My body is sore. Deliciously sore. And yet, as Noah drives us back to the city, all I can think about is him pulling over so we can have sex again. Too bad I don’t have an SUV.

If we’re really going to have a no-strings-attached kind of relationship, I know it won’t last long, and I want to get as much of my fill of him as humanly possible.

“Tell me what happened in Athens.”

I blink a few times, and his words kill my sudden desire to slip my hand between his thighs while he’s driving.

“Why?” My heart is pounding in my ears now, but the extra beats aren’t doing anything to help warm my suddenly chilled body.

Noah grips the wheel tighter as he shifts gears with the other hand. “I want to know what happened. I don’t deserve to know, but I need to know how to help you.”

“I don’t need help,” I barely squeak out. I’m lying, and it’s really hard to lie to this man, especially after he spent the day studying every inch of my body. Why does he want to help me? “Just because we had sex doesn’t give you the right to know more about me.”

He glances at me out of the corner of his eye but looks back at the road. “Fine.”

A quick word can hit you harder than a mouthful of anger every day of the week, even on Sunday.

“Shit, I didn’t mean…” I cross my arms and lean back in my seat. I’ve already opened up to him about my stupid water fears. Why does he need more from me? Why can’t the sex be enough? “You understand this thing between us is just—”

“Sex?”

It’s not a statement. He’s making sure we’re on the same page. Is this some kind of test? Does he want to make sure I’m not all hearts and rainbows like most women might become? You know, the ones who promise no strings to get the guy while harboring secret hopes of him falling madly in love. That’s not me.

“If this really is going to be just sex, then you shouldn’t be afraid to talk to me. If you think opening up to me is going to make this more than it is, more than it can be, then we shouldn’t do this again.”

This? Sex?

His attitude has thrown me for a complete one-eighty. What happened to Mr. Nice Guy? Maybe this is some sort of defense mechanism? He’s building a wall around his heart and wants to make sure I don’t have a big enough sledgehammer to knock it down?

Well, I don’t. I’m a coward.

“I was almost killed.” I let the words fall from my mouth so fast that I know my admission is out of anger, but at the same time, it’s a little freeing. Only my family and Jessica know what happened in Athens.

Noah’s eyes are on me, but I gently punch his shoulder, demanding he looks back at the road, so we don’t crash.

“What the hell happened?” His voice is gritty, like sandpaper.

I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to tell my story, but if this man is going to be a prickly pain in my ass about it—or worse, withhold sex from me when I need that more than anything—then I’ll share if that’s what he wants.

“Do you really need to know?”

“Yes,” he bites back.

I tense, and my quad muscles lock up as my mind takes me back to that night in Athens. “Some guy was targeting wealthy female travelers in Greece. He would stalk them first and then attack. The police said he kidnaps them from their hotel rooms. And before killing them, he has the woman transfer a large sum of money to an untraceable bank account.”

“Jesus.”

Noah’s looking at me again, and it’s hard for me to say more with his eyes on me. I need to discuss this as though it’s some story on the news and not related to me. I wait for him to focus on the highway, and my fingernails bite into my thighs as I shut my eyes. “I was in Athens working out a business deal for two weeks.”

My hand darts to my core as I remember everything.

The dark hotel room.

The hand covering my mouth after I entered.

My heart slamming into my chest, a bitter pain like nails clawing into my flesh.

Maybe they were nails—his nails piercing my skin.

The knife nicking my throat.

My fingers sweep up to the side of my neck where the man had positioned the blade.

“I, um…” I can do this. “Well, I was walking back to my hotel room after a business dinner, and I had just said good night to my brother Corbin, who was traveling with me. Our rooms were on different floors. I heard something behind the door when I was searching for the key in my purse.”

My eyes flash open at the feel of Noah’s hand covering mine. I stare at our hands, trying to find the strength to continue.

I’m alive. The bastard didn’t get me. I have to keep reminding myself of this.

“I shouldn’t have ignored the weird feeling I got in my gut. I shouldn’t have opened that door, but I did. And the guy was waiting for me when I got in.” I nod a little as I process my thoughts, trying to sort through my recent nightmares and what really happened. They’ve become jumbled at this point.

“I tried to fight, but he pinned me to the floor. He was so big. And we—we struggled, and he muffled my screams. And then I heard a knock at the door.” I capture a lungful of air and let it out, needing a second. “My brother had forgotten to tell me something, and I wasn’t answering my phone. It felt like minutes had passed since I’d walked into my room, but it was probably less than sixty seconds. My brother heard the noise outside my door, and he had the second key to my room—thank God. I have a habit of losing mine, so when we travel together, I give him the spare.”

“What happened?”

I pull my hand from Noah’s and press both of mine to my chest, trying not to have a panic attack. But my chest grows tight with one coming on.

“You’re okay, Grace.”

His voice brings me back to the car and out of that hotel room, and I take a minute to try to steel my nerves, to calm my pulse. “My brother fought him, but the son of a bitch got away.”

“Shit. Thank God your brother was there. I can’t even begin to imagine—”

“The guy had killed three women the police knew of before he attacked me.” My hands form tight fists in my lap, and I stare at them.

“Please tell me they found him.”

“Not yet.” He could still be out there—murdering…

“I don’t even know what to say. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“So now you know.” I look out the window, unable to face him.

“The nightmares are about this?”

When I finally look at him, my eyes are coated by a thin film—I try not to cry, not to crack, but when Noah veers off the highway and parks the car, I nod.

And I break.

I cry so damn hard that my chest burns. I don’t know when he unbuckled himself and my own seat belt, but he’s stretched across the stick, his arms wrapped around me as I sob against his chest. Noah combs his fingers through my hair and presses his forehead against mine when I finally come up for air.

“I don’t know where that came from.” I swipe at my face. There’s no mascara there since we showered earlier, but I still feel like a mess. I shift back and press a palm to my face. “I get scared when I’m alone at night. I remember Athens every time I close my eyes.”

I see the tension in the few lines in his forehead and the slight crinkles by his eyes. It’s not age—it’s experience. Experience with death, with probably having to kill and witness his friends killed…

“You have PTSD,” he says.

I squint at him.

“It’s not just for soldiers, you know. Are you talking to anyone about what happened?”

I shake my head. “Do you have PTSD?” My voice is soft. I’ve always struggled with talking to my veteran friends about this issue. I’ve never even broached the subject with Luke.

Noah rubs his jaw with one hand, then he presses his palm to his thigh. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m messed up because I don’t.”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “I miss the life. I’ve never had regrets or struggled with the decisions I had to make in the service. I’ve killed people—bad fucking people. I’ve had to choose whether someone lives or dies, and I’ve never doubted my choices.” He looks at me. “I miss the friends I lost. I think about them. But hell, I don’t shake; I don’t get angry or have nightmares. I’m just me. And shit, there must be something wrong with me if I don’t feel messed up, right?”

“A lot of people struggle when they come back, but that doesn’t mean you have to be one of them.”

He swallows and takes a breath. “And there’s no reason why you should feel bad about it either. What you went through…well, I can’t imagine. If that happened to my sister, I’d probably cross the ocean and kill the motherfu—” He cuts himself off as if swearing around me is offensive, even though he’s been doing it regularly. His so-called sailor’s mouth isn’t as bad as some of the others I’ve heard, and I’m not exactly a saint either.

“You’re a good brother.”

“Sounds like you have a good one too.”

“One, at least. The other is a bit intense.” I force a small laugh.

“Aren’t brothers supposed to be?” He takes my hand again. “I really think you should see someone.” His tone is more serious. “You need to talk about what happened.”

I pull my hand from his as if I’m guilty of feeling more than I should.

“That’s okay. That’s what locks are for, right?” I fake a smile and push a hand through my hair and relax back into my seat and buckle up. “We should get back to the city. It’s late.”

“Grace.”

“I’ll talk to someone.” I look at the New York skyline in the distance. “This doesn’t change anything between us, okay? You know what happened to me, but I don’t want you to pull back because of it.”

He repositions himself behind the wheel.

“I want to make this work, this whole sex without those damn strings thing. Just don’t let my past be the strings—don’t cut me out of your life yet. I need this. What we did today—it’s exactly what I need.”

Noah looks at me, his brows knitted, and although the sky’s becoming a dark navy as the sunlight disappears, I can still see the emotion in his eyes as his pupils expand. “You’re sure?”

God, I need the sex, but can I really be with someone like him and not fall?

“Yes,” I say, not sure if I’m lying.

* * *

Cade’s this force of power, like a tornado that comes in and wrecks everything. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and intimidating as hell to most men. He fills the room with his presence and his arrogance. He’s strong like Noah, but he’s a total asshole. I don’t know how we’re related.

“Did you talk to Jessica?” He tosses his suit jacket on my couch and tugs at his burgundy tie, loosening it as if it has a stranglehold on his neck. “Did you tell her we were making a play for Alexander & Sons?”

I lift my fingers from my computer keys and lean back, studying him as he stands before my desk. His focus shifts to his sleeves now, and he rolls them up to his elbows, exposing some of the ink on the inside of his arm. He must not be in the right state of mind because he never lets anyone at work see his tattoos.

But right now, he’s ready for a fight. I’m prepared to throw down with him, to stand up for what I believe in even if I have to suffer his wrath. Clearly Jessica spoke to one of the Alexander sons.

“Drinks didn’t go so well on Saturday night, I take it?” I stand, wanting to be on an even playing field, but he still has several inches on me.

Where’s Corbin when I need him? Someone to run interference between us. Cade and I both have fiery personalities.

He glances at the closed door and releases a breath. “We’re in trouble.” He tilts his head back, looking at the ceiling for a moment before his eyes meet mine again.

“What do you mean?”

“Come over here.” He flicks his wrist toward the wall of windows as if he’s afraid someone is somehow eavesdropping through the door. I cross the room as his palm presses against the window. “Dad made some shit decisions this past year, and it’s put us in trouble. He’s planning a merger, but the company we were going to unite with was only willing to join if the deal with Alexander & Sons was on the table.”

Is he kidding? But Cade doesn’t joke about anything. And although he’s not thrilled about marrying the daughter of the governor simply because Dad thinks it’s a smart business decision to have someone political in our family’s pocket, Cade doesn’t mess around when it comes to work.

I cross my arms, struggling to believe I could be kept in the dark for so long about a merger. I knew about a few bad deals, but since I never see the overall financials, I had no clue things were this bad. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that without that deal, which is officially off the table now that the Alexanders’ know we were coming for them, thanks to you, Dad can only come up with one other way we can get out of this mess.”

The blood rushes from my face, and my stomach tightens. Oh, God, no. I swivel on my heel and turn away from the window, needing to think, to figure a way out of this. I can’t be next. I can’t be the next one Dad tries to marry off for the sake of business.

“Patrick,” I whisper, too afraid to say it too loud. “We’re merging with our competitor?”

“I’m sorry,” he says in a low voice, sounding almost sympathetic. I want to believe he truly cares, but if he did, why would he put me in the same position that’s making him so unhappy?

“Why does a merger with Pierson Enterprises have to involve me? This isn’t the 1850s.”

“Dad has had this in the works for weeks as a backup plan if the Alexander deal didn’t work out. Richard Pierson feels better about the deal if our families are connected through blood.”

“So you marry him! Screw the governor’s daughter. You don’t love her anyway,” I rasp, anger flaring through me.

I’ve always known my family would try to twist my arm and force me to marry someone I don’t want to, but part of me has been holding onto a tiny bit of hope that I could marry for love.

You know, someone like Noah. A real man who loves with his heart and not his wallet. A man who makes my body thrum with excitement from a simple touch or look.

My body instantly stirs when I think about him.

I need sex. Pure, unadulterated, crazy wild sex.

I need to lose myself and pretend this insanity doesn’t exist. That I’m not the daughter of someone who would put the business ahead of his child’s future and happiness.

“Grace?”

“Yeah?” My eyes have basically glossed over, and I can’t think straight. “I have to go. I can’t have this conversation right now.”

I grab my purse and start for the door, not caring that I was in the middle of an urgent email—I need to get the hell out of here.

“This discussion isn’t over,” he says.

I glance over my shoulder at him as I open the door. His lips are in a tight line, and his jaw strains as he shoves his hands into his pockets.

“Maybe you could protect me the way Corbin did. You ever think about that?”

My own words surprise me, and his brows slant as he absorbs what I said. I don’t mean to hurt him. I’m just angry that he’s letting this happen to me and he’s actually trying to broker a marriage deal between that asshole Patrick and me.

I know how he feels about what happened in Athens. Even though he doesn’t show much emotion, I know it shredded him, and it’s why he insists I have a bodyguard when I travel internationally now, but still—I was in Athens because he needed me to fill in for him. He blames himself.

He bows his head and grips the bridge of his nose. “That’s not fair.”

“You’re my brother. That should come before money.” I don’t wait for him to look up. I slip out of the room and leave before the walls close in on me.