Tom had filled her prescription and paid for it at the drugstore around the corner after she’d gone to apologize and make her excuses to Ian, doing the one thing she hadn’t planned, the one thing she’d promised herself she wouldn’t do: cut out.

Ian, though, hadn’t been pissed. Instead, she’d picked up quickly that he was shutting down. He’d said only one thing as he reached for her arm, holding it tighter than she liked. “I’m not kidding, Becky. Be careful. That guy is…”

She’d glanced down to his hand, which had been squeezing harder to the point that it hurt, and then he’d pulled away and said nothing else as she rubbed the aching spot above her wrist. She’d glanced back to see that Tom was paying for a coffee and had his back to her. No, he hadn’t seen, and she had no intention of telling him. Ian must have noticed, as he’d simply snatched his coat from the chair back and left, angry, with not another word. She’d been mortified and had said nothing to Tom as he took her backpack and she left with him, then climbed into the passenger side of his SUV.

“I have to be at work by six,” she said as she heard the apartment door close. She walked into the small living room, taking in the deep brown matching furniture and dropping her purse on the loveseat. There was a big square pine table and a flat screen mounted on the wall. In the light of day and the second time here, she was seeing a side of Tom that was an enigma. She allowed her gaze to take in the darkened bedroom. The door was open.

“Fine,” he said. “That will give us a few hours, and I have to be back at the hospital anyway.”

She heard him come up behind her, and his hands were on her shoulders. Then he slipped his fingers into the collar of her coat, pulling it off her, and tossed it to the sofa as he walked back to the open galley kitchen and ripped open the pharmacy bag on the counter to pull out the birth control pills.

He strode directly to her. “Start now. Keep this with you, and I’ll get you an appointment next week with one of the best OB gynecologists at the hospital.”

“Tom, I have a doctor already, a GP who’s—”

“Average? I think not. No, I want you to have the best,” he said, interrupting her. “Come on, take one.”

She was of a mind to refuse, but that would just be stupid. She could argue about everything else, just not this. She took the glass of water he poured and swallowed the pill, drinking some. Then she tucked the one-month packet in her purse. She felt him behind her, his hands on the flat of her stomach, pulling her back against him. She lifted her arm, and she felt him hesitate, pull back, and take it. He changed suddenly from wanting her to staring at the red mark on her wrist that was showing from her sleeve.

“What happened?” He was just concerned. She could see the darkness that lurked there and at the same time knew he would likely snap if he knew, but she couldn’t lie, either.

“Ian grabbed my arm, trying to…” What, make her see reason, see Tom for the monster he thought he was, make him into someone who was the same kind of monster who’d destroyed his sister?

Tom slowly looked up, and she could see the darkness change into something that was dangerous and could seriously hurt someone. He was so unrestrained that for a moment she didn’t want to say another word. It didn’t scare her, because it was for her.

“He put his hands on you?” His words were so sharp that Becky could feel the bite.

“It wasn’t the way you think.” She wanted to pull away, but he still had her arm and slid the sleeve back, looking to see if she had other injuries. It would leave a bruise, and she realized she was bothered by Ian’s overreach. She wasn’t his to touch.

“And what way is that, Becky? Please explain it to me. This fucking shithead puts his hands on you with a grip enough to bruise you. Don’t you dare try to tell me he didn’t mean it or it was an accident or brush it off as something to excuse what he did. This is someone going too far, inflicting pain on you, to hurt you.” He was getting louder, and she was seeing another layer of Tom that made up part of the difficult, flawed man he was. Scars, deep issues had made him so damn complex and volatile, she thought. He was not a man she could easily read.

“Okay, so I froze for a minute and would have told him to take his hand off me. I gave him a look. He must have known he’d gone too far. He did.” Her heart was pounding now, thinking about it, feeling the strength Ian had holding her, trying to make her listen. Wasn’t he in fact trying to bend her to his will?

“When did this happen?” Tom snapped, and she jumped, because she now had her answer. If he’d seen it at the coffee house, he’d likely have hurt Ian seriously. He still could.

“Does it matter? It’s over, and I’m here with you. I’m not giving him a pass. He shouldn’t have grabbed me.”

Tom had stepped away, and she could see he was trying to rein himself back in. He paced and then stood in front of her again. This time he lifted her arm, running his hand over her wrist. “He’ll never put his hands on you again,” he said, and she could feel his promise as he pulled her closer. She wanted to ask what he meant by that, but she couldn’t, as his hand drifted lower, pulling her closer.

She slid her arms around his neck as he lowered his head, taking her lips. He ran his hand down her back, caressing her, holding her, his hand over her butt, sliding over the rounded curves and gently tugging on her lip with his teeth. He somehow had her turned and walking back to his bedroom, and he lifted her on the bed before lowering himself onto her, pressing into her, pressing her into the mattress, allowing her to feel all of his hardness that wanted her now. She thought she gasped, but it could have been just in her head, as he was kissing her again.

Then he lifted her turtleneck, pulling it over her head, and tossed it to the floor. She sat up and flicked on the bedside light.

“Nice,” he said and smiled, then moved in again, kissing her neck and between her breasts.

“I can’t believe you marked me like that. My dad saw,” she said, sliding her arms around his neck.

There it was, a smile for her. Her heart skipped, she was positive, and her stomach squeezed as a flutter nearly stole the breath she had. It was so intimate and close, as if he was seeing her, that part of her that she allowed no one to see. Then he lowered his face again where she didn’t need words. She didn’t need him to tell her what he was planning on doing next, as she kicked off her shoes, and their clothes fell away, tossed in a heap beside the bed. She kissed him long and deep, tasting and touching, wanting to feel every hard part of him and take control, but he was having none of that, as he took her one arm, kissed the bruised wrist, and then pinned both her hands above her head with one hand gently but firmly. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her. He tasted her breasts and explored her body with his other hand, running it over her curves, her heat, with a touch that said without words that she belonged to him.

She heard the drawer beside the bed open and he pulled away, ready for her, ripping open a condom packet and pulling it on. Then he took a moment to just look at her, taking in all of her, her breasts, her core, and up to her face. In that one dark intimate look, she knew he wasn’t asking; he was telling, giving her notice that she belonged to him. He flipped her over and pulled her up on her knees as he moved in behind her, taking her from behind. He slid inside her, holding her tight as he moved deep, hard, fast, pinning her to him, taking all of her. It was better than she’d remembered.

“Tom…” she squeaked as he kissed the back of her neck and held her to him, pulling out and then in, this frenzy that seemed to go on and on. She was lost in the excitement of both naughty and bad, yet it felt so right. As she moved against him as much as he would allow her, it was quick and dirty and hard, nothing gentle. She vaguely heard the bed rock against the wall. As good as it had been the night before, being with Tom, her fist time with him, here and now, in this moment, felt better than anything.