P ossession held a lot of power—small letters that made up a big word .

I felt Jamie’s mouth, open and wet on my skin. That slick, sweet warmth trailing from the curve of my breasts to the sharp point of my hip .

“Get on your knees .”

He listened. Love hot, burning in each touch, from the tips of his fingers, into the curve of my leg. Jamie’s dark eyes sparked bright in the low light of my bedroom, and he moved his fingers up the inside of my thighs, smoothing down to cup my ass .

“Here?” he asked, teasing, tempting, tongue licking up the inside of my thigh. “Or here, mami? ” He settled his mouth over my pussy, long, slow kisses there until I leaned against the mattress, closing my eyes as sensation hit me .

“There. Just there.” I spread my legs, feet flat against his shoulders, meeting his mouth when he tugged me to the edge of the mattress. He slipped two fingers inside me, index and middle finger, deep, penetrating, hitting my G-spot, rubbing against that little knob that swelled. “More. I need more.” Jamie rubbed faster, moved his tongue over my clit and his knuckle against that knob, just meeting my need, almost, close, so close, and I nearly cried from the need not satisfied. “Use both hands, baby. Front and back .”

He knew what I loved. He knew how to touch me, to work my entrances and consume me until I couldn’t breathe, until all I felt was sensation and pleasure .

“Así mojada. You taste so sweet.” He curved his hand, long fingers inside, thumb breeching the small hole at the back, just the tip slipping in. “So sweet, mi amor. So hot for me …”

He hummed against my clit, that low, soft sound like a motor speeding me forward. Jamie set a rhythm, had my pussy clenching, my nipples hard, my throat raw as I screamed and cried and wanted more from him. Then that thumb went in farther, to the knuckle and all that sensation crested, the edge met. I slid my fingers over my naked breast to pinch my nipples and the sensation sped me right over to oblivion .

My orgasm was sharp, the aching easing the faster Jamie moved his hands, pulling away from my pussy to watch me, tongue still licking, gaze on me, like he always did as that nod expanded and I flooded hot liquid into his mouth, against his tongue .

My skin felt electrified, tight. Everywhere he moved over me, every graze of his wet mouth on my body sent shockwaves of pleasure .

“Hurry,” I told him, savoring the sight of him undressing; the slip of his shirt over his head with one hand, the slid of his zipper lowering, his black boxer briefs falling over his thick thighs. He was beautiful and mine, my chest clenching with need and worry then dissolving until there was only his body over mine, his fingers teasing against my stomach, up to hold my breast .

“Eres mía,” Jamie said, praising my body with his mouth, blessing my nipples, my skin with one touch after another. “Always mine, aren’t you baby ?”

“Only yours,” I promised, hands over his hips, pulling him closer. “Please, Jamie…we don’t have much time …”

“Then open up for me. ” He didn’t have to beg. There was a rush now, the hot need that built and burned me from the inside. I felt lost, empty without him. I felt incomplete, and that sensation only went away when Jamie came into me, his large cock raw and bare, grazing between my folds until I spread my legs, feet apart, resting on the edge of the mattress to accommodate him .

“Now,” I begged. “Do it now .”

He listened, that heavy cock pulsing as he guided himself into me, one swift thrust and that emptiness went away. Jamie shuddered once, eyes alight, searching as he looked down at me. “I love you.” He came up on his palms broad and powerful over me, shaking as he watched me. “Dios mio, how I need you. You know that? You were made for me .”

It felt that way. Despite the worry I had over what Jamie wanted, what he planned to do about his future, where we would be in the two months that separated this moment and the one when I stepped onto NYU’s campus, I still knew we fit. We were made for each other and no hurdle, no self-sabotage would change that .

“Tan Bueno,” he said, thrusting deep, pulling on my leg, holding it out to open me wider to him. “So fucking good. So much sweeter like this, bare. So caliente with you wet and dripping on me .”

I agreed, silently thanking whatever genius invented the pill. It freed us from worry, from doing anything other than feeling each other completely. “Faster. Please, Jamie, faster for me…” It didn’t take long, two, maybe three long strokes and he slammed into me, hitting my G-spot, shooting friction and light and release straight through me. I arched up, my nails digging into his skin, hips meeting his as I chased that orgasm, and then he followed, forehead down, against my chest, clamping my leg and his free hand grabbing my hair as he lost hold of himself and spilled into me over and over .

“Ay…oh, baby…” Jamie breathed hard and heavy against my chest, slipping away from me as he came down from his orgasm .

“I love you too,” I said, kissing him before I attempted leaving the bed. “What?” He grinned, hold only loosening when I leaned back to kiss him again. “I’m all sticky. Give me a second .”

He watched me walk away from the bed, stare long, lingering. It always was. Like this with Jamie, I felt no shame, no embarrassment. What I had, he loved. What I had, he wanted. We had spent years loving each other, before that meant anything more than friendship. There wasn’t much we didn’t know about each other or much that would cause us shame. I was as comfortable naked around Jamie as I would have been fully clothed in Hector’s shop .

“What time is your mom coming back ?”

I slipped back it the room, pulling a tank top over my head. My dresser was large, a solid oak hand-me-down mom had found at a flea market five years back. It held every stitch of clothing I owned, and a few items Jamie had left here. It was his boxers I slid into as I glanced at my blackberry on top of the dresser. It was nearing ten o’clock and the sky had taken on an eerie, darkness that only came in the summer .

“Half an hour. If you want a shower, you’d better do it now .”

He nodded, slipping from the bed, stopping to pull me against his chest before he moved into the bathroom. “You wanna come with me ?”

“Already?”

“We’ve got Cincinnati this weekend. I’m not gonna see you for two days.” Jamie slipped his tongue against my bottom lip, consuming me. He always did that—every touch, every kiss felt like something that would burn me and I loved the pain of it .

“Go grab a shower. There’s not time for anything else .”

“You’re no fun sometimes, florecita .” He laughed, giving my ass a playful squeeze before he jumped into the shower .

The room filled with his scent, with ours together, and I stripped clean the sheets, stuffing them into my hamper by the door before I grabbed a clean set. Jamie sang in the shower, something low and seductive, Green Day from the sound of it, and I hurried to make my bed, smiling at the melody .

The linen closet was wide, right across from my room and when I opened the door, I stopped short, noticing two plastic bags with my name written across the surface. My mother had spent most of the summer buying things for my dorm; small items I hadn’t thought to pick up but knew I needed. This bag contained a set of sheets and pillow cases for a twin mattress, the size I’d be assigned once I got to NYU .

It was a reminder that nights like this with Jamie would be coming to an end. I frowned at the idea, grabbing one of our older sets before I slammed the door .

“What did she go into Indy for?” Jamie asked, stepping out of the shower with a towel around his waist .

“Lecture at Purdue on research techniques related to databases from the old state archives.” I shook out the sheet and glanced at Jamie while he tugged back into his clothes .

“Ten bucks says she fell asleep five minutes into the lecture .”

“No way,” I told him, nodding toward the other end of the fitted sheet for him to grab it and help with the bed. He tugged his side tight, still smiling at me. “She eats that shit up .”

“I know what I’d like to eat up,” he said, grabbing the flat sheet when I offered it, pulling me right down into the center of the bed. “We still have fifteen minutes and thinking of driving all that way to Ohio, without the taste of you on my tongue seems like torture.” He leaned down, pushing me into the mattress. “Five minutes. I promise.” He’d already started teasing the inside of my thigh with his thumb .

“No…there’s not enough time,” I told him, hand on his wrist to stop him. “Jamie …”

“You sure?” He kissed my neck, just under my ear and my body shook at the sensation .

“Sadly, yes.” He didn’t push down my boxers and begin the exploring he seemed desperate for, but Jamie did hover above me, fingers twisting into my hair, then kissed the tip of my nose .

“You sure ?”

“Tell me about the tour.” It was a thought that had lain dormant in my mind all night. Since prom when Isaiah told me the truth. Jamie had spent weeks deflecting any questions I had about Omen’s weekend gigs. He only ever seemed interested in classes I’d take or small jobs he might land in the city. He never mentioned the tour or the band or plans that would have been important to him six months ago .

Jamie looked stricken, then that surprise turned to anger. “That pendejo Isaiah .”

“Why didn’t you tell me about the tour?” I sat up, watching him grab his shoes from the across the room. He looked irritated, kept mumbling under his breath about his nosy cousin .

“Because I’m not going,” he said, sitting on the stool in front of my vanity to put on his boots .

“Why?”

It was a simple question, honest, but it seemed like an insult to him. Jamie dropped his boot, his arms on his knees as he watched me. “I want to be with you. You know that .”

I slid to the edge of the bed, coming to my knees as I grabbed the footboard. “And I want you with me, but not at the cost of something you love .”

“Mami,” he said, forgetting his boots as he stood in front of me, hand shooting into my hair, fingers against my cheek. “I hate the band .”

“Maybe, but you love the music.” I pulled his hand down, wanting him to focus, have a conversation that was logical, not something he thought I’d like to hear. “You, Jamie, God, you have such a gift. You could be remarkable, Isaiah too .”

He laughed, shrugging at my suggestion. “A stupid northwestern tour with an indie group isn’t going to make anything happen for us .”

“You at least have to try .”

“No, florecita , I don’t.” He went back to holding my face between his hands, kissing my forehead as though the sentiment would end my argument. It was irritating how Jamie tried to placate me. “You, this right here. This is what I want. This is the only thing I want now. Just you and me. Everything else will sort itself out in the end. You have to trust me .”

It was hard to concentrate when he kissed my neck like that. Jamie was a master at distraction. Usually it was his mouth, his teeth and tongue that could sway me. No matter how angry I got with him, he had ways, skilled, practiced ways that made arguing impossible. But this wasn’t a discussion over who paid for dinner or what movie we saw at the matinée. This was his future. This was an opportunity that he was throwing away for me and he was doing it without listening to what I wanted .

“I do trust you,” I started, leaning out of his touch when it seemed he wouldn’t let me go. Jamie frowned, reaching for me, but I deflected by leaving the bed. “But I don’t want to be the reason you give up on what you want. You’re so good. You have such talent …”

“I only care that I’m good at being with you.” He didn’t touch me when he rounded on me and I worried that the fear in his eyes would make him act out. He did that most often when he was overcome with worry or fear. Normally either me or Isaiah could calm him, but this time, I wasn’t sure. This time he needed to hear me and understand. But Jamie was stubborn, convinced that what he’d had planned for years was something that could be forgotten. He honestly believed that being with me would always keep him satisfied. I knew better. “I love you,” he said, pulling on my waist so that I fit under his chin. I wanted that to be enough. I wanted us, just like we were at that moment, to always be enough for us both .

I knew better .

“I’m best at loving you, mami . That’s all I need .”

“Jamie…”

He didn’t let me finish, deciding instead to silence me with one long, slow kiss and his hands on my ass, pulling my legs around his waist as he leaned me against the wall. “All I need is you…let me show you that’s enough .”

It was likely he intended to do just that thing. Jamie worked his lips to my mouth, tongue licking along my neck as he pushed on my ass, working our centers together until I was breathless…so twisted with lust and breathless that I nearly didn’t hear my mother clear her throat until she stood right in my doorway .

“Merida,” Jamie said, putting my feet back the floor before he turned to face my Ina, tugging down his T-shirt so that it covered his hips. “Mrs. Daine,” he greeted her, nodding .

“Jamie.” It was a cool greeting that clipped name spoken in an exasperated exhale. “It’s getting late .”

He stared at her for a moment, jaw moving as though there was something he wanted to say, but didn’t have the nerve. Instead, Jamie moved his head, a single nod that was forced, then he turned to face me, dropping a quick kiss on my forehead. “Buenas noches, mi corazón . I’ll see you tomorrow.” To my mother he offered a quick, “Night, Mrs. Daine,” then Jamie left through the door .

My mother didn’t watch him leave the room. She didn’t look at me as I shot my gaze after him, vision greedy for the sight of his retreating form, but when the downstairs door shutting sounded through the house, my mother tossed a glance at me, nodding toward my mattress .

I sat, turning toward her when she did the same. “We’re careful, Ina. I swear .”

“You getting pregnant is the least of my worries.” She brushed my braid off my shoulder, tapping my arm to get me to turn around so she could re-braid my hair. “I trust you and know you aren’t foolish.” Her long nails scratched against my scalp and I hummed, loving the sensation. It relaxed me, always had since I was a kid and my mother would take the time to brush out my hair and carefully braid it. She preferred a fishtail, something intricate that I could never quite manage. I suspected she often chose that braid because it kept me still and silent the longest .

Now, though, I knew she had something else on her mind. Something I probably wasn’t going to like .

“That boy loves you .”

I smiled, glancing toward her .

She didn’t smile back. “I should rephrase that. That boy is obsessed with you .”

From the corner of my eyes, I spotted her sharp glance, how she watched my features for a reaction. “It goes both ways,” I told her, not likely how she made Jamie sound weak .

“No, it doesn’t.” She segmented my hair, using her fingers to work through the knots. “I’ve raised you to love and you do that. You do that beautifully, tuzueca. But I also raised you not to lose your head. Not to forget the plans you’ve always had.” My mother nudged me, and I automatically sat up straight .

“The game plan is pre-law. Then law school…” I hadn’t told my mother that I intended to change my major the second I got to NYU. “And then a practice in the city. Maybe in Indy …”

“Don’t say things you think I’d like to hear.” My mother placed a large section of hair over my shoulder, braiding the hair she held in her hand. “And you’re missing the point.” I remained quiet, certain that she was gearing up for another lecture on high school romances and how they never worked out .

“Come on, Ina, it’s not a big deal .”

“It’s a very big deal. Especially when you’re allowing that boy to think this is okay with you .”

“It is .”

“It’s not. He loves you, I seen that plain enough, but he’s gotten to the point where he’s lost himself in you. You can’t let that continue.” She dropped my hair, turning me by the shoulders to look at her. “You have to open his eyes .”

“I will not break his heart,” I said, brushing away her hand when she reached for me. “I just can’t do that .”

She looked old them, conflicted, and her hard features relaxed, all the tension moving from her mouth and eyes to collect on her forehead when she pushed her eyebrows together. “You can’t let him sacrifice everything he wants just to be with you. What kind of man wants only to see his woman to succeed? What kind of man wants nothing at all for himself ?”

“Mother…”

When she touched me again, when the line between her eyebrow softened and my mother took my hands in hers, I let her, not liking what she was saying, but unable to deny the truth. Her voice was raspy when she spoke again, as though there was emotion she fought like hell not to let me hear. “You are so worried about him, about not hurting him, you’re not seeing how you’re letting him hurt himself .”

“I’m not doing anything …”

“Exactly. You’re complicit.” She held her face in her hands, rubbing her eyes. “I swore I wouldn’t… tuzueca, this is what happened to your father.” She looked up at me, inhaling before she cleared her throat. “This very thing you’re allowing to happen with Jamie .”

My mouth dropped open. She’d never mentioned my father. Not really. I knew his name, Rick Daine. I knew they’d married when she was young, and I knew my mother had left Purdue when she got pregnant with me. That was all I knew .

I held my breath, watching how she struggled, fought, I guessed, to disclose secrets she’d kept from me my entire life. “What are you talking about ?”

My mother swallowed, pressing her lips together before she spoke. “He had so many gifts. He was just such a talent—singing, writing, performing, he was just so blessed. But he really shined at art.” She closed her eyes, a small grin shifting her lips. “He did so many amazing pieces, it was breathtaking. There must be a hundred pieces of just me, my face and yours when you were first born in storage. I haven’t seen them in years.” She blinked, head shaking as she watched me. “But he lost himself in us, in you and me and our family, and I know that’s not a bad thing. It’s a very, very good thing, actually, to let your family be your world. For a while, I thought it was so perfect. He was so proud…of me, of you…he wanted me to go back after you were old enough. He wanted me to graduate and go on to get my doctorate. He was so excited about it .”

“How is that bad ?”

My mother’s grin fell at my question. Her gaze was sharp, focused and I wondered what she saw when she looked at me. I looked nothing like her, aside from my complexion and eyes. Everything else had to be his. I couldn’t be sure. She’d never once shown me his picture. The way she looked at me then, so similar to how she watched me when she thought I didn’t notice, made me think I reminded her of him .

“Because there wasn’t any left for him. Because I let him lift me up, I allowed him to always put me first and because of that he forgot the things he’d wanted for himself. It destroyed us. I’d done so well but, I forgot to pay attention to him. My desires, my hopes came first until one day, there was nothing left of him. Just a man who lived for my accomplishments. He didn’t have any of his own and one day, it blew up in our faces. He was dead there, just existing. Only existing. He contributed nothing. He gave nothing but heartache. By the time either of us noticed, his opportunities were gone. The showcases, the galleries who wanted him all forgot about his talent. They forgot because he drifted from the spotlight. He turned all that passion for the work into this obsession for you, for me .

“I didn’t…he wouldn’t let me breathe. After a while, it just became too much. He wanted to be with me always, every day, every second. And I know I sound selfish for saying it, but I needed space. I had you always needing me to eat and sleep and be taken care of and I had him always wanting my attention, always demanding that we spend all this time together, I just had no time for myself.” She rubbed her face and I took her hand, hoping my touch would take the shake from them. “I…one day I had enough. I couldn’t…” she inhaled, trying to combat the tears that had appeared on the tips of her lashes. “I…I left you both.” Ina looked at me, her fingers squeezing around my hand as though she wanted me to know how sorry she was. The guilt came off her like perfume. “It was a week. I didn’t tell anyone where I was going. I just got in the car and left. I drove and drove and…God, tuzueca, I could breathe again. I could sleep and not worry about waking you or having him roll over wanting to touch me like it was a fever took over him and only my body could make him cool.” Again, she closed her eyes, features hard, as the tears slid from her eyes. “One week. That’s all it was. I was never going to stay gone, I…I promise I was going to come back. I…” Her voice broke and she buried her face in her hands, sobbing so hard that the bed shook. She fell against my chest when I reached for her, clutching to my shirt that went damp with her tears. “Tuzueca, I promise…I swear, I was going to come back .”

“Ina …please,” I tried, hushing her, stroking her hair when she went on crying. She stayed silent for a long time, clinging to me, apologizing over and over until the noises she made went still and her face dried. After a while, I inhaled, wanting to know what had happened, wanting her to finally say the thing she’d never been able to before now. “What…what happened to him ?”

My mother took in a deep breath, grasp firm as she sat up. When she spoke, her focus was on me and she lifted her chin. She reminded me of someone who’d stolen to feed his family and would not feel guilty for the crime. “I came home and he was…a mess. You were. I was so angry at him. He just fell to pieces. The house was filthy, you were too, and you were hungry. You wore the same thing I’d put you in the night I left. He…hadn’t taken care of you, and I was livid. I screamed at him, called him the most horrible things…the most awful …”

She went quiet then, suddenly unable to meet my eyes. Instead, she watched her hands, moving the small silver ring with the turquoise inlay around her pinky. She never took it off, said it had come from her mother’s people before the woman died. It seemed to strengthen her, give her the nerve to finally tell me what had become of my father .

“That night, after I refused to let him in my bed for treating you so…” She shuddered and moved the ring around on her finger. “It was three a.m. I know that because you’d waken for a bottle. I’d just got you back to sleep after your feeding and then…it was a crash, a loud thump of noise. I knew it was bad even as I walked down the hall. It was…” She closed her eyes again, as though whatever she saw in her mind, she wanted out and she believed closing her eyes would make it go away .

“He took an extension cord and looped it around the chandelier. He hung himself in the living room right next to your playpen .”

“Ina…”

She held me close, taking strength from me and giving what was left of her own. I’d guessed my father was dead. I’d always guessed the memory of it had haunted my mother, but I’d never guessed this .

“I’m not sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to be …”

“No, no, it’s fine,” I said, sitting back up to look at her. She looked tired, worried, and her damp face was pale. I had a thousand questions, but they would keep. Details would come later, and I knew, just looking at her that she’d give them when she could. “I’m sorry that happened. I’m sorry he was so …”

“Damaged.”

“I suppose he was.” On the floor next to my bed was one of Jamie’s shirts, a thick flannel he’d given me a few days before when I got cold watching movies in my room with him. It was red and black, and I knew if I touched it, I’d catch his scent, that sweet, warm fragrance that comforted me. Had my mother done the same thing? Did she smell my father’s shirts and smile at the scent? Did she ever stop doing that? Blinking, I watched her face, wondering how long it took for them to fall apart so completely. “Jamie isn’t like…that .”

“Not yet .”

“Ina …there’s a line, isn’t there? My father crossed it, but Jamie, he still wants …”

She held my hand again, worry inching in her features. “What does Jamie want, tuzueca? Has he told you? Has he stopped talking about all the things he wanted for himself when you were just his friend ?”

A slow, sure chill swept over my body, my throat going dry as my heart pounded. He had. Now that my mother mentioned it, Jamie had stopped talking about tours and music and record deals. He stopped mentioning his own label and opening a school to teach kids how to play .

My mother’s mouth tightened, stretching into a line as though she knew the answers to her questions without me uttering a sound. Still, she continued. “Has he stopped thinking about a future without you? Or do all his plans factor you in? Just you? Do those plans work if you’re not there ?”

When we first met Jamie told me he was going to conquer the industry. He wanted music to be good again. He wanted to be a musician that lived a legacy. It had only been a few months since we finally came together, but the chats we had about the future always included me; my plans, my goals, the things I wanted. It had been a long time since Jamie mentioned his musical legacy .

My mother sighed, fingers soft, but steady on my wrist. “I know you love him. I’d be a fool to not know how much he loves you, but Iris, you have to put love aside sometimes. You have to remember that love will only carry you so far.” She walked to my door, pausing to watch me. “First love doesn’t always mean your last love. If you don’t think he’ll let you go, then you’re going to have to make him. You’re going to have to be stronger than he is. You’re going to have to fight for him because he doesn’t seem able .”

She left, leaving behind the sting of the past and the truth of what lay ahead of me. Both burned me to the core .