Inside the house, Sydney squealed and danced through the kitchen in her hurry to go to the bedroom. It was unbelievable.

Jett had figured out how to ride his motorcycle.

Never would she have thought that one little problem would cause a man to hate the world and everything around him.

She could see the difference in him immediately when he'd pulled up to the curb. Her man was back.

She rushed into the bedroom and stood, waiting for him. When she'd heard the roar of a motorcycle and turned and found him riding on the street, she almost yelled at him to get off the bike, afraid of him getting hurt even worse.

But, the way he held his shoulders. The proud, stoic expression. His control of the Harley. It was all more than she could handle. He looked big and sexy, and happy. She inhaled deeply, trying to settle her nerves. No, he was more than happy.

He was free.

Free to love her, and he'd said the words. They both had, and it was exactly like she'd imagined over the years.

Jett walked into the bedroom, took one look at her, and sat down in the chair by the dresser. "Syd?"

"Hm?" She rubbed her arms.

His lips curved in amusement. "Need a little help with my boots."

"Oh." She stepped toward him, falling to her knees in front of him.

At the spa, she swore she wouldn't baby him. She wouldn't ask about his hand or how he felt unless he volunteered any hint that things weren't okay. Truly believing that her hovering was the reason why he pulled away from her, she was prepared to let him struggle on his own.

But, if her man wanted his boots taken off, she'd remove them for him.

"You rode." She glanced up at him. "I couldn't believe it was you."

Okay, she had to say something.

He hadn't told her he was going to try and get on the motorcycle or his dad was putting a bar thingy on his bike. She'd watched him all the way home, and his injured hand only moved from the handlebars when he had to hit the bar when he speeded up and slowed down.

"Chief made some adjustments on the Harley." He lifted his hand from his thigh and rubbed the fingers that were taped together. "It works."

She loosened the laces and removed her hands, staying on her knees. He toed off his boots, and she set them to the side of the chair.

Jett studied her and finally said, "You ready?"

Her breath stuck in her lungs. She nodded and stood. Whether she was ready or not, she needed this. Needed him. The in-between, not knowing what he planned, at his mercy feelings were enough to keep her alive for the rest of her life.

"Best get undressed."

Watching him take off his shirt with one hand, she undressed. She loved his strength, his independence. That same strength was his worst enemy, and he couldn't see that he was the only one who came down hard on himself.

His family loved him.

She loved him.

Her stomach fluttered. He loved her.

He'd never told her those three little words before, and she held them deep in her heart. Kylie had been the only person she could remember who told her I love you. There could've been foster parents who had said the words, but they were merely words said as a habit and because they were expected.

She stepped out of her panties and moved toward him, undoing his buckle, the button, the zipper. Underneath her fingers, his hardness throbbed for attention.

"Everything off?" She looked up at him.

He nodded once. She slipped her fingers under the waistband of his boxers and peeled his underwear over his hips, down his strong legs.

Unable to deny herself, she trailed her hands back up his thighs as she straightened. He might be rough and scary to everyone else, but she'd witnessed the way he handled his little sisters, his brothers, his parents, and Johanna. Because of that proud Stanton bloodline running deeply in him, he pushed himself too much and expected perfection.

He ran his hand through her hair, sweeping the strands behind her shoulder. Her nipples, bare to him, puckered.

"All grown up," he whispered.

He cupped her neck, tilting her head. Her sex pulsed at the way he looked at her face, and she remembered the changes she'd made at the spa.

"I put the makeup on to make you mad," she whispered.

He rubbed his lips together. "It's different. You're different."

She leaned closer, trailing her hands around him to cup his ass, holding him close. "It looks okay?"

"Always liked it." He chuckled. "But when you were sixteen, I needed to see the young girl behind the makeup to remind myself not to sleep with you."

"I thought you hated me for wearing makeup."

He gave a small shake of his head. "There was nothing you could do, say, wear, that would make me hate you. Even when I thought you'd betrayed me, I hated myself for still wanting you."

He leaned down and captured her lips, deepening the kiss. His cock hardened, pressing against her.

Her body curved into his. She squeezed his ass, wanting to climb his body to ease the pleasurable ache deep inside of her.

Jett's good hand stroked the back of her neck, making her tremble. He pulled his mouth off her and walked her toward the bed.

"I need to fuck you." He kissed her hard. "Make you mine."

She sucked in a quick breath. That's what she wanted.

Going with the urgency inside of her and the husky drawl of his request, she wrapped her hand around his cock. "How? I mean, how are you going to fuck me?"

He growled. "Never heard you say that word."

"I never thought..." she whispered, giving herself a quiver deep in her stomach. "Can you?"

"Now I can." His gaze softened. "Couldn't do it the first night, because I was afraid of hurting you."

"I don't understand."

He pressed his lips against her forehead. "It's not going to hurt you this time, Syd. I can take you different ways until my hand heals."

"Oh." She shivered in excitement.

He put his hand on her hip, turned her around, and said, "Bend over and put your hands on the bed."

Jett walked over to the nightstand and picked up the last condom she'd taken from Kylie. She flung her hair out of the way and watched him rip the foil package open with his teeth and using one hand, roll the protection on his cock.

Then, he disappeared behind her. She widened her stance and closed her eyes. The anticipation too much, too wonderful, too arousing.

Her legs trembled. Her breasts hung, trembling. Her pulse even trembled.

There was not a part of her that wasn't screaming in impatience.

He ran his hand over the curve of her hip. She dug her fingernails into the comforter on the bed, finding it harder to keep herself still when her body wanted to move.

"Prettiest round ass I've ever seen," he murmured.

The warmth of his hardness slid over her butt. Her back bowed. She wanted him inside of her where she could feel him.

He swatted her ass lightly. A shiver went from her neck down to her tailbone, and she moaned.

"Damn, Syd." He put the head of his cock at her opening. "There will be a time when my hand doesn't hold me back from wearing you out.

Her legs shook at the promise, and she pushed back with her arms. "Jett?"

"The things we will do..." He trailed his finger through her wetness and found her swollen nub.

She groaned, pushing into his hand. "Oh, God."

"Going to do you six ways to Sunday."

His finger rubbed her clit. She clamped her eyes shut at the swarm of pleasure building. Her control slipped, and her insides quivered on the verge of exploding before he even got inside.

She had no idea what he was saying, but she wanted it. She wanted everything.

He sprawled his hand on her upper back and pushed her down until her cheek pressed into the bed. The position brought her ass up higher. She widened her stance, urging him to take her.

A warmth she'd never experienced before landed between her legs.

"Jett?" She closed her eyes, unable to keep them open at the onslaught of arousal flooding her body.

"Hm?" he mumbled against her pussy.

She sighed. "Nevermind."

Jett gave her oral sex from behind. The position was both embarrassing and wonderful.

He plunged his tongue inside of her. The softness and pressure too much to ignore, she pushed against his mouth. His groan of satisfaction excited her. She rotated her hips, spreading herself wide, wanting him to lick her all over.

He used his lips, his tongue, his beard. She rode his face. Her breasts, hanging loose, throbbed. There was no discipline over her reaction to him from her waist on down.

Jett shifted away from her and stood behind her, placing his cock where his mouth had been. In one thrust, he buried himself in her. She came up on her tiptoes at the force, taking his length, his width. She did it all with no air because he'd stolen her breath.

The instant tension in her body squeezed him. Her body vibrated, stretched, ached for him.

He held her hips, thrusting and stroking. The momentum he set brought her to her toes with each plunge, bouncing her body until she fisted the comforter to hold herself in place. Her breath came back in a big rush, faster, harsher, deeper. Dizzy and floating, she urgently reached for the pleasure soaring within her trying to fly free.

"Harder," she said, startled by the almost scream ripped from her throat.

Jett gathered her hair in his hand. Pressure pulled her head off the bed. He leaned his body over her, using her hair to hold her in place.

His grunts grew louder with each thrust.

"Yes," she said with a hiss.

This was what she wanted. Him taking. Her giving. She wanted to feel the strength and power of him. Her eyes closed and she forced them open. It was everything she'd imagined. Hard like Jett. Strong like Jett. Dominating like Jett.

He held on to her tighter, stilling her movements until she couldn't move an inch off him. Her lower stomach coiled and she dug her toes against the hardwood floor. She grunted at the hard drive of his cock moving against the front wall of her pussy.

Harsh gasps came out of her, panting to get a breath as he pounded inside of her. Each thrust taking him all the way in.

Unable to participate, she gladly became the winner to his attention.

She grasped on to the top of the bed, holding on for the ride. Her insides spiraled and tightened. There was no stopping the pleasure.

Her body convulsed in the most powerful orgasm ever. Jett ground against her, holding her still, letting her hair go. Her head fell against the top of the bed. The only part of her standing was the pressure of Jett holding her up from the inside. His shudder went clear through her, and he groaned his release.

The aftershocks of her orgasm milked his cock, causing him to sigh. She smiled into the comforter. Now, she was officially his.

Several minutes later, Jett slipped out of her. Relaxed to exhaustion, she climbed up on the bed and rolled to her side.

He removed the condom, used a shirt to wipe himself off, and joined her in bed, laying on his back. She wiggled closer and put her head on his chest, wrapping her arm around his waist.

His heart raced against her cheek. Her heart beat lazily and content, slower and steadier than his.

Jett exhaled loudly. She snuggled closer.

"I love you," she whispered. "I'm going to tell you that every morning, and every night."

He remained tense beside her, only his good hand rubbing her back gave her any indication he heard her.

She lifted her head. Sweat ran down his temples into his hair. The edges of his lips were white from how hard they pressed together.

"Jett?" Alarmed at his condition, she sat up.

"You best get me a bottle of whiskey." He patted her butt. "Hurting, Syd."

"Did I—?"

"No." He rolled his head on the pillow, and his gaze softened despite the hardness of his face. "I pushed it, riding my Harley."

She scooted off the bed and went in search of a bottle, aware that he'd shared with her instead of letting his pain bottle up inside of him.