It's been weeks with the same hot, electric routine.

But Gabe is getting way too comfortable in my bed, and I’m getting way too comfortable with having him there.

It’s irritating the hell out of me and grating on my guilty conscience.

This is why I don’t do attachments.

If I don’t get attached, I don’t have to care that apparently my little revenge prank strained Gabe and Landon’s relationship. Or recognize how it’s going to get even worse once Landon finds out that now we really are sleeping together.

He’ll see it as all Gabe’s fault, and then it’ll be my fault if they lose a friendship that matters so much to them.

Complication number one. Only ninety-nine more I can't remember when his mouth is on me, or he's savaging my body in ways no one ever has, or I let myself feel safer than ever before in an embrace bigger and better than Hercules.

Today, at the office, it’s all I can think about.

On the surface I’m scoping out floor plans for a new concert venue for superstar singer Milah Holly, scrolling through PDF after PDF and biting at my thumbnail while I think. The dilemma simmers on my mental back burner while I try to turn over what I should do, if I should say anything, or if I should just leave it alone and mind my own business.

But Landon and I are alone in the office, everyone else out on small short-term contract gigs while he drums up the business and I work on the logistics, and I feel like I’m in that Edgar Allan Poe story where it’s not a tell-tale heart driving me crazy, but the click of his fingers on the keyboard seeming to demand that I do something.

I sigh, shoulders slumping, then lean forward, thudding my forehead against the edge of the desk before spinning in my chair. “Boss.”

He doesn’t look up, completely absorbed in his laptop.

“Hey. Boss.”

Landon starts, then looks up, blinking owlishly before running a hand through his hair. “Huh? Sorry, Pixie. What’s up?”

“Can we talk?”

A worried furrow creases his brow. “Yeah. What’s going on?”

“I, um...it’s actually about Gabe.”

That furrow becomes a canyon. His eyes darken. “Why? What'd he do now?”

“Nothing!” I almost shout it, then square my shoulders.

God. I need to stay calm. Be as calm about this as I am about everything else, not acting like a nervous schoolgirl. “That’s just the thing, Landon. He didn’t do anything wrong. When I was screwing around before, what I was implying...” I bite my lip. “The sex never happened. I was just mad and wanted to get back at him. I hated being on his leash. Honestly, he was a total gentleman and I was the brat, and I know I made you doubt your friend. I’m sorry.”

Landon stares, sizing me up for a hard ten seconds.

At last, he blinks, before his expression clears into confusion, then something like relief. I hope.

“Well, damn.”

I wince. “Ugh. Okay, go ahead and let me have it, boss. It was shitty of me, wasn’t it?”

“Nah. I mean, maybe. But look, you’re upset and not quite thinking straight, and I just shoved Gabe on you. I get it, Pixie. If you’re not used to him, he’s a bit much – but he’s also able to take anything you throw at him, even when you’re a hot, prickly mess.” He smiles faintly, boyish features shining under the hardened man I look up to. “I appreciate the apology, Sky. Really. Hell, I probably owe Gabe one, too. I shouldn’t have doubted him like that and went off. Still getting back to normal after all the shit that went down with Dallas, I guess.”

“Right. You're right.” I look down at my knees, physically bracing for what's next. “But there’s something else.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“What I said didn’t happen before? Well, it's happening now.”

It takes another brutal three second pause for it to sink in. Then my boss' eyes are daggers.

“Skylar.”

I wince, hunching my shoulders. It’s like telling my big brother I lost my virginity, and I’m regretting starting this conversation – but it’s out there now, and I’ve got to finish it.

“I’m not exactly telling you this for fun,” I mutter, hoping to head off a lecture. Or something worse. “I just want to be transparent about conflicts of interest since I work for you and technically Gabe works for me and you. Whatever’s going on with me and Gabe, I’m not going to let it affect either of our jobs or our personal lives. And in case we’re not clear on his guilt, I started things. Not him. I wanted it, too.”

Landon exhales heavily. “Shit. Well, I guess that’s good to know.”

He pauses, drawing another heavy sigh. His exhale is like a timer where I count all the ways I can die.

“It’s your life, Sky. If it's like you say, and it's not affecting anybody's job, then it's none of my damn business. I’m trusting you not to fuck it up. Just don’t break each other too bad, okay?”

I don’t know how to answer.

Because really, truly, I already know I’m going to break Gabe in the worst ways, when he looks at me with those sweet puppy eyes and kisses me like we could actually be something when I don’t even know if I have the capacity underneath the hard, hateful shell I’ve built over myself.

But I’m saved from answering when Landon’s phone rings on his desk, that distinctive melodious ringtone the whole company has learned belongs to Kenna, and I can’t help but smile at the dopey look of eager happiness that completely transforms the boss' face.

“Sorry,” he says, already swiveling back to his desk. “Gotta take this.”

“Sure,” I answer, but he’s not even hearing me.

And I wonder what it’s like, to be that in love.

So deeply, innocently in love that everyone can see the happiness on your face.

Instead of nothing but misery.

Sunbeam, huh?

Never thought I'd accept the ridiculous nickname, but it doesn't piss me off anymore.

Still, I’m no sunbeam.

I’m a fireball.

Radiating heat, full of hatred and anger. One day, I'm afraid it'll burn every beautiful, kind thing Gabe has given me.

One day, I'm afraid it will burn me down.

I don’t want to be alone after work, but my head’s too full of melancholy to go back to Gabe when he’s probably waiting at my house. And he’ll take one look at me and sniff out that something’s wrong. Then he’ll be all gentle and understanding, making me want to spill everything to him when right now, the turmoil inside me is about him.

I just can’t do it right now. It’s too much of a distraction, and I need to keep my mind on Joannie.

Gabe’s just the stress relief I need when the tension builds up too much. That’s it. A bit of physical exertion to work out my nerves and frustration.

That’s all he can be.

That's all I'll let him be.

So, instead of heading home, I drive to Grandma’s. She’s not home, but Monika is.

Sis limply, listlessly tells me Grandma’s out with friends, then trudges back to her blanket nest on the couch, curls up, and pulls a blanket over her head.

Oh, damn it. Reality’s starting to sink in, isn’t it?

We're no closer to finding her. I know it, and so does Monika.

I settle down on the edge of the couch cautiously at her hip and rest a hand on her shoulder through the blanket. “Nika?” I ask. “What’s wrong?”

“Meh.”

“Come on. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

“Like you don't know. We’re never going to find her, are we?” she mumbles, pain barely muffled behind the blanket. “The detective called today. Harmon’s definitely clear. They don’t know who took her or even where to start looking. My –” Her voice hitches. “My baby’s gone.”

I close my eyes.

Pain swamps me through and through. It’s an awful, helpless feeling. I shift to lean against her, laying against the lump of blanket holding my sister, trying to offer comfort through closeness, if I can't offer answers. It kills me because it's true.

“I haven’t stopped looking,” I whisper firmly. “I won’t stop. You know that.”

“Yeah?” she answers morosely. “But what fucking good does it do?”

I have no comeback. No easy, hollow words of encouragement.

It’s a gunshot to my heart, and now I’m bleeding, the life draining out of me next to my dying sister.

I just stay quiet. I just stay with her, while she shakes against me in soundless, gasping sobs.

It’s a while before I leave.

I stay with Monika until she falls asleep, and then pull the blanket back and smooth her hair, drying the tears off her cheeks. I hate what this is doing to my sister, how it’s ravaging her.

No matter how it’s eating me up inside, it’s ten times worse for her.

I have to do something. Anything.

With determination hardening inside me, I slip out and into my car, meaning to head back to my place to start working like a dog. I can't give up, and I won't get distracted. Not until Joannie comes home.

Gabe can either make himself useful or stay out of the way.

But there’s a massive delivery truck blocking my path. I bite my lip, annoyed I can't even get on the street.

It’s a loading truck, and it’s dropping off one of those huge portable moving trailers in Jim’s driveway. One more ugly reminder he really is moving to Montana.

Damn. He’s been such a comfort to Monika, and I hate that he’s moving away.

Without him, she won’t have anyone left but Grandma and me.

And right now, I’m feeling like having me is cold, crappy comfort that’s no good for anyone at all.

I don’t even get to say a word when I come home before Gabe’s on me.

His kiss comes hard, hot, and electrifies me in a way that makes it hard to think about anything at all. When I’ve got so much on my mind, I welcome the distraction.

I’m still determined to find a lead, but I can take a few minutes to just melt into this wonderful man who changes my whole gravity.

Just a few minutes of kissing turns into more, straddling Gabe’s rugged, giant body, savoring the way he spreads me open. I love being under him, lost in his heat, his own personal playground for just a few precious moments.

A few frantic minutes of his body moving under me, a lion-man pinning me in place, fucking up into me so hard I'd fly right off him if his huge hands didn't lock me back in place.

Every time I try to take control by sinking down on him, he wrests it away, thrusting up into me in that wild way that makes me burst apart at the seams.

I love the fight, the flesh, the sweat, the entanglement.

I love the heat of his mouth and the feral groan as his fingers dig into my ass, knuckles turning white.

I love how I bring him to the edge, and how I can't fight as he pulls me over.

I love how I come so hard my eyes roll back, swallowed up into his numbing, white-hot sweetness.

Pure, lush sensation radiates out from the depths to the very tips of my toes, spiraling outward in shockwaves of heat.

We’re wild together. We're perfect for the next sixty seconds.

We rock and surge like the sea, and it’s madness, cataclysmic and explosive. I can’t get enough of his cock, his hands, the brutish thickness of his body and the gentleness in his low gaze.

Every time he looks at me, those soulful hazel eyes promise.

This is the only time I'll ever hurt you, darlin'. Hurt you real good.

I hear him saying it, loudly but wordlessly.

It's what I need. I want him to hurt me so good, so deep, until instead of a hateful fireball I’m just liquid fire, and I’m burning myself up into pieces.

When it’s over, I sprawl against him, tucked in bed with one lazy leg hooked over his.

This feels intimate. Close. Personal.

And I shouldn't let it be that, for the sake of my own sanity. Not when he holds me like he wants me, needs me. Not when he holds me like he owns me already.

Not when he holds me like he cares, and like we're meant to be.

So I make myself say it, forcing my voice to sound light. “I’m glad you’re around, Gabe,” I tell him, but before it can be taken the wrong way, I continue, “You know, I appreciate your kindness and the stress relief and...yeah. I need this. The physical outlet. The release. And I guess I'm just glad we can both handle it without things getting messy.”

He’s too quiet, too still, almost not breathing, but his voice is calm, even when he asks, “Handle what, exactly?”

“Fucking,” I say, although it feels like a lie and it’s one that hurts. “No strings sex, I mean. Most people can’t do that more than once without getting weird about it.”

Again that telling silence.

I can almost tell what he’s thinking, but I know what I’m doing. I have to keep the boundaries in place between us. I need to put those walls in place and reinforce them before they crumble completely.

“So that’s all this is?” he says neutrally. “Just a distraction. A little fun. Another thing to tack on my invoice from Landon when we’re done. You so sure of that, darlin’?”

I can’t answer. I can't even think. But my face is hot, and I hate it.

Jesus, I never blush. Never. But now it's been happening almost nonstop, ever since he barreled into my life.

I don’t want to deal with this.

I can’t.

So, tonight, I don’t, just letting the silence leave a million things unsaid between us.

Maybe that conversation is why he asks me to stop by his place a few nights later.

Maybe that conversation made him realize things were getting a little too personal. You can’t get more impersonal than an AirBnB belonging to a stranger, living out of boxes and fucking on a bed that isn’t your own.

It’s just a reminder that he’s only here temporarily, so there’s no point in getting attached.

That’s probably why, when we wrap around each other tonight, there’s a feeling of desperation to it. Like we’re trying to carve ourselves into each other. Like he’s trying to brand himself inside me while I score permanent marks down his back and leave fierce imprints in his shoulder with my teeth.

He’s out cold almost as soon as we’re done, falling away like sleep is a refuge.

I can’t escape quite that easily. Even if this place isn’t really his, it feels wrong for me to be here.

I’m the one making things weird between us, not him. Even if we haven’t brought it up again, everything I said constantly haunts us, a third presence in the room, straining the easy camaraderie and understanding we’d developed.

It needs to be that way.

Doesn’t it?

God, if I’m asking myself that...

I need to leave.

I have work to do, anyway. And Gabe is definitely too much of a distraction, when I’m no closer than I was a week ago to finding new intel on Joannie.

Gingerly, I slip out from under his heavy arm and shift to my feet, reaching for my clothes – but I don’t make it a step before a warm hand curls around my wrist, then drifts down to tangle with my fingers. I freeze, glancing back over my shoulder.

Gabe watches me over the rumpled pillow, one drowsy eye drifting over me.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he mumbles. “Can’t sleep?”

I don’t say anything. I don’t owe him any explanations, but with that uncanny way he has of reading me, he sighs and says exactly what I’m thinking.

“You’re on the trail again, aren’t you?” His gaze clearing, he shifts onto his back, sitting up. “You’re still after Harmon even though we know he’s a damned dead end.”

“Do we?” I shake my head and pull my hand free from his. “You know the cops aren’t thorough. That’s why companies like Enguard exist. That’s why we had to hire you. So, yeah, maybe they missed something. Maybe all the phone calls and our snooping missed something, too. I think I need to go to Redding. I need to be on the ground to see what’s happening, what we missed before it’s too late. Joannie could be across international lines right now, and if Harmon won’t crack then maybe one of his friends will.”

Gabe frowns, considering, then shakes his head.

“I’m just not seeing it. You know I’ve been digging too, darlin’. Harmon’s friends ain’t the type to take a bullet for him. They’re self-serving rats, and they fled that sinking ship already. Any one of them would’ve turned by now if they knew more, just so they wouldn’t get caught up in his shit when it’s no joke to be suspected of kidnapping a kid. They’re not gonna help him. They’re not the ones who ripped up your car. I don’t see Harmon here, creepy little fuck that he is. He just ain’t got the smarts for some kind of international conspiracy, and he doesn’t do anything that doesn’t have money in it for him. There’s no gain in him taking Joannie.”

“You don’t know that!” I fling at him, frustration bitter inside me.

Because I know he’s right.

I’m just clinging on to Harmon as a suspect to have something, when otherwise I’d have nothing but completely lost hope.

But the fight’s gone out of me, for now. And it doesn’t take much for Gabe to coax me back to bed, warm arms wrapped around me.

A kiss, one that tastes like promises I can’t let myself believe in. I let myself curl up against him, taking shelter in the stone wall of his breadth and his bulk.

One more night, I tell myself.

One more night to take comfort, and then I’ll take action. Won’t let anything stop me.

Not Gabe, not work, not Monika, not Grandma, and not life.

He brushes his lips to my hair. “Sleep, darlin’. Sleep. We’ll figure something out. We’ll find what we’re missing.”

I’m not so sure.

But I say nothing, as I fall still against him and listen to the sounds of the night, and just know I won’t be sleeping for a very long time tonight. If at all.