I'm outside the guesthouse tucked behind her parents' mansion. It's been tit-for-tat for weeks, ever since Bainbridge, when we started something very fucking dangerous.

I should've known one kiss would lead to...I don't even know.

More kisses, certainly. Hotter, fiercer, tongue lashing kisses, the kind that make her whimper and bring an instant growl up my throat.

The kind that keep me up at night after a cold shower that does nothing, dick sleeved in my fist, beating off to the day she'll take every inch of me.

It led to hands. Fingers. The many times they've driven up her dress or through her shirt, thumbing those pert nipples haunting my wet dreams for fuck only knows how long.

So close to having her naked, owned, marking every inch of her.

Still too damn far.

Just when I think she's giving in, Presh bats my hands away, whispering the reasons why we can't bring this thing home.

It's always the same: Jace is too around, her parents might see, or mine, or even ma's dogs.

We're too public, too pressed for time, but I know deep down it's bullshit.

It comes down to her being afraid, not yet ready to seal the best deal we'll ever make.

She's afraid to let me have her cherry.

Shit. If I'm honest, deep down, then maybe I'm a little scared, too.

Because leaving this – whatever this is – a second time would be painful. Brutal, really, after rekindling a fire that should've died years ago. And after fucking, our bodies locked together, tongue thrashing her in places I've wanted to explore forever up close and personal, there's no coming back.

Sanity, gone. And reason with it. And every fucked up reason we shouldn't.

I know deep down there's nothing that'll pull us apart after we go to bed.

Not Jace, not our folks, not even her leaving for Stanford this fall while Jace and me head north again to Bellingham.

Good thing I've spent twenty years throat-punching my fears, and I'm not about to let them get the best of me now. Especially when it's midnight, and I haven't been able to sleep since Amy Kay's last kiss went burning through my brain.

That's what's brought me to the Chenocott place without her parents' knowing. I left Jace passed out with the dogs, confident he'll sleep late into the morning after dragging himself in half-drunk from his latest fuckfest with Lindsey.

They couldn't find a place on Bainbridge a few weeks ago, but of course it hasn't stopped them. There's a wicked irony in Jace getting pussy while I'm just pussy-footing around, letting Presh feed me excuses, my dick turning midnight blue because I'm too afraid to pull her into my arms and leap off the edge.

No more. That ends tonight, I tell myself, parking my beat up F150 under the massive oak tree outside her parents' gate. The back of my truck is still full of solar panels and lab equipment. It's an eyesore in this neighborhood, where median incomes blow past a million dollars easy. Thankfully, it's late, it's dark, and it's the perfect cover to hide the truck and then climb sneakily over the gate.

I'm under her window a second later, tapping at the glass with a spare branch I found. It takes forever for Presh to open up.

More heat throbs through my cock the instant her sweet face appears. "Trent?"

"In the flesh, Rapunzel. Let me up."

She laughs, motioning to the arborvitae tree nearby. It's just thick enough to hold my weight. I scramble the small distance up it, grabbing at her windowsill. Thank God these big houses have huge windows. It's easy to slip inside, and then I'm in her apartment-sized room, eyes going straight to the bed.

"You scared the hell out of me. Thought someone was trying to break in while I'm all alone. They're gone, a spontaneous fundraiser again for dad or something. Whaaat?" She slurs the last word, staring at the wolfish grin spreading across my lips, eyes searching mine.

"Nothing. Just love how you look when you're surprised. Lucky for you, there's only one thing I'm interested in stealing in this house." Before she can even answer, my lips crash down on hers.

Holy fuck.

I can't decide whose clothes I want to rip off faster – hers or mine.

The harder we kiss, the fiercer the storm in my blood. She's wearing that leaf green nightgown I've seen a few times over the last year. It's practically hanging off her curves, a taunting temptation in the darkness.

Amy Kay's hands flatten against my chest. At first, I think she'll push me away, just like all the other times. But then her little fingers pinch my shirt, pulling it, her nails dragging against the skin underneath.

There's no mistaking horny. She wants me as bad as I do her. Tonight, it's finally happening.

My hands go straight to my belt. At the last second, I hesitate, taking my hands off it and cupping her cheeks. I can't let this happen unless I know. "You're sure you're ready for this?"

"Trent, I've been ready. Assuming you'll talk to dad, like we said last week?"

Shit. If she wanted to kill my hard–on mid-rage, mission accomplished.

I tighten my hold on her face, stroking one cheek with my thumb. "Anything, Precious. If we're fucking, I'll have words with the devil himself over drinks."

She smiles, her cheeks going red in her usual bashful way. It's sexy how damn sweet she is, even when she's ready to jump my bones. "I'm serious, Trent Usher. Nothing's happening on that bed unless you promise me this is for real."

"Fine. After you promise me the same, darling. We're off to separate colleges this fall. You'll be on your own for the first time. I've already been at it for several years. You're sure long distance is your thing?"

"I wouldn't even ask if it wasn't. Come on, Trent. You're insane if you think I'd ever do anything to ruin this. I've wanted this forever about as bad as I've wanted you. Ever since that first messed up kiss and the years we wasted. I'm not losing you again. Not losing more precious time."

Heavy words. I grin, press my forehead to hers, brushing her lips with mine. She gives a seductive whimper that brings my dick back, harder than ever.

It isn't that I think she'll cheat, no matter how many strapping young dicks will want a piece of her on campus.

She's so young. Inexperienced. Ripe to trip over her own heart unless I'm man enough to help her.

"I'll talk to Maxwell, Presh. You have my word.” I give her face a reassuring squeeze, amazed how even just her cheeks against my palms course lightning through my balls. "Now, much as I like your folks, they're the last fucking thing I want to talk about while I'm getting you naked."

Lust leaves her lungs in a sigh. I bring her face closer, until our next kiss is irresistible. My tongue finds madness on hers, sweet and fierce and wanting. When she kisses me back, a little moan strums against my tongue. I swallow it like fine whiskey.

That's how I know I'm fucked before we've done the deed.

This woman will end me. Only way to stop it is if I take full control. If I take everything.

Every trembling inch of her, from the sweetness begging for my tongue underneath her gown, to the secrets, the hopes, the needs woven deep in her soul.

There's no such thing as the one-off fuck I've wanted for years. With Amy Kay Chenocott, it's fucking bodies, minds, and souls. It's a fuck that'll go on in its delectable madness for the rest of my life.

* * *

I wake up with a manic tension against my trousers and a horrific case of cottonmouth.

It was a dream, of course. A memory. A ghost of happier times.

Same familiar mindfuck I always get under stress.

This time, though, there's good reason. I'm still in the same trap I left behind the minute I closed my eyes and drifted off.

She's behind that door. The heavy, immovable locked door that's pissing me off royal.

I stagger to my feet, grunting because my body aches worse from the ordeal on the elevator after sleep.

Can't say how many hours I've been out. Enough for healing to start, and it always hurts like hell.

Shuffling over, I let my briefcase hit my feet, and slam my sore fists against solid steel. "Precious! It's morning. I still don't have a bathroom out here. Let a man in to drain his bladder, will you?"

Silence. She's ignoring me.

If only I could do that for the weight in my bladder. I need to piss, and I'm not doing it in the middle of a fire exit.

Fuck me.

My hands hurt, but damn if I don't want to beat them against this door until they're raw. If this is a nightmare, maybe the pain will bring me out of it.

Then I hear the sluggish creak of metal, and know this is way too real. "Really? You're going to make me beg?" I snarl.

“You're not getting in. Not until you're ready to promise me you won't hurt my brother.”

I stare point-blank into her hunter green eyes. God damn. She's serious.

She doesn't have a clue it's already a done deal. Anytime now, Jace will be waking up to some very nasty surprises.

"Don't do this to me, Precious. I'm not making you another promise I can't keep. There are things happening, legally, and I can't put the brakes on them if I want to while I'm stuck up here with you." I manage to force my hand through the door, under hers. If she wants to close this thing again, she'll have to break my fingers.

"Oh well. Sorry, Trent, guess you'll have to find some kitty litter to do your business out there then."

She tries to pull the door shut, but I'm stronger, holding it open. "Wait, wait, wait...wait!”

The door doesn't shut. Not completely. I sigh, growling my next words. “Look, woman, if you let me in now, I'll think about putting the worst on hold. Soon as I can."

It's pure brinksmanship. There's no reason for us to trust the other's word, lifesaving antics and tongue-in-cheek skirmishes about our long-lost romance aside.

At last, she hisses air through her teeth. "Whatever. Just get in here. Do your thing and leave me alone. If you keep pestering me, I'll push you the hell out again, Trent. Mark my words."

"Deal." Pushing past her, I hear the heavy door click shut again. I waste no time heading for the bathroom I saw in the Shaw office earlier.

I remember where I heard that name before while I'm washing my hands. They're a powerful family, three brothers, all married now. They were all over the news last year. Went through drama and bad press aplenty, building empires in real estate, finance, and even Hollywood.

Bad PR makes me smile and cringe simultaneously. It's a big part of the real reason Presh and I are at each other's throats.

The press fucking destroyed Maxwell Chenocott after I took the fall for Jace's idiocy, ruining his bid for Senate. He deserved better. After all these years replaying that hell in my head, it's only fair game I use the same weapon. I've pulled the pin on a few choice grenades meant for my old pal, and they're going to blow him to pieces.

I wash up and grab a couple waters from the cooler on the way out. Amy Kay looks up, frustration wrinkling her pretty face. "I said –"

"Leave you alone. I'm not deaf, Presh. Still, I think last night left us both drained as hell. Drink this, it'll help." I hold out the water and wait a few seconds. She finally snatches it from my hand, lifts it to her lips, sucking it down greedily.

"Still no word?" Her glare answers my question, telling me the obvious. "Right. It's morning, at least. Help has to show up sometime today. It's a Monday, new week, managers won't be pleased to have an elevator out of commission and find out they're locked out of their own offices."

She isn't in the mood for small talk. There isn't much point, especially when getting the hell out of here is totally in the hands of the city's emergency responders. I sit, nursing my water, taking a brief walk before returning to the seat across from her.

"Where did it all go wrong?" Her face is in her hands. So small, so pale, so completely ready to be done with this fuckery.

Her question throws me. "Don't tell me all this crap's given you amnesia? Here's the cliff notes: I did a bad thing, Precious. Your asshole brother did a whole lot worse. Nobody wanted to hear the truth. Seems that hasn't changed."

"You keep saying that, dancing around it like I'm a total fool. I don't need your excuses. We know what happened. Dad was right: we never should've treated you like our own."

Pain digs through my chest. Pain and rage. "He said that?" I pause, waiting for her to look at me again, but she won't. "Fuck, just forget it. There's no use rehashing how the past went up in smoke. What's done is done, Amy Kay."

Technically, it isn't. Not done. Not even close.

Not while Jace Chenocott carries on as a happily married heir to a fortune, without a care in the world except how much money he can squeeze out of the family firm before he runs it into the ground. He would, even without my intervention.

"Trent, just tell me one thing: do you believe in coincidence? Fate?" Her eyes peek out above her fingers, studying me.

I start shaking my head. "What the hell kind of question is that, Presh? You trying to pass the time talking metaphysics? Screw that."

Sighing, her eyes open and shut, long lashes fluttering. "Just fucking answer. Please."

I cock my head, studying her back, shocked she wants an honest answer. "Guess I never thought about it before..."

No, that's not true. All I've done the last six years is think. Search for what explains the vicious path life forced us on. Ask why I lost her.

"If that's what you think this is, why we're here together, forget it. Won't do us any good, thinking we're stuck on this floor because God or the universe wants us to kiss and make up."

Her eyes widen, angry pinpricks dancing in the dim light.

Okay, so I shouldn't have said 'kiss.' Damn if it stops my eyes from landing on her lips. They're pinched in a light pink line.

Fuck.

Whatever else they do, they don't lie. I know they'd still be as sweet as a ripe strawberry if I walked over and decided to shut her up the nice way. If I decided to do more than talk about kissing, and break every last rule stopping us from ripping ourselves to pieces.

"You really want the truth then?" I wait. She nods. "Fuck coincidences, Presh. Fate, too. Haven't bought into fairy tales for years. The times I did when we were young and stupid nearly cost me everything. My fate was ruined a long time ago by your scheming bastard brother."

She bolts up, her little teeth bared for a split second, perfectly straight and white as I remember. "You? No, Trent, you nearly ruined him. Or maybe you're the one with amnesia here? Dad could've been the fucking president right now, making this world a better place, if you hadn't derailed everything. He wouldn't have spent years in a drunken stupor, moping around, straining mom to her breaking point. And Jace...Jesus. Jace might've learned to be normal, instead of just acting like it."

"Shit, Presh. Why don't we just cut straight to the chase? If I'd never been born, your life would be roses. The Chenocotts would have their faces chiseled in next to the Kennedys."

Why am I even fighting? Giving her this? I should just head for the steel door, walk the hell out, and wait like a patient man.

It can't be long now. The early morning haze is breaking with the sun coming up over the mountains, giving Seattle another chance to shine. If I had to guess, it's probably after five AM.

"You're pathetic," she snaps. "All these years, and you still won't fess up to it like a man, even though there has to be a reason we wound up here. The odds are astronomical, Trent. And you won't admit it. It's just another day in the life of a reckless blue-eyed asshole who practically got away with murder."

Murder? I wish.

Maybe then I wouldn't have had the chance to run. Wouldn't have panicked, taken off with my family, been that scared kid with parents who trashed their retirement to pull him off the firing line.

Maybe I would've been forced to stay. Cornered to fight.

Maybe I would've turned Jace in.

Sure, it would've dragged Amy through the mud, too. Everything I hoped to save her from at the time. But isn't that inevitable?

Coming back here says it is.

Sniping at each other confirms it.

The inevitable, bitter end of life as Jace knows it was always bound to happen every day I got my life together, and owned it.

But shit, if I'd done things differently, maybe it wouldn't be this bad. This painful. This vicious.

Maybe we wouldn't be standing in front of a smashed up office, her with no shoes, and me with the torn button down, hiding the scratches and bruises still throbbing their anger, trying to find out who'll be the first to set the other on fire with just the fury in our wounded souls.

“Congratulations, Presh,” I say slowly. “You finally figured it out. I'm just the blue-eyed asshole who fed off your family because he could. I'm that dirty orphan kid who lost his soul, who just wanted to fuck and run after he set everything else on fire. I'm the worst thing that ever happened to you, and totally not the man who saved you twice. I'm the reason your life's shit. I'm your biggest disappointment, smothering all the others – and I can tell you've got plenty.”

She drops her eyes. I'm not done. “I'm the fucking scapegoat. All the back-and-forth in the world won't change my mind about giving Jace the kick in the balls he deserves. So back the fuck off, quit trying to get under my skin, and let me do my thing. You believe in fate, then you ought to know it's coming. And nothing, darling, not even you, will stop it."

There.

I've said my piece.

Her eyes tell me I'll pay mightily for it. Like that scares me. I'll pay gladly if it finally brings this psychotic trip through bad memories to an end.

Her mouth falls open, searching for words through the anger.

Then there's a crash behind her so loud our hearts both rebound in our throats. My eyes shift over to the elevator shaft while my heart slams against my throat.

Is this whole fucking building about to cave? But the sound comes from the door, like there's a charging bull ramming it, and it takes me two more flustered seconds to rush past her paralyzed body and yank on the handle.

About a dozen big men rush in at once.

Police flashing badges, firefighters dressed in long reflective coats, a few more guys and gals and lighter blue uniforms I realize later are paramedics.

Amy Kay's eyes are a soft angry mess as they find mine. I give her a knowing look, suddenly ready to drain the venom left by her barbs. The insults and half-truths don't matter anymore.

Whether we like it or not, the cavalry has arrived.

Suppressing a growl, I rummage through my pocket, searching for the little scrap of paper where I scrawled my room and phone number. Had to do something while she left me locked out in the stairwell. I had plenty of paper in the briefcase and a lot of time to plan for certain scenarios.

Too bad I'm not sure where this one fits. “Take it,” I tell her, reaching through the crew swarming us. “You want to hash out the past, this is where you'll find it, and me.”

I don't wait for a response after her little fingers close around the scrap of paper. I decide not to look at her again.

It's easier than it should be once five men with badges start barking questions in my face.

Maybe I should've just walked out and cut the cord.

We're clear. Safe. Free. Done.

My only business left is with Jace, and after I've left a crater through his life, I'll blow this town forever. Good chance she's too pissed to ever contact me again.

Maybe that's for the best. Giving her my contact makes no sense, but then, none of this ever did.

It doesn't change what's next: forgetting the last twenty-four hours.

Including the last time I'll ever taste the fallen paradise of our kiss.