Aiden’s hard body pushes mine against the bedroom wall next to the door. I’m going to feel the love of a man for the first time in years. Four, to be exact, which is insane now that I think about what I’ve been missing.

Sometimes, I’d like to hit pause on my songwriting brain. This lyric from a yet-to-be written song springs into my head at this most inopportune time. I could write a damn album based on the way he makes me feel. Wanted. Beautiful. His.

It’s been just me taking care of my needs. Alone in my bed after slipping out of Ryder’s room. Coaching myself with woman power and who-needs-a-man thoughts.

But Aiden Alesini proves me wrong. More wrong than I’ve ever been. I need him.

His large, demanding hands caress my neck while he kisses me slowly. Tasting my mouth with each stroke of his talented tongue.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks and trails his lips down my throat, over my collarbone, and back up to my ear.

My mouth goes dry. “Your hands.”

“Only my hands?”

“Mm,” I say in a moan when he sucks my earlobe into his wet mouth and holds my head cradled in his hands like he’s afraid I’ll slip away.

He lifts his head and grabs the bottom of my T-shirt. Without hesitation, he peels it up and over my head. “My hands, huh. Where do you want my hands?”

Aiden uses one finger to trace the swell of one breast along the top of my bra. His gaze makes me hot. “Here?” he asks in a low voice meant more to seduce than affirm.

“Yes,” I breathe.

He lets the same finger drop to skim the curve of my stomach near my navel. “Or here?”

I inhale noisily and lift my eyes to meet his. “Oh,” I say on an exhale.

Grabbing the back of my ass, he pushes one muscled thigh between my legs and I drop back to lean against the wall more fully. I’m no longer in control of my body as I press my sex against his thigh. All I want to do is grind against him. I throb for him.

He’s taking too long and I’m impatient.

“I’ve wanted you from the first time I saw you,” he says and his nostrils flare. “If you don’t want this, say it now.”

“I want it.” There’s not an ounce of doubt in the way I answer him.

“Take the rest of your clothes off,” he says, slow and smooth as melted chocolate. “And get on the bed.”

I clench my thighs against his muscled one. An involuntary movement. Heat pools below my belly. Normally, I don’t like to be ordered around, given no choice, rushed.

Tonight, it’s like being handed cool water after a week in the desert and told to drink. I want; he’s giving.

I step past him and undress. I’m self-conscious all of a sudden. My pink boy shorts and T-shirt bra are both plain and meant for comfort, rather than sex appeal.

He studies me without his usual smile, eyes half-lidded and filled with lust. “Your body is…delectable.”

He walks backward a couple of steps and unbuttons his jeans. Takes a few seconds to remove his wallet and grab a square packet that he throws on the bed. Condom. Thank goodness someone in the room has some brain function.

Next, he takes off his cotton shirt and reveals his chest. He hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his jeans, catching his boxers in the move, and shoves both down. Steps out.

Hard. Every inch of him, hard.

I try like some schoolgirl to avoid looking at his cock jutting out, but it’s difficult. He seems so big. Aggressive and ready.

He gives me a slight smile, one side of his mouth tipping. He doesn’t move and I realize what he’s doing. Giving me time to look at him, like he looked at me.

A hot flush blooms in my face and neck. I want badly to press my hand against the juncture of my thighs. My heartbeat is there. Focused on the place where my body needs relief.

I do like he wants. I look my fill at his upper body. Yes. The man works out, hard.

Lordy. I had no idea I’d be able to see every muscle outlined with deep ridges from his pecs to his abs. Anatomy classes could hang a chart of him in a class as the example of a perfect male specimen.

Seeing him clothed is a treat. Seeing him unclothed is decadence.

I’m so far gone already. Panting, throbbing, clenching. The level of my need is terrifying.

Getting on the bed, I lie back on the pillows, my lips swollen from kisses in the driveway and the doorway and the hallway.

Aiden drops his knees to the bed and crawls over to me slowly, never taking his gaze from mine. I want his weight on top of mine, but that’s not what he does. My body screams for him to be forceful. Be selfish. I want to beg him to hurry and push inside me.

Those hands. Those big talented hands. He reaches one hand out to take his shaft and stroke and I swear my head nearly explodes.

I close my eyes and I breathe like I’ve been running.

“Open your eyes, baby. See how hard you make me?”

I blink them and now I can’t seem to look anywhere but at his hand on himself. He’s thick. The head of his shaft produces a bead of liquid desire that drizzles down the side of him as he strokes.

He’s different in bed than I thought. I had him pegged as the polite type who might turn out the lights while we quickly had sex. Sex that would be nice and I’d have scratched that itch.

How stupid of me. He’ll be like a drug, a high too intense and too addictive to ever let go.

One minute I’m wondering if he’s going to torture me with this drawn out foreplay, the next his rough hands grasp my waist and prod me to sit up.

I do. He unfastens my bra and slides the straps down. He lowers his head to suck one nipple, his tongue laving the peak. His hair smells like woods and leather. Soap. I grab his head and moan.

He pulls away with a devilish grin. “Are you wet for me?”

“Mm hm,” I manage with my lips pressed together as tight as my thighs. I’m torn between being pissed and begging.

Aiden traces his fingers along my hipbones and hooks his fingers into both sides of my panties. He slowly drags the fabric down to my ankles and takes them off. Finally. I grab for his arms to pull him to me, but he’s immovable.

He’s still on his knees and he moves between my legs, pushes them up to bend my knees. “How wet are you?” he asks and teases a finger down my belly and lower.

“Aiden. I haven’t been with anyone—”

I gasp as his finger cleaves the lips of my sex and slowly, oh, so slowly, pushes inside me. I buck my hips and squeeze my eyes shut again. Just as slowly, he pulls his finger out. His other hand grips the inside of my thigh while stroking the soft flesh with his thumb.

“Baby. Your body is perfect. I could get off right now looking at you.” He pushes two fingers inside and the thickness feels so good. This pleasure is so different from when I’m alone in my bed. “Looking at your perfect…” he says while stroking those fingers in and out, “…pussy.”

“Ah,” I moan embarrassingly loud. Porn star loud.

He curls his fingers inside me, toward some secret spot. The sensation sends shocking waves of need through my core, and I moan even louder.

He removes his fingers and I realize my eyes are shut. I open them to see him staring at my face. A hot look, worshipful. He then closes his eyes for a minute as if regaining control. “I’m so hot for you. I’ve imagined this a thousand times. Your scent and the feel of your silky thighs. I want to hear you beg me. Can you beg me, baby?”

Then, he scoots down and pushes my legs apart more. I don’t have time to process or protest before his face is there in that most sacred place. His rough cheeks scrape against the sensitive skin of my inner thighs.

He kisses the spot where his fingers traced, a wet, open-mouth kiss. No time to adjust to a more personal invasion. He laves me with the flat of his tongue in a long upward motion that ends on the bud at the top of my lips.

I can’t control my hips and my hands go to his head, grasping for something, anything, to hold on to.

He pleasures me with two fingers, thrusting in and out as he sucks on my clit. A pressure builds inside my lower body, radiating out in tremors I can’t control. I push against his head and his mouth. His fingers.

“Aiden.” I want him inside me, but he continues. “Please. Aiden.”

Three fingers and I’m stretched; his teeth grazing my sensitive bud.

He pulls away and gets back on his knees, searching for the condom. His heavy cock juts toward me, straining and I smile at how beautiful he looks.

He watches me, one hand poised with the still wrapped condom, the other caressing my thigh. “I want everything from you. Do you understand?”

I reach out and grab him at the base of his shaft and he groans. The sound is a musical thing. Pleasure nearing pain.

Lowering my mouth, I kiss the top of his cock, already slick with his desire. My lips slide along the wet outer side and one of his hands grips the back of my hair.

He trembles, his breathing more erratic than before. “You have no idea how much I want—”

The sounds he makes drives me to do it again. I take all of him in my mouth in one slide down. My head bobs twice and he tugs the back of my hair. Over and over, I tease and suck this beautiful part of him.

“Stop,” he commands in a gruff voice filled with regret.

Smiling around his steely shaft, I suck once.

He bucks his hips, thrusting into my mouth. “Baby, you have to stop or this is going to be over too soon.” Placing both hands on the sides of my head, he pulls me away. “Lie down. Now.”

Satisfied that I’ve driven him to need as much as I do, I do as he says. He unwraps the condom, rolls it on to himself, and slides his body on top of mine.

My nipples scrape along his chest and my fingers dig into his shoulders. His muscles bunch underneath my hold.

He kisses me deeply, his tongue plundering me, fucking me, the way he had between my legs. I writhe and whimper underneath him.

“Tell me what you want.” He rubs his shaft on the top of my mound. “You want me to love you? Want me inside? Want my cock?”

Love? The word startles me for a second. I push it away. Pretty words from a sweet but dirty mouth. Such a seductive mouth.

His mouth pulls away and his face is so close to mine. His forehead touches mine and his harsh breaths pulse against my skin.

I suck in air. “Fuck me. Please,” I say. I don’t curse often. Hardly ever since Ryder came into my life. But this. I’ll scream the words if he’ll give me what I want.

He lifts his hips and his hand moves down between us. “So wet,” he says hoarsely. “So perfect.”

I press my center up to meet him. “You’re so good.” I don’t even sound like myself.

“Baby,” he moans and pushes inside me with one long stroke and back out.

I grab his shoulders harder.

He slides in again and lifts his head to stare at me. “It’s so hard to keep control. You feel so good.” Slides out and takes that blessed feeling with him.

I’m frantic. “Faster. Please.” I’m a begging mess. My nails bite into his skin.

He keeps eye contact, locked on me like he’s watching for something. Like he’s trying to read every thought in my head. His eyes are darker. Bottomless black at the irises.

His cock slides back in and out, pumping faster and I match the pulse of my hips to his beat.

I open my mouth to suck in air as my heart slams against my chest. The building of pressure frustrates me, pleasures me, taunts me.

He nods once in a wordless understanding, only a slight dip of his head, then pushes up on one hand so his body parts from mine even while he continues to thrust inside. Sliding his other hand down, down, down, he presses fingers against my bud where the pleasure hides. He circles it and thrusts his hips.

A bead of sweat drips from his forehead, infinitesimally slow, dropping onto my cheek and sliding down like a blissful tear.

I’m on edge, my toes curling off the end of that pleasurable cliff, a tension like two strong hands pushing at my back and urging me to fall.

Then my body pulses, all my adrenaline and pleasure centering and breaking apart in wave after wave. I clench around him in a guttural moan.

With the timing of a flipped switch, his eyes blaze with heat and satisfaction and urgency.

He’s no longer controlled and steady, but gives a frantic push again and again as his eyes widen. His expression is wild and primal, his movements jerky.

Aiden freezes for a minute with his chest heaving above me, slick with perspiration. “Hey,” he says low and quiet.

“Hey,” I utter, my voice shaky. We’re still joined together, our bodies flush and more one being than two. I wish we could stay like this in our own little bubble of sexual contentment.

He pulls out and takes off the condom. “Let me get rid of this. Don’t move.” As if I can. My limbs noodle helplessly at my sides. I’m cold and lonely without him even for the seconds he’s gone. Silly.

Ordering my body to obey, I force myself to hop up and slide underneath the comforter and sheets. When he returns, he turns out the lamplight and slides in beside me. He rolls onto his side and leans up on one elbow.

“I want you to know that I don’t sleep around.”

I stare at him. “OK. I don’t either. But I don’t expect anything. You know…I don’t want you to think that…” I’m not sure what I’m going to say.

He reaches across and pushes hair from my face before cupping my cheek. “This isn’t just about sex.”

More words filter into my brain. The lyrics to join the one from earlier today.

The lyrics play in my head, intruding on this moment. Sometimes it’s a curse to be a song writer. Words and feelings run like a renegade musical through my head.

“What are you thinking about?” Aiden’s brow creases into tiny questioning lines.

“This moment.”

“You feel it,” he says and runs his thumb along my bottom lip. “That this is different. Special.”

My belly flutters and my lungs seize up. I don’t breathe for several seconds. Finally, I pull in air and then exhale. “Yeah. It’s not just sex.”

“Whew,” he says and drops onto the pillow and pulls it close to mine, so close our faces are inches apart. “You took too long to answer. Made me nervous.”

He grins, the corners of his eyes wrinkling in laugh lines. His dark hair, longer on top than on the sides, slips down into his eyes. I mimic his earlier movement and move the hair aside by running my fingers through it, up and back.

“I also don’t know what to do with this feeling.” I attempt to keep my voice light, but it’s tough when all I can manage to do is whisper. As if saying it too loud will make everything come crashing down around my ears. “I really don’t know what this is.”

“You don’t have to put a label on it.” He takes my hand and kisses the knuckles. “Life is tough enough without thinking you have to place everything in a neat category.”

“Good. You seem like the category-label kind of guy and I don’t want to be worried about what you expect.”

He nods. “You have it right. I am that kind of guy. But I can be OK with you not knowing.”

“Oh,” I say, on guard now that I realize I’d misunderstood. He has us in a category even if I don’t.

“Quit throwing your shields up.” He leans across a couple of inches and kisses my nose. “I’m a patient guy. I work hard for everything and it pays off. I’ll bring you around to thinking of us with a label.”

“How about lovers?” I ask.

He pretends to think about it, looking up at some spot above my head and pressing his lips together. He drops his gaze to meet mine. “I want exclusivity.”

“Well, that was easy. Since I haven’t been with anyone in years, I’d say you’re a shoe-in,” I tease.

His brow wrinkles. “Years, huh. Since Jared?”

“Yeah. But I hate even saying that, because you’ll think it’s because of him. And that’s not it. Abstinence has more to do with Ryder.”

My hand lies in the space between us and he rubs along the top of my fingers, tracing rough fingers along Nonna’s ring on my left hand. I’d worn it when I thought we’d be visiting her. He places his big hand over mine and threads his fingers through, curling his fingers inward so he holds it.

He looks away and back to me. There’s a weird, embarrassed expression on his face. “I want to stay the night. I guess you got that when I turned your light out and hopped in the bed with you. I want to hold you. Wake up with you. And I just realized when you mentioned Ryder that he’s next door with your mom.”

The corner of my mouth tips up. I’m not sure where he’s going with this. “Uh huh. Right. So?”

“Do I need to sneak out so she doesn’t see me leaving at dawn?”

I laugh and scoot closer. “No. My mom isn’t a normal mom. She’ll be happy I finally let somebody in. She’s been bugging me to date ever since Jared. She thinks between him and my dad, I…”

Those words spill out as carelessly as singing along to the earworm that won’t leave your subconscious.

“Your dad?” Aiden asks softly.

“My dad, he left us when I was a kid.” Even this practiced explanation tightens my throat.

“Yeah? How old were you?”

My heartbeat pommels my chest in a frenzy, like sleet in a winter storm picking up speed. “Eleven.”

“Must’ve been hard. Where is he now?”

My pulse charges ahead. The blood heats my skin and forces me to lick my dry lips. Calm down. Simple question, simple answer.

“He died a long time ago.”

“How?”

“Suicide.” I stare at his lips, a rush of emotions whooshing inside my head.

Aiden tugs me toward him and I resist for a second, then succumb. He places my head against his chest. His heart pulses steady, not gaining velocity like mine. It’s a comfortable, solid beat. Solid as a clock counting time.

He kisses the top of my head. “Wish that hadn’t happened. Wish I could take it away.” His arms wrap around me like an impenetrable shield where I feel nothing can hurt me.

“Can we just do this cuddling thing? All this talk is ruining my post-coital glow.”

“Only if you realize this cuddling leads to other things.”

I shrug. “Unintended consequences be damned. I’m willing to take the risk.”

“Then cuddle closer.”

* * *

Makenna, age 10

The master bedroom door stands open. It’s dark inside, the bedroom blinds closed tighter than a tomb. I scan the room, not seeing him at first. The rustle of clothing gives him away. Then he shifts from the doorway of the attached bathroom.

I jump and my palms itch from the jolt of adrenaline.

“Daddy? Jeez. You scared me.” I inhale, but don’t smell any booze. I was wrong. He…maybe found that bottle and thought he’d throw it out.

“Did you have a good day at school?”

I stare across, into the dark, attempting a mind-reading trick. Except I’m not a magician and nothing comes. “Yes. Did you have a good day?”

He steps forward and there’s still not enough light for me to see his face. “No. I didn’t.”

“What’s wrong, Daddy?” I reach over and switch the light on.

“Bad day,” he says, shielding his eyes with one hand. “Can you turn that back off?”

Daddy’s dressed—not in one of the suits he used to wear—but at least he’s wearing jeans and a shirt.

I do as he says and switch the light off. “Does your head hurt?”

“No, darling. No.”

“What did you want to tell me?” I ask.

“I wanted to talk about being a good daughter. I want to talk about what you saw that day.”

I stop breathing for a second. I never want to talk about this again. “I don’t want to, OK? Let’s just pretend it didn’t happen.”

“The woman who was trying to make me feel better? She worked with me at my old job. She took advantage of the situation, with your mama not at home.”

“I didn’t tell Mama,” I blurt out. “I said I wouldn’t. You promised it wouldn’t happen again…so I’ll keep my promise.”

I begin to shake. The naked woman in my mama’s bed. And Daddy doing things to her. I squeeze my eyes but the scene doesn’t disappear from my head. That woman wanted to take Mama’s place, and I won’t let that happen. Why is he talking about it now? We made a deal that he would never, ever do it again.

I need to throw up.

Daddy begins to cry. No sounds, only a couple of tears. But I’ve never seen him like this. “I’m so sorry. I let you down.”

He looks so sad. Stop crying. I’ll say anything to make him stop. He needs more medicine. That’s all. “It’s OK,” I lie. “Let’s forget about it. People make mistakes.”

This is what he always says. I’ve heard it a million times.

He wipes a hand across his face. “You’re a good girl. The best. It’s why I have a surprise for you.” His words sound cheerful.

“Really?” I smile for a split second…but it fades. Something doesn’t feel right.

“Yes, my my my Macky.” He sings it, a throwback from when I was little and he mimicked some song.

“Come here. There’s a box in the nightstand. Bring it to me.”

“Oh.” I hang back, still not crossing the threshold. The air in this room feels haunted. My unease, a wild creature with razor-sharp claws, pads up my spine like a scratching pole.

“I love you, Makenna. You know that, right? I love you more than anyone in the world.”

These words should fill me with pride. But it’s the things he doesn’t say that bother me. “And Mama. You love Mama, too.”

“I do.”

“Me, too,” I add for no reason. Last summer, we went canoeing. Mama and Daddy argued about which way to paddle and we ended up going in circles. This conversation feels like that canoe.

“Now, be a good girl and fetch the surprise. Remember that Daddy-Daughter dance I took you to last year? It’s something like that. For the two of us.”

“Oh, Daddy. I loved that dance.” I hop without thinking, then look at the bed and see him with that woman.

Why can’t I erase that from my brain?

“Go on. Get it for Daddy,” he coaxes.

I walk with leaden feet toward the nightstand. “Can I turn on the lamp?” I ask.

“Yes, but don’t spoil the surprise. Don’t open the present yet.”

I reach up and click on the light. A soft glow spreads across the unmade bed. Don’t look at the bed. Don’t do it. I focus on the brass knobs of the nightstand. I pull out the drawer to find a wooden box. The box is heavy. Mysterious. A little exciting. Daddy’s sorry about all he’s done and he’s bought me a present.

I take it to him. What’s in here? The new phone I asked for last year and didn’t get? Whatever it is, it feels like a bribe.

“Here.” I hand him the box and wait. He sets it on the dresser.

“I love you Makenna,” he says. “Close your eyes.”

This is like he used to be, always giving me surprises. “OK.” I do it. Maybe the bribe will make him feel better and he won’t cry anymore.

Something cold and hard clicks around my upper arm. I open my eyes instinctively. Confusion clouds my vision. I jerk my arm and metal bites into my arm.

A handcuff on me. I don’t understand. I follow the path of chain from my arm to Daddy’s wrist.