The house is calm—but it’s a false comfort.

Once we left the garage, Saxon showed me the sights of Oregon, but my mind was elsewhere, like what exactly “giving in” to Cleo meant. When I asked him if everything was okay, awaiting an explanation, he simply shrugged and said Cleo was a pain in the ass and not to listen to a word she said. That’s it. No explanation as to why she was treating me like public enemy number one.

I wanted to ask, but he has respected my privacy, so I guess it was now my turn to do the same. Sadly, that mindset lasted for roughly an hour because when we got back to his house, he went quiet and avoided me. I decided to unpack, giving him the space he clearly needed, but when I found him out back, having a smoke on the balcony, lost in thought, my understanding came to an end.

His silence has me filling in the blanks, and those blanks involve graphic images of him and Cleo—naked. Oh god, I think I’m going to be sick.

I’m pacing the bedroom, unable to even look at the bed, too afraid of what my very vivid imagination will conjure up. I’m already on edge, so when I almost bump into Saxon, unaware, I yelp, placing a hand over my racing heart.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He stands by the door, a smart strategy if he needs to make a quick exit.

“It’s fine.” My voice is flighty. So is my mood. I’m waiting for him to finally open up, but he leaves me sorely disappointed.

“The boys just texted. They’re heading over now. I’m just going down to the store to grab a few things. Need anything?”

That’s it? Really? We’re just going to ignore the big, fat elephant? Hell no.

“What I need is for you to tell me what’s going on.” Tact left me about three hours ago.

Saxon sighs, running a hand through his hair. “What do you want me to say?”

“The truth,” I counter. “I have no idea what happened today. Please talk to me.” He leaves his hand atop his head as he appears to weigh what to say. But it shouldn’t be that hard. “Your silence is worse than anything you could say.”

A strangled grunt catches in his throat. He’s clearly annoyed I won’t let this go. “I didn’t tell you because it meant nothing,” he finally shares, spreading his arms out wide.

“Didn’t tell me what?” I want to know everything, no matter how gruesome.

“Do you really want the details, Lucy?” he barks, brushing past me. “I’m sure you can figure it out yourself.”

I chase after him, annoyed. “I just want to know why your friends think Cleo is angry with me because you chose me over her.”

He shakes his head, jaw clenched. “They’re wrong. There never was a choice. It has always been you! Don’t you get it? I have been in love with you since I was sixteen years old!” I take a step back because his anger almost burns me.

“And that’s my fault?” He almost sounds resentful. “In case you’ve forgotten, I wasn’t even aware of that fact until a few weeks ago.”

“Of course, it’s not your fault.”

I stand silent, hating this has turned into an argument because all I wanted was answers. I have no idea why he’s so defensive. He answers my question a moment later. “Here—” he storms over to the bedside table, yanking open the drawer “—read them.” He tosses a journal onto the bed. Another follows soon after. “It’s always been you, but I never said I was a saint.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” My stomach drops. I remember Sam’s comment about Saxon sleeping with anything with a pulse. And in the bar, Laura did insinuate Saxon allowed her to get up close and personal with his groin.

Oh, god. I cover my mouth.

He storms over, ducking down so we’re eye to eye. “It means I was drunk, Cleo was high, and stuff happened. This was months before you called me. You can’t be angry with me every time we run into someone I’ve slept with.”

He closes his eyes for the briefest of seconds when he realizes what he just said. “Oh? So there’s a long line then?” I suddenly feel so inadequate. So inexperienced. “And I wasn’t angry, but I am now.”

“I don’t even know,” he finally confesses, which just makes me feel worse. “I wish I could erase every single one because they all meant nothing. They were there to fill a void, but none of them could. I’m sorry for today.” His rage begins to simmer. “I was just so angry with myself. I don’t want a stupid drunken decision to ruin everything we have.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me this? You just shut me out.”

“I don’t know.” He stands tall, the air thick with bitterness.

I suppose I can understand. He’s not proud of his past, but neither am I. “I’ve missed out on so much,” I acknowledge, wishing that weren’t the case.

“Fighting over stupid shit isn’t going to solve that. We have to look forward, not back. I’m sorry I didn’t just tell you, but I’m embarrassed. I’ve done shit I’m not proud of.” I don’t want to know details, but it’s safe to assume Cleo is just the tip of a deep buried iceberg.

“I’m still learning what being in a relationship means. I may have slept with lots of women, but they were never you.”

Sighing, I shake my head at the fact Saxon sounds like some raging man whore. Is he bored? He’s so accustomed to having a smorgasbord of women on tap; will the novelty of me wear off soon? “Were we stupid to think this could work?” I whisper, hating to hear my insecurities aloud.

He hisses, taking a step backward. I’ve clearly wounded him. “I’m not going to wrap you in cotton wool like Sam.” I swallow when he mentions his name. “I will hurt your feelings and tell you shit you don’t want to hear because, for me, that’s what a relationship entails. Being honest and not holding back. That’s what I learned today. I have no idea what I’m doing, and I know I’m bound to fuck up time and time again, but I can only hope we learn from our mistakes and don’t make them again.”

He’s completely right, but I can’t be rational right now. “Lots of women? What’s a ballpark figure?” I need to let this go, but I can’t. He’s opened a can of worms. This is what getting to know one another involves, right?

“What does that matter?”

“It matters because I need to prepare myself for the next time you decide to clam up after we run into one of your exes.” Sometimes, I forget that Saxon and I are still new to this. It just feels like I’ve known him my whole life. But when stuff like this happens, it reminds me that we’re still dipping our toes in the water.

“I can count the number of people I’ve slept with before you on one hand. One finger actually.” I don’t specify which one.

“Yes, my brother,” he spits. “I don’t need reminding.”

“Well, all I wanted to know was who Cleo was. But I ended up with a lot more info than I bargained for.” I have no idea how this has turned into an argument, but I’m flipping pissed.

“I fucked up. I’m sorry. I should have told you, but telling you the nasty details of my past leaves me terrified. You’re so good. So pure. I’m just waiting for you to come to your senses.”

This isn’t the first time he’s said this. It’s time to set him straight, once and for all. “Saxon, I’m no angel.” When he tries to argue, I stop him. “I know you think I am, but I’m not. I cheated on your brother, with his brother nonetheless. Don’t put me on some pedestal because I don’t belong there.” I need time to cool down because talking in my current state is bound to end in me leaving.

Thankfully, the doorbell rings, saving us from spilling more blood.

Saxon stands rigid, and I know he wants to continue this discussion, but it’ll have to wait. I brush past him, unable to stand here a moment longer without wanting to scream. My bare feet pound against the staircase, reflecting my mood.

But when I open the door, I try my best not to allow my bad mood to spoil the night. “Welcome to the madhouse.” Felix, Kid, and Hogan laugh, but it’s clear they’re apprehensive to walk into a potential war zone. I step aside, granting them entry, but there’d be no hard feelings if they turned back the way they came.

“Thanks,” says Kid, the braver of the three, as he enters. Hogan and Felix look at one another, but they eventually follow Kid.

From the liquor they’re holding, I dare say we’re in for a long night. “Where should I put this?” Felix holds up a six-pack.

“Here, I’ll put it in the fridge. Make yourselves at home.” They pass me their drinks while Kid holds his bottle of tequila. Looks like he wants to start early. After the day I’ve just had, I may join him.

I place the drinks in the fridge, wondering if I can offer our guests any food. Maybe if I had my head screwed on straight, we could have swung past a store on the way home, but my bad. Taking a breather, I walk over to the window, which overlooks a hilly rise. I just wish I could enjoy the picturesque scenery more.

Saxon and I have argued before, but this felt like our first real fight. I still don’t really understand why it escalated the way it did, but it’s clear Saxon’s past is filled with shit he’s not proud of, hence the reason he’s clamming up. But aren’t we all.

The distraction might be nice, so I grab a beer, hoping Felix won’t mind. When I walk out into the living room, I see that the boys are out on the porch, having a smoke. They’re speaking softly with their heads drawn. No guessing why. I decide to put on some music, hoping it’ll lift the mood.

No surprise, Saxon is old school and has a ton of vinyls. Squatting, I flip through the selection, impressed at the variety. When I see Johnny Cash, it’s a no-brainer. I haven’t used a record player in forever, so I gently remove the vinyl and place it on the player.

The crackling before the song starts is so vintage. I decide to get lost in the music and slump onto the leather sofa. Sipping my stolen beer, I peer out the stained-glass window, the sun gradually giving way to the moon.

I don’t regret my decision to come here, but I suddenly feel homesick. I miss the quietness. Although Oregon isn’t as hustle-bustle as some states are, it’s still fast moving to a country girl like me. If I wanted to take a walk, to clear my head, I’d only end up bumping into more clutter.

Back home, I could walk for miles and not see a soul. I suppose I took that for granted, but now, I crave that isolation. This mood doesn’t appear to be lifting any time soon, so maybe I should go upstairs and not put a damper on the evening. I’m no real company anyway, and all I really want to do is read.

I feel like a complete party pooper, but making an executive decision, I grab a marker and a piece of paper from the drawer behind me. Placing the barely touched beer on the table, I slide the note under it. It simply reads I.O.U. That simple phrase takes on so many meanings.

I trudge up the stairs, singing my own blues.

Somewhere between chapter nine and ten of Emma by Jane Austen, I fell into a deep sleep. Saxon didn’t come up to check on me once he discovered I had gone upstairs, but I too needed some space like he did today.

I can understand why Saxon reacted the way he did. Our pasts appear to haunt us both. We’re so afraid of messing this up. Our circumstances of coming together are not exactly ideal, but our love, it feels right, like it was always meant to be.

A single thought played on a loop before I succumbed to sleep. If I’ve learned anything from today, it is that I haven’t been fair to Saxon, and I plan on telling him that. He’s trying to be quiet, but it appears my body is in sync with his because the moment he’s near, it’s sensory overload and every fiber of my being tracks him.

The room is dark, the only light source is the full moon which peeks through the lace curtains. “What time is it?” My voice is hoarse.

“A little past one. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t.” I’m expecting him to switch the light on, but he doesn’t. It appears we’re both content to stay hidden in the dark.

“Lucy…about today.” But I stop him.

Shooting upright, I seek him out in the darkness because his heart appears to be all the roadmap I need. “Don’t. Let me talk.” He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, so I snuggle against him from behind, pressing my cheek to his back. “I’m sorry, Saxon.” His muscles tense, so I continue quickly to put his mind at ease.

“I have no idea why today escalated the way it did, but what I do know is that our exes are a touchy subject for us both.” His heavy breathing expresses his worries. “So I’m going to solve mine. I didn’t realize what I was putting you through. It was wrong of me to ask you to live under the same roof as Sam.”

“Lucy—”

“When we go back,” I interrupt, desperate to get this out before I lose my nerve. “I will move back to my parents’ house. Or rent. Whatever. Until we figure out what to do. The rage I felt at knowing you and Cleo, and other women—” I swallow, unable to finish “—it made me crazy. I can’t even imagine how it must be for you to see Sam and me together. You deserve a fucking medal.”

“You are my medal,” he whispers, his head bowed. And just like that, I fall in love with him all over again.

“I don’t want to fight anymore.”

“I don’t either.” The world slowly begins to make sense again.

Rising on my knees, I wrap my arms around Saxon’s torso, fingering the top button of his shirt. It pops open with ease, an invitation to keep going. And I do. “I don’t want to be wrapped in cotton wool.” Three buttons down. “I want you to be honest with me—” I nuzzle into the side of his neck “—regardless of how gruesome the details may be.” I unfasten the last button, splitting the material apart to expose his broad chest. “I can handle it.”

Biting the side of his neck, I slip the shirt from his body, basking in his musk. “I don’t care how many women you’ve slept with.” I trace the length of his nape with my tongue, treasuring his groan. “All I care about is that I’m the last one.” I crawl onto his lap, straddling him as he fixes his hands low on my waist.

The veil of darkness allows me to speak without fear of bursting into embarrassed flames. “I know I’m not experienced in that sense…”

“That doesn’t matter to me.” His husky voice electrocutes me into a hypersensitive state.

“I know, but show me…what you like.” This is so far out of my comfort zone, but I want to experience everything with Saxon.

“I like you. Whatever you do to me, I’m going to enjoy because I…love…you.” His lips are a hair’s breadth away, but if I kiss him, I’ll lose my nerve. I want to dominate him, just as he does to me. Without overthinking it, I lift the dress from my body and strip myself bare. I’m only wearing my underwear, but that suddenly feels like too much.

In the sliver of dusk, I can see those hungry gray eyes hunt across my flesh, landing at the junction of my thighs. I need to touch him. I need him ingrained in my every pore. Caressing the soft whiskers on his chin and his cheeks, I bring his hand up to cup my breast. This is my show, and he allows me to be the puppeteer.

The delicious nudge at my entrance is all I need to quash my shyness and lose myself in this feeling of being one with this man. I rock sluggishly, in no real hurry because we have all night. We have countless minutes, hours, years to learn what it means to belong to each other.

“Do you like when I do this?” Bending forward, still swaying my hips, I softly bite over his racing pulse.

He hisses, tightening his grip around me. “Yes.”

“What about this?” Threading my fingers through his long hair, I tug his head backward, exposing the length of his neck. I drift downward, using my tongue as my navigator, lapping lazily over any scrap of flesh I can find. When I reach the dip between his collarbones, I come back up for air.

“Yes,” he replies breathlessly, his erection impossibly hard between us.

Looping both hands behind his neck, I arch backward, offering my exposed breasts. “And this?” He responds by leaning forward and taking my left breast into his hot, wet mouth. He languidly circles my pearled nipple with his tongue.

I want nothing more than to surrender, but that isn’t what this is about. It’s about taking our time and connecting in every way.

With one hand still latched behind his neck, I coax him to let go with the other. He complies. Even in the shadows, I can see his desire, which spurs me on. Hooking two fingers over the curve of his lower lip, I implore that he permits me entry. He does. When his lips part, I slip my fingers into his warm mouth. I slide them in and out, his tongue circling the tips, wetting them just how I want him to. The action is so like when he worships my center. I stifle a moan.

Once they’re coated, I slip them free with a succulent pop. Quashing my nerves, I walk my fingers between us and slip them into my underwear. The lubrication he provided mingles with mine, and I whimper when I slip them into me.

A low growl rumbles from his chest.

“Do you like to watch?” I ask between deep intakes of breath, increasing the tempo of my fingers. “I liked watching you.” Memories of him pleasuring himself in the shower add to my need.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he replies, his head dipped, watching what’s unfolding on his lap.

His response provides me with the confidence I need, and I continue to get myself off. I would much prefer his fingers, but having him watch me is a totally different experience, and I own it. I caress myself, adoring the way his hot breath bathes my naked flesh.

The delicious intrusion between us only seems to grow when I brush against it, and I know it’s taking all of Saxon’s willpower not to throw me onto the bed and have his way with me. I rub over my budding center, so desperate to come, but I don’t.

As I’m still working myself into a frenzy, I unfasten Saxon’s belt and unsnap the top button of his jeans. Breathless anticipation fills the space between us, and when I raise my hips so I’m able to open his zipper, he reaches down and rips my underwear clean off in one tug. Saxon is a gentleman, but a dominant force in the bedroom when I need him to be, and I love it.

His savage aggression adds to my already aroused state, and I pump my fingers in and out fiercely, so ready to replace them with him. He yanks down his jeans, and when I feel his red-hot hard-on against me, an untamed moan spills free.

This is my show, but I know it won’t be long until Saxon takes the lead, giving me what we both crave. He dips his hand between us, circling my ripe clit. I scream as his touch feels like a thousand volts of electricity coursing through my veins.

My fingers will no longer do, so I lift my hips and grasp his length. Wrapping a hand around his neck, I lower my hips and guide him into me, inch by delicious inch. He hisses, clenching tightly around my waist, yet he still allows me to take what I want from his glorious form.

I’m stretched wide, and the feel of us, flesh to flesh, is a miracle come true. Once he’s rooted deep within, I halt, wanting to savor our union. “I love you,” I gasp, on the cusp of bursting.

He presses his cheek on my chest over my heart and sighs. “And I you.”

Once my muscles adjust to the vast intrusion, I begin to rock my hips, placing both hands on his cheeks and drawing his face to mine. The full moon comes out of hiding, illuminating this deepest joining, and I smile. This is everything I will ever want. Now and forever.

Our movements are languid as we’re in no hurry. We have all night, the rest of our lives. We worship each other’s mind, body, and soul, and it’s beautiful.

Saxon closes the distance and kisses me with the sweetest sweep of his lips. He parts my mouth with his tongue, a tender touch which transforms into an affectionate kiss. I lock my arms around his shoulders and continue riding him, unable to get enough.

His signature fragrance intensifies tenfold, and I want it all over me. I press our chests together, groaning. Our kisses become more frantic as Saxon guides my hips, rocking me back and forth. I clench, and he hums, biting my bottom lip.

“Oh, fuck, Lucy,” he cries into my mouth. “Say this is forever. Tell me this will never end.” After today, we both need the assurance that this feeling is without end.

Increasing the tempo, I lift my hips and slam onto him, screaming. “This will only get better. I promise.” And I mean every word. He hums, bouncing me on his lap, the mood changing as we both race toward the finish line.

We both let go, taking and giving, and before long, I have no idea where my body starts and his ends. He bends down and sucks my nipple while I bow backward, moaning, as he buries himself as deep as he can go.

I’m so close, it lingers on my tongue, and when Saxon thrusts his hips, brushing over my center, I can’t help but explode around him. He growls, pumping into me so ferociously, while I grow lax and ride the wave of pleasure, unable to silence my cries.

He continues sinking into me, his unrefined grunts adding to the afterglow, and when I feel him tense, reaching the apex I just traversed, I do something I can question tomorrow. He starts to pull out, but I stop him. “No holding back. I want to feel you inside me long after you’ve gone.”

The whites of his eyes display his astonishment to my revelation. His lips part, heavy breaths escaping him as he’s trying to hold back. But I want this. “You are my home, Saxon. Forever is not long enough, so let’s make every second count.”

I rock my hips, my hypersensitive flesh screaming in blissful torture, but when Saxon rumbles low, his movements jerky and unrestrained, it’s so worth the pain because he explodes in me with a husky cry. He pumps wildly, both hands low on my hips as he milks every last drop. “I promise to love you forever… Every single day of forever.”

I slump against him in a well-satiated heap, gasping for breath. He embraces me tightly, kissing my temple, my cheeks, my neck, and we stay this way long into the night because we promised each other forever, and that forever starts now.