Two weeks back in Portland and I'm bored out of my skull.

Another seven figures in the bank as Cryptic's stock hit the moon. More meetings, more offers, more hobnobbing with bald headed billionaires who treat this as nothing but a cash cow for their pet projects. I spend ten hours one week discussing experimental batteries with a man who says he'll have a hotel orbiting the moon in five years.

Smells suspicious. Too bad the scent is eerily similar to cold hard money. A lot of money.

If only money had the same charm it used to. Since Seattle, it's been hard to give a shit about anything and even harder to focus.

I've had exactly one thing on my mind since I slipped out of bed early that final morning.

It was dark. Presh was peacefully asleep. I'm still not sure if I spent more time stepping on my own dick or my heart.

I couldn't go on with the rest of my master plan. Not after spilling my confession, fighting her calm, and laying next to her sweetness, face-to-face with a vicious truth: I'm human.

Felt it for the first time in years with Amy Kay nestled in my arms. Her warm, soft flesh plush on mine kicked up the other memories we didn't discuss that night. And I don't just mean the obvious fuck-her-through-the-floor urges leaving me hard as a brick.

I mean the kiss. How familiar, how irresistibly her lips brushed mine. She turned in her sleep, brushing her hair on my skin, and my eyes opened to her siren mouth. I think I stared at them a minute, or was it ten?

Again, I'm human. Fuck yes, I took my last opportunity to taste that sweetness. I brought my lips down on hers while she slept, stirring gently, a soft whimper-moan melting on my tongue.

It was goodbye. Had to be.

Because if I didn't sit up, straighten my clothes, and creep through the house like a bandit to the front door, I knew I'd have too many reasons to stay. The kiss made another decision for me, too.

I lost the heart to bury that fucking prick. Jace Chenocott deserves hell's seventh circle, and probably several more not yet charted, but I couldn't swing the hammer again.

Not after telling her the truth. Hell, not after re-living it with every supple curve of her body molded to mine.

What else could I do? There's a time when every man's mercy is bigger than his bite. He lays down his arms and picks up the pen.

Stopping in the kitchen, I found her ma's old notepad, a pen, and scratched out a message to her folks. Writing those words wiped whatever howling need for vengeance I came here with. They just wanted the truth, no different than when I sat across from her upstairs, cut my soul, and bled the darkness I'd held in for so many years.

It isn't supposed to be so simple. But it is.

I walked back to my napping driver and slid into the leather seat a whole new man. By the time I checked out, got to the airport, and sat in my first class seat bound for home, I couldn't tell who the fuck I was.

No longer bent on destruction.

No longer driven by vengeance.

No longer sated on violence, humiliation, and tears.

Honest to God, our last kiss did something indescribable.

The something I thought only happened in movies.

Something otherworldly.

Something miraculous.

Tasting Precious restored my soul. Like some kind of warped inversion of Sleeping Beauty, or maybe that kid's tale where the hot princess sucks face with the frog.

Shit. I am that frog, aren't I? And if I've reverted back to Prince Charming, all the more reason to leave.

Because the only reason this one way non-aggression pact with Jace works is if I stay far, far away from Seattle.

Sure, I can't rule out retaliation. I've been watching, waiting, expecting Jace to attack me directly or the empire I've built. That fallout, I'm ready for.

As for the rest...I can't let the new Trent Usher get anywhere near Amy Kay.

If I let my lips wander back to hers again, this quest to finally let go of the past and move on becomes impossible. Then there's no keeping this haunted peace I've found.

* * *

It's weird being back in Pops' old truck. He's had the same F-150 for twelve years. I suppose it's fitting. Touching, even. This truck has seen us through so many times: good, bad, and heartbreaking.

This was the truck I rode in the day we buried ma. It was raining like hell, a long ride out to the cemetery past the city limits. She wanted to be surrounded by nature.

Pops would've rather died a thousand times himself than fail her dying wish.

I try like hell to push the dark memory aside. We're almost to my place after eating an early dinner, where he'll let me off before driving home. There'll be plenty more time to settle into my high back leather chair with a drink, staring at the lights dancing on the other side of the Columbia.

“Glad you kept yourself out of trouble, son,” Pops says, when he knows I won't have much time to protest.

“Yeah, well...you were right. I'd be lying if I said I didn't go up there without the Chenocotts heavy on my mind.” I bite my tongue, hating how I'm still lying to him now.

Pops gives me the side-eye, his grey mustache twitching. If he knew what I'd done to that asshole, and then to Amy...fuck. No good will come of more confessions, though.

“How many times did you see her?” he sighs.

I turn, shaking my head, wondering where I slipped. “How many what?”

“How many times, Trent? You're not fooling me, coming home with your nose cleaner than I expected. Too clean, matter of fact. Did you call her? Do dinner? Sleep together?”

What the hell? Pops and I have never been shy discussing anything, but this is the first time he's asked about my sex life.

Then again, this is the first time bedroom happenings could have vile consequences.

“Christ,” I growl, tapping my fingers lightly on my temple to check if this is a dream. “If you must know, we met briefly. Not far from their old building downtown. It was tense and awkward and nothing happened.” Technically true, as far as the sex goes. It's still a goddamn lie. “You'll be happy to know she helped keep me out of bigger trouble, Pops. If we hadn't met to hash out the past –”

“You could've gotten yourself in too deep. But you didn't. If that's the long and short of it, then it's good enough for me.” I hope to fuck he's right. His grip on the wheel tightens and I see his knuckles turning white. “You're sure you didn't upset her again?”

“Nah. We won't be looking forward to any surprise visits from the cops or the FBI soon, if that's what's got you up in arms.” I'm praying this ends soon. The traffic couldn't be slower winding up the hilly road.

“Not what I mean. I stopped fearing men in black on my doorstep a long time ago, Trent.” He talks like it's so obvious. “Asked if you upset her, son. Because I think that poor girl's been through enough, having him as her brother, and you in her rear-view mirror.”

“Shit, are you listening? I told you. We sat down a couple times to bury the hatchet. Not swing for anybody's throats again.”

“That so? A couple times?” There's amusement in his thin smile. “You're no angel, son, but you've got a thing or two to learn about women outside sleeping with 'em.”

Again, my sex life.

When does this torture end?

Wrinkling my nose, I stare at the road, mentally counting the last few minutes to my place and sweet freedom.

“She never would've wanted to see you again if a part of her ain't interested.” He lets it out after a long pause, like he's been holding in a movie spoiler.

I do a slow turn. “No. Amy Kay wanted peace of mind and a few free dinners with a lonely billionaire. That's it. Thank you, Pops. How would I ever see what's right in front of my face without you?”

My sarcasm meter is so broke it's spinning off its track. Pops guns the last few miles to my place. The truck chugs up my long driveway and stops outside my door. “All I'm saying, dear boy, is get ready for trouble if she comes calling. And she will.”

I grit my teeth. “Wrong. I left without much of a goodbye. She'll get the message. We're more done now than we ever were. She's got her happy ending and I've got mine. Sweet closure.” His engine chugs through the silence, a beast on its last legs. “By the way, whenever you're in the market, let me buy you something that runs.”

Pops' face darkens. He taps the wheel with his fingers like he's stroking an old horse. “Needs a little work, is all. She's got a few more good years in her, same as me.”

I'm annoyed how predictably stubborn he is, but I don't dig. “Thanks for doing dinner. I'll call you next week.”

I'm out of the truck and inside before he sees the sad weight on my face. The old man has a remarkable way of being right without a lot of words.

That used to be ma's thing, but it's rubbed off on him since she left us.

Tonight, it's hard to figure out what frustrates me more: him refusing to admit he's hanging onto that old truck because he's heartsick missing ma, or me pretending I won't cross paths with Amy Kay again – even if it means treading dangerous ground.

That last kiss is part of my blood.

I taste her in every breath. Feel her heat every night I'm under the sheets. Let her sweet madness take too much of my headspace with too little fight.

I'm fucked, is what I am. Thoroughly, completely, madly. Thrashed to my very soul.

I decide to skip the drink because the hot, prickly alcohol rush in my system only makes this worse.

I head for the big black admiral's desk in my home office, grab a new sheet of paper, and begin writing like a man possessed.

* * *

Unlike everybody else on this planet, I loathe weekends.

Sundays are a special kind of hell, far too quiet, impossible to find distractions. Even the prospect of a good meal downtown and a walk along the Columbia's banks with spring in full bloom can't fill the vacancy in my soul.

When I wake up, have my coffee, and pick up where I left off writing at my desk, I ought to know this won't last forever.

But I never expect the end of my funk to come that evening with the steady, shocking thump at my door. I sit up, throw my pen down, and stop for a second in the hall.

Probably something benign, I tell myself.

An Amazon package I forgot or a kid raising money. A kid with balls the size of Saturn, maybe, who's come knocking at a mansion tucked in the northwest's finest natural shade and NO TRESPASSING signs on every corner of my wrought iron fence.

Hell, I'll buy a couple thousand of whatever he's selling. Just to show him risks sometimes pay off. That thought's a thousand times happier than thinking asshole Jace has finally found his way to my home, and he might be armed.

There's a gun I keep in a safe under my kitchen sink, but I've never fired the damn thing once outside the range. I briefly pause between the kitchen and the door, wondering if today it wouldn't hurt to tuck it into my belt...but whoever's at the door is persistent.

They're knocking again. Louder. Harder.

I rip the door open, half-ready to throw a punch. I'm the one who takes it on the chin.

“Precious?” I try not to let my jaw hit the floor.

It's her. In the supple flesh. Here. On my damn doorstep.

She steps past me without waiting for an invite. “I had to see you. Hope you'll forgive the short notice.”

Like I've got any choice. “Let's sit,” I say, grabbing her hand. “Let me get you a drink.”

She gasps when she sees the view. Downtown Portland reigns majestic as ever in the distance, tucked between the trees, the city's lights shimmering like tinsel along the stretch of river.

It's my turn to stifle a noise. A deep, guttural sound in my throat trying to work its way out, remembering that sound oozing out of her. How familiar it is to another noise I used to taste.

Fuck, this is bad. I tell myself to play it cool, ignore the anxious hard-on already tenting my pants. I walk to the corner table, pull out a small bottle of good wine I keep for these occasions, and pour two glasses.

Then, wine in hand, I sit on the ottoman across from her. I'm lost in those big bright green eyes, denser and richer than any cedar forest. Lost and waiting.

“You're not here to shoot the breeze. Why?”

She takes a sip and gently clears her throat. “So, I'm sorry for blowing in like this again, but –”

“You didn't have a choice,” I finish for her. If we're able to keep this brief, maybe there's a chance being alone with this woman in my own house won't end in a fucking disaster. Or a disastrous fuck.

“What's Jace done this time?”

She blinks, turns away, as if she can't believe we're hung up on her idiot brother again. “He's coming after you. I think.”

I soften my stare. “You don't sound very sure. Long trip here on guesswork, Precious.”

“No. I mean, we've lost track of him, Trent. He spent a solid week trying to put out the fires you'd set. He moved out of our parents' house, said he'd found a place near Tacoma, but dad told me that's BS. I waited a few days, tried to find your number, but you're not exactly the world's most accessible.”

I smile, swallowing a sip of burgundy sweetness. “True. I like my privacy. It's also more than a little necessary when your net worth's as big as small countries. You know how many lotto winners and celebrities hire permanent body guards?” She shakes her head, tempting my eyes down to the subtle low cut in her purple sweater. “You should've taken the hint, Presh. We did what we had to in Seattle: move on. Remember?”

Her lips twist sourly. “Sure, about as well as you recall how to stop being a dick when I'm trying to help.”

Touche. “Well, I'm touched you'd come all the way out here just to check in on me.” I cross my heart, smirking the whole time. That wins me a green-eyed glare. Good. “But in case you hadn't noticed, I'm a big boy. I've built billion dollar companies. Kept myself out of prison, framed for the shit I never did, and came crawling back to the scene of the crime years later to set it right. If I'd wanted, I could've buried your fuck of a brother alive.”

She's not impressed. Even if she knows it's true.

Presh shifts on the couch, draining half her wine, searching for words. Her legs uncross and then merge together again, hounding my gaze to her thighs.

Don't look. Don't let her tempt you. Don't be an idiot.

“Yet you didn't,” she says matter-of-factly. “You let him go without a knockout. You hit him with scandals that were bound to blow up sooner or later on their own. Why didn't you finish the job?”

Goddamn, her mouth. Legs, too. She just had to show up in a secretary skirt, didn't she?

She's dressed like something out of Alice in Wonderland, if Lewis Carroll did erotica. Shy low heels, pale long legs crawling up her skirt, Cheshire cat colored sweater. My cock throbs, drunk on need and the wine's warmth flooding my veins.

I shake my head, trying to find my senses.

“Way you're talking, almost sounds like you want me to put him away.” I try to look her in the eye without lust clouding my judgment. What the ever living fuck is she actually doing here if she hasn't come to torture me? “That can't be right. That's not the Amy Kay I know. She'd never flip on kin.”

“I want him out of trouble, Trent. For good. If that means prison, hopefully something light...” She sighs, looking down at her wine. Then she closes her eyes, opening them again, sadder than before.

“No, forget it. I don't want him behind bars, either. Unless it's all that keeps him from hurting himself or others. I got my hopes up after I figured out what you were really doing.” She sighs, flipping her hair.

“Wish he'd listened. Hoped like hell he'd finally get the message after the bloody nose you gave him. But he read your note the morning you left. He barely missed you at the hotel, after you'd checked out. Every day he's not here messing with you is just a delay. Not because he's changed his mind. He's out there, scheming, drunk on bad blood.”

Speaking of drunk...I can't handle this shit sober. Especially not this subject, while every inch of her teases my cock.

Standing, I take her glass, and walk over for refills, mulling the wolf who's coming after me. Hiding my anger and the bulge in my pants are top priority, too.

I'm also pissed the rat bastard found the note I'd left for her parents' eyes only. I push down the urge to smash the almost empty bottle against the wall.

“Look, you can't control a coward prick. Whatever he decides is on him. Not you. Not your family. You tried, Presh, like any sister should.” I pass her a fresh glass, downing half of mine in one gulp.

“You've also got a life. The night I paid you a visit through your window, I meant to put this behind us for good. Meant it so fucking much a funny thing happened the next morning – I decided to let Jace go, Amy Kay.”

She blinks, surprise on her face. “You...what?”

“That's why I left. Why I came home. Decided I'd forget screwing with Jace, and get on with life. I did what I needed all along: got it off my chest. Told you and your folks what really happened, who Jace is, and that's enough. Confession should be plenty. Even if the prick managed to burn mine before it reached your parents.”

“Yeah, about that...” She sighs, setting her glass on the end table before she looks up. “Jace dirtied it up, but I kept your note. I just...couldn't bring myself to break the news. Not yet. Dad doesn't need the stress. And mom? It could kill her.”

Fuck. Who's side is she really on?

I take the last of my wine in one sip, then slam my glass down next to hers on the wooden surface so loud the crystal squeals. “Bad move, Presh. I wrote that thing to put this to bed. Thought we had an understanding.”

“Oh?” Her eyes are bigger, brighter, worried. They don't deter the need to spell out what the hell I wanted, what I needed to happen in Seattle.

“Don't you get it? I needed to come clean, woman. Don't tell me you're perfectly okay with your folks thinking I'm the drug slinging prick who crashed your car and cost your old man a Senate seat?” My words are hoarse, angry.

I step closer, take her chin with two fingers, making her look at me. Then I see the storm in her eyes and my asshole rage withers.

“He's my brother, Trent. My screwed up, impulsive, morally bankrupt, pants-on-head stupid brother.” Her eyes are defiant, unflinching. “I want the truth to come out just as bad as you do. But it needs to be timed right. We've all suffered enough. And right now, I'm hoping we won't just suffer more. I'm scared Jace will make us.”

She's not lying. Or wrong. Or numb to this hell.

The tremor on her lips barely hides the fear, her heart splayed wide, weeping for me and Jace alike.

I pace across the room, fists like boulders at my sides, turning around again once I reach the mantle.

“He's family. I get it, Presh. Hell, I was done hurting him the second I left, just like I told you. Jace was like family to me once, too, forever ago. Setting his life on fire didn't give me half the satisfaction I found just sitting on the floor next to you, telling my story.” I stand taller, watching her slide off the couch and do the same. She studies me, wanting to come closer, but not knowing if she should.

“Trent...”

“No. This crap's partly my fault, but I'll always pin the biggest blame on the reckless fuck who used to be my friend.” Our eyes are magnets and I hate it.

Longer I stare, losing myself in her soft green madness all over again, the harder it is not to make this about us, rather than the threat hanging over our heads. “All this time, after he screwed me over, I thought I'd sleep easy just watching him burn.”

A cold smile pulls at her lips. She sees the crack in my armor, the way I try to look away, poison spilling out and thickening the atmosphere. Her heels click across amber Brazil wood until she's so close every part of me goes rigid – especially the last part in the world I should obey. “But that wasn't what you needed. Not deep down.”

“No,” I admit.

Don't fucking look at her, I tell myself, a last ditch warning.

Who am I kidding?

Next time we lock eyes, I take her hands, clasping them to my chest.

She's all kinds of beautiful here. All kinds of wrong.

Invading a world that was always meant to be Precious-free. Maybe that's why her chestnut hair glows with the same seductive sheen in her eyes. She's already taking the fuck over, occupying the very air I'm breathing.

“Trent?” she whispers my name, forcing my eyes to her small pink lips.

My dick hammers so hard I think it'll make me pass the fuck out.

“I needed to clear my name. Needed the truth. Needed...” I stop just short of the obvious, what's right in front of me. “You're killing me, Precious. Fair warning. Last chance to call another cab and walk your sweet ass out.”

She doesn't move an inch. I can't either.

There's nothing else to say. Not with any words.

Not when I wrap my arms around her waist, pull her body to mine, and give in to the only thing that makes sense tonight. Only thing we've ached for since this psycho universe reunited us on a broken down elevator.

My lips attack hers like a starving animal. That's what she's made me. I've become the wolf branded on my skin. A desperate, battered, single-minded beast.

My sole purpose isn't to talk this out or stop her brother. That's a million miles away.

Tonight, it's to strip her naked and cart her off to bed.

To let fencing tongues and swinging hips figure out what our brains can't.

To let flesh speak what souls keep trying to get out, and can't through our lips.

Not without them falling all over each other, unchained, free to suck and kiss and lick until we scream.

What we've started here can't be stopped.

My hands snake down the small of her back, hug her hips, and then strike lower. I cup her ass and squeeze, swallowing the moan she purrs in my mouth.

Fire floods my balls. My legs move automatically and I sweep her up, ferrying us across the room until she's against the wall.

Our mouths speak in silent kisses. No more words. Just teeth that pull, tongues that chase, half-hooded eyes that meld whenever we stop for a second to breathe.

Oh, fuck, her breath.

It's shaky, intense, and tells me she's beyond ready to have her hair in my fist and my full cock buried to the hilt. I'm rock hard, pulsing in my pants, my balls promising hell every second I'm not in her.

“Not yet,” I bite off, shoving her skirt up her legs, giving the bulge in my trousers the perfect access to her soaked panties. My hips roll against hers, a vicious friction, so damn ready to be in her but not before she begs. “You come for me first. You come hard like I remember. Like I've wanted for six fucking years, Amy Kay, and then we'll move upstairs. You come beautiful with your lips on fire, leaking all over me, lungs pumping overdrive. You come so fucking hard you lose your mind. You come so fucking hard your pussy feels this dick before I'm even in you.”

She lets out a wicked groan. Poor girl.

She doesn't understand how serious I am until I dry hump her again, this time harder, pinning her to the wall. I know her clit catches somewhere because this time she whimpers, folds in on herself, too lost for words. Drowning in the same insanity that's consumed me.

“Trent, shit. You want me to – ohh! Oh.”

Oh, yes.

O.

I sandwich her more against the wall, thrusting harder, a manic grunting need steaming through my teeth. She eases into me, pushing back. We dry fuck just like that for God only knows how long. I snarl my satisfaction once I see her sweet eyes roll.

It doesn't take long.

Her body gives up without a fight that can't last more than a few scorching minutes.

Amy Kay digs her fingernails into my back so fucking hard it hurts. Just makes me go faster, harder, bringing her over the edge. She gives me a shrill, whiny scream as her pussy convulses.

“Do it!” I throw one hand between her legs, shoving aside her panties, hearing something rip. I'll buy her whatever the fuck she wants in the morning. Something lacy and delicate and just as ready to be destroyed.

Tonight, she won't need a fresh pair. Everything between her legs belongs to me.

Her body knows it. That's why it thrashes, seizes deliciously against mine.

I find her clit and press hard while she starts coming. It brings her off hard, makes her swiftly, completely, furiously mine.

“Don't. Fucking. Stop.” I tell her, frigging her swollen nub.

She whimpers louder. I feel her nipples through several layers, aching to be sucked soft. We'll get to that in a bit.

Right now, I shove my fingers in her, finding the trigger point that makes her come more.

Sweet fuck, I missed this pussy. This tight silk clenching my fingers, teasing my dick without even touching it.

Missed her teeth digging into my lip. Missed her trying like hell to stay conscious while her body jerks and twitches. Missed owning her into the next life with my fingers.

Missed this beautiful woman.

I let her feet touch the ground again after she fully opens her eyes. She's lost both heels – heard them hitting the floor behind me more than a minute ago – and I'm glad. One less thing to remove.

I don't give her time to speak, to have any second thoughts. I need to get every molten drop in my balls into her, and I need to do it soon.

She watches my fingers, still drenched in her sweetness, rising to my lips. I suck them slow, then we kiss again. My tongue reminds her the night's young, and she's still very wet.

She practically leaps into my arms the second I throw her over my shoulder.

Upstairs we go, my dick pounding like mad in my trousers. Her pussy so ready for more she grinds on my thigh. I'm barely up the staircase before more greedy kisses hit my lips, every little movement of her tongue screaming fuck me.

Six years. That's not a dry spell, it's a goddamn desert. Half a hellacious decade without the only woman in my bed who's left me wanting her there in the morning.

Oh, Precious.

Presh.

Fuck.

So much time to make up. So few hours in the night. So many we'll make count.

We'll kindle fire in every breathless whimper between feral kisses.

Every slap of my body on hers.

Every savage O I pull out of her.

Every bearish load she wrings from my balls.

I practically cave in the door to my bedroom, kicking it aside, throwing her on the bed.

My hands go to work on her clothes. Every time I imagined this moment, waking up hard in a cold sweat, I thought I'd take my sweet time.

Now, I know I'd be insane losing another second without her naked perfection.

“Precious,” I whisper, devouring her mouth again, touching my forehead to hers.

My hand slides up her sweater, jerks it over her head, revealing her black lace bra. Her tits are magnets for my hands. She gives me a sly look, pops the clasp, freeing them.

One look at her nipples, aching for my mouth, and I'm gone.

Her back arches, a moan escapes her mouth, and her tits meet my mouth. Tasting her pink after all these years makes me more animal than man.

I suck. Lick. Pull. Stroke every tender end of her in growls, teasing as I go, enjoying it now before I can't resist the urge to suck her hard.

When I do, her moans deepen. She goes down squirming, grinding her hips into mine, but I'm in control.

I yank off her skirt as I kiss trails down her soft, sweet skin. I know her pussy's pulsing and wet before my face even reaches it. I take my time, breathing hot and deep against her folds, sweeping a single lick through them.

“Trent!” My name. Again.

A curse and an object of worship in one.

My tongue flicks, this time harder, pulling her tight cunt open. Her taste, her scent, her everything leaves scorch marks on my brain.

She's burning me the fuck down and all I can do is grab onto her hips, shove her legs apart, and eat her like no tomorrow.

Like the last six years never happened.

Like I always knew I'd fuck her velvet with my tongue and leave her shuddering, still attached to my face, whining and begging and desperate for more.

Like this pussy is divine, and divine because it's mine, and mine because it's so close to coming on my face.

Pleasure hits fast once I go to work. Her clit smolders against my tongue. Twitches, throbs, and stiffens, a willing prisoner. I move my head, adding my stubble's friction, a low thunder in my throat that vibrates to her core.

“Trent. Oh. Jesus.”

Come for me, darling girl. Come like you haven't for years. Come on the face you can't decide if you want to smash to pieces, or kiss like it's the end of the world.

“Trent!” Her little cry rings shriller.

My cue to bring her over.

So I do.

Her fingers scratch, dig, try to mark my shoulders through my shirt. Fuck, I hope she does it again later, puts lines down my back while I'm fucking her ten times harder than this tongue can.

Her hips go insane against my face. I have to hold her down, licking harder, kissing and tongue-fucking her to Heaven and then guiding her back again.

Perfection.

She's still gasping for air as I let her drift into the pillows again. If she didn't need to stop for breath and recover her wits, once the maelstrom I've kicked up in her body is done, I'd shove my cock inside her. Make her scream twice as loud.

Finish with a rogue message my tongue can never say, not in full, and then fuck her like we've been apart for a thousand years.

But she needs a minute. Maybe I do, too.

I let up. Relent. Crawl backwards off the bed, and start freeing my body from the prison of these clothes.

Presh opens her eyes halfway through me undressing. I turn, pumping my cock in my fist. Once is all it takes to see the sexiest sight ever.

That's my woman, sprawled out and naked and waiting to be ravished.

That's the excitement in her lush green eyes.

That's her plush lips falling open, drunk on the memory of our first and only time, plus six years of waiting for this.

“Legs open, darling,” I tell her, climbing onto the bed again.

Presh complies. I take an ankle in each hand, press them against my shoulders, laying my throbbing length against her opening.

She squirms beautifully the instant my swollen head taps her clit. I do it a few more times, forcing the sweetness from her lungs, the soft gasp that lets me know how bad she wants this.

“All those fucking years,” I whisper, stopping to taste her lips. We're eye to eye and I'm so fucking ready to be in her it physically hurts. “We lost a lot of time, Amy Kay.”

“Don't remind me,” she whimpers. Her little eyes shimmer as I tease her cunt again, grinding my dick into her. “God, Trent. I need –”

“You need more than this wild cock and the man attached to it, darling,” I say, forehead burning against hers. “You need to fuck exactly like you've thought about for the last six years. Fucked so hard you forget the bad, the past, and the reason we're even here, tangled up together.”

“Yes!”

“Baby, I'm not done,” I growl, crushing my lips on hers. My balls are about to go up in flames any second, but damn, I need to get this out. “Tonight, we're fucking like our very lives depend on it because maybe they do. Maybe if I fuck you hard enough and long enough and deep enough, Presh, knowing your pussy's tight as the last time we did this and wet for me, wet because it's mine, then maybe we'll finally figure out how we move the fuck on. Maybe we figure out a lot. Because just between you and me, no matter how much I say it, I still don't know how to do that.”

I hear her swallow. Hard. Lust soaked heavy with tears.

“I just know one thing: I want you like the air in my lungs and the ache in my pulse. Want you like I've never wanted anyone or anything, Precious, because nothing ever did compare to Amy Kay. And once you come on me a few times and I pour myself in you, I've got a real wicked feeling more of this, more of us, is all I'll ever want.”

She opens her mouth to say something, but what comes out is a gasp.

Perfectly timed. I push into her, baring my teeth, electric pleasure igniting across my brain.

Fuck, she feels good. She feels amazing. She feels better than anything I guiltily pulled myself off to these last six years apart.

“Trent,” she whimpers, still trying to talk.

I don't let her.

We've both said too much. So I just take her mouth instead, driving into her harder, shaking her from head-to-toe.

Her tight little pussy sucks me in so deep, so sweet, it'll be hard as hell not to blow.

Maybe that's what causes me to fuck her harder. Faster. But I think I'd have my whole soul in this fuck anyway because it's her.

Truly, beautifully, finally Amy Kay Chenocott.

I throw my hips into hers, holding her legs to my waist for leverage. Her sharp moans become a fevered whimper. Her pussy constricts, tighter and wetter and so damn maddening on all of me.

I send her over the edge, savoring every scream, marveling how hot she comes for me.

Amazed because it's even better than that first time an eternity ago.

Her body hitches, shaking harder as she comes down from it. Her O leaves her in a ruin that turns my dick to diamond. I bore into her, a growl coming unstuck in my throat, fucking my darkest dreams into every inch of her flesh.

“Hurry the hell up,” I whisper, running my hand up her leg, throwing my balls against her ass, doubling my speed. “Presh, come with me.”

“It's too soon. I don't know if –”

“Presh! Come on this cock. I know you've got it in you, and I want your pussy sucking me dry when I go.” The sparkle in her eyes tells me there's another O in her.

I'll find it. Fuck it right out of her. Bring her crashing over the edge even sweeter than before because she'll see I'm right about her body.

I know her too well. Know how to make her flesh do miracles.

Leaning, I press my mouth to hers, chasing her tongue. When I catch it, the way we stroke tells her how serious I am.

How much, how serious, how fucking soon I need this. Come, Precious.

My hips glide back and impact hers, all my might thrown in my hips. I deepen my strokes, making sure my pubic bone hits her clit. I swallow every moan spilling out of her and growl my need back.

Then the fever rises in her body: the ache, the desire, the need she swore wasn't there. Her little hands curl around my neck, nails drag down my back, and her breath catches like she's kissed paradise.

No more.

“Precious, fuck, coming!” I bite down on her shoulder, kissing and teething her skin while I slam myself deep.

Her legs buckle against me. Her eyes fly open. And then she's just gone.

Two of us melting into one.

Hearts, minds, bodies, souls.

Hot magma pumps up my shaft and fire bathes my spine. I'm in a cauldron of ecstasy and she's there with me, her pussy milking every inch of me.

Too much.

Too fast.

Too. Fucking. Good.

And that's the understatement of my lifetime because I've never – ever – felt anything like this.

My whole body buckles. Still thrusting. Still flooding her womb.

My eyes grind shut, softly opening after my raging dick finally weakens. I release her shoulder, kissing trails away from the place where I've marked her, not yet going soft.

“Look at me, darling,” I say, tipping her face up with a finger under her chin.

“That was –”

“Earth shattering.” I finish for her, but what I'm really interested in are her eyes.

They're bright. On fire.

So completely stuck on me, I think the worst really is behind us.

But fuck thinking, too.

This the moment I start believing.

Next time I dip my face to hers, I take her mouth nice and slow. Savoring her taste, her tongue, the subtle tremor in her lips.

I have her completely, without worrying about the psycho who might be after me or the mess we're still in.

I take her like the man I've always been – her lover – and I'm finally home.

“You're stunning as hell when you come, Presh.” I smile.

She smiles back like it's no big surprise. Little minx.

Damn, my dick twitches inside her, hard as it was a few minutes ago, before I came my brains out.

“Beautiful, you said. Just like before. We came beautiful. Remember?”

I do. But it's also not quite right.

“Sure, Precious. That's not the reason why I'm about to flip you over and go at it again, though.” I pause, watching the surprise light her eyes. “We were too young then. Too innocent. Too soft to appreciate this kind of rapture. We didn't have to fight for it before. We had each other, but we didn't. Not like now.“

She's beaming, pulling herself into me, cutting me off with a kiss. I know a woman who can't stand waiting another hot second. Especially when her lips work mine like this delicious torture.

My cock stiffens inside her again. I might be serious about the second round, without even taking a breather.

“Don't say it,” she says softly, brushing her lips against mine once more, as if to stop me from jinxing the spell. “I just want to enjoy tonight. You, me, us.”

My eyes bore through hers. There's too much bleeding out of her and it's too damn obvious. It's too much hurt, too much fear. Too many questions, wondering if I'll fade as the sun comes up, leaving her heart in tatters with a sore ache between her legs.

“You're so wrong,” I growl, bringing my lips to hers, fisting her hair, pulling her into me. “This time it's different, Amy Kay. You'll see. Won't even let you see different. Right after your vision gets over the next three Os I burn through that sweet pussy tonight.”

If this wasn't the time to shut up, I don't think I'd have much choice. The blinding fury building in my balls peaks, calling me to shift her over. I put her on all fours, loving how she moans, taking my time to admire her ass.

It's just as full and lush as I remember. Perfectly shaped. Dangerously inviting.

It's been years since I had an ass like this to grab. Far too fucking many.

That's the only coherent thought on my mind once I'm in her, crashing in from behind, swinging my balls smack at her clit. I fill her with a growl in my throat, loving how she shakes, ripples, comes apart.

Sweet chaos.

Just like this delicate, unspeakable thing between us. Like the promise I just made, to make this time different, something I never thought I'd admit before she showed up on my doorstep.

But that's not quite true.

It was something I was already working on, bleeding on the paper in my office, using the same silver pen I used to sign every multimillion dollar deal for Cryptic.

This chaos is ours to embrace. Ours, and nobody else's.

Clean, orderly love never stood a chance.

Not with how I'm fucking her now, driving to the hilt, my fingers digging into her ass. I reach up, grabbing her hair again, jerking it a little tighter as her body arches, gasps, and falls so closer to –

Fuck!

For a second, I think Portland's being hammered with a moody spring storm. What seems like rain is actually my own pulse.

Her pussy convulses, my thrusts hitch faster, and I'm matching her O, pouring myself in her all over again. I come deep and hard and feral, roaring my pleasure through pinched teeth, hammering her to the mattress like the imaginary storm behind my eyes.

So, this is what it's like to fuck with my all.

I don't know what comes tomorrow. Neither of us do. I mean to leave us so spent when I'm finally done we both hit the pillows face first and don't move till morning.

Whatever it is, it's got to be right and it's got to be heavy.

If this is what moving on looks like, feels like, tastes like, then I might just move the whole damn universe to keep this woman forever.