We walked along the illuminated path that ran alongside the River Ouse to reach my flat. The night was chilly, but Scott’s body heat kept the cool air from kissing my skin. I could hardly believe he was with me, his strong arm wrapped around my waist as we walked through my favorite city in the entire world. It was surreal. Magical.

I sighed, enjoying a rare moment of contentment as I watched the clouds move over the moon, leaving the city in silhouette.

“So, you have a place here?” he asked.

“No. I’m renting an Airbnb.”

“But you have an apartment in Chicago?” The question was a casual inquiry, but it cut deep.

I did have an apartment in Chicago, but that wasn’t my home. I’d tried to learn to ignore my sense of homelessness in the months since clawing my way back from rock bottom.

“Yeah,” I replied with a shrug. “I have a place there, but I’ve barely been there since I moved back to America. I like to travel.”

I didn’t mention that I couldn’t trust myself to be alone in that cold, utilitarian space. The contents of my pill bottles tempted me far too often. I had to keep myself surrounded by other people, so I didn’t give in to my burgeoning sense that my life was pointless. Sometimes, giving up seemed far easier than carrying on in pain and hopelessness.

I forced a laugh and shoved the listlessness away before it could rise up. “I’m kind of a nomad.” I made my familiar offhand joke. “The world is my home. I want to see as much of it as possible.”

Scott paused, catching me around the waist with his firm arms. He caged me in, capturing me in his incisive blue stare even more effectively than his muscular body trapped me. My breath caught in my throat as he studied me, and my false humor melted away. I felt exposed, raw. He was staring straight into my soul, but I couldn’t seem to break away. I couldn’t hide from him.

“I don’t have a home, either,” he murmured after several long seconds.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied faintly. I didn’t want him to see me like this: broken and bleeding inside. I wanted him to look at me like his fantasy woman again: whole, carefree, perfectly confident and content.

His fingers curved into my waist, and a shiver rolled through me.

“You do know,” he countered levelly. “You don’t have to talk to me about it, but I want you to know that I understand.”

“What about Minnesota?” I tried to distract him from my damage.

He grimaced. “I’m from Colorado.”

“Oh.” Of course he’d lied to me about where he was from. He’d lied about almost everything.

But any hurt his deception might have inflicted was mitigated by the fact that he’d just told me a single, simple truth about himself.

No. It wasn’t simple. He might be admitting where he was truly from, but he was sharing something much deeper with me.

I don’t have a home, either.

I reached up and caressed his cheek, smoothing away the tension in his face with a brush of my fingers.

“You travel a lot, too,” I said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah.” The word was terse, but he leaned into my touch.

“Do you ever get to go back to Colorado?”

“I go back to see my family sometimes. But it’s not home. Not anymore.”

I stroked his brow, trying to ease the furrow that creased it. “I understand,” I admitted. “I feel the same way about Georgia. I’ve…changed. I don’t seem to fit anywhere anymore.” My eyes burned, but I swallowed back my tears. “Well, except York. But I’m not allowed to live here.”

“You gave up your visa.” He reminded me that he already knew so much about my life.

A strangled laugh that held no humor caught in my throat. “Well, I wasn’t going to stay in my marriage just for a visa. That didn’t seem like the right thing to do.”

“You mean legally? Or morally?” he prodded me, poking at the wounds I usually hid beneath a bright exterior.

“It was what was best for me.” I didn’t want to say more. I didn’t want to taint this night with ugly words about what Thomas had put me through, about the sick hold he’d had over me. I’d had to escape, or I never would have been truly free of him. I’d still be beholden to him, and I couldn’t allow that kind of toxicity to continue crushing my spirit, grinding me down over long years of callousness and cruel manipulation.

Scott simply nodded, allowing me to hold in my darkest secrets. He clearly wasn’t willing to divulge his, either. For tonight, it was enough for us to hold each other. To feel connected. To be told we were good people who deserved tenderness. We both needed it, just as desperately as we’d craved it on that night in Nashville.

“My flat is just a few minutes down this road,” I prompted, breaking away from the painful conversation.

He leaned down and brushed a kiss on my forehead before pulling back. I hated the cool air that closed over me in the absence of his embrace, but I knew we’d be hot soon enough, our sweat-slicked bodies entwined.

I started to direct us toward our destination once again, my heart slowly lifting with each step. There was no reason to be coy or play games. The need that pulsed between us was palpable, and neither of us would deny it.

One night with him in Nashville had helped keep my demons at bay for months. I hadn’t seriously contemplated ending my life since then, even if the idea no longer unnerved me the way it should. Sharing another passionate night with him might be enough to keep me going. He’d reminded me that I could do something good for another human being, that I could impact another life in a meaningful way. That was reason for continuing to exist, even if I didn’t feel like I was worth living for.

He gripped my hand more tightly, his thumb stroking my palm. He didn’t ask what was bothering me, but I preferred it that way. I wanted another sweet night of bliss, not an emotional breakdown. That sense of quiet understanding settled over us once again, just as it had on our first night together. We needed to be touched, held. We didn’t need to share hard truths to understand one another’s souls.

My hand was steady when I unlocked the door to my flat. I wasn’t remotely nervous or hesitant about my decision. I craved to feel his bare skin sliding against mine, his cock stretching me and penetrating deep inside.

“I’ll go pop that prosecco,” I offered when he locked the door behind us.

He tugged at my hand, pulling my body against his. “I don’t want any prosecco. I just want you.”

My back bumped against the wall, and he pressed his weight into me, pinning me in place. I gasped, taken off guard by his sudden domineering treatment. He hadn’t been remotely aggressive before, despite the commanding, confident way he’d handled my body.

My core instantly heated, and my nipples pebbled against the silky material of my dress. I wasn’t wearing a bra, and the stimulation of the stiff peaks rubbing against his hard chest was enough to make me shudder.

His big hands bracketed my face, and his mouth descended on mine, kissing me like a man who had me exactly where he wanted me.

And I was exactly where I wanted to be: back in his arms.

Fire ignited in my belly, and my fingers fumbled at the buttons of his shirt without thought. My body acted on instinct, desperate to get him naked so I could revel in skin-to-skin contact.

His hands slid into my hair, tightening in the fine strands as he tore his mouth away. He rested his forehead against mine, his heavy breaths teasing across my lips. I tried to drop my head back and invite him to claim me again, but his fingers firmed around my head.

“Wait,” he murmured. “I need to know that you want this. I need to know that you want me.”

“Of course I want you.” How could he possibly think otherwise?

His expression drew tight with indecision. “I know I can’t be how you want me to be. You write about women being restrained and punished. You said you live that lifestyle. I can’t be that way with you. I can’t hurt you.”

I stopped plucking at his buttons and rested my palms flat against his chest. “You won’t hurt me. I know you won’t.”

The lines around his eyes deepened. “But you want me to. You asked me to spank you and pull your hair and hold you down. I just can’t do that. Not after… Not after the things I’ve seen.”

Grief for him welled in my chest. I couldn’t begin to imagine the terrible things he’d seen, but I understood why he couldn’t be sexually aggressive with me.

“That’s okay,” I promised. “Nashville was the best sex of my life, and you didn’t hurt me then. Not at all.” I still marveled over the fact that vanilla sex hadn’t hurt, but the chemistry between us was undeniable. “I won’t lie and say I don’t like a little pain with my pleasure,” I continued quietly. “But I don’t expect that from you. I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“But why? Why would you want a man to hurt you? I live my life the way I do so I can protect people like you. I can’t imagine causing you pain.”

“I know it’s hard to understand, but I’ve always been this way.” I didn’t need to go into the details of why I was into kink. Chemical imbalances in my brain and childhood scars weren’t what I wanted to talk about right now.

“I still can’t hurt you. Not like you want. I’m not that man.”

“Let me show you,” I whispered.

I slid one hand under the top of my dress to touch my breast. My fingers closed around my hardened nipple, pinching slightly. The familiar flare of pain and his masculine presence made lust light up my body. My inner muscles fluttered, greedy for his cock.

I bit my lip to hold in a soft moan and rotated my hips against his, seeking stimulation against my needy clit. He began to harden, his erection pressing into my belly.

I released my breast and gripped one of his wrists, slowly guiding his hand and sliding it beneath my dress. The contact of his calloused palm against my flesh released the moan I’d locked inside. My behavior was wanton, but I wasn’t ashamed of my sexual nature. I wasn’t ashamed to lay this part of my soul bare to him.

“It’s okay,” I promised on a shaky breath. “I want you to pinch my nipples. It’ll feel amazing. Trust me.”

“I do trust you,” he said with the weight of an oath.

I firmed my hand over his, urging him to squeeze my breast. His touch sent desire rolling through my body.

“Yes,” I panted. “Just like that. Please.”

He kept one hand twined in my hair, holding me in place while he studied every nuance of my expression. My lashes fluttered when his fingers found my nipple and pinched.

I’d taken—and enjoyed—far more erotic pain, but watching his eyes flare with fascination as he watched my lustful reaction was far more fulfilling than my most devious past encounters.

He pinched harder and tugged, catching my soft cry on his tongue, as though he wanted to taste the flavor of my perverse desire. I rolled my hips against his hard thigh, and he wedged it between my legs so I could stimulate myself further.

He trailed scorching hot kisses down my throat, his tongue tracing the line of my vulnerable artery. He paused for a moment at the sensitive spot where my neck met my shoulder. I tilted my head to the side, inviting him, tempting him.

“Do it,” I whispered. “I want you to.”

A low growl left his chest as his teeth sank into my flesh. He bit hard enough to mark me, and I reveled in the rush of pleasure/pain. The possessive, primal act was even more arousing than the physical sensation it inflicted, and I ground against him with abandon. My fingers speared into his hair, pulling him closer and encouraging him to continue ravaging me.

He finally released me from his bite, his hands finding my shoulders and sliding under the thin straps that held up my dress. He pulled them down my arms, and the silky material fell away to reveal my breasts. He cupped them fully, rolling my nipples beneath his thumbs.

“You like this?” His voice was rough with desire, even as he sought confirmation that I wanted him to continue touching me with harsh confidence. He pinched down again, and my eyes rolled back.

“Yes,” I hissed out. “More. Please.”

His head dipped lower, and he caught one of my hard peaks between his teeth. I squealed at the shock of pain and his bold actions. I hadn’t expected this reaction to my begging. He might not be hurting me much, but the knowledge that he was putting his trust in me and pushing his own boundaries was heady.

His bite eased, and he licked away the pain. Little jolts of electric lust pinged from my breast to dance down to my core.

“I need you inside me,” I whimpered, eager for him.

“Fuck, you’re so hot when you beg for pleasure,” he groaned. “I think I like it.”

“Please.” I didn’t at all mind begging, and if it turned him on, I’d encourage that particular domineering trait. “Please, fuck me.”

His tongue traced a searing circle around my nipple. “Not yet,” he murmured against my skin. “I need to taste you. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it for months.”

With other men, I hadn’t enjoyed oral sex. But I knew from experience that Scott was different. He wasn’t the only one pushing his own boundaries tonight.

He dropped to his knees and slid his hands up my thighs, pushing my dress up to my waist.

“Keep playing with your tits.” He punctuated the order with a soft kiss against my aching clit. I bucked against him, and he steadied me, his fingers curving into my thighs and pressing my ass back against the wall. “Stay. I want your pussy right here.”

I whined my frustration, but I obeyed. Scott had been confident the first time we’d been together, but when he started issuing commands, I melted. I could be a brat with new Doms, but his calm orders brought out my submissive side. I wanted to please him.

He caught the elastic band of my red lace panties between his teeth and tugged downward. His mouth grazed my sex as he slowly exposed me. I shivered, but I resolutely remained in place.

When my pussy was bared, he glanced up at me, his pale blue eyes glinting in the moonlight that filtered through the gauzy curtains.

“Pinch your nipples. Show me how you like it.”

I didn’t have to be told twice. Emboldened by the fact that he was embracing a more domineering nature, I cupped my breasts in my hands and pulled at my nipples, squeezing and rolling them between my fingers. My back arched, but I didn’t move my hips toward him, even though I craved contact with his soft lips.

“Good girl,” he breathed against my swollen folds. “That’s what you like, isn’t it? To be my good girl?”

He really had learned so much about me from reading my books. It should have been disconcerting, but I was too thrilled and sexually stimulated to care.

“Yes,” I moaned. “Yes, I want that.”

He nuzzled my inner thigh, and I quivered with the effort of holding myself still. “I like this part,” he rumbled against my skin, his hot breath teasing over my clit. “I like you trembling in need and wet for me. You didn’t want me to kiss your pussy before, but look how badly you want it tonight. Your panties are soaked. I bet you’re even wetter now.”

To test his theory, his tongue traced the line of my slit. Desire swelled, and I would have thrust my sex against his mouth if his hands hadn’t firmed on my thighs in silent rebuke.

He hummed his satisfaction against my pussy lips, and the vibrations against my achingly sensitive flesh made my inner walls contract in desperation to be filled and fucked.

He stared up at me, capturing me in his steady gaze as he circled my clit with his tongue. He didn’t have to command me to continue toying with my breasts. His aquamarine gaze and clever mouth made me eager to follow his orders. He might be on his knees, but he was thoroughly in control.

My legs began to shake as he continued to lick me. His grip shifted from my thighs to my hips, helping support my weight. Despite the way my body sagged, I felt light enough to float away. Only his firm touch kept me grounded. My fingers tingled; my breasts ached; my brain buzzed. Lust sizzled through my veins, heating my entire being.

“I’m going to come,” I panted, unable to hold back my impending orgasm.

He sucked my clit, forcing me over the edge. I fell with abandon, my world lighting up with bliss as I cried out my pleasure. His hold on my hips eased, and I ground mindlessly against his mouth. He groaned, driving his tongue deep to taste my orgasm.

He didn’t release me until I was shuddering and whimpering from oversensitivity.

He stood to his full height, reminding me just how small I could feel in his shadow. His hands slipped around me, finding the zipper at my back. As he slowly pulled it down, my fingers flew to the buttons on his shirt, rapidly undoing them so I could touch his bare skin. His abs rippled beneath my hands.

My mouth watered, and I leaned into him to press hungry kisses against his shoulder as I eased the shirt down his arms. I nipped at his neck, communicating my own primal need for him. He grunted, and he abandoned my dress to unbuckle his belt.

I didn’t waste any time tugging my dress over my head and slipping out of my panties and flats. By the time I was fully naked, he’d finished stripping, too.

Before I could fully admire him, he scooped me up in his arms and tossed me over his shoulder, as though I weighed nothing at all. A delighted giggle bubbled from my chest as he carried me the short distance to the bedroom. He bent slightly, releasing me so I fell back on the mattress with a soft gasp.

“I want to see you,” he rumbled, flipping on the light.

He towered over me, staring down at my body. The intensity of his scrutiny should have made me want to squirm and cover myself, but I didn’t feel a hint of embarrassment or shyness. Boldly, I arched my back and cupped my breasts, showing him exactly how I liked to be touched. My thighs dropped open, offering my pussy to him.

The soft golden glow of the overhead light cast shadows beneath his defined muscles, making him appear more imposing than ever. I released my breast to reach out a beseeching hand.

“I want you,” I said, my voice husky.

His jaw tightened, the lines of his angular face sharpening with hunger. “I’ll get a condom.”

I wanted him to take me raw, with nothing separating us, but I knew that would be foolish, even if I was on birth control. I swallowed my protest, contenting myself with watching his perfect ass as he walked back into the hallway to retrieve the condom from his jeans pocket.

When he returned, he’d already torn open the foil and was sheathing himself. He was even bigger than I remembered. The sight of his thick length made my belly quiver with equal parts desire and trepidation. I remembered how perfectly he’d filled me before, but I could hardly wrap my mind around the fact that my tight sex had accepted him.

He noticed me staring and shot me a wicked smile. “Don’t worry. It’ll fit, remember?”

I nodded. “I remember.” The words were much heavier than his levity. I wanted him to know that I remembered every moment of the beautiful night we’d shared.

His expression hardened to something more intense as he read the intent in my declaration. He joined me on the bed, his body covering mine. I loved his weight on top of me, pressing me down. I felt safe when he caged me in. He was so strong, but he treated me with tender care as he stroked my hair back from my cheek. Just like on that night in Nashville, I felt protected, cherished. My heart ached with the bliss of it.

He lined his cock up with my slick opening and pressed inside. He penetrated me slowly, stretching me with a delicious burn. It was almost too much for me to bear, but not because he caused me pain. I rarely made eye contact with my sexual partners, but with Scott, I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t break our connection. He stared straight into my soul, stripping me down to my most raw, true self as he joined his body with mine.

We both groaned when he was fully seated inside me. He paused, his cock pulsing. His jaw ticked as he gritted his teeth against the pleasure. My inner walls contracted, welcoming more. I wrapped my legs around him, angling my hips up and pressing my heels into his muscular ass to draw him deeper.

He bit out a curse and pulled back, withdrawing at a maddeningly slow pace.

“More,” I begged. “Harder.”

He slammed back into me on a growl, and I cried out at the sudden rough treatment. My core fluttered around him, craving more harsh thrusts.

He grasped my left thigh and guided it toward my chest, pulling my leg up until my calf rested on his shoulder. The position opened me wide, allowing him to drive impossibly deeper. His cockhead rubbed across my g-spot, and my fingernails bit into his shoulders as I clung to sanity.

Although he was thoroughly in control, he accommodated my demand. He took me in hard thrusts that rocked my entire body. All I could do was hold onto him as each harsh invasion of his cock drove me closer to oblivion.

Just as bliss claimed me, his lips crashed down on mine. He swallowed my ecstatic scream, and his grunt of pleasure rumbled against my tongue. His cock jerked inside me as my pussy squeezed him. I could feel the tension in his lips as his body shuddered with his orgasm. I writhed beneath him, my entire being claimed by delicious sensation.

He pulled out, and he allowed our kiss to soften, his mouth lingering on mine for long minutes. I was bound to him, my body melded to his.

I whined my disappointment when he finally pulled away. His lips brushed my cheek, soothing me.

“I’ll be right back.”

He disappeared into the bathroom. I heard water running, but he quickly returned to me.

Just as he’d done in Nashville, he tucked me beneath the sheets. I caught his wrist.

“Don’t go,” I begged.

His lips pressed to a thin line, indecision warring in his tight features. Finally, he blew out a sigh and climbed into bed.

I snuggled into him, and this time, he didn’t make me pull back so he could look at me. He let me tuck my face against his chest and breathe him in. He turned off the light and wrapped me in a tight embrace. I fell asleep pressed up against him, clinging to him so he couldn’t leave me.