Erik presses his chest against my back, leans close to my ear, and whispers, “Put your palms on the window.”

My breath hitches, but I do as he commands, closing my eyes and shivering as my body reacts to his soft, sensual timbre. I try to squeeze my legs together, a natural reaction to the excitement tightening my stomach, but Erik places his thigh between my mine and nudges them farther apart with his knee.

“You’re gorgeous, Maddie.” He slides a fingertip down my back, then kneels behind me and places his lips in the middle, right above my ass. Despite his calloused hands, his touch is soft, gentle, tender.

A shiver shakes my entire body. My heart speeds up in anticipation of what he’ll do next. He slides his hands over my hips and down the outside of my thighs. His lips are still on my back, his breath hot on my skin. Slowly, he reaches up and finds my clit. He alternates between rubbing and flicking, then he dips one finger inside me and my knees almost buckle. I feel him smile against my back before he slips another digit in me.

I’m so wet, his fingers slide easily as he pumps them in and out. It’s nothing new. When I’m around Erik, my arousal is almost instant. All he has to do is look at me and I’m drenched.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers.

I’m rocking against his hand, wanting more, needing more. Just when I’m getting used to the rhythm, he pulls out. Before I can protest, his mouth is between my legs, his tongue taking the place of his fingers. The low moan that escapes doesn’t even sound like me. He pushes his fingers into me again, forcing me slightly forward. His teeth graze my clit, but it’s when he sucks softly that he sends me over the edge. I grind down, moving through the orgasm. He doesn’t let up, sucking and nibbling. I didn’t even realize an orgasm could last so long, but he keeps letting me ride his face, so I’m not complaining.

Once he’s gotten everything from me, he licks my pussy before standing up. He slides his hands up and down my hips again, his soft touch mesmerizing me into a haze. I’m expecting something sweet and soft again, but he surprises me by grabbing my hips and pushing into me hard from behind.

The force propels me forward and I brace myself, splaying my palms against the glass. Being fucked against a window is a completely new, and exhilarating, experience. In the back of my mind, I know no one can see us. All the lights are off in the condo, and there’s not another building as far as they can see. Still, the excitement of being seen is there. I never thought that’s the reaction I would have to being bare in front of an open window, but I can’t deny the way my body reacts.

I’m breaking all the rules with Erik. Taking fears and prejudices and tossing them aside like the black, lacy lingerie he pulled off me tonight.

“Yes! Erik! Oh my god!” I say, urging him to keep going. Every time he thrusts, it’s a bit harder and a bit deeper, and I love it. But my head is dangerously close to hitting the window, and the memory of Trent pushing me into it, causes terror to rip through me.

As if Erik can read my mind, or maybe sense my tension, he raises his arm and places a hand palm-down against the window right at my head level. I rest my forehead on the back of his hand in silent appreciation.

“I’ve got you, Madeline. Don’t hold back,” Erik growls in my ear. “Let go. You can let go with me.”

He wraps the other arm around me, caging me in, then reaches around and places his fingers on my clit, rubbing as he continues thrusting. When my head falls back onto his shoulder, he kisses my neck, grazing my skin with his teeth. The sensations make me dizzy, lightheaded, and about to lose it again. I nod, clenching his cock with all my strength.

“You ready, sweetheart?”

I nod again and push my ass back, letting him know that he can keep pumping into me, filling me deeper and deeper until he gives me everything he’s got. I want it all. I want his essence to flow through my blood. I’d give anything to be one-tenth of the strong, amazing person Erik is.

Living with Erik gets better with every day that passes. He leaves me notes on the bathroom mirror daily, he fixes things around the condo, and he takes my car to get washed every single week. I don’t need those things, but it’s really sweet that he does them. He’s always thinking of me. It’s only been a month, so maybe we’re still in the honeymoon stage, but from everything I know about him, it’s just more ways that show how thoughtful he is.

After the crazy, stressful day I had, I don’t want to have to think about anything. All I want to do is change into super-comfy clothes and binge something mundane on Netflix until he gets home. Then have a ton of sex.

Ramos greets me at the door, tail wagging and tongue hanging out of his mouth. Before I do anything else, I latch a leash onto his collar and take him outside to do his business. Settler’s Cemetery, Charlotte’s oldest, is across the street from my building. It’s a well-kept, beautiful park-like space, which may seem weird, but I think it’s wonderful. Walking amongst the final resting spot for people, who were in the city from the beginning, gives me a rush of pride for how far we’ve come.

The entire lobby smells like garlic wafting in from the upscale Thai-food restaurant next door. It’s not a bad smell, but it gets overwhelming at certain parts of the night. Before heading back up to my condo, I stop to check my mail.

Once we’re back inside, I remove his leash and hang it up on the hook next to the door, then I kick off my shoes and round the counter to the kitchen. After grabbing a glass out of the cabinet and placing it on the counter, I open the fridge and pray there’s a bottle of wine chilling in there. If there’s not, I need to hit the market down the road. Today was the kind of day where I need to chill out with wine and hibachi takeout. Thankfully, a bottle of Pinot Grigio waits for me on the top shelf. There’s a yellow Post-it note taped to the bottle.

Hope you had a great day, beautiful! Pour yourself a drink and relax! Can’t wait to get home to see you.

My lips turn up in a smile and butterflies zoom inside my belly, as I think about how sweet it is that Erik thought of me. I grab the bottle and move to the drawer where I keep the opener.

Trent never left notes for me—sweet or otherwise. There’s no comparison between Trent and Erik, so I’m not sure why I need constant reinforcement for my decision to leave.

With a glass of wine in one hand and my cell phone already opened up to a food-delivery app in the other, I shuffle to the couch. As soon as I sit down, Ramos joins me, curling up next to me and resting his head on my thigh. Erik gets annoyed when the dog jumps on my furniture, but I don’t mind. I’ve never had a pet. Mama is allergic to cats and she never wanted the responsibility and hassle of having a dog. I totally understand. Between all the long hours Daddy worked, the countless activities Mama had us girls in, and vacations, having a dog didn’t fit into our lifestyle.

I set my wine glass on the coffee table and run my hand across Ramos’s soft fur. Erik’s concerns are out of respect for my home. He thinks muddy dog paws will ruin my furniture. But, hell, Erik comes home muddy and grimy from work every day and I let him on the furniture. I want him here—in my home and in my life. Having Ramos with us makes me feel like we’re a family.

I stop petting the dog to send a quick thank you text to Erik.

Because he’s still working, I don’t expect him to text back right away, but seeing the tiny dots on my screen, that tell me he’s typing, makes my heart flutter.

Letting Erik move in was a no-brainer. Our relationship is legitimate, and we need to be just as diligent in documenting the steps to show that. I’m still holding out hope that something changes and a marriage will keep him here.

How can a hard-working man with an impeccable reputation and no criminal record be deported? I highly doubt the Department of Homeland Security is out there cracking down on illegal immigrants like him. Wouldn’t they focus on the real criminals? He’s not a bad person just because he’s here illegally.

I like having him here. It’s funny because the thought of moving in with Trent never once crossed my mind—which is ridiculous since marriage was supposed to be the long-term plan. But offering to share my condo with Erik popped into my head immediately and without hesitation.

Everything is easy and fun with him, whether we’re strolling around the city hand in hand, with Ramos in tow, or snuggling on the couch after a long day of work. Life with him is exactly what I dreamed of when I thought about a happy, loving relationship.

Being with him makes me see how unhappy I was in my last relationship. Trent was rigid and busy. He made me schedule time with his paralegal who runs his calendar at the law firm. We never had cute, fun dates, like mural-hunting in Plaza Midwood or bowling with Austin and Liz. And Trent would never set foot in a nursing home, let alone be there for one of his grandma’s meals every single day. Trent and I were all for show. We attended formal events, threw diner parties, and met colleagues and friends for dinner at the trendiest establishments.

Over the last few months with Erik, I’ve realized how much I missed being in a loving, trusting relationship. Having the complete freedom to go out with friends or with my sisters, and not have to explain or justify my choices is priceless.

Then there’s the passion. I barely wanted to kiss Trent, but I can’t keep my hands off Erik. I want him all the time—on the furniture, the bed, the kitchen, the shower. I can’t resist him.

I’m lost in my thoughts when Erik’s face lights up my screen. I slide my thumb over it to answer.

“Hey!” I greet him, unable to keep the silly grin off my face. This is what relationships are supposed to be like. Always smiling when you’re thinking about the person. Getting excited about every call or text, even if you saw the person earlier in the day.

“Hey, Mads! My truck won’t start. I’m gonna call a Lyft to get me and Hugo home. Just wanted to let you know I’d be a little late tonight.”

“Don’t call Lyft. I can pick you up.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to,” I tell him, getting off the couch and placing my wineglass in the fridge. “Hold tight. I’ll be there soon.”

“Thanks, babe. See you soon.”

After all the little fix-it jobs Erik has taken care of at my condo, the least I can do is help him out. I like having the relationship we do. Always being there for each other. Being able to count on someone. Not having to walk on eggshells when asking for a favor. Not being worried about anything.

When I get to the address Erik gave me, they’re in the road, standing next to his trailer. But his truck is nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s your truck?” I ask through an open window as I pull up next to them.

“Tow truck just hauled her off.” Erik leans in and pecks my lips quickly. “Thanks so much for doing this.”

“I’m here for you, always.”

Erik hops in the backseat, which is probably a good thing. Hugo is a very large man—he’s over six feet and probably close to three hundred pounds. I don’t know if he could squeeze into the tiny backseat of my sports car.

“Thanks, Miss Commons,” Hugo says as he stands next to the open passenger door. He hesitates before getting in.

“Come on in, Hugo.”

He bites his bottom lip as his eyes scan the seat. “I’m all dirty, Miss.”

I pat the seat. “You sit right down. You know darn well I’ve never been afraid of a little dirt.”

He smiles and squeezes into the car. Once I input his address into my navigation system, we’re off.

We’ve been driving less than five minutes when I notice a cop pull out behind me. My shoulders tense, and I immediately drop my gaze to the dash to check my speed. Relieved I’m actually going a few miles per hour under the limit, I relax a bit and continue.

“How’s Anna?” I ask Hugo. Anna, his wife, works for my parents. Housecleaning mostly, but she does a ton of odd jobs for them. She’s been with our family for over twenty years, so we trust her with everything.

“Good. She’s on a fitness kick. Keeps asking me to do all these dance classes with her.” He glances at his belly and squeezes a roll. “I’m not in shape for dancing.”

“Oh, come on! I know you’ve got a little salsa in you. I’ve seen you work that weed wacker,” Erik teases.

“It’s not the same,” Hugo says with a laugh. “The weed wacker doesn’t yell at me.”

“Have you tried, at least?” I ask. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Erik lean forward in the middle of the backseat. He’s lifting his phone as if he’s trying to get a signal or something.

Before Hugo has a chance to answer, I’m distracted when the lights on the police car behind me start flashing. I check all of my mirrors and even throw a glance to my blind spots. I’m the only car on the road.

“What in the world? I wasn’t doing anything wrong, was I?” I ask out loud. I wasn’t expecting an answer, but Erik does.

“Not a thing,” he confirms, lowering his phone to his lap.

I keep my hands on the wheel as the officer approaches, waiting for him to tap on the window before pressing the button to roll it down.

Before speaking, he peers into the car. His dark eyes stay on Hugo for a second too long, as if he’s assessing him. That, and the slight downward turn of his pale, thin lips annoys me. Hugo and Erik are both still in their work clothes—dingy, white T-shirts and faded jeans tinged with grass and mud stains.

“Everything okay, Miss?” he asks.

What the does that mean? Why wouldn’t everything be okay?

Instead of ask, I answer with a strong, “Yes, sir.”

“Do you know why I pulled you over?”

“No.”

“You were speeding.”

“I don’t reckon I was, sir. I was going the speed limit. Maybe even a little under.”

“When you came down that hill on Idlewild.”

“Bullshit,” Erik mumbles under his breath.

The cop peers into the car, eyebrows furrowed in anger. “Excuse me, boy? Do you have something to say to me?”

My hands clench the steering wheel.

“License and registration,” the cop barks at me.

I lean down to grab my purse at Hugo’s feet, dig my license out of my wallet, and hand it to the officer. Then I lean over him and reach out toward my glove compartment to grab my registration.

“What are you doing?” the cop asks. I glance back, catching the slight movement of his hand to the holster at his hip.

My heart speeds up. “You asked for my registration. I’m getting my registration.”

After retrieving it, I hand it to the cop. He grabs it and stalks back to his patrol car.

“I swear I wasn’t speeding,” I say once he’s gone.

“You weren’t,” Erik assures me.

“Are you serious or just being sweet?”

“Dead serious. I started videotaping your dashboard as soon as I saw that cop start following you.”

“You did?” It seems odd to me, but at least it explains what he was doing on his phone.

He nods solemnly. Then he lifts his phone and shows me the screen. Together, we watch the video of me going the speed limit. At one point, I might have been going one mile per hour over, but never more.

“It doesn’t make any sense. If I wasn’t speeding, then why would he pull me over?”

“Because you were driving with brown,” Erik mutters.

Color me confused. “What does that mean?”

“A white girl driving with a Mexican,” Hugo explains.

“That’s not why!” I start to dismiss the explanation, then I pause. “Is it?”

“You really don’t know anything about our reality, Maddie.”

I’m not sure what he means by “our reality,” since his skin is as white as mine. Even with a summer tan, he wouldn’t be mistaken for a man of color.

“Tell me then. I want to know. I’m not just a ditzy blonde who only cares about herself.” Erik laughs, and my heart sinks. “Is that what you think of me?” I ask in a whisper.

“No. Maddie, I—”

It hurts like hell to know he still sees me as a callous girl who doesn’t care about anyone but herself and her own interests. A ditz with no comprehension of what goes on in our society.

Maybe I haven’t had much experience or many friends of color, but it doesn’t mean I have to live the rest of my life that way. I can try to make changes. If I got pulled over for driving with Hugo because of the color of his skin, then I need to do something about it—tell someone at the very least. Daddy knows the police chief. Maybe he can help put a stop to behavior like that. It’s not that I actively participate; I just don’t think about it. It’s a horrible thing to admit—that I don’t realize some of the issues other people struggle with until they’re brought to my attention.

And I’m ashamed of myself.

The officer’s heavy footsteps pounding the pavement shakes me out of my thoughts.

He reaches into the car and hands me my license and registration. “I only wrote you for five over,” he says, looking at Hugo as he hands me the ticket.

“What do you mean, you wrote me for five over? I wasn’t speeding!” I say, dropping my license and registration into the cup holder.

“Miss—” he begins, but I cut him off.

“You know you work for me, right? It’s not the other way around. I pay your salary.” Adrenaline pumps through me, fueled by rage at the hateful reason that made this officer stop and the lies he tells to justify it.

It’s apparent that the cop wasn’t expecting any resistance from me. Maybe he thought I’d be driven by fear. But he doesn’t know me. Once I know something is wrong, I won’t stop until it’s right. I won’t lie and say I do this all the time. Quite the contrary. I’ve never given a police officer anything but respect before, but this time is different. This is my chance to stand up for what’s right in the small way I’m able.

“Dios mío,” Hugo whispers and turns his head to look out the passenger-side window.

I’m not sure what it means, but I’m positive it’s not good. Which should probably be a clue for me to shut my mouth, but I’ve never been good at stopping once I’ve started something.

“If you have a problem with the ticket, you can take it to court,” he says, writing something on his pad before handing it to me.

“Take it to court? Waste more taxpayers’ money than we’re wasting right now to fight a bull-hockey ticket? That’s ridiculous! I have a—” Erik puts a hand on my shoulder, which derails my thoughts for a moment. When I glance back at him, he shakes his head slightly, but I’m not letting this go. “This isn’t going to make it to court. My father will have a field day with this. Harris Commons—you know him, right?”

The cop, who seemed frustrated, but still slightly amused, now stares at me with hard, unwavering eyes.

“Please stop, Maddie,” Erik urges quietly from behind me.

“I can see you do. Enjoy the rest of your shift, Officer. You might want to put the windows down, enjoy the wind in your”—I glance at his smooth bald head—“hair. Because you’ll be behind a desk by next week.”

Without waiting for a response, I crumple the ticket and let it drop into my lap, all while keeping eye contact with the officer. Then I roll up the window, dismissing him completely.

It may have seemed collected, but my heart has been pounding like a racehorse at the Derby the whole time. I finally let out a breath and my shoulders relax.

“What the fuck was that, Maddie?” Erik asks.

“What?” I glance at him in my rearview mirror as I pull back onto the road. He shakes his head as if disappointed. “Are you mad at me? For defending myself from an asshole who thinks he can use his power to intimidate people?”

“I’m not mad. But I will admit I was fucking freaked out.”

“Same,” Hugo agrees.

“Why?” I ask, looking at Hugo quickly.

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat and sighs as if he doesn’t want to answer, but feels obligated to. “If I talked to a cop like that, I’d be face first on the concrete.” He rubs his forehead with his fingers. “I almost thought I would be anyway, with the way it was going.”

“Really?” I ask. I’m appalled at myself for making Hugo uncomfortable. I thought my standing up to the cop was a way to help.

Hugo turns to me. “It’s different for me, Ms. Commons, for reasons you’ll never have to worry about.”

“I’m so sorry,” I say quietly. “I didn’t mean to put you in that situation. I didn’t realize—” I stop because though I’m sincere, my apology means nothing. My ignorance could have made the situation horrible for him.

Neither man says anything else, so I keep driving in silence. The only time Hugo speaks is point out which house is his in the subdivision.

Shame seeps through me, filling every crack. Erik was correct. I don’t know Hugo’s reality. I was too wrapped up, thinking I could use my influence—privilege—to get some sort of justice, that I didn’t even think about the consequences for either of them. It never even crossed my mind that the cop could have taken the fuss I was making out on Hugo.

After I drop Hugo off, Erik moves into the front seat. He doesn’t speak and it kills me. I hate when people are mad at me. I especially hate when it’s because I did something that unintentionally hurt someone. I never intended to put Hugo or Erik in a bad situation.

Being afraid of the police is nothing I’ve ever had to think about. The only other time I’ve been stopped was when I was speeding while coming home from the beach a few years ago. I apologized profusely, said I’d never do it again, pretended to cry, and the officer let me go without a ticket.