“Dude, give me that!” I say, reaching for the last nacho in the paper tray. But Scott doesn’t give me the tray. Instead, he grabs the last remaining bastion of cheesy-beefy goodness, but he doesn’t crunch into it for himself. No, he holds it up for me to eat it . . . from his fingers. I smile and grab his hand, holding it in place as I nibble the nacho and then lick the cheese from his fingers. His eyes zero on the display I’m putting on for him, watching as my tongue curls around his thumb and I suck it in to get every last bit of cheesy goodness and rile Scott up at the same time. Winning, indeed.

The last few days have been amazing. Surprisingly so, considering what happened at work a few nights ago. I still can’t believe Carl was that drunk or that Scott had to rescue me . . . again. But he did and took it remarkably well. The next morning, I’d still been a bit of a mess and had completely forgotten my surprise birthday breakfast plans for him. But by late afternoon, we’d snuggled and talked about everything and nothing as I felt more like myself.

Granted, Scott hadn’t been happy that I was willing to let bygones be bygones with Carl, semi-justifying his actions with the excuse of alcohol, but I know a sober Carl would be horrified that he’d scared me.

I’d felt like the bigger story was Scott making some inroads with his siblings. When he’d said that it was all because of me, I’d beamed even as I’d assured him that it was all his doing.

And just like that, the tone for my weekend off had been set. We’ve laughed and played, explored and experimented, and generally taken our mantra of ‘new experiences’ to heart.

Art museum exhibit about surrealism? Check, although neither of us knew what surrealism even was.

Picnic in the park while a band played folksy covers of rock hits? Check.

An amusement park with an inflatable obstacle course where Scott had beat my best time by four minutes? Check.

A romantic sunset sail around the lake’s bay on a sailboat I’d thought was huge but the captain had assured me was a small personal watercraft? Check.

Restaurants? From fine dining to food trucks to a greasy spoon diner. Check, check, and check. Although the food truck Asian-fusion burrito was by far my favorite.

Shopping? Oh, yeah, that too. We’d left Stella’s in such a hurry that I hadn’t grabbed my overnight bag, and Scott had been adamant that we weren’t going back there, nor was I going home because this weekend was ours and ours alone. So he’d bought me a few T-shirts and two pairs of jeans, at American Eagle, not the Armani place he’d wanted to take me to. He’d laughed when I told him that if I had on Armani jeans, I’d never be able to sit down for fear of getting them dirty. Then I’d laughed when he’d hopped up and stuck his ass in my face, letting me read the label on his own designer jeans . . . that he’d literally been sitting in the grass with.

So yeah, the last three days have been jam-packed with awesomeness. Through it all, Scott’s been totally focused on me, and I’ve given him all of my attention. We left our phones at home, just enjoying life and taking it as it comes.

It feels good . . . freeing to just be with Scott, appreciating things both small and large about our experiences. About each other. Usually, my weekends off from work are spent hustling to catch up with shopping, cleaning, errands, and all the other things I put off while working, and maybe having a little fun with Tiff if it’s in the budget. Or spending the days at the rescue, helping May.

The only niggling thought that bothers me is that we haven’t had sex all weekend. My breakfast plans had been trashed because I’d been a bit sensitive still, but after that, Scott has kept me so busy that we’ve collapsed into bed in a tangle of arms and legs two nights in a row. He did touch me last night, gently rubbing my breasts and then my pussy until I had an explosive orgasm from the slow burn he’d built up in me. But I’m taking the reins back now, or at least starting the show, letting Scott know that I’m fine. Truly fine. And horny. So fucking needy.

I move to straddle his waist, sucking his thumb once again even though the nacho cheese is long gone. “Mmm . . .”

“What are you doing, Madison?” Scott asks, his voice gravelly, but I can tell he’s holding back, unsure about this. He’s been handling me with kid gloves all weekend, an uncertainty to his tone. I hate it. I’m not broken, not after Rich and not after the little scene with Carl. I want my Scott back . . . the bossy, dominant, growly man who takes me.

“Seducing you,” I tell him, letting his see the lust in my eyes. “I need you, Scott. Fuck me. Please.” I’m not ashamed of the hint of begging in my tone because if he wants me to beg, I’ll fucking hit my knees. Might do some other dirty things while I’m there if that’s what it takes to get my way.

Scott swallows thickly. “Are you sure? We can go slow, gentle.” His breath is erratic and I know he’s holding back, controlling himself.

I grab his jaw, making sure he’s staring me straight in the eye as I say this. “Don’t you fucking dare. Fuck me like you mean it, Scott. Take me, ravish me . . . hard, rough, dirty. You won’t hurt me. I know you won’t. I trust you.”

There’s a flinch in the depths of his eyes, but it’s gone so fast I think maybe I imagined it. But Scott does what I demand. He devours my mouth in a scorching kiss, the heat instantaneously creating an inferno. “Fuck, I’ve missed this,” he growls under his breath. His hands are everywhere, kneading my breasts, my thighs, my ass.

Suddenly, he scoops me up from his lap and carries me upstairs to the bedroom like I weigh nothing, making me laugh, but his face is hard as he sets me down. He rips my T-shirt over my head and my jeans down, stripping me in seconds, before spinning me around. “Bend over.”

I place my hands on the bed, presenting my bare pussy and ass to Scott as he stands behind me. I watch as he palms his cock through his jeans, grinning and swirling my hips to tempt him. My reward is the two smacks he lays on my ass, one on each cheek. I moan out his name, needy for more.

Scott drops to his knees, burying his face in my pussy from behind. His tongue traces up and down and makes me gasp.

Scott vibrates between my cheeks, tongue fucking me as he pushes on my back for me to bend over more. His finger begins to massage my asshole as he sucks and continues to tongue fuck my pussy. I’m shocked at first when I feel one and then two fingers slide in my ass, but it’s amazing, his tongue and fingers stroking me at the same time. I moan, bending over more and offering myself as best I can to him. “Fuck . . . you really want my ass? It’s yours.”

Scott wiggles his fingers in reply, and my knees almost buckle it feels so good. The naughty pleasure just grows and grows as his fingers pump in and out of me and his tongue opens me up. I clutch at the sheets as the first tremors start in the back of my legs, rippling up higher as Scott slides his tongue over my clit and sends me over.

“Scott! Fuck!” I cry out as I start to come, his fingers curling inside me still, even as I clench around him. I gasp and moan, writhing against the bed until he steps back, wiping his lips and grinning.

Scott strips his clothes off, and I marvel at him the same way I do every time, incredulous that this god of a man wants me so fiercely. He climbs on the bed, leaning back against the headboard and waving me over. I take a mental snapshot of his wide shoulders, washboard abs, and of course, that thick cock at attention just for me.

I climb on, straddling his hips and sliding my wetness along his length, enjoying the moans I can pull from him.

Scott lifts his hands behind his head. “You want to be in charge this time?” His tone is teasing, sweet, and I appreciate the offer, but it’s not what I want.

“Actually, I want you to fuck my ass, Scott. Claim me there like no one has before.” My voice is steady, solid as steel, but he still asks if I’m sure. I nod, lining up over him.

He’s completely still, holding my hips to help support me, letting me control the pace for now, but I can feel his excitement buzzing like an aura around him. “Fuck, Maddie. Even hearing you say it has me on the edge. I’m gonna take this ass, claim it as mine, fuck you so hard you see stars. Just let me in.” He’s gritting his teeth, his control beautiful. I want to tear it to shreds as he does the same to me.

For a second, I don’t think I can do it. His cock feels so big that I doubt I can fit him past my tight hole, but I breathe deep, trusting in myself and in Scott. The pain’s hot and burning for a moment, and then he slips in. I freeze, letting my body adjust as Scott’s fingers dig into my skin, holding me still. “Holy fuck, you’re thick.”

“Take your time. Breathe,” he says, bending his head forward and taking my left nipple in his mouth. The feeling eases everything, distracting me as my ass relaxes, and I sink down, letting him invade my body more and more until I’m nestled in his lap, electricity arcing from my nipples to my ass. Scott moans, tugging on my nipple and making me gasp.

“God, I didn’t expect it to feel so good.” I groan as I start riding him, squeezing my ass, triggering Scott’s answering groan. The feeling is different. I’m so full and tight. The head of his cock seems to be pressing against a new place inside me, building the energy at my core as my clit grinds against Scott’s belly. “Mmm, you enjoying this?”

“Fucking love it,” Scott groans, his hips rising to meet my falling ass. The soft slap makes me gasp in shock, but I love the intensity so I ride him faster, rising and falling harder onto his cock. Scott meets me thrust for thrust until I’m gasping, moaning as I tremble on the edge. “You want more?”

“Fuck . . . yes, give it to me,” I groan. Scott holds me in place, buried deep in my ass as he moves us on the bed, slamming my back to the cool sheets as he looms over me. He lifts my legs to his shoulders, his eyes meeting mine. I know he’s silently asking if I’m okay in the new position, and I bite my lip, squeezing his cock tight with my muscles in answer. He thrusts a few times, slowly in and out, getting us used to the new angle.

“Look at me, Madison,” he commands, a hand on my jaw to keep my entire focus on him. “You’re mine. I love you. I fucking love you.”

With each word, he speeds up, his hips pounding against my ass and making me clench around him tighter and tighter, driving my tired body until he swells, his eyes locking with mine as he groans. I’m not sure if it’s his movements or his words or both, but I fall over into a powerful orgasm, the waves wracking through my body as I cry out. “Oh, my God, Scott. I love you too.”

He growls at my exclamation, pounding so deep there’s a hint of pain, but it only adds to the pleasure. I want him inside me, everywhere, the way he’s in my heart.

The first explosion of his cock is intense, and I scratch my hands down his arms so hard I may have drawn blood. But he doesn’t care. All that matters is the love in our hearts. Scott pulses deep in my ass but then pulls out, still coming and squirting on my thighs and stomach, covering me with even more of his cum as he sits back on his heels, looking at me with surprise in his eyes.

“Damn, Maddie. That was . . .” He doesn’t finish the sentence, just smiles that dimpled smile that drives me wild before leaning over to take my mouth in a kiss. His thoughts and feelings about what we just did, what we just said are in every swipe of his tongue against mine. And I tell him the same thing right back with my swirling tongue.

We’re quiet as we shower, my shy, happy smile complementing his cocky swagger. And when we snuggle up on the couch, he covers us both over with a blanket, even though his warmth is all I need as he wraps me up in his arms.

Scott plays with my hair, twining it around his finger and then letting it twirl off. His voice is cautious as he says, “Maddie, that was intense, and it’s okay if you . . . if you said things you didn’t mean. I love you so fucking much. But it’s okay if you’re not there yet.”

This man. He thinks I’m just throwing out love words casually, thinks he doesn’t deserve them because he’s never had them given to him, not once in his life. Which is a fucking sin. I turn, looking him in the eye. “I meant every word. I love you. Actually, I wanted to talk about my moving in again.”

I can see the hope lighting his eyes, so I don’t prolong the moment. “I’d love to.”

I’d expected him to hoot and holler with joy, maybe do a little happy dance. But what he does is so much better. He pulls me even tighter against him, burying his face in my neck like he can’t get close enough to me and whispers, “Thank you.”

After a bit, Scott begins snoring softly behind me. Guess he’s worn out from all our fun running around this weekend too. But I’m full of energy.

My future is bright, and there’s nothing that can stop me.

My mind is swirling with thoughts about what could happen. Living with Scott . . . maybe one day transitioning from working for Stella? Not that I don’t love it, I really do, but anything seems possible.

Not wanting to disturb him, I carefully get up, going to grab my phone from the kitchen drawer where he’d tossed his a few days ago.

As soon as I turn it on, my phone starts vibrating like a windup toy. Texts out the wazoo.

I smile at first, seeing Tiff’s daily horoscope reports. But then . . .

Girl, you okay? I figure you’re with Scott but haven’t heard from you.

Stella’s hired two new bartenders.

I gasp and scroll down.

OMG, where are you? Stella is falling apart!

Typing frantically, I text her back. Spent the weekend with Scott and phone was off. What happened!?

Call me. Now.

I peek over at the couch, seeing Scott sleeping peacefully, and press the button to call Tiff. She answers immediately.

“What the fuck, Maddie?” she all but yells in my ear.

Trying to keep my voice hushed, I whisper back. “What’s going on?”

I can hear Tiff’s inhale. “Honey, you’d better sit down. You ready for this?” I must make some noise of readiness, but I do it mindlessly, my brain already bracing for the worst based on the way Tiffany is acting.

“So remember how Daryl no-showed with the delivery? It was because he . . . he was . . . he was in a trucking accident on the other side of town. He didn’t make it, Maddie. Daryl died.”

I gasp as I collapse to the floor, pulling my knees to my chest as the pain shoots through my heart at the loss of such a good man. “Oh my God, that’s awful. Stella must be beside herself,” I say, the understatement of the century.

“Well, yeah, but to add insult to injury,” she chokes out, not realizing the pain of the phrasing until the words pass her lips. With a gulp, she continues. “Yeah, and whatever happened with you and Carl the other night . . . he’s been missing ever since.”

“What? He was fine when we left. Well, unconscious and beat-up, but fine,” I say, trying to make some sense out of the crazy things Tiff is telling me.

“I don’t know. Stella called me in the middle of the night and asked me to pick her up early, said she wanted to give Carl a piece of her mind for fucking with you and making you quit, and she was a mess about Daryl when I picked her up, but we drove in anyway. But when we got to the bar, the door was wide open and Carl was gone.”

“Wait . . . what? I didn’t quit.” Somehow, that tiny bit of information is what I grab onto in the midst of everything else.

“Uhm, well I guess Stella said Scott said you quit, but whatever. Point is, Stella is falling a-fucking-part. One son dead, one son missing, and the girl she loves like a daughter is ditching her.”

“That’s not . . . I’m on my way. Right now.” I hang up with Tiffany and let my phone drop to the floor.

In shock, I stare at Scott, sleeping peacefully on the couch. He quit my job for me. Seriously? He quit my job, didn’t tell me, and then spent the whole weekend with me like it was some fairy tale. All the while, lying to me. And those lies kept me from being there for Stella, who has always been there for me anytime I needed her. I let her down . . . because he thought he knew better than I did, deemed himself fit to make decisions for my life without even consulting me.

I’m furious. I’m afire with anger.

At Scott, at Carl, at Daryl, at Stella, and at the universe.

At myself. I knew better.

I go over to the couch, standing over him. He must feel my eyes because he stirs, looking up at me.

“What’s wrong?” Scott says, his voice husky with sleep as he rubs his eyes.

“How could you?” I ask, wishing my voice sounded half as mad as I actually am. Instead, I sound more hurt than outraged.

But his eyes clear instantly, leaving no doubt that he knows exactly what I’m talking about. He stands up fast, the blanket falling to the floor. “Madison, I’m sorry. Look, I was so furious. You were in shock, and I didn’t know if you were okay, and I just wanted to keep you safe. I hated that something like that happened. I called Stella. I was just so fucking filled with rage that you almost . . .” His words are a jumble, rolling off his tongue so fast he’s stumbling over them.

“How dare you? You don’t fucking own me, Scott. You don’t get to decide that for me. Where I work, what I do, none of it. You don’t get to decide that. I do. Me.” My breath is heaving, the weight of his clipping my hard-earned wings rounding my shoulders.

“Yeah, I was freaked out and glad you were there that night, but you went behind my back, thinking it was okay to control my life like that, and then you hid it from me while we’ve been traipsing all over the city, having a grand old time.”

“We have had a good weekend! That’s what I wanted to show you—what it could be like for us. Here, living together, spending our days and nights together. You and me together against the world. I talked to Stella in the heat of the moment and then didn’t know how to back out of it, how to tell you,” he admits, confusion clouding his voice, and I can see his brows furrowing together.

“You didn’t tell me because that’s what you really want. Did you think I was going to magically be okay with this because we had a good weekend? It was a lie. All I’ll remember about those couple of days was that you looked me dead in the eye and decided that you could do whatever the fuck you wanted because you knew better than I did.”

He collapses to the couch, his head in his hands. “Fuck. Fuck. Maddie, I’m so sorry. Tell me how to fix this because I don’t know how.”

“No, your little stunt has done enough damage. My family needs me. Stella is going nuts. Daryl was killed in an accident, and it seems Carl ran off after you beat the shit out of him. And she even thinks I abandoned her.”

I see his shock when I tell him about Daryl and Carl, his jaw dropping and his eyes shooting wide-open in horror. But his face hardens as I rant.

“So no, I don’t have time to fix your control-freak narcissistic tendencies, Scott. I’m going to take care of my family, the ones who take care of me. The difference is that they help me stand on my own.”

I can’t do this. I can’t be here. Not a moment longer. I turn, heading toward the door, and then bend down to slip my shoes on. My necklace, Scott’s necklace, swings forward as I bend over. It’s a cold reminder of our differences, the ones I thought we could reconcile. The rich and the poor, the lost boy and the damaged butterfly, the cocky bastard and the sassy sweetheart.

With shaking fingers, I undo the clasp. It takes a steadying breath, but I set the jewelry on the table before looking at Scott.

“Madison, no. Please. We can figure this out. Let me take you to Stella’s and . . .” He’s right behind me, begging me to let this go. But it’s one occurrence in a repetitive loop with him.

I shake my head, knowing if I speak, I’ll break. I can feel the tears burning in my eyes already.

“Madison, I love you.”

I open the door, but before I can walk out, Scott reaches out, grabbing my arm. I look down, overwhelmed with the sense of déjà vu . . . his hand, tan and large, wrapped around my pale, thin arm, just above my wrist. I flinch unintentionally, not able to stop the roll of my stomach. He must see my reaction because he lets go instantly, a look of horror on his face. “Fuck, Madison. I’m not him. It’s not like that. We’re not like that.”

I look up, sadness pouring off me. “I know, Scott. You’re nothing like Rich. I loved you.”

Free of his grasp, I run out the door, banging down the steps even as I hear Scott yelling for my name from behind.

Let me go. Don’t chase me, Scott. Please. Don’t.

He doesn’t.

As I hit the street below, the tears fall freely. All we shared, all I thought we were going to share . . . is over.