“What a jerk…what a total, complete jerk.” I muttered the words under my breath, hands still shaking as I yanked at the weeds in my tiny flower garden at the side of my house.

Even as I said the words, my consciousness whispered it wasn’t true.

A sensation fell over me. Gutting me. Crippling me in a way I didn’t quite understand.

Zee had used my shock as a tool to get me out of his car as quickly as he could. So he could get away.

Run. Escape from whatever was chasing him.

Or maybe his intention had been to run straight back to his chains. To submit himself to whatever kept him bound.

Because I’d felt it—the agony that had radiated from him.

A vacuum.

A black hole.

Nothing left in the wake of this tornado that had torn this boy to shreds.

Tears streamed hot down my face, and I wiped them with my forearm, gasping for a breath as I sat back on my haunches. “Shit,” I whispered, sniffling and looking around as if I’d find the answer to what could have caused his sudden shift.

Our lunch had been…magical. All week, I’d missed him like crazy, the emptiness of my bed never feeling quite so vacant since that mesmerizing man had made his mark on me. I could only hope that somehow, in some way, I was making my mark on him.

It wasn’t until I was sitting across from him at lunch that I was struck with a realization. He understood me in a way no other person ever had. He saw my strengths and he didn’t judge me for my weaknesses. Just as I saw his strengths.

So why would he think I would judge him for his weaknesses?

Disappointment and this thick, drenching sorrow swam inside me. I pushed to standing, my footsteps sluggish as I rounded to the back of my house and climbed the three steps that led up to the backdoor. I entered my kitchen, which was dimmed with the late afternoon light, and trudged over to the sink to wash my hands.

I turned the faucet on high, scrubbing the dirt from my nails and trying to convince myself to let him go. To ignore the nagging that thrummed with every beat of my heart. But it was too loud to disregard.

I guess I’d never been one to turn away.

* * *

Anxiety fired in my nerves as I paced the hall, whispering toward my feet, reminding myself of why I was there. I just needed to let him know I was there for him. That if he ever needed someone to talk to, I wanted it to be me.

Maybe I wanted more, but that was okay. I’d be honored to be considered his friend.

The heavy metal door swung open, and Zee was there, clinging to both sides of the frame to support himself.

Distressed and tormented.

Pieces of that light brown hair stuck up every which way, as if he’d spent the entire day ripping and yanking at it.

But it was his eyes—emblazoned in bronze and secrets and significance—that shattered my world and sent a rush of affection rushing through my blood.

“Tell me your truth,” I whispered.

On the way over, I’d practiced what I was going to say, but maybe it was my own truth that came sliding out. I wanted him to know he could trust me. That I would keep his secrets safe.

“Alexis.” It was a growl of relief and restraint.

A severity rose in the air, and I gasped when he rushed for me.

His mouth crashed against mine.

Devouring. Destroying. Demanding.

Taking everything I had to offer.

His tongue parted my lips, claiming more. He pulled me inside and slammed the door shut. He pushed my back against it in the same second he pressed his big body against mine.

I wanted to weep with relief, with the feel of him in my arms.

This beautiful, confusing man.

“Lex. Thought I would die after I left you….saying those things to you. How could you be a mistake? How?”

The words were half past mad. Delirious. Just as delirious as the rush of insanity that spun through my mind when he rocked against my center.

“Zachary,” I whispered. “I don’t want to let you go. Don’t let me go.”

He spun us, hiked me up higher as he began to carry me across his loft. My legs were fastened around his waist and my breasts begged at his chest, nipples tight and flesh on fire. My fingers sank into his shoulders, holding on as I kissed him recklessly.

Unable to get close enough.

Shock jutted from my mouth when he suddenly had me against the metal railing of the staircase. My back arched over it and my head dropped back when he wedged a knee between my thighs and ran a path of needy kisses down my throat.

He held me at the waist while the other hand rode the length of my thigh. “This dress,” he moaned as his fingers brushed the lacy material of my underwear aside.

I gasped when he plunged two fingers into me.

Possessively.

No hesitation.

My nails scraped at his chest as I writhed against his fingers that continued their perfect assault. “Zee…oh…God.”

“This body, Alexis…”

He kissed lower, his mouth moving over the neckline of my dress and running to just above my breasts.

He breathed through the thin fabric, pressing a scatter of kisses over the spot that thrummed and sped and raced. “This heart…this fucking miraculous heart. You make me want to be better. You…you make me forget. Make me forget who I am.”

His words were a frantic rumble as he continued to drive his fingers into my sex.

Tingles rushed, my words nothing more than pants as he kissed down through the valley of my breasts. “Maybe you’re just remembering who you are. Who you were always supposed to be.”

I felt as if I was so close to knowing him. This boy whose beauty had been muted.

He groaned, half pained, half demand. “You almost make me feel like him.”

Yanking me away from the railing, he pulled my body tight against his and carried me the rest of the way to the upper loft. To this magical place where twilight touched every corner, whispered its secrets and danced in its shadows.

He’d barely tossed me to the bed when he was over me, shoving my dress up and ripping it free, my fingers just as frantic as I tore his shirt over his head.

I searched him, hands racing across his chest, feeling the wild beat of his conflicted heart, hearing the struggle that whimpered from his spirit.

He angled down and captured my mouth again. He kissed and bit and nipped as he held my face steady in the frame of his hands. Then he edged down, driving me wild with murmurs of kisses at my jaw and ear and neck.

My head rocked back, and a scream of unexpected pleasure ripped from my throat when he bit down on one nipple and drove his fingers into the well of my body.

“So tiny and tight and perfect. Just like every inch of you.”

“Zachary…please.”

I writhed, dizziness rushing as I stared up at him towering over me.

His body was brimming with hard, cut muscle. Muscle that jumped and ticked and flexed, as if the desire thrumming in his veins stalked back and forth, a caged predator, searching for a way to be released.

My gaze traveled across the tattoo on his collarbone.

Relentless.

“Fight for me,” I begged.

He groaned when I said it. He scrambled to the side of the bed and onto his feet, ripping my underwear down my legs as he did.

And I felt it. Something came alive in that second. Something gave beneath the intensity that glowed and flamed between us.

Zee seemed almost frantic as he fumbled to get the button free on his jeans. He shoved them down his legs and kicked them from his feet.

The man was bare, and my chest stuttered beneath the magnitude of him. This gorgeous, gorgeous man.

“Tell me you need me, Alexis. Tell me you need this as fucking bad as I do. Tell me it’s okay. Tell me I’m not the only one who’s losing his mind.” The words grated, rugged and fueled by need.

Emotion thickened in my throat, so heavy, so right. “I need you.”

The last threads of whatever was holding Zee back snapped.

He was back over me, faster than I could make sense of it, his hands everywhere. Frantic and frenzied as they searched me out.

He ducked his head, snatching a nipple between his teeth, biting down before he lapped at it with his tongue.

I clutched at his hair, at his neck, at his shoulders, both of us in this desperate struggle to get closer to the other.

He edged back for the barest second, blowing air across the nipple that had just been in his mouth. That ball of need in my belly shivered and shook as he turned and did the same to the other.

Desire throbbed between my thighs. So bright. Too much. Overwhelming.

I was desperate for this man.

For his beauty and his touch and his everything.

“Tell me,” he said again, licking up the hollow of my throat.

I squirmed as his fingers tickled across my belly, the boy magic, inciting a storm. “I need this. I need you.”

Did he know?

I needed him to. “I need you more than anything I’ve ever needed.”

“Goddamn it, Alexis.” He rubbed himself at my center, my knees dropping wide, jagged pants escaping his mouth, my face back in his hands. The edges of everything shimmered with light.

He moaned, rocking, teasing me with bliss while he tortured himself with the unknown. “Tell me you’re on the pill. Tell me, Alexis. Tell me this is right. Tell me this is okay.”

I nodded frantically, gripping him by the sides of the face. “No fear. Just life.”

A growl pulled from somewhere deep inside him, and in a flash, he’d shifted, taking his cock in his hand, before he was there, the big head of him breaching that space I felt desperate for him to take.

A sharp cry jutted from my mouth as he took me whole in a single thrust.

Taking everything.

Light. Sanity. Mind.

Sucking me into that darkness that rimmed and rolled and spun around him, drowning me in the blackest night.

He was so big and overwhelming he burned, and I struggled to catch my breath, to adjust, to make sense of this feeling that swept through me with the power of a shock wave. This feeling of utter belonging that strummed through me like the passion of that song.

His song.

“Fuck.” Zee’s hand tightened on the caps of my shoulders, his chest quaking in spasms, jerking up and down in some kind of twisted restraint, those chains giving and giving and giving until the shackles fully snapped.

Broke.

Zee grasped me behind the knee, spreading me wide. His expression was savage. His eyes fierce.

He rocked his powerful hips.

Owning.

Taking.

Possessing.

My walls desperately clutched around him, the feel of him almost too much, too great, while the greedy part of me knew I would never get enough.

I grasped his shoulders as I struggled to meet him. His hips snapped and thrust and fucked, eyes narrowed and tight, holding me hostage beneath the demand of his stare.

He never looked away as he dominated every inch of me.

Relentless.

I understood it then. This masterful boy with his skillful hands, pouring every single thing he had into me. My body lit up beneath it, pleasure building with every surge of his body.

His pants were deep, guttural, wild.

He suddenly rolled us, pulling me on top, and jerked up to sitting in the same second. He twisted one hand up in my hair, the other burrowing into my hip as he guided me. Harder. Faster.

I panted as our bodies rocked and pitched, and my heart soared to heights too great, pleasure climbing right along with it.

“Lex…you…you feel so good. Too good. I can’t…”

Zee was back on his knees, taking me with him, both of us too lost to care we were at the edge of the bed, tumbling over onto the rug on the floor.

He pushed up on his hands, sweat slicking his skin as he drove us both toward the edge, his gorgeous body working over mine.

I’d always chased experiences. Wanted everything they had to offer. But somehow, I knew I’d never again have an experience quite like this.

“Alexis…baby…I—”

“I know.” It was a whimper.

He wedged his hand between us, fingers precise and perfect as he circled my clit. He coaxed me with those brilliant eyes while the rest of him coaxed my body into bliss.

Higher and deeper and faster.

And we spun.

Falling through a vacant space that belonged only to us.

Where the stars burned so bright they blinded.

Where the only thing I could see was this boy.

This brilliant, beautiful boy.

Zee increased his pace, every inch of him tight and rigid. His hips rocked mercilessly, and he clutched me by the shoulders, a shudder taking him whole as he thrust and held, his groan so deep as he spasmed and jerked.

My name a prayer.

He slumped forward. Both of us gasping. Panting.

Staggered.

Softly, I threaded my fingers through his hair.

I could feel him swallow. Could sense the wariness that threatened to seep back in.

He inched back to look at me, so tenderly it hurt. “Lex,” he whispered, as if maybe this too caused him pain.

The best things always did.

He shifted and pulled me to his side, adorning a bunch of kisses across the crown of my head, my hand resting on his chest against his erratic heart.

I peered up at him, and he laid one of those kisses against my forehead, his big hand running down the back of my head.

“Lex,” he whispered again, this time lower. Touching those secret places inside that he had just claimed as his own.

He took my hand, wound it in his, lightly brushing his lips across my knuckles. Those lips almost tweaked into a smile. “I lose my head when I’m with you.”

A wilderness of lights slowly flickered to life outside the bank of windows that overlooked the sprawling city below. They glowed against the canopy of night that hung like a warm embrace of protection.

In Zee’s bedroom loft, removed from the rest of the world, that was the way I felt—protected.

Suspended somewhere between earth and sky.

“And I find myself when I’m with you.”

A rumble echoed in his chest. “You know that wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“I don’t believe that’s true. I think you and me…we were supposed to happen all along.”

I felt his sigh against my head. But I also felt his smile.

He pressed a kiss there. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. I bet you’re starving.”

* * *

Zee was right. I was starving. I sat on the island in his kitchen with my legs swinging over the edge, wearing one of his tees and my underwear. This was all while I watched the man cooking me dinner, wearing only his underwear.

I felt dazed. Still trying to come down from that high. And seeing him this way wasn’t helping. Not at all.

I wrung my hands, the memories of what we’d just done heating my cheeks and pooling like warmth in my belly. How was it possible to feel so intensely satisfied and desperate for more at the same time?

“That smells so good.”

He stirred the creation he was whipping up in the skillet as he glanced back at me.

“Garlic and butter. You can’t really go wrong with that. And by can’t go wrong, I mean this is about the simplest dish of pasta you’re ever going to eat. Don’t get too excited over there. It was kind of a mandatory thing back in the days of barely scrimping by. Easy and cheap.”

I found myself shaking my head.

“What?” he asked, not even fighting that grin that moved through me like a caress.

My curiosity got the better of me. “What is that like…going from struggling to get by to having everything?”

He grunted and dumped the box of spaghetti into the boiling water. “Don’t have everything, Alexis. Not even close.”

“You know that’s not what I meant…what I mean is the success. How does it feel after you guys worked so hard for it? I have to imagine that’s incredible.”

Spinning around, he leaned his back against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “It is incredible. The guys…they’ve worked for it for so long. Dreamed about it since they were kids back in middle and high school. They made a commitment and didn’t stop until it happened.”

Creases pulled at the corners of my eyes. “And you?”

On a sigh, he turned away to stir the pasta and added a can of sauce to the sauté in the skillet. His explanation was filled with caution. “Playing with the guys is my home. It’s what I’m supposed to do.”

“But do you love it?” There I was, pushing again. I didn’t know how to stop when I was around him.

He surprised me by smiling over at me as he walked toward the massive fridge on the other end of the kitchen. “You are just full of questions, aren’t you, Alexis Kensington?”

I fisted the collar of his tee that I was wearing, brought it up over my mouth and to my nose, fighting a rush of modesty that flushed across my skin and mixed with the swell of giddiness. “That’s just me, Zachary Kennedy. If you like me enough, you’ll get used to it.”

He chuckled under his breath, shaking his head as he set one hand on the freezer door and opened the refrigerator with the other. “Guess I’m gonna have to get used to it then, huh?”

That giddiness bloomed. “I think that would be a good idea.”

“You want something to drink?” he mumbled as he rummaged around inside.

“Do you have white?”

He peeked back at me. “Wine?”

I was suddenly unsure. “Yeah.”

He shook his head. “Nope. Sorry. No wine. I’ve got soda, water, and just about every juice known to man. Pick your poison.”

It kind of struck me then, and I remembered all the guys and girls had shared a couple bottles of wine that night we’d been at Ash’s house. I’d had a couple glasses myself. Zee had refrained.

Regret tightened against my chest as realization took hold. “I’m sorry… You don’t drink, do you?”

Another grunt. “Not really. Definitely don’t keep it in my house. Though, there is kind of this tradition—like a pact that goes way back—with the band. Everyone does a shot together either before or after the show. I partake in that. That’s about it.”

Uneasiness had me shifting on the counter. “Is it okay if I ask why?”

He grinned over at me. “Doubt I could stop you.”

“I don’t mean to pry…I just…I want to know you.”

Zee crossed to me, his hand on my face, thumb brushing the curve of my cheek. Even with that simple connection, I could feel a spark.

“I know you do, Alexis. You don’t have to apologize for that. And you’re right. I don’t drink. The reason I don’t is because it’s just not worth the risk. Horrible choices and mistakes are made when we aren’t in our right minds, and I’m not willing to ever put myself in that position again.”

Again.

Awareness hung in the air.

He cleared his throat and pulled away, moving back over to the stove where he stirred the pot and the sauce.

“A Coke would be nice,” I said quietly, letting him know I was letting him off the hook. That I respected him and his privacy.

The tension in his shoulders eased. “A Coke it is.”

He filled a glass with ice, grabbed a soda, and set it on the island next to me before he went back to finishing our dinner. He moved to the sink, dumped the noodles into a colander, and piled them on our plates.

“So…piano…when did you learn?”

He laughed outright. “More questions?”

I raked my teeth over my lip, trying to hold back the giggle that wanted free. “Oh, come on, that’s an easy one.”

He was back at the stove, covering the noodles in sauce when he answered. “I kind of always knew.”

He gestured with his chin to the piano where he’d been teaching me. “That was my grandma’s. She said she found me when I was three, sitting on the bench, tinkering out the theme song to a cartoon I’d been watching while she babysat me. The rest was kind of history.”

“What kind of history?”

He glanced to the floor, hands on his hips, contemplating, before he looked up to answer. “Lessons. Tons of them. Playing night and day. Then I was accepted into this pretty prestigious music school when I was sixteen. Playing that piano was pretty much my life.”

“What? Wow…” It was so easy to say, but I knew to him it was more. That there was so much wrapped up in his answer. That it was part of that war that burned through him when he sat in front of that piano. The reason he no longer played.

“So, what did you see coming from it? From the school?”

He leaned back on the counter, shrugging his shoulders as if it didn’t mean anything. “I don’t know, maybe I’d imagined moving to New York. Writing for plays. Or maybe I would’ve stayed here and composed for movies. Guess I imagined being a part of a feeling that could be brought to life in people’s imaginations and eyes.”

Do you feel it?

That severity rippled through me, just as strong as that day. “And you gave it up…to take your brother’s place.”

He wasn’t looking at me when he nodded.

On a sigh, he grabbed both steaming plates, carried them over to the island, and set them next to me.

He pressed both his hands to the counter on either side of me, gazing at my face. He looked so vulnerable.

“My little drummer boy,” I whispered, fluttering my fingers across the tattoo etched on his chest.

“Lex,” he murmured, wedging himself between my knees. He twisted my hair up in his hand. And he kissed me. Slowly.

This wasn’t a plea.

This was a promise.

Then he edged back, plucked two forks from the drawer, and handed one to me. “Eat, sweet girl.”