Desiree

On the sixth day of Gio’s recovery, he spikes a fever. I check his temperature with the thermometer from my med kit, then his blood pressure.

Temperature of one hundred three and elevated blood pressure.

Crap.

I don’t know if it was the fall out of bed, or ripping the stitches, or what, but I don’t like it. In fact, it worries the hell out of me.

I’m not a doctor. I have no idea what that bullet hit inside Gio. And if something’s infected, all the progress he made this week will be lost. He could easily still die.

“Junior,” I call from Gio’s room.

He must hear the fear in my voice because he shows up immediately. “What is it?”

“Gio spiked a fever. I’m going to need a new antibiotic—see if you can get Keflex. Or clindamycin, but that’s going to give him the shits. And salty soup.”

He studies my face, and must read how serious this is because he’s all business. “I’ll go now. Anything else?”

I shake my head, going to the bathroom to get warm wash clothes to try to cool Gio down.

Junior leaves. It occurs to me that it’s the first time he’s left me alone, but that’s so irrelevant right now. Either he trusts me, or he figures this is an emergency and he has no other choice. It doesn’t matter—I have bigger things to worry about.

I give Gio a sponge bath with warm water, then sit beside him. I’ve lost patients before. There are times it breaks my heart, no matter how hard you try to remove yourself from it.

But losing Gio is not an option.

There’s no way I could watch that happen. No way I could witness Junior’s pain.

I get Gio to swallow a little Tylenol and run the possibilities in my head. The fact that his body was healing and took a turn for the worse concerns me. It will be at least twenty-four hours before I know if a new antibiotic works. In that time, he could go septic.

Shit.

Maybe I should talk Junior into taking him to a hospital. Although they would probably do the same thing I’m doing here.

I pick up my phone. There’s one person I ask for help in cases where it seems like patients need something beyond medicine.

My mom.

And she doesn’t go into work until this afternoon.

I call her up and speak to her in Spanish. “Mamá, I need some help. My patient had a fall yesterday that reversed his recovery. Do you think you could come and do some of your Reiki magic on him?”

“Of course, mija.” That’s the amazing thing about my mom. If someone calls for her services, she never refuses. She believes it’s a gift from God that she’s obligated to share wherever it’s needed.

“I’m at a house in Oak Park. Can you come this morning before your shift?”

“Yes,” my mother says slowly. “Yes, I can come. What’s the address?”

“I’ll text it to you. Can you come right now?”

“Yes, I’ll come right now,” my mom says, surprised, like she doesn’t know why I’m asking again.

“Okay, I love you, Mom. See you in a bit.”

“Hasta luego, bye.” My mom says in her customary Spanglish.

Relief pours through me. I’ve seen my mom perform miracles before. Quiet ones. The kind that people don’t even notice because it’s not in their frame of reference to attribute a sudden turnaround to a hands-on energy healing. And my mom doesn’t care if they acknowledge it or not. She doesn’t get attached to results. She just gives and says she gets something out of the act of giving. She receives at the same time, and that’s enough.

I pace around the house, my stomach in knots. Junior left one of his goons here—one of the guys who grabbed me from the parking lot, but I think I can handle him. Junior said he was here for protection, not to keep me prisoner. I’m just hoping my mom gets in and out before Junior shows up, because I know he’s going to freak.

I consider texting him, but I sort of chicken out.

This situation is serious, and I had to make a tough decision. My mom won’t pay attention to how Gio got his wound or why I’m treating him at home. She may put it together, but it won’t even matter to her.

She’s just not like that. She sort of operates in a bubble of kindness, my mother.

She shows up forty minutes later and I rush down the stairs to let her in.

“It’s okay, it’s my mom. She’s here to help,” I tell the bodyguard, who has drawn a pistol.

He gives me a doubtful look. “Junior know about this?”

“Of course he does,” I snap, using my customary bluster to get the guy to back off. Fortunately, he does. He opens the door a crack and when he sees it’s my mom, puts the gun away.

She envelops me in a warm hug, kissing both my cheeks.

“Here he is.” I lead her upstairs, wringing my hands. “He’ll go on a new antibiotic today, but I don’t like the way he’s burning up.”

My mom pulls up a chair beside the bed and puts one hand on Gio’s shoulder, the other on his hand. “Ay, he is hot, isn’t he? We’ll see what we can do.” She closes her eyes. I watch for a moment.

I swear I feel my own worries drain away as my mom works. Like the energy is healing me at the same time.

When I was in high school and I’d come home all upset about something, she’d tell me to sit down, and she’d put her hands on my shoulders and within fifteen minutes, all my angst would drain away.

I’m sure some day they’ll discover the science around energy healing—I even read a great book about a guy who could consistently and repeatedly cure mice of cancer—but I’m still content to believe she’s magic.

After twenty minutes, I’m completely soothed. The energy in the room pulses with a fine, pure vibration. My mom shifts her hand to lightly cover Gio’s wound, even though the blanket’s up, and I didn’t tell her where it was. She just sees where to go.

She lifts her hand above the area, flicking her fingers like she’s brushing away the heat. She circles her hand over it. Lifts and lowers it. It goes on for a while, but I don’t leave. The energy feels too pleasurable not to stay and witness the healing.

After another ten minutes, she stands up and waves her hands over his entire body, like she’s building an energy cocoon around him. Finally, she backs up, toward me and the door.

She turns to me and nods with a serene smile.

I hug her. “Gracias, Mamá. I love you so much.”

“And you?” she asks, pulling away and peering up at my face. “All good?”

I nod, hoping I won’t flush. I’m sure I’ve changed in the days since I’ve been here. I’ve had more sex than I’ve had in years. My emotions have been tested in all directions. I may be falling in love against my own will.

My mom nods as if satisfied by what she sees in my face. “Okay, I’m going. Have to get some lunch before my shift. I love you.” She gives me another two kisses on my cheeks.

I lead her downstairs and open the front door, congratulating myself for getting her in and out of here before Junior gets back.

And that’s when I see Junior’s car pull into the drive.

Junior

It takes me four stops to find a connection to give me the prescription Desiree asked for. I have to say, I’m scared as hell, because Desiree seemed to be on high alert, the way she was when she first got to my house and helped get Gio stabilized.

I admire the fuck out of how clear and professional she is, even when worried. I guess that comes with her job.

There’s a strange car parked in front of my house, which puts me on even higher alert. I sent Luca over to guard Gio and Desiree while I was gone, because we still haven’t found Vlad, but that’s not his car. His is in front of it. I park in the drive and draw my Beretta as I get out of the car.

The front door moves, like it had just been open a crack and someone shut it.

Holy fuck.

All I can think is that Vlad showed up for his revenge. Who else could it be? I run for the front door, gun palmed along my leg. I grip the handle and turn it slowly.

It swings open abruptly. “Hi, Junior,” Desiree chirps in a falsely cheerful voice.

I’d lifted the gun, but I lower it, because she’s the only body in front of me. I step into the house, peering past her at…

An older woman.

A short Hispanic woman with salt and pepper hair and Desiree’s eyes.

I put the safety on my gun and shove it in my pocket.

“I called my mom,” Desiree says breathlessly and the room suddenly spins around me.

What the fuck?

Black bleeds around my vision.

Was this some elaborate escape plan of hers? Did she make up Gio’s condition? I trusted her.

I give my head a shake, drawing in a harsh breath.

No, he really had a fever. I felt him myself.

“My mom does energy work, and I wanted her to work on Gio. Sometimes her treatments make all the difference in a person’s healing.”

Wait...what? I narrow my eyes, trying to understand what the fuck Desiree is talking about. She’s speaking in rushed sentences that are too hard for me to follow. Or maybe it’s my brain is too slow right now.

“Mamá, this is my employer, Mr. um, Jones. Mr. Jones, my mother, Flor de Liz Lopez.”

Mr. Jones. Okay, she’s trying to cover for me. But the woman is at my house. And just saw my wounded brother. She’s a witness.

Luca appears from the living room, totally relaxed. Dumb fuck. “You need me to stick around, boss?”

I just shake my head, because if I speak, I’m going to be a serious asshole.

Luca steps through the door and Desiree catches it and holds it open. “My mom’s gotta run to her shift at the hospital. Bye, Mom!” She shuffles her mom past me and practically shoves her out, shutting the door tight behind her.

Two seconds go by as I try to decide if I need to go after her or not.

But Desiree’s standing in front of me, twisting her hands. “Just chill out, Junior,” she says, but her words are pleading. “She doesn’t know anything. She didn’t see the wound, didn’t ask any questions. She just shows up and does her thing and leaves. Nothing to worry about.”

I take a step toward Desiree. I suppose it must come off as menacing, because she takes two steps back, her pupils narrow with alarm. I can’t reassure her, because I’m still teetering on the edge of doubt.

And the idea of Desiree not being trustworthy fucking guts me.

I don’t even know what I’d do.

I couldn’t hurt her. I don’t even think I have it in me to threaten her with something awful.

“What were you thinking?” I snarl. “You just made your mom a witness.”

“Junior, you’re not listening. She saw nothing. And even if she knew everything, you’re safe. She’s my mom. Her trust lies with mine. Always. I’m on your side, I’m Team Tacone, so that means she is, too. Without question, without a shadow of a doubt. We’re family.” She tilts her head. “Surely you understand about that?”

The haze around my vision starts to clear and I draw in a few deeper breaths.

I’m Team Tacone.

I’m on your side.

Her words do something terrible and beautiful to me. Shred me in half and reshape me into something new.

And suddenly I’m on her, kissing the fuck out of her, holding the back of her head captive as my tongue sweeps into her mouth. I nip her lips, suck them. Bruise them with the intensity of my desire.

I carry her upstairs, legs wrapped around my waist, never breaking the frantic kiss. In my bedroom, I lower her to stand and rip her scrubs off while she works on my clothes. I bite her neck, lift her up and throw her on her back on my bed.

I want to reward her for hours, but there’s too much pressure built up—like my whole life, my whole essence of being just undammed and wants to pour out to her. There’s no stopping it. I yank off her panties and shove one knee up to feast between her legs. It’s not nuanced foreplay—I’m not capable of precision. It’s more like I devour her. Suck and bite and plunge my tongue in her entrance. And then I can’t wait any longer. I yank off my boxer briefs and roll on a condom in record time and then I’m over her.

Spearing her with my erection.

Claiming her with every ounce of my being.

I slam in hard. She cries out, but her eyes are closed, her head tipped back with pleasure.

Fuck, I need her. I plant my hands up above her shoulders so she can’t slide and fuck her with all the force inside me. It’s rough.

Rabid.

It’s far more animal than man.

I didn’t know I had this amount of passion in me, but here it is. Pouring out, mingling with hers, making me a new man. Whole again.

She’s making her noises—cries and moans and incoherent begging.

“Desiree,” I choke. Because I need to speak her name. The name of the woman who did this to me. Who turned me inside out. Reshaped me.

Her eyes open and she reaches for me. Digs her nails into my back as I slam into her supple body. She wraps her legs around my waist and hooks her ankles behind my back, using her legs to encourage me even deeper, harder. To show me she wants this. Wants more.

And I don’t hold back. The bed slams against the wall, mattress bounces and shakes as I take my woman, give her every ounce of everything I have.

A stream of Italian comes out of my mouth. I’m babbling more than she is. My thighs tighten up, lightning strikes at the base of my spine. I roar like a fucking lion, slam in and out of her so hard I fear I’ll break her. And then I go deep.

“Fuck, Desiree, come, baby.” I’m begging her to come because I can’t hold my orgasm back, and I don’t have the coordination or brain cells to make sure she gets off.

She does. Her muscles tighten and squeeze my dick the minute I tell her to, a quick pulsing that makes her choke on a scream, head thrown back, eyes rolled up in her head.

I fill the condom. Fuck, I come so much I fear it won’t hold it all. And then I’m on top of her, panting into her neck, listening to her slowing cries.

“Did you get the antibiotic?” she asks after a moment and I curse and pull out. “Yes. Yeah, I got it.” I dispose of the condom and fish the antibiotic out of my coat pocket.

Desiree pulls on her scrub bottoms without panties and my undershirt.

I smile, satisfaction at seeing her in my clothes surging. I hand her the antibiotic and yank on my own clothes, then follow her into Gio’s room.

She’s already injected it into the IV. “Look,” she says softly, lifting her chin toward Gio. “He already looks better. I’m not that religious, but I swear my mom has a direct line to God. Or source energy—whatever you want to call it.”

I go still. I hadn’t even understood what she’d told me before. About why she called her mom here. But she’s right. There’s none of the usual pained restlessness around Gio. The lines of his face have softened, and he looks peaceful. His breath is steady. I touch his head. Still warm, but not burning as hot as this morning.

I pull Desiree into me and kiss the top of her head. And then, because she’s braless and her nipples are popping through my thin shirt, I have to palm her breast. Have to rub my thumb over the pebbled tip.

And then I’m squeezing her ass.

“Is my punishment over?” she asks, her lips curving into that taunting smile I love so much.

I work my finger between her ass cheeks, which is easy since she’s only wearing scrubs— no panties. “Baby, that wasn’t punishment,” I murmur. “That was your reward. Punishment comes later.” I curl my finger to touch her anus, showing her exactly how I’ll be taking her to task.

She moves restlessly, and I cup my other hand around her mons to stimulate her both places. Her breath comes in short pants. I release her, it was just a tease to keep her on edge. I’m still soaring from her revelation. Still soaked in gratitude, wanting to reward her in every way possible.

Desiree

Um, wow.

I seriously don’t even know what just happened.

One minute I’m freaking out, trying to make Junior understand my mom’s not a threat, the next minute he’s pounding into me like the world’s going to end, and it’s our last chance at having sex. Ever.

The whole time I couldn’t figure out if it was punishment or reward.

No, I guess I knew it wasn’t punishment. It may have been the roughest sex I’ve ever had, but what came out of him was pure passion. I just have no idea what triggered it.

I go back to his bedroom and get myself properly dressed. He’s in the walk-in closet, standing in front of what must be an open safe.

When he comes out, he tosses three big stacks of cash on the bed. “That’s for you.”

“Wait...what is this?” I don’t know why, but the money comes as a shock—and not a pleasant one. “Are you getting rid of me?” What the hell is going on? Was that goodbye sex?

“No, no, no.” He steps over to me and touches my shoulder to pivot me toward him. “I just wanted to give you something. It’s just… a show of good faith. Your payment in advance. You swore your allegiance to me. I wanted to reciprocate.”

What the F? I’m still hella confused. I know I usually love money and I always thought having a guy shower me with it would be the ultimate turn-on, but in this instance, I’m totally offended.

My allegiance? I wasn’t being loyal for the money. I’m loyal because I care about this family. These two men. And the money was supposed to mine for doing the job, regardless of my loyalties.

But I do understand that my declaration of loyalty means something to him. Something big. And he’s feeling grateful. Which explains the awesome sex.

“Fine, money was the wrong thing.” He literally sweeps his hand over the bed and knocks the stacks of cash to the floor like they’re nothing. “How about this?” He wraps his arms around me from behind, pulling my back against his front. “I’ve got every P.I. in the state looking for your little boy. I put them on it as soon as I found out. I promise I’ll get him back to you safe and sound.”

My knees buckle, the room swoops. “Wh-what?” my voice wobbles. I turn in his arms to see his face. He nods, solemnly.

All I can do is throw my arms around his neck, strangle him with the intensity of my gratitude. And then I’m crying—my tears wetting his neck, my mascara smudging all over his white collar.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

He runs his hands up and down my back and I feel so safe. So cared for. Cherished, even. It’s an amazing feeling—one I haven’t had with a man before.

He cradles one side of my face and thumbs away my tears.

“I still get the money, though, right?” I attempt a joke to lighten the mood.

His smile is devastatingly warm and I bask in its glow. “Of course you do.”

“You’re awfully sweet for a mob boss,” I tell him.

Something in his face shutters—the self-loathing part, I would have to guess. “You’re the only person in the entire universe who thinks that.”

And I remember how edgy he is with his brothers and sister. How they all act like he’s an alligator about to bite them.

I changed him.

It’s a stupid and dangerous thought, but I love the feeling that accompanies it.

He’s a different man with me.

I think it must be true. Either that, or no one’s ever given him credit for his hidden softness. No one’s bothered to look at him and see it.

Either way, it makes me even more loyal. Ready to defend him. On his side.

In love.

Crap. I cannot be in love with a mafia kingpin.

I cannot.

But I am.

Junior

Gio continued to improve over the afternoon. While Desiree feeds him some of the salty soup, I order food in for the two of us.

When it arrives, we eat in my living room while we watch The Bourne Ultimatum on TV. It’s so normal, so comfortable, I have to keep reminding myself not to get used to this.

Later, I catch Desiree after she finishes with her check-in on Gio. I sneak up behind her and wrap one hand around her mouth, the other around her waist.

She screams into my palm.

“Time for your punishment, doll,” I growl in her ear as I drag her backward, out of the room.

Her feet scramble to keep up with my lead and I fill my nostrils with her scent. Her silky hair smells fresh and clean like apples, the ponytail slides across my neck as we move.

Once we’re in my room I stop and untie the drawstring on her scrub pants, letting them drop to the floor. The top comes off next and then I spin her around to face me. She’s wearing a burgundy satin and lace bra and panty set today. I growl my approval, reaching around to grab her ass and squeeze.

“You always matchy-matchy with your bra and panties?”

“Well, I packed my best,” she admits.

Heady satisfaction shoots through me at that. “For me?” I rumble.

“I guess. Yeah.” She reaches for the buttons on my shirt but I catch her hands in one of mine.

“Uh uh. I’m in charge.” I snag her panties in the back and pull up, flossing them between her ass crack. She goes up on her toes, falling into me. With my free hand, I slap one of her ass cheeks. “You broke the rules again, baby.” I gently tug and release the panties, rubbing the taut fabric against her anus and over her clit. “You know what that means?”

“What?” Her breathy voice goes straight to my dick.

“It means you’re going to get your beautiful ass fucked.”

Her thighs snap together, ass cheeks squeeze up tight at the same time her breath hitches.

I nip her ear as I grip her ass with both hands, kneading the tightened muscles. “You’d better practice relaxing all this, baby. The more your resist me, the harder it will go for you.”

Her cheeks relax, first one, then the other.

“That’s good,” I murmur as I unhook the back of her bra. “Do what you’re told and I just might let you come when I’m finished.”

Her head snaps up, eyes blazing with her customary defiance. I smile and touch her nose. “I’m gonna start by painting your ass red.”

Her pupils are already dilated, breath short. I sit on the bed and tug her over my lap.

“And I thought I’d do it the old fashioned way.” I slap her ass.

She makes a surprised little shriek.

I rub the spot I slapped, then tug her panties down and off her legs. “Your ass looks so good with my handprints, baby.”

Desiree makes an unintelligible sound. Good, she’s already starting on her sexy little noises. I intend to make tonight good for her even if it does push her boundaries. I already tossed a tube of lube on the bed and intend to use plenty. I may call it punishment, but I want it to be the best possible kind.

I give her a spanking. It’s more satisfying than I might have guessed—having her bent over my knee like this is real punishment and not just searing sex play. Maybe there is a thread of real discipline in there. Paying her back for making me sweat this morning, for believing she’d betrayed my trust before she turned my world on end by swearing loyalty.

I love this woman.

Fuck, that’s crazy to admit, but like my youngest brothers, I’m suddenly a changed man.

Because of a woman.

And her surrender to me—the way she squirms over my lap while I turn her ass pink—is a level of intimacy I never had with anyone—including my...wife. Fuck, I have to tie up that loose end. I can’t have a wife when I feel this way about Desiree. Even if I haven’t touched Marne in years.

I stop spanking and circle my palm over Desiree’s heated skin. She moans softly. More like a hum or a purr. That’s it—she’s purring. I slide my fingers between her legs, and I’m not surprised when I find she’s sopping wet. Her flesh is slick and swollen, welcoming to my touch. Two fingers slide in her easily, gliding in and out. I reach for the bottle of lube with my other hand and pop it open with my thumb.

“You ready for your ass-fucking, baby?” I pry her cheeks apart with the fingers of one hand and squirt a dollop of lube over her asshole.

“No,” she says, a sullen teenager tone to her voice. It’s so fucking cute I want to kiss her senseless, but instead I pop her ass.

“Wrong answer, doll.” I go in immediately, massaging her anus, applying gentle pressure until she relaxes and lets my finger in. Her vocalizations go wild the minute I penetrate her ass, raising in pitch, never stopping. I use my finger to stretch her, get her used to the sensation of having something in her ass. “That’s it, baby. Submit. This is the ass-fucking you’ve been begging for since the minute you got here.”

Her pussy drips moisture, moans grow louder.

I pull my finger out and slap her ass. “Bend over the bed, baby.” I slide her off my lap and arrange her so her butt is out and ready for me. “If you take my cock like a good girl, I’ll let you touch yourself while I punish you.”

She doesn’t wait for permission. At the suggestion, she immediately slides her hand between her legs and starts working her slick folds, which makes my aching cock even harder.

I unzip my pants and free my erection, then lube it up good. Pushing her cheeks apart, I line the head up with her anus. “Take it,” I tell her, pushing without any force.

She draws in a breath, then lets it out, and the tight muscles yawn to let me in. I ease in slowly, stretching her wide, filling her.

I sense her fingers working frantically between her legs, giving her clit the stimulation she requires to make this pleasure and not discomfort.

“Is this how you thought it would go, doll? In those fantasies of yours?”

“Yes,” she moans. “Junior, please.”

I’m shaking from holding back. Cristo, I want to pound into her until she screams, but I know better. I go ever-so-slowly, straight in, back out, taking care not to over stretch her. “What do you need, baby? You want it harder?”

“No!” she yelps. “Yes. Wait, I don’t know.”

I chuckle. “Don’t worry, doll. I’m gonna take care of you. I know just how you need to be fucked tonight, and I’m gonna give it to you right. You like having your ass fucked by me?”

She whimpers.

“Hmm?”

“Yes—I don’t know. Please.”

“Please let you come? Not until I do. You know the rules. This ass belongs to me tonight, and I’m going to fuck it good before I let you get off. Capiche?”

“Capito, capito, capito. Junior. Ohmygod. Junior. What are you doing to me? Jesus, that’s good. That’s so good. So crazy. Oh wait, it’s too much. It’s too much. Wait, please. More. Oh God. Junior.”

I let the wave of Desiree-sex-babble roll over me, another hit of pleasure to my senses. The sound of my woman about to combust.

I hold her hips and increase my rhythm, still careful not to get rough or erratic with my thrusts. “You sorry now, baby? Good and sorry?”

“Ohmygod, Junior, I’m so fucking sorry. Please, please, please let me come. I have to come. I need to come right now. Oh please, Junior, please finish. I need more. I need it to be over. I need it so bad.”

If I had fewer scruples, I would record her sex babble to re-listen at my leisure. It’s like a fucking siren’s song, making me crazy with need.

My fingers dig into her hips and I slap against her ass on my way in. I stay in close and bump-bump-bump in and out while she howls with need.

Fuck, I’m going to come. Before I even know it, I’m there. I push in and stay, coming in her ass as I run my hands up and down her back in the sudden release of pleasure.

Not sure if she came, I thrust my hand under her hips to help her, penetrating her pussy and grinding the heel of my hand over her clit. “Come, baby.”

“It’s too much,” she wails, but she does come, her anus tightening with her pussy, drawing an aftershock of release out of me.

“That’s it, baby,” I croon. I keep moving my fingers inside her until she relaxes, a limp doll beneath me. Then I work to extricate my body from hers. “Come here, angel.” I tug her hips to pull her to her feet.

She moves like she’s drugged, all loose-limbed and floppy.

“I’m gonna get you cleaned up in the shower,” I murmur, and pick her up in a cradle hold, carrying her into my bathroom.

Desiree

I can barely hold my head up. Junior stands under the warm spray of water with me, his hands roaming over every inch of my body, sudsing and washing and re-sudsing. I’m propped against the wall, smiling at him through the droplets.

I’ve never seen this face on him. His gaze is pure warmth, so unlike his usual hardened visage, I hardly recognize him. And the warmth is so complete, I could bask in it like the sun. I feel loved and appreciated—cherished even.

Junior shampoos and conditions my hair and when he’s done everything but shave my legs, he cages me between his muscled arms and stares down at me, brushing our noses together. “You okay?” He slides one hand down and palms my ass. “Not too sore?”

I shake my head. I’m still one hundred percent blissed out.

He pushes a few strands of wet hair from my face and cups my cheek. “You’re good?”

I nod. I guess I used up all my words during sex. Lord, I’m like a non-stop talking sex doll—wind me up and I’ll moan and narrate through the whole damn thing.

“What can I do for you?” Junior asks, like he didn’t just carry my heavy butt in here and dote on me like a princess. Like he hasn’t already done the one thing that matters most—use his power to help me get Jasper back. Or the little things like keeping my favorite ice cream stocked in his freezer.

I shake my head. “Nothing. You’ve done it.”

He keeps studying me, like I might reveal some hidden need. When the water starts to turn cool, he shuts it off and grabs a towel for me first, then for him.

“You’ll sleep in my bed,” he says.

“Is that an order?” I tease, because in typical Junior fashion, he left out the part about asking me. Or saying please.

His lips twist into a half smile. “You want me to say please? Need me to beg?” Then he shakes his head. “Fuck that. You’re sleeping in my bed and that’s final.”

I laugh because it’s totally ridiculous and totally Junior. “You’re the boss,” I say softly and he smiles.

“Damn right, I am. And you’d better not forget it.” He helps me step out of the shower and leads me by the hand to the bed where he pulls the towel off me and watches me climb naked into his bed.

Then he drops his towel and follows me in.