I watched the city lights pass by outside my window as Caleb guided his car through the quiet streets. The only words I’d spoken since climbing into his passenger seat were directions to my house. Since then we’d both remained silent.

I was still rattled from the events of the entire night.

Finally, Caleb broke through the strained quiet that filled the small space. “I’m sorry about my father.”

I looked over at him, his profile illuminated by the faint glow of the lights coming from the dashboard. “He was….” I couldn’t think of a PC term to use when describing Caleb’s dad. I didn’t have the first clue what their relationship was like, and I didn’t want to offend him by telling him his dad was creepy as fuck.

“He’s a bastard,” he finished for me. I let out a small sigh of relief that I wasn’t alone in that opinion.

He glanced in my direction just long enough for me to give him a slight grin. “Well, I wasn’t going to say anything.”

That knot in my belly tightened even more when his expression remained set in stone. “The man’s a world-class jackass. When he touched you, I just about lost my shit.”

“Is he always like that?”

His voice was monotone as he answered, “Has been for as long as I can remember. The son of a bitch has treated my mom like a doormat their entire marriage, and she just lies there and takes it. Won’t even consider leaving him even though he cheats on her with any willing woman. What he did tonight”—his jaw ticked furiously—“hitting on you like that in front of her, degrading me? That’s his M.O.”

I’d come across more than my fair share of women just like that in my line of work, and to this day I couldn’t understand that kind of mindset. It made me sick to my stomach when women allowed themselves to be walked on. And sadly, those kinds of women always blamed the other woman, leaving the man completely blameless. They gave our gender a bad name.

Growing up, I’d discovered that women fell into categories. Most of those categories were harmless, but I had learned from experience that there were two types that I couldn’t stand. These types of women were clingers. Men were the most important things in their lives, no matter the consequences. They didn’t have the first clue how to function as single ladies.

The first category was what I called The Dependent Clinger. Caleb’s mother fell into that group. It was where the woman gave every single ounce of power to the man in her life, so scared of losing him that she catered to the man’s every whim. The man could do no wrong; what he said was law.

The second category was The Entitled Clinger. This was where my mother fell. Instead of working to earn the lifestyle they felt they deserved, they glommed onto men with money. They used sex and all other forms of feminine wiles as a manipulation method, making those guys feel like the center of their universe so they’d feel inclined to give the woman whatever her heart desired.

I turned my attention to the windshield and said quietly, “I’m sorry.”

The sudden feel of his hand on mine caused me to jolt in my seat. “Don’t apologize,” he commanded in a strong, intimidating voice. “You didn’t do anything wrong, you hear me? He’s the asshole for making you uncomfortable. It was his fault, not yours.”

My heart actually began to ache for him. “I wasn’t apologizing for that. I was apologizing because you’ve had to deal with this shit your whole life. It’s not fair to you. And for that I’m sorry.”

Without thinking, I turned my hand over beneath his so we were palm to palm, lacing our fingers together.

“This is me,” I said a few minutes later, pointing at the huge, rambling Victorian I’d bought for a song about six months earlier.

Several seconds of silence encompassed us after Caleb put the car into Park. Then he declared vehemently, “No. No way. You can not live here.”

I twisted to the side to face him. “What? Why not?”

“It’s a fucking pit, Daphne!”

“It is not!” I objected, feeling defensive of my amazing home. Sure, from the outside things might not look all that great thanks to the boards covering some of the broken windows, the busted outside lights I hadn’t yet fixed, and the rotted shingles, but there was a reason I got it so cheap. And I’d slowly been working to get her back to her former glory. My house was going to be magnificent once I was finished with it. “It’s got character.”

“It looks like it’s got termites,” he grumbled. “One wrong step and it’s going to fall down on your head.”

With a roll of my eyes, I pushed the car door open and stepped out. “Come on,” I said, leaning back down to catch his eyes. “Come inside and I’ll show you why this house is so awesome.”

Considering our track record, I knew inviting him into my home, my own personal sanctuary, wasn’t smart. I just couldn’t help myself when it came to showing off my baby.

He looked no less skeptical as he climbed out of the car after me, but I knew I’d win him over the moment he walked inside. I unlocked the front door and pushed it open before flipping on my entryway lights. Stepping to the side, I waved him in with a flourish, crying, “Ta da!” as he walked past.

I could see the change of heart written all over his face the instant he walked through the threshold. “Wow,” he mumbled in wonder. “This place is amazing.”

“Told you. It’s not a pit,” I informed him happily.

The foyer was my absolute favorite part of the house. I’d started my renovation there, wanting to restore it so everyone who entered my home was hit with the magnificent wow factor. The ceiling was completely open to the second floor, with a gorgeous crystal chandelier hanging above that I’d painstakingly cleaned piece by piece. A beautiful staircase with wrought iron balusters between the oak handrail and outer string split the entire room in two, with the parlor to the left and the formal dining area to the right.

The lower parts of the walls were covered in a gleaming oak wainscoting, and I’d painted the areas above a soft ivory to help warm and brighten the space.

“It took me forever to strip all the paint from the woodwork and remove the hideous wallpaper the previous owners put up, but it was totally worth it.”

Excitement coursed through my veins as I took his hand and pulled him into the parlor. “See all this awesome crown molding?” I waved my hand above me. “Can you believe someone would paint that? It’s ridiculous, right?” I was getting lost in describing all the work I’d done on the room so far. “And they laid down wall-to-wall carpet over these hardwood floors. A travesty! I ripped it all out and sanded it down. There were some boards here and there that needed replacing, but I was able to maintain the original flooring for the most part.”

Caleb’s hold on my hand tightened, forcing me to stay in place and calling my attention back to him.

“You’re saying you did all of this yourself?”

“Well, not all of it,” I answered. “I mean, I had to bring someone in to do the insulation, and I don’t know the first thing about wiring, so I had to hire an electrician—”

“But all of this, all the cosmetic stuff”—he waved his hand, encompassing the room—“you did all of this?”

The way he said it, the pride in his voice as he looked from the room to me, filled me with a warmth I’d never felt before. I couldn’t have stopped the smile that stretched across my face if I’d wanted to. “Well, I’m not done with the whole place yet. I have to take my time and work room by room, but yeah. I’m kind of a do-it-yourself nut. When I first saw this place, I knew it would be magnificent, and I wanted to be the one to bring it back to life.”

He turned me to face him completely and ran the backs of his fingers along my cheekbone in a gentle caress. “You’re pretty magnificent yourself, you know that?”

His words coupled with the sincerity in his voice made my stomach swoop in an all-too-familiar way. My body swayed closer, my face pressing into his touch. “You think so?” I asked on a breathless whisper.

“I know so. I already knew you were amazing, but what you’ve done with this place so far just proves I was right.”

My gaze traveled down to his lips, and I was instantly bombarded with the desire to feel them against my own. “Stop being sweet. It makes me want to kiss you.”

A seductive growl rumbled up his throat as he took a step closer. “Ask me to stay.”

“Huh?” I was so consumed by my need to feel every part of him against every part of me that I didn’t comprehend what he’d just said.

His fingers pressed beneath my chin, tilting my head up so I was looking into those fascinating blue eyes. “Ask me to stay the night and I promise I’ll spend hours kissing every single inch of you.”

Once again, my body and my brain went to war with each other. “I don’t know if that’s smart,” I said, letting my brain take control for a moment.

“Fuck being smart,” he ground out. “You want me just as much as I want you, so why fight it?”

“We drive each other crazy, Caleb. We argue constantly. Half the time we can’t even stand each other.”

“Admit it, that just makes the sex even better.”

He certainly wasn’t wrong about that. I was prepared to put up more of an argument when he closed the remaining few inches between us and pulled me against him. His hard cock pressed into my belly, instantly making me wet. “You can put up as much of a fight as you want, but I won’t give up until I have my fill. And gorgeous, with how hard you make me come every time I fuck you, I seriously doubt I’ll have my fill any time this century.”

My body officially won the battle with my brain.

“Caleb?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Stay the night with me.”