This woman is a Key West native who moved here when she got married. She’ll make your panties melt off.”

That makes her quirk a smile. “Don’t think that a slice of pie is going to make anything happen to my panties, Smith.”

We’ll see about that. I wisely refrain from saying that and just give her what I hope is an innocent smile.

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, and the laugh she gives sinks down beneath my skin, chips away at the hardness that had surrounded my chest all week. I feel alive with her, elated, aroused, warm. “God, I’m a walking cliché. Swayed by sweets.”

“It happens to the best of us. We all have our weaknesses.”

“Somehow I don’t think you have any,” she murmurs as she cracks the door open, grabs her purse off the side table, then locks up.

“You’d be surprised.” I leave my comment at that. Because Aubrey’s beginning to feel like a weakness, an addiction. Something I crave beyond sensible reason. If I were smart, I wouldn’t be here right now. I’d let her slip away.

For once in my life, I’m kind of glad I’m not smart.

We stroll to the parking lot.

“Where’s your car?” she asks from directly behind me.

I point to the motorcycle. “Right there.”

“Oh. God. I should have guessed.” There’s a breathlessness in her voice.

“You’ve never been on one, have you,” I say as I turn around to peer down at her.

Her eyes are wide, locked on mine, and in this moment I feel like I’m the only man on the planet. Aubrey has a way of making me crave that look, making me want to keep her looking at me like that.

“I don’t have a helmet,” she says weakly.

“I have one on the back of my bike. Next argument.”

She crosses her arms and squints at me. “You’re kind of arrogant, you know.”

I laugh, and it feels freeing. My laugh makes her lose her irritated look, and she gives me a small smile. “You’re not the first person to tell me this today.” I take her hand, feeling the slender bones, the soft skin, feeling like maybe this week won’t be so bad after all. “Hop on the back. You’re about to learn what real freedom feels like.”