He was nervous about Keira seeing his home. It was a large, white Greek Revival, gated, with a tall, ornate wrought iron fence and a row of massive oak trees that hid the front of the house from the street. The place was too big for him. Kona only bought it to avoid the memories of his brother and grandfather that came to him every time he stepped foot in his mother’s home when he visited.

Keira walked around his living room, eyes wide, taking in the lavish décor that Kona had paid a decorator he’d never met to set up. There were no pictures of his family or friends in the home, but his mother had placed several green plants and bouquets of fresh flowers there when he first returned to the city.

Ransom followed Kona into the large kitchen, his arms full of their Italian take-out, and the boy set the dishes on the table set in the breakfast nook that led into a screened-in porch. His son was already at home here, already familiar with the layout, where Kona stored his plates and glasses, and the thought made him smile, made him happy. The mess his son had left in his kitchen the past two days, though, did not.

“Mom, do you want to eat now?” he called to his mother, and Keira nodded, joined them at the kitchen island, taking in the tall, white cabinets and stainless steel appliances.

“This is nice, Kona.”

“Aside from our son’s dirty plates?” Keira smiled, shook her head at Ransom when he shrugged. “Thanks. I had nothing to do with it.” Kona handed her a glass of Chianti, and they all settled down for a helping of thick red gravy and thin, buttery spaghetti noodles.

“The carbs, man,” Ransom said, stuffing his face with garlic bread still warm from the aluminum wrapping. “There is no way anyone can stay away from them in this city.”

“Why do you think there are so many walking tours? You have to burn off everything you eat here, sweetie.” Keira said, slipping a slice of garlic bread in her mouth, and Kona stared too long at her mouth, at her tongue licking across her lips.

They’d spent the day walking down memory lane again, despite Keira’s protests. He’d told her a few days before that he was considering a position at CPU. Brian had given him the word, and Kona thought about it, wanted to see what the university had to offer him. He loved what the Steamers were doing with their team. He loved the city, how the coaches and owners ran their program, but, he was getting a little too old for the NFL. He knew what another two-year contract would mean for him—that he might not play every game, that he’d spend more time on the road, most of his days in New Orleans, away from Ransom and Keira.

The thought of them in Nashville made an uneasy pinch burn in his gut. They hadn’t discussed what would happen at the end of the summer, but Kona knew a goodbye was coming soon. He didn’t want that, and so he convinced Keira to take Ransom to CPU, to tour the campus he didn’t get to see during the combine.

They’d visited the library—explained to Ransom about their first meeting there, showed him the team house and the buildings where they’d taken their classes that first year together. Kona had noticed how quiet Keira had been, but when he’d begun to ask her about it, she dismissed him, started to recount how she’d purposefully gotten details about Kona’s game wrong just to piss him off.

“You did that?” he’d asked her, surprised.

“Of course I did. I just wanted your full attention.”

“Sweetheart, my attention was always yours.”

She still had it, especially since the night of Ransom’s party. But Kona hadn’t had the chance to talk to Keira about that kiss or if it had meant anything to her at all. He knew she was wary, still scared, maybe convinced Kona would let his mother screw with their lives again, but he’d ignored the constant phone calls from the old woman, was determined that she wouldn’t get in the way of what he wanted with Keira and his son.

Kona blinked, pulled his thoughts from that kiss and Keira’s fear, and focused on his son sitting at his side. “So, what did you think?” Kona asked Ransom between bites of his spaghetti. Across the table, Keira looked at him, smiling behind her wineglass.

“It’s nice.” Ransom sopped up the sauce with a thick slice of bread and finished chewing before he continued. “I like the facilities and how small the campus is.” His son glanced to his mother and the look they shared had Kona curious. “It’s funny, though, how keyed up your boy Brian was about me maybe going there.” Ransom sat back, set his napkin down on the table, and when he again looked at Keira, Kona knew there was something he was missing in the conversation. “The thing is, I don’t want to walk in anybody’s shadow.”

“What do you mean?” Kona forgot his meal, pushed his plate further on the table to focus on his son.

Ransom shrugged, released a slow sigh as though he wasn’t eager to explain himself. “I stopped doing music camp when I was ten because all anyone there wanted to know about was Mom.” Ransom was not annoyed, didn’t have an attitude; Kona got that this was him trying to deliver bad news. By the expression on Keira’s face—that barely hinted smile and the way she sipped from her glass—Kona knew this was something she’d heard before. His son leaned on the table, twisting the napkin between his fingers.

“Back home, industry people are a small circle. Everybody knows everybody else and that’s even more the case with their kids. So I’d go to this camp up in Gatlinburg every summer hoping to learn new chords, or how to write a better song, and all anyone wanted to know was who my mom was writing for or what she was working on.” He shrugged again, as though the memory didn’t bother him. “There was even one kid who tried slipping me a card so I’d give it to her. Turns out his dad put him up to it because he wanted to work with her.”

“CPU is a little different,” Kona said, not liking where the conversation was heading. When Ransom nodded, but didn’t say anything else, Kona tapped his hand. “Say what’s in your head. I can take it.”

Ransom considered him, eyelids lowering before he smiled. “I spent the afternoon with Brian, with him showing me the facilities, promising me things like scholarships and first choice at the team house, and it was cool. I’d like to be here, especially if you end up sticking around, though I’d be a little worried about Mom being five hundred miles away. But it’s been less than a month, and already Kona Hale’s son is getting treated like a rich kid.” When Kona started to protest, Ransom waved him off. “I’m not bitching, and I don’t think anyone is doing it on purpose, but man, I don’t wanna get into a school that only wants me because I’m your kid. It wouldn’t seem like much of an accomplishment to me.”

Kona was surprised by Ransom’s admission, by the honest way he let Kona down and didn’t make him feel shitty about it. A quick glance at Keira and Kona smiled. “He really isn’t a normal kid.”

“I told you,” she said.

“Hey,” Ransom said, looking between Keira and Kona. “What is that supposed to mean?”

His son was a good person. His son was exceptional, and Kona didn’t understand how the boy couldn’t see that for himself. He sat back, head shaking as he watched Ransom’s gaze move from Kona’s smile to Keira trying to conceal hers with the wineglass. “You know how many entitled brats I’ve been around?” The number staggered Kona. Snotty little shits who had no clue what is was to hunger, to want. “Hundreds. Players’ kids, owners’ kids, hell, even the refs’ kids act like the world owes them something. Not one them have your skills or your talent, son, and every single one of those little shits still expect to get into Ivy League colleges or onto teams that wouldn’t normally look at them. And that’s just the ones who actually want to do something other than live off the coattails of what their parents did.”

Ransom’s face relaxed, and he looked down at the table, that Luka half-grin of his warming Kona’s chest. “The fact that you’d walk away from a camp that you liked or won’t be handed something just because of who your parents are says a lot about who you are, Ransom.” His boy waved him off, and Kona was surprised to see that same quick blush Keira never could hide moving up his son’s face. “Even if I end up there, coaching, whatever happens, you’ll still have to do the work. You’ll have to train harder, work harder than anyone else. I’m sorry, but it’s the way it is. I’m sorry that people are going to treat you differently, but those are just the assholes that don’t know you.” Kona leaned across the table, grazed Ransom’s arm so the boy would look at him. “Anyone that meets you, takes the time to find out who you are, will see that you don’t expect a free ride. They’ll know what an exceptional kid you are, and they’ll respect you.” Kona paused, lowered his voice. “God knows I do.”                  

“Damn, Kona, don’t get all soft on me.” Ransom laughed, slapping his shoulder. “Your shadow is huge, man, but I’m happy to walk in it.”

Kona took Ransom by the back of the neck, pulling him close. It wasn’t quite a hug, but a little touch of expression that he hoped told Ransom he loved him. “Buddy, my shadow will be nothing to the one that follows you. I have zero doubts.”

To his left, Kona heard Keira sniffle, and both he and Ransom turned toward her, eyes wide as they saw the tears leaking from her eyes. And then, just like that, the awkwardness passed as Ransom and Kona both laughed at her.

“Oh, shut up.” She got up from the table, threw her napkin at them before she brought her half-eaten plate to the sink. “You’re both assholes.”

“Come on, Mom, don’t get pissy.” Ransom left the table and stood behind Keira, kissing the top of her head. “You are such a girl sometimes.” He ducked away from Keira’s elbow and pulled his phone out of his pocket when his text alert chimes. “Oh, shit.”

“What’s wrong?” Keira grabbed a dish rag from the counter to dry her hands and looked up at Ransom as Kona cleared the table.

“Um, nothing.” He looked again between his parents, and Kona recognized the smirk. He’d noticed his son giving Keira that look over the past few weeks when he tried to butter her up. But he’d never given it to Kona. Not until this moment. “Hey, man, you think I can check out a little early? I mean, I know you wanted us to watch that movie and everything…”

“It’s cool. I’ve got that meeting in the morning, so I wasn’t planning on staying up too late anyway.” Kona nodded to his phone. “What’s up?”

“Emily has an extra ticket to Jazz Fest. They’re on the way to see Frank Ocean.”

“The redhead?” Kona smiled at the way Ransom tried not to bounce on his feet. She was a pretty girl. He wasn’t surprised by his son’s poorly-contained excitement.

“When did this happen?” Keira asked, leaning against the sink. “I thought you two were just friends.”

“We are. I mean…sorta.” His attention returned to his phone when another message sounded and the smile on his son’s face became ridiculous. “So, can I go? They’re gonna pick me up in like ten minutes.”

“Ransom, you don’t know the city.” Keira got a strange wrinkle between her eyes, and Kona blinked at her. He’d never seen her look at their son that way. “Emily is a nice girl, but I don’t anything about her or who you’ll be with.”

“Mom…”

“Come on, the boy’s sixteen, and it’s not late.” Kona tried to keep his voice light, easy. He didn’t know if he was overstepping his bounds with her, but, he figured, Ransom was his kid too. He should have a say in what he does. “He’ll be back soon enough and then you can head back to Mandeville when the concert’s over, Wildcat.”

“Would stop calling me that?” she said, head turning in his direction.              

“Sixteen years, sweetheart and you’re still asking? You know I won’t.” Kona failed at keeping the laugh out of his tone. This was Keira deflecting; Keira trying to distract the attention so she’d win an argument. Some things never change. Kona rolled his eyes, touched her arm to make her look at him, generally curious where all this worry was coming from. “What’s the problem? He’s a good kid, and I’m sure he’s not gonna get mixed up in something stupid. Besides, you can’t tell me he hasn’t been to a concert before, not with the industry you work in.”

“That’s not the point. New Orleans isn’t Nashville.”

“Please.” Another small laugh and Kona reclined against the island, staring down at her. “You know what I was doing at sixteen in this city?”

“Someone cheap and tarty, I’m sure.”

Ouch. Not completely wrong, but that was still below the belt. Kona shut up, not eager to piss her off, but couldn’t seem to stop himself from glaring at her. 

“Mom, it’s fine. I’ll tell her I can’t go.” Ransom didn’t pretend to hide his disappointment, and Kona hated that the kid’s voice went soft, that he immediately moved his thumb across his phone, likely telling his girl he couldn’t see her. “We’ll go back to Mandeville after we watch the movie. That okay?”

When he walked away, not waiting for answer, Kona widened his eyes at Keira, motioned toward the sad slump of Ransom’s shoulders.

She watched him for a second, then slapped at Kona’s touch when he tried pushing her toward Ransom. “No, that’s okay, son. You go. I’ll wait for you here so they won’t have to drive all the way out to Mandeville.”

“You sure?” he said, turning on his heel.

“Yeah. It’s fine, just be careful, and please text me when you get there.” Kona cleared his throat. Keira sighed, but didn’t fuss at Kona. “Well at least text me when you’re on the way back, okay?”

“Thanks, Mom.” That sad attitude vanished as Ransom sent his text then kissed Keira on the cheek. She waved him off and returned to the sink, attacking the mess Ransom had made in Kona’s kitchen. The boy caught Kona’s eye. His kid was not remotely subtle, gave Kona a nod, then another that he directed toward Keira.

He’d asked Kona a week or so before what he thought his chances were at getting Keira back. The kid was curious; kept asking, kept hinting that he caught the vibe between them and more than once Ransom had caught Kona staring at Keira. His boy wasn’t stupid. He knew what Kona wanted, so for the past few days Ransom had been pushing Kona to make a move. He didn’t have the heart to tell his son he’d tried already, at his party. Kona didn’t think Ransom would be cool with him groping his mom outside on that balcony.

Another nod at Kona and a silent whisper of “I’m so not coming back,” then Ransom backed away, eyebrows waggling. “You two kids behave now. First time without a chaperone in while, right?”

Keira’s shoulders stiffened, and Kona jerked his fist up at his son, a mock threat that Ransom found funny. “Boy, leave before I smack you.”

The click of the door sounded across Kona’s large house, the noise making Keira look over her shoulder. Kona stood next to her, reached for a cup to put in the dishwasher, but she stopped him with her hand on his wrist. “It’s okay; I’ve got it.”

“You’re my guest, Wildcat. I can’t let you do that.”

“And you bought us breakfast, lunch and dinner. Besides, I taught Ransom better than this.” She waved to the collection of plates on the counter. “You have to let me do something.” She removed her hand and shoved him back toward the table. “I need something to distract me.”

Keira’s shoulders hadn’t relaxed and as Kona watched her from his spot at the table, he realized that it was more than Ransom leaving with a girl that had her worried. “You really scared about him being in the city?”

She gave him a half shrug. “He’ll be okay. I know he can take care of himself.” She looked out the window above the sink, eyes unfocused for a moment before her attention was back on the silverware in her hand. “He’s been running high for weeks. That’s because of you.” Her smile was soft, real, when she glanced at him. “But I’m worried that something will set him off. End of the summer when we go back, him having to say goodbye to Tristan or this Emily girl. Or you. I’m worried that he’ll have another episode.”

Kona got up from the table, fingers itching to touch her, tell her it would be okay. “He’s not medicated?”

“No. He hates what the doctors had him on. Said it killed all his motivation.” The muscles around Keira’s eyes tightened and her gaze slipped to Kona for a moment, as though she expected him to lecture her, tell her she was a bad mother. “We handle it with diet, with exertion, that’s why he runs so much and then the same things you and I both had to learn—the counting, the breathing. But he’s much worse than either of us were, Kona. Calming him takes a lot of effort.”

“You mentioned something about the piano.”

She nodded, reached for another cup. “I started that when he was eight. Some little jackass pushed him out of line at school, and Ransom broke the kid’s nose. Got suspended, and I brought him home, sat him down in front of the piano. I made him stay there and play until he was calm, and it just sort of worked. If his attention is distracted and he’s moving, even if it’s just his fingers, then he’s not as angry.”

Kona stepped behind her, needing to touch her, to let her know he would never judge how she raised their son. Keira dropped the cup in her wet hands, back straightening even further as he circled her waist with his hands on the counter at her hips. “You’re a great mother, Wildcat. He loves you; he respects you. I can see that.” Kona rested his chin on the top of her head and couldn’t help the quick inhale, the scent of her hair that hadn’t changed. “I’m proud of you, and I’m so thankful that he had you.”

His praise seemed to relax Keira. The straight bearing in her shoulders, her back, eased and Kona could feel the tension leaving her body. “I didn’t have a choice, and I knew what kind of mother I didn’t want to be.” She shrugged but he could feel a small tremble working in her arms. “I just did the opposite of what my mother had done to me.”

He moved the hair off her shoulder, thinking about how strong she’d been, how it killed him that he wasn’t there to help her. He’d missed so much, and right then Kona promised himself he’d never let her struggle on her own again. He would be there, hopefully at her side. She looked up over her shoulder, gaze catching and then quickly turned back around. “What are you doing?”

The day hadn’t been just a stroll into the past. Kona had watched Keira, saw how she’d returned his stares, the way she didn’t bat his hand away when he led her into a room or opened doors for her. She had eased since the night of the party, didn’t seem so opposed to his attention, and now it was just the pair of them in his large home. Kona couldn’t stand not touching her for another second.

“We’re alone for the first time in weeks, and I’ve had to be around you all day, walking down sidewalks where I held you as a kid, in hallways where you touched me, and all I wanted to do is kiss you again.”

“Kona…”

His hands went to her hips, around her stomach. “I’ve been thinking about the party, about kissing you, that song, and how you didn’t hate it. How you kissed me back, how you touched me. I know I’m obvious. You know what I want.”

“You can get that from anyone.”

She was testing him, he knew; it was in her tone, in how straight she held her back, and Kona couldn’t help the frustrated growl that left his mouth. “You’re not just anyone.” He took a chance, eased down to kiss her neck, slid his fingers at her nape to expose all of that skin to him and she didn’t push away from him. “I realized something that first day in the Market, even after I saw Ransom, after I realized you’d kept him from me all this time.”

“What…what did you realize?” Her voice sounded like a whine, then a moan when Kona kissed behind her ear.

“That I haven’t breathed in sixteen years. Not since you, sweetheart; not a real breath once since that day I pushed you away.”

“And…you… you can now?”

His breath moved down her neck, and Kona loved the blanket of chills that covered Keira’s skin. “Like my lungs are wide open. Every time you walk in a room, every time I hear you sing, see you smile, touch you…it’s like breathing for the first time.” He pushed her hair out of his way, kisses further down her neck, moved the thin, linen shirt she wore to get to her back. He hadn’t seen it this entire month. He’d looked, wanting to know if she was still firm, still solid there, but Keira always kept her distance, always wore her hair in loose waves down her back.

Now Kona pulled on that shirt, lowered to kiss her again, right on the spot he’d missed all this time and then, eyes widening, he took his mouth from her skin. “You little liar.” She tried turning around but he kept her still, lowering her shirt more to see that bright hibiscus tattoo. “Thought you got rid of it.”

“I…I tried to.” She turned, hands on his chest. “I meant to, but there was never enough money, then when there was, I just…couldn’t.” When he shook his head, Keira laughed at him, and he loved the sound, loved how easy it came to her. “Look who’s talking. I know you covered yours up. I saw that spread you did in GQ. You have that massive tattoo over your chest now, all down your arm.” He backed away from her and moved his finger to his buttons. “What are you doing?”

One cock of his eyebrow silenced her, and Kona grinned at Keira’s widening eyes, at how they lowered onto his chest as each button came loose. “I added to my tattoo, Wildcat. I didn’t cover it up. You didn’t see that in the spread because I didn’t want my chest shown. That tattoo is for you and me. No one else.”

Kona pulled open his shirt, threw it onto the island and Keira’s eyes moved to the colossal Polynesian tribal designs, all black, all connected, that covered his shoulder, half his arm and his chest.

“Sixty hours with a bone-tipped rake and a striking stick. I was on the big island for three weeks, and most of that time was with Naoki, an old war buddy of my kuku’s. There was no smartass tattooer telling me not to get inked for some girl, like Michael did. There was me, Naoki and his two sons. Up until a month ago, this piece was what I was proudest of in my life. Until I met Ransom. Until you introduced me to my son.” 

Keira’s eyes softened and she lifted her hand, stretched her fingers like she wanted to touch him, but then curled her hand into a fist. Kona pulled on her wrist, placed her fingers on his shoulder. “This,” he said, to the black waves that circled his entire shoulder, “is for the persistent memory of those I’ve loved and lost. It’s for Luka, for my Kuku, the ones I pushed away when I was too stupid to realize how lucky I was, how loved.”

Kona turned, slid Keira’s fingers along his skin, up his shoulder, his breath shuddering at the feel of her nails smoothing over his traps, to his shoulder. She touched the spherical sun with waving flames and pointed spikes on his back. “This is for rebirth, for the renewal of myself, for me learning to forgive myself and never letting my weaknesses bury me again.”

Then Kona moved Keira’s fingers along his arm, catching her eyes, holding them as he trailed her hand to the dark and light shells intricately patterned against the tribal spaces that filled up his skin. “This is for protection, for my family, to remind me of what I lost, what I want to earn again.” Keira held his gaze, didn’t watch her fingers being moved back up his arm, to his chest where Kona marked himself for her all those years ago. “This entire piece is the story of my life, Keira; who I was, what I lost, what I want to have back, and it all starts here. It starts with you, Wildcat.”  

He stepped forward, took her hand and put it over his heart. “Ku`u Lei. My beloved. Then. Always. I could never get rid of that, just like I could never really get rid of you.” Keira’s face was in his hands, his thumbs smoothing over that skin he’d been aching to touch, and his chest constricted, heart strumming steady, but fast. “I could be a thousand miles from you, telling myself I didn’t want you, that I’d gotten over you, but it would be a lie. I remember the way your skin felt under my fingers. I remember the noises you made when I kissed you, how quick your breath got when I made you come, how soft you held me, how you made me feel things I didn’t think I was good enough to feel. You did that, always. You were mine, and I never loved anything more. I never wanted anything or anyone like I wanted you. Like I still want you. My always, Keira. You’re still my always.”  And then, Kona stopped talking, stopped wanting and took what was always his.          

She’d loved him like a song.  She told Kona that once. 

His fingers were chords, the strong vibration of a beat that slipped into her chest, filled all the empty spaces that had been missing since her father’s death. His hands were a tempo, a crushing, consuming bass line that echoed in the stillness of her heart, filling it with thick, heavy beats she heard singing into her ears. And that song had not faded, had not dimmed in the years they were apart.

Kona kissed her, loved her with every touch, and he played loud, loud, loud inside her, seeping into the portions of her body, the thin wisps of her soul that only he could ever sing to her. All those years, all the struggle they both endured, faded like the reverb disappearing behind a back beat as he came to her, touching, kissing her, leaning her back against the sink, hands lowering, pulling her to his strong body. He was the drumbeat of her past, the soft melody of her memory coalescing in his extended arms, in the demanding, aching way his fingers played against her skin, under her shirt.

His words came in soft breaths against her skin, his mouth on her chin, across her face, and Keira held onto him, eyes rolling back with those strong, certain hands pulling her in, closer, surer than he ever had before.

But he stopped; it was a pause that had her blinking, another promise Keira didn’t believe was spoken lightly. He stared hard, face stern, a promise in his features that his words could never break.

“This time,” he said, breath calm but quick against her neck, “this time I won’t lie to you.” Those chords dipped down on her spine, up the tattoo she’d put there for him, and he kissed her again, warm lips humming to the top of her pulse. Kona wrapped his too large, too heavy arms around her waist. “This time when you walk away, I won’t let you stay gone. This time, Wildcat, I’ll follow.”

But Kona didn’t follow. He led. Mouth on hers, tongue touching against Keira’s, and then she was lifted up, arms around his neck, legs over his waist. Kona kissed her with a fierceness that was staggering.

“Too long, Wildcat,” he said, stopping for a breath, stopping to look her down, take in her wet lips. He couldn’t seem to keep himself from her skin for more than a few seconds, and Keira closed her eyes, tightening her hands against his neck as his kissed her.

She wanted to resist, to remember the promises she made to herself the day she walked away from Kona’s carved-up Camaro. She never wanted to try again; never wanted to find anyone worth the gamble of a shattered heart.

But Kona was not some random person wanting her body. He was not some eager cowboy passing her looks across a bar, or a cute singer wanting into her studio and her panties. Kona had been her everything, her always too. Keira’s brain told her to stop; it told her this was not smart, him touching her, her returning his attentions. Her heart screamed louder, was more insistent, and so Keira silenced that logical refrain that told her to walk away. The brain was rational, but doesn’t know passion, can’t reason love.

She listened to her heart.

It had been a long, long time since Keira let anyone touch her, longer still since Kona’s mouth was on hers, since she felt the hard planes and beautiful ridges of his body. God, how she’d missed this.

“Kona?” He stopped kissing her long enough to look at her, a question moving his eyebrows up. “Make me buzz.”

A low, barely contained growl from his throat and Kona held her tight, arm a steely grip around her waist as he walked them down the hall, into his large bedroom, not once taking his mouth from hers. He consumed her, took from her any rational thought, but it wasn’t like they once were. She wasn’t overwhelmed by the sensation, scared by what her body wanted.

Kona was slow, easy, sat them on the bed, Keira still wrapped around him, and his gaze stayed on her as he slipped her shirt off her head. His large fingers spread on her back, pulled her bra off her shoulders and he made to lower over her chest, but stopped, eyes back at hers. “You sure you want this?”

“My body needs this, Kona.”

His smile was light, sweet. “Baby, there isn’t anything I need more than you.”

Kona reached for her, mouth edging toward her neck, but stopped short when Keira’s cell chirped in her back pocket. “I need to talk to our son about his timing.” Kona’s smile was wide and when Keira twisted around, was somewhat trapped by her bra straps, Kona slipped her phone out of her pocket. He frowned, eyebrows drawn together as he looked at the screen. “Why the hell does he call you Marco?”

Keira’s laugh was quick, hurried, and she took her phone from Kona to stare down at Ransom’s message:

Marco.

Tristan met us here.

Staying at Leann’s tonight.

See you tomorrow.

Have fun!

Keira smelled a plot and twisted her head to the side to stare at Kona. “We do Marco/Polo to check up on each other.” She shot off her answer:

Polo.

I’m on to you, lil man.

Be safe.

Phone on the bed, Keira narrowed her eyes at Kona. “Why do I get the feeling this sudden concert invite was planned?”

“I didn’t do anything.” At Keira’s small scowl, Kona leaned in, gave her a brief kiss. “I promise. Any schemes are all on your son.”

“Oh, he’s my son now?”

His smile widened. “Only when he’s in trouble, baby.” Kona pulled Keira closer, rubbing his mouth against her chest. “So where’d we leave off?”

“I told you my body needs this.”

“That’s right.” One strap down and Kona’s mouth was on her shoulder, tongue tickling over the curve of her breast. “I need this skin.” Then he unfastened the clasps at the back and pulled her free. “I’ve dreamt about these. Years. They are my fucking happy place.” Kona moved his hand from her back, cupping one breast, teasing it before he closed his mouth around it.

Keira felt the vibration of his groan against her skin; his lips sucking, tongue flicking the nipple to attention. “Yes…God…” and with her approving moan, Kona worked faster, changing sides, paying tribute to her breasts, suckled them, loved them, and Keira needed the contact, had missed the drugging pull of his mouth on her.

Fingers in his hair, tugging, lowering, Keira’s clit hummed, and she moved her hips against him, wanting to feel that hard erection, wanted him to increase, to bring back the sensations only Kona has ever managed. “Yes…harder, Kona.”

The words stirred him, had her nipple between his teeth, nibbling, pulling, and Keira loved that sharp bite, craved more from him. When her hips moved faster and her nails scratched down his strong, wide back, Kona groaned, popped her breast from his mouth and stared at her, chest moving fast, panted breaths shifting her hair off her face.

“Sweetheart, I want to go slow. I want to feel all of you again.”

“No,” she said, sliding against him, the points of her breast teasing his chest. “I don’t want slow. I don’t want soft.” Slow meant time. It meant a delay in the release Keira had craved for too long. “Don’t make me wait. I need this, Kona. It’s been…I haven’t…” She wanted to cry when he stared at her. She wanted that sad, confused frown off his face, but she wouldn’t beg. Not him.

“Wildcat, how long has it been since you...?” He didn’t finish the question, but Keira knew what he wanted to know. She hated that he did. He’d think she was stupid. Keira knew Kona would think this meant something—the time, the touch she’d denied herself. But he wouldn’t move, wouldn’t return his mouth to her body and the frustration keyed her up, made Keira helpless to him. “Kona, it doesn’t matter. Just…I need you. I can’t…”

He didn’t push, didn’t do more than nod, returned to the nibbles, the slightly painful bites against her skin, and Keira breathed through her open mouth, arched her back when he cupped both her breasts against his face, his teeth, the prickles of stubble on his chin.

They were dancing again—her moans told him where to go, how to touch her. Her insistent fingers showed him what she wanted. Keira’s tongue on his throat, moving, licking, her teeth digging into the sinewy muscle that connected his neck and shoulder, had Kona panting, gripping her back, standing them until they were in the center of the bed, until he lay over her, hands, mouth, tongues everywhere. Their bodies remembered this; it was act and react over again until Keira was naked, open before him, until Kona was ready, condom out and secured over his hard, throbbing dick.

“Now, Kona. Do…do it now.” Keira’s voice didn’t sound like her; the tone was off, wrong, needy, but she didn’t care that she was whining, that her words came out like a plea. She only knew that Kona’s body was still beautiful, still strong. She only knew that his mouth on her neck, on her stomach, teeth grazing thrilled her. “Do it. Please.”

He hesitated, grabbing hold of himself, the head of his dick against her clit, the sweet, slow friction and his large body over hers making her hiss.

“You want this, nani?” He slowed the tease, barely brimming the surface, just the head inside now. She shuddered, nails against his massive forearms, nearly crying when he slipped in a fraction deeper. “Is this what you want?” And they both gasped as he slid inside her fully. “Fuck…Keira…fuck.” He moved in her, stretching, pulsing against her walls, hovering over her on those strong arms, muscles straining to hold himself up. “Baby, how are you still so tight…how…” Keira clenched against him, and Kona was silent.

There were groans—the sweet, erotic sound of their bodies slapping together, his breath over her face, his tongue inside her mouth, and Keira was drunk, high on him. She didn’t know, hadn’t realized how much she’d missed this, how his touch, his taste was like a drug. Her drug. How had she lived without this? Without him?

“Harder. Kona…I need…”

“Wildcat, look at me.” Keira growled when he stilled, her body moving with the shake of his shoulders, and she looked up at him, eyebrows arched. But his smile relaxed her, chased away some of her annoyance. “Tell me what you need.” A small thrust to keep that frown from her face, and Keira’s eyes rolled behind her closing lids. Kona stopped, waited until she looked at him again. “You want me to fuck you, Keira?” A harder thrust, this one had Keira’s legs shaking. “Or do you want me to love you slow?”

Either answer and one of them would be disappointed, but Keira had been selfless for a long time, putting everyone’s needs before her own. Kona looked down at her, and she exhaled, releasing the stores of want she had hoarded inside herself for sixteen years.

She touched his face, fingertips on his brow, over his cheek, and she hoped he’d understand. “Kona, you can love me later. Right now, please…would you just fuck me?”

There was a flicker of indecision on his face—small displeasure coupled with something akin to quick desire. Whatever Kona felt conflicted him, but Keira didn’t have time to think about him being confused or disappointed. Kona nodded once, shifted her hips so that he slipped deeper inside her, biting his lip at the quick moan Keira released before he disengaged.

“Fine,” he said, his smile falling a fraction and then he pulled out of her completely, coming up on his knees.

“What…what are you doing?” She felt cold, unsatisfied, but didn’t reach for him, curled her fingers into a fist.

“What you asked.” Kona grabbed her arms, fingers biting into her soft flesh and he kissed her. Tongue in her mouth, grip tight, lips so hard he pulled another quick moan from her. Then, just as quickly as he brought his mouth down on hers, Kona moved away. “Turn around.” His voice lowered and Kona tugged her back, against his chest. He moved his hands down her torso, slipping one hand to her wet pussy, cupping her, fingers circling between her folds as he pressed his mouth to her ear. “Get that ass up, and I’ll fuck you, Wildcat. I’ll fuck you hard and deep.”

The sound of his deep voice rumbled, vibrating in her, ear and Keira shivered, loving how he demanded, how he controlled. But she could only move enough to glance over her shoulder, teased by the black tint in his eyes, by those big hands cupping her. He moved his other hand to her ass, gripping, and she spotted the quick movement of Kona’s jaw working, clenching. Keira frowned, worried that she’d upset him. “You…are you mad?”

“No. I’m hard. I want inside you.” His voice grew lower still, and Kona kissed her shoulder, licking his way up her neck. “I’ll give you want you want, then I’ll take what I need.” He slapped her ass, and the sound echoed around the room. Keira grew wetter, her clit throbbing harder. “Now move, baby.”

Kona lowered her to the bed with his hand on the center of her back. He didn’t wait for her to settle. He didn’t wait for her to grab a pillow or fist the sheets. Kona was behind her, holding her hips and then he was inside again.

He was not gentle.

Keira felt stretched, and from this angle, so full. It had never been this way before. They’d done this once, but like most of the times they were together, it was rushed, before someone—her cousin, his brother, the cops—interrupted them. She’d liked it then. She loved it now.

“Oh God…Kona…” She loved him directing her, loved how tight he held onto her hips, how hard he thrusted into her.

“Shit, baby…open…open up for me. Like you used to. You know what I like.”

She remembered. It had been so long since anyone controlled her, since anyone took the time to make her body feel alive, electrified. Only Kona could do that. Part of her wondered if it was still in her, if she could relinquish the steadfast control she’d always had to maintain. But Kona felt so good, so wide inside her, and her body remembered this, craved it.

“Are they still mine, baby?” Fingers digging into her hips, Keira dropped down, her chest lowered on the mattress to give Kona more access. He slipped in deeper, hand on her shoulder pulling her against him as he worked harder. “You still giving them to me, Keira?”

“Yea…yes, Kona. They’re yours, God, they’re all yours.”

Keira met him, pushing back, taking what Kona gave over and over again until she felt that tight coil inside her, right at her center curling, heating her entire body. She felt high, head weighted, but the smell of Kona’s skin, his large body behind her, the sound of their bodies coming together, had her moaning, needy, ready to take whatever he gave. She’d take it over and over again to feel this sensation, to have her body aching and hungry, reaching for that climax she could almost touch. She was close, could nearly taste the release brimming, and she steadied herself on her knees, pulling Kona’s arm around her waist, asking him to hurry, to bring her right where her body wanted to be.

“You like this, Wildcat? You like me fucking you hard?”

“Yes…oh, God, yes.”

Kona leaned closer, hips still moving, fingers sliding down her stomach, right to her clit, circling, coaxing from her that sweet release she craved before his nibbled at her neck, tongue and teeth teasing her skin. “I’ve missed you so much, nani.” When Keira felt the hint of her climax, she threw her head back, an invitation that Kona took and he twisted her hair around his fingers, working harder, pulling until Keira’s center pulsed and then, finally, she was coming, around him, on him, squeezing and clenching.

Kona’s hand still worked on her clit, faster and faster, his fingers loosening in her hair, his warm breath against her neck. “That’s it baby. Fall apart. Fall apart, and I’ll catch you.”

That pent-up release staggered her, had her issuing a raspy cry; wave after wave rushing through her body until Keira’s knees gave out, until Kona lowered her to the bed, covering her body, still nestled inside her.

“Dear God,” she finally said, breath so labored, so uneven that she saw small eddies and spots behind her closed eyes. Above her, Kona kissed her shoulder, pulled her hands over her head as his hips continued to work.

“Wider, baby. Give it all to me.”

And his slow, steady rhythm had that orgasm lingering, waving through as though it would never stop. Keira remembered this clearly now: Kona on top of her, so deep inside her, leading her until no thought could stick in her mind; until there was only the smell of his skin and the thick pulse of him deep inside her.

“That’s it…keep going.”

She didn’t know how he did this, how his voice, his domineering command controlled her so effortlessly, but she drank him up, let him love her harder, steadier until she couldn’t control the shake of her limbs, the pulsing ache that thundered in her body.

“God, oh, Kona!”

And he let her fall, hips moving, slapping against her as she came hard again in that sweet, easy surrender.

She had not stopped buzzing, hands still shaking when Kona rolled them to face each other, cradled her against his chest so that Keira could collapse, settle as she came apart on his chest.

A brief peck on her forehead calmed her, pushed up the stillness in the room, the gentle touch of his hands on her moving like a current through her body. That touch on her face softened even more, and Kona’s touch moved down to her nose and over her eyelids until his lips brushed hers, until he cupped her chin, directed her face higher.

“My always,” he whispered and then Kona leaned down, wet lips on her mouth, tongue back inside, and he took her wrists with his free hand, fingers threaded with hers on the pillow above her head as he eased back inside of her.

“Kona…I…”

“Shh, beautiful just let me touch you.” He slid his mouth to her ear, down her neck. “Let me love you for a little bit longer.”

And Keira did not argue, did not stop Kona from loving her, from touching her like it was the first time. Like it would be the last. His breath over her, his heavy body on top of her, and Keira closed her eyes and let Kona take what he needed.