“The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.”

---

“I would just like to point out, every one of that woman’s sentences contained an even number of words.” Shelly’s hands opened and closed on the steering wheel, like she was trying to get a better grip.

This was the first complete thought she’d spoken since threatening Christine St. Claire’s eyelids with a TIG welder, and she made it sound like the woman could not have committed a more outrageous offense than speaking exclusively in even-worded sentences.

I cleared my throat and nodded. “Noted.”

Never mind that Christine’s parting words advocated that I beat Shelly.

No. Never mind that. Because if I thought about that, then the rage would swell within me all over again.

As soon as they’d left, Shelly locked up the shop in a frenzy, pulled me to her car, and we took off. I was also in a frenzy of a kind, wanting to tear something apart, ruin and wreck and destroy. I couldn’t fathom that I’d talked myself into giving that woman the benefit of the doubt. What the hell was wrong with me?

Duane’s words from weeks ago echoed between my ears: Don’t set yourself on fire trying to keep others warm.

It was a hard lesson to learn, but I knew with a stunning conviction that I’d just learned it.

Shelly drove past the turnoff for her road, taking us on a long, roundabout way to her place. I realized belatedly that she was making sure we weren’t being followed.

The sound of her barking dogs welcomed us as soon as we exited her car, and they burst forth as usual as soon as she opened the door.

The one named Laika began licking my hand in earnest and most of my wrath melted away. I crouched low, dodging her doggy kisses, and rubbed the back of her ears. She looked at me like I was her human, and that’s honestly all it took.

“I am in love with this dog.”

Shelly was petting and patting Ivan’s head, watching me with Laika. “Can you grab the leashes?”

“Yeah, sure thing.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Shelly disappeared for a bit and my mind zeroed in on the mundane process of leashing the dogs, focusing solely on that singular activity. And after I was finished, my mind blanked. I stared at the trunk of a white oak tree and thought about absolutely nothing.

When she returned, she held out her hand for their leads. Instead, I took her fingers in mine and we set off.

The sun had just set. I took a moment to admire the reds, oranges, yellows, and purples of the surrounding forest in the fading light. The witching hour, where the Earth was lit with the afterglow of sunset. The song of the summer cicadas was gone, their symphony replaced with the sounds of crickets at dusk, celebrating the coming night.

When had autumn arrived so completely? And where had I been? Asleep? When had I become inoculated to the beauty of my surroundings? When had I started taking my blessings for granted?

“Last week, Bethany Winston was my mother.”

Shelly’s hand squeezed mine. “She is still your mother.”

I nodded at that, deciding it was exactly the right thing for her to say, and we kept on walking.

---

I woke up in darkness and didn’t know where I was.

It took me several seconds to realize I was still at Shelly’s and I’d fallen asleep in her bed. Reaching forward and blinking against the night, I saw her side was empty.

We’d taken the dogs on a long walk, neither of us feeling inclined to fill the silence, which suited my mood just fine. Back at her cabin—I’d officially upgraded the place from shack to cabin—I set the table and fed the dogs while she put the finishing touches on dinner.

While we ate, she talked about art school. I told her about the first car I’d fixed up—a 1978 Lincoln Continental—and then we did the dishes together. She put on an old record of Johnny Mercer’s greatest hits for background music.

When the first notes of “Skylark” came on, I dried my hands, and pulled her away from the cabinet and into my arms.

She tilted her head back, giving me a look of consternation. “I do not know how to dance.”

“No matter, I know how.” I kissed her nose and took the lead. “Pretend you’re a noodle.”

Shelly arched an eyebrow. “A noodle?”

“Spaghetti, the already cooked kind.” I slid my cheek against hers and we glided around the small space. I was careful to take short, swaying steps until she relaxed. Then I spun her out, reeled her back, and dipped her.

And that made her laugh.

Something in my bones reset at the sound of her laugh, something fundamental. Maybe the notion that joy was still possible, and that I could provide it despite who my parents were. Despite that I’d come from bad.

After “Skylark,” we slow danced to “Fools Rush In,” and “Come Rain or Come Shine.” But when “Jeepers Creepers” came on, Shelly made a face. Peering up at me, she wrinkled her nose in distaste, and that made me laugh.

“I guess I should get going.” I used my index and middle finger to gently push several strands of her long hair away from her forehead.

“Why?”

I searched her features. She was honestly curious. I’d just opened my mouth to say something about being tired, and it getting late, and needing to work tomorrow, when she cut me off with a quick kiss.

“Stay.” She kissed me again, just as quickly. “I won’t make any attempts to seduce you. Tonight.”

My mouth dropped open and I blinked once. “Excuse me?”

“You are excused, but not to leave.”

I crossed my arms. “You’re planning on seducing me?”

“Not tonight,” she confirmed, and then added, “maybe next week.”

Laughing incredulously, I shook my head at her. “This subject comes up a lot with you.”

“Because I spend a lot of time thinking about it. And so do you. Also, I’m clean and have an IUD to prevent pregnancy. Are you clean?”

Pregnancy?

“Clean?”

“Are you?”

“Clean? Yes. Yes, I am. I’m clean.” I continued shaking my head, now completely bewildered. “You are unbelievable.”

“No, I’m not, I’m honest. That makes me very believable.”

“I don’t know what to do with you.”

“Read me a book, but brush your teeth first. I have extra toothbrushes under the sink. When’s the last time you had a dental checkup?” Not waiting for my answer, Shelly turned and scurried out of the living room.

I got the impression she expected me to follow her. I also got the impression she was nervous, which was what had propelled her scurrying.

That’s basically how I ended up in her bed, teeth brushed, and asleep. I’d been reading Great Expectations aloud while she snuggled against me. When she took over, I’d fallen asleep to the soft cadence of her voice.

And now I was alone in her bed. I couldn’t find a clock—nor did I know what I’d done with my phone—so I had no idea what time it was. Stretching as I stood, I navigated to the bathroom and, because I was already there and it might’ve been closer to morning than night, I brushed my teeth.

Coming out of the bathroom, I found Shelly curled up on the couch under a blanket. Walking quietly to her, I spotted one of the pillows from the bed under her cheek.

She’d taken the sofa, in her own house, and given me the bed. That didn’t make a lick of sense.

I crouched next to her, threading my fingers into the silky hair at her temples. “Honey.”

“Mmm.”

I bent to whisper, “Shelly.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m going to carry you to your bed. I’ll take the sofa.”

“Mmm.”

I grinned at her soft noises, at the untroubled expression on her face, and how her brow, even in sleep, still looked regal and stern.

Sliding my arms under her legs and shoulder, I picked her up. And, unfortunately, that woke her up.

She jerked in my arms. “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking you to the bed.”

“Don’t do that.”

“I don’t mind, I’ll take the sofa.” Our mouths were just inches apart, and hers was distracting.

She squirmed. “Put me down.”

Sighing unhappily, I did. I set her on her feet next to the couch. The blanket pooled at her feet and I stepped back to give her some space. It was dark, but I could see her just fine, and that meant I had to force my eyes to remain above her neck. The woman was wearing two pathetic scraps of fabric as pajamas. A thin little tank top and shorts. That’s it.

I set my jaw and turned to the side, waiting for her to walk past.

“Where are you?”

I glanced at her and realized she couldn’t see at all. She didn’t have a hand out, but the way her eyes were moving about the room gave away her blindness.

“I’m here.” I didn’t touch her, because if I did, I wouldn’t want to stop.

Shelly turned her head in my direction and took a deep breath. Still she didn’t reach for me. I didn’t know the specifics of what to expect after her Friday session, but I recalled Dr. West saying something about Shelly doing self-guided ERP exercises over this week.

“Can you see?” She licked her lips, her voice sandpapery. “Because I can’t see at all. It’s so dark.”

“I can see.” Unbidden, my eyes dropped to her body, to the swell of her breasts, the panel of bare stomach, the curve of her hips. Pinpricks of heat raised over my skin and I curled my hands into fists.

She shuffled forward and I caught her before she bumped into me, setting my hands gently at her waist.

“Let me take you to your room.” My voice was rough, for obvious reasons.

Saying nothing, she brought her hand to my forearm, her body gently colliding with mine. And then her hand on my arm slid up my bicep to my shoulder.

“Shelly.” I was running out of breath.

“I like this.”

“What?”

“Touching you.”

Oh fuck.

I held still and endured her hands moving over my body, down the front of my shirt, stopping at the hem, then pushing it up.

“Take this off.”

I did. I pulled the T-shirt over my head and let it drop to the floor.

We stood there, facing each other in the dark, not touching. Despite the session on Friday and the progress that had been made, I realized she wasn’t quite there yet. Dr. West was right, Friday was just a step, the first step. Shelly wasn’t able to initiate contact. Not yet.

Her hands balled into fists and she swayed forward, her breath struggling little puffs.

If anything was going to happen tonight, I had to initiate it. I had to be the one to touch first.

God, how I wanted her. How I wanted her above me, beneath me, surrounding me. But how could I?

“I know why I hesitate,” her voice was breathless, “but why do you hesitate?”

“Lots of reasons.”

“Give me one.”

“I don’t want to use you.”

“I wish you would.”

That pulled a laugh from me, just a small relief from the mounting tension. My eyes moved over her body, an undeniable impulse to devour the sight of her, her legs, stomach, chest, then up her neck to her lips.

“You asked me on Saturday if sex was a big deal for me, or if it was you. The answer is both.”

She held very still, and I got the sense she was holding her breath, straining to listen.

“You are a big deal to me. I don’t want a fling. I don’t want a flirtation. I want promises.”

“What can I promise you?”

That you’ll love me. That I’ll be your priority.

She shifted her weight from foot to foot. A spike of anxiety that she might leave me like this had me acting without forethought. I lifted my hands to her waist again, and immediately, her fingertips skimmed over the skin of my lower stomach in response, making my muscles tense in hot anticipation. She grew more assertive as she caressed my sides, abdomen, ribs, chest, shoulders, and then back down.

Shelly stepped closer, a hint of thrilling contact between her breasts and my torso, and all the words and worries melted from my mind, died on my tongue, suffocated by the feel of her body, and the possibility of this moment.

Her finger hooked in the waistband of my jeans. “Take these off.” Her hand turned, her fingers and palm cupping me over my zipper.

Instinctively, I pressed myself into her touch even as I grabbed her wrist.

“Beau, I promise—”

She didn’t get to speak, because I kissed her, hard and wild, unbuttoning and unzipping my fly with one hand and bringing her palm inside my boxers with the other.

She surged forward, stroking me ardently. I released her wrist and thrust my fingers into the back of her shorts, grabbing two handfuls of perfect ass. Allowing myself a self-indulgent moment to knead and fondle the luscious globes, I then shoved her shorts down her legs.

“What are you doing?” she panted, tearing her lips from mine even as her hand worked me. She didn’t need to, I was already hard. I’d been hard the moment she touched my arm in the dark.

I reached for and into my wallet, and—praise Billy—found three condoms there. My brother was fanatical about making sure we all had condoms, all of the time. Even me.

Unwilling to release her fully, I ripped one open with my teeth.

“Beau?” Her voice was high and uncertain as she clung to me.

Batting her hands away from my dick, I rolled it into place while I bent, suckling her breast into my mouth through the whisper-thin fabric of her top. This thing was ridiculous, more like gauze than fabric.

I loved it.

She arched, her breath hitching when I gave her succulent nipple a little slide of my teeth. I wasn’t finished with her breasts. I wanted them close so I could lick and taste, bouncing in my face while I filled her.

Thinking only of expediency, I backed her up to the wall, my hands sliding around her thighs and lifting her feet from the ground.

“Oh God, we’re really doing this,” she said, like she was surprised we’d arrived here, like she was bracing herself.

“Holy shit,” she said between my kiss assaults, the hot, demanding slide of my mouth and tongue against hers.

Steadying herself by gripping my shoulders, and rolling her hips in search of mine, she blurted, “I just wanted to give you a blow job.”

I stilled, breathing heavy against her chin. “Are you telling me to stop?”

“God, no! Go. Go. Go. Do not stop.” She wiggled impatiently, panting. “I’d ask you to please fuck me, but I don’t think you’d appreciate that kind of language.”

Lifting her higher, one of her legs wrapped around my hips as I positioned myself, rubbing the head of my dick over her slick center. “Then ask me to make love to you instead.”

She didn’t hesitate. “Make love to me,” she sighed, her voice pleading. “Make love to me, Beau.”

So I did. I entered her, filling her, and I was surrounded. She sucked in a breath, and then moaned, her short nails digging into my shoulders.

Meanwhile, I shuddered, the feel of her too intense, her body, her breath, and her touch overwhelming.

“You feel . . .”

“How do I feel?” I demanded, gritting my teeth against the fierce urgency for completion. We’d just started, but there was no way I was going to last. It had been so long, so long. And that meant our time was short.

So I stalled, wrestling for control, asking again, “How do I feel?”

Her torso was so long, her breasts were right where I’d wanted them, in my face, giving me easy access to lick and bite and savor. But I couldn’t, not if I wanted to be inside her for longer than mere seconds.

But then Shelly bent her head, her fingers coming to my cheeks and lifting my chin. “Move, Beau.”

“I need a minute.”

“Come for me,” she whispered. “Come for me. And we’ll make love again, anywhere you want. On the couch, in my bed, in your car.”

I groaned at the imagery. “You first.”

I was tempted to start thinking unsexy thoughts just to last longer.

She tilted her hips, rubbing her body against mine, encouraging me to move. “Don’t be afraid. We have forever.”

We have forever.

Trusting her, I moved. I moved once and a stab of forceful pleasure ignited at the base of my spine. My thrusts were inelegant, rough, needy and she answered by giving me tender kisses and soft moans.

“Oh, God. Shelly.”

“Come inside me.”

Control lost, I did. Every one of my muscles tensed as I pumped into her, needing it. Needing her, needing her now. I couldn’t think beyond right now, beyond the stars at the edges of my vision and the hot pleasure racing through my body.