What the fuck is wrong with me, blurting out stuff like that to Ev? This is fucking nonsense, and I have no clue where the words came from. Or that warm feeling in my chest that lingers, making me feel like I could laugh out loud. Like I want to turn around and go back to her, grab her in my arms and never let go.

Have I mentioned I got it bad for this girl? Well, it seems it’s a whole lotta worse. I’m fucked in the head. Truly fucked.

And when that happens, there’s only one way for me to get my head on back straight: my art. I head back to Damage Control as quickly as my legs can carry me, even break into a run at some point, which earns me a coughing fit, and thank God Ev is not there to witness it. I catch my breath and hurry into the shop, wash my hands, pull on my gloves and grab my tattoo gun.

Ready for my next customer. Ready to blank out my mind.

Zane nods in greeting from the back of the shop, and I nod back. His eyes narrow at me and I turn away. The guy can see right through me. I’ll never forget the day he found me leaning against the fence outside my last foster home, drawing with a piece of chalk on the wooden planks. All but the first foster home I’ve had were hellish, and this one was no exception, but at least nobody really cared where I was at any time. Zane talked to me, looked at my pitiful etchings and offered a tattoo apprenticeship.

I didn’t even have to think twice about it. I apprenticed with him for almost a year before I ran away from that foster family for good and was taken into to the residential facility where I got sick. Is it any wonder Zane is my god? Kinda distant, but there, my lifeline in the last two years.

When I next look around, he’s gone, probably back in his booth, working.

My customers file in, one after another. As I work on a guy’s arm, and then a woman’s back, today replays in my mind. Ev at my door, on my sofa, in my shower, in my bed. Beneath me, naked and gorgeous. Sipping coffee on the bench. Her wide eyes when I stopped to talk to Ben in the alley, the fear that began to fade. Her determination to do something good.

How can I not fall for her? Truth is, I fell for her long ago, when she checked on me on the streets. When she saved my life. The unbearable happiness I feel now has as much to do with being with her as with the fact that she may be getting over her new, mysterious fear of the homeless, meaning I may be able to open up to her soon. Tell her the truth that weighs on my shoulders like a sin.

I barely hear my last customer thanking me as I consider this.

Why haven’t I told her yet?

Easy. I’m afraid to lose her before I even really have her in my life. She’s a ray of sunshine in the gray. She makes me breathe harder, live sharper. She brings everything into focus, brings back the colors and the light.

Fuck. If she goes…

I run my hands through my short hair and close my eyes for a long moment. This is why I don’t do feelings, why I don’t fall for anyone. Why I don’t trust.

Because if I’ve learned one lesson in my life, it’s that sooner or later everyone goes, and I’m left behind.

My good work at keeping my mind blank through work gets ruined on the way back home. When I stop to talk to my usual people, checking on them and offering some money for food, not thinking about Ev becomes even harder. So much so that, by the time I enter my building, I’m shaking with nerves.

I stand in the living room, unzipping my jacket, wondering if she’ll come. Seth is at the bar, working, and the apartment is quiet. Too quiet, letting my thoughts become too loud. I wish for something to dull the ache in my chest, the memories and the worry, but Seth’s rule for living with me is that we keep no alcohol in the apartment. I don’t know what he heard about me. I’m not a drunkard, but I agreed to his terms, and now there’s nothing I can use as a crutch.

Time passes, minutes ticking by, stretching into half an hour.

She’s not coming. I pushed her too far. Fucked her against the wall when she only came by to check if I’m okay. Forced her to follow me into an alley when she wasn’t sure she wanted to do that anymore. Maybe she really changed in these past few months, and I’m clinging to who she was. To who I thought she was. I never really knew her.

I don’t really know her now. I have no idea why she changed her ways, what is scaring her, and what she will do with me, but I’m in her hands.

Goddammit.

I shed my jacket and tear off my sweater and T-shirt. It’s cold in here. I need a hot shower. I stumble into the bathroom and turn on the water, then kick off my boots and pants, tug down my underwear and step under the spray.

My back is so tense it hurts. I press my fingers into the back of my neck, and it’s like pressing into stone. I let the water beat down on me, feeling the muscles uncoil little by little. I cough a little with the vapor rising around me, but it’s nowhere near as bad as it was a month ago. Damn sickness is hard to shake off, but I’ve beaten it.

I lean back against the tiled wall, and memories of Ev moving against me, around me, flood my mind. My dick hardens and I reach for it, hissing as I wrap my hand around it.

A sound breaks through the beating of blood in my ears and the shower. A ring?

A tune. My cell phone.

With a groan, I tug a few times on my cock, consider ignoring the call, then change my mind. What if it’s something important?

I grab a towel, wrap it around my waist and step out of the bathroom. The cell is still ringing when I dig it out of my jacket. A name flashes on the screen:

Ev.

Fuck. A thousand bad scenarios play out in my head. “Ev? You okay? Where are you?”

“Can’t get inside your building,” her sweet voice answers. “I rang the intercom many times, but I guess it’s broken?”

Shit. “I’ll let you in now. Come on up.”

I buzz her in and look around for my clothes. She’s fast, though, so by the time I grab my pants from the sofa where I dropped them, she’s standing at the door, clearing her throat.

She’s here. She came. Something painful in my chest relaxes. All my doubts seem foolish now that I see her in front of me, her cheeks flushed red, her golden eyes taking me in. They seem to glitter in the light of the lamp sitting on the coffee table, her pupils dilating.

“Hey,” I say, my voice inexplicably thick. “You came.”

She doesn’t allow any more stupid words to spill from my mouth. Rising on tiptoes, she kisses me, long and sweet until my cock is back to attention, rock hard and pushing against her soft body. Her small hands ghost up my ribs, then settle on my hips, pushing the towel off. It falls, pooling at my feet, freeing my erection so that it juts right up.

She breaks the kiss and takes a step back, panting hard. Her gaze slides down, focusing on my weeping cock, and it twitches in response. I lift my hands to her arms, then work on the zipper of her jacket. Too many clothes. Too many barriers. I need her, skin to skin, flesh to flesh, to believe she’s really come back.

I tear the clothes off her in my hurry, and she yelps when the button of her jeans breaks off and rolls to the floor with a clink.

“Sorry,” I force through my gritted teeth. “Dammit.” My hands are fucking shaking.

“Micah.” She reaches up and cups my face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Fuck yeah.” Never been better. I’m just… What? Nervous? Scared out of my fucking mind because I want her so much? “Didn’t think you were coming.”

“Why not?”

I don’t answer, frowning and popping more buttons, finally managing to drag her jeans down.

“I’m here,” she says, and I look up at her face. Not sure of what I see in her gaze, I focus again on getting her naked. This is more familiar territory, and fuck, my cock is close to bursting. I concentrate on that, the burning need in my body, and try to ignore the mess in my head.

She steps out of her jeans, and I blink. I never gave her underwear much notice before—I was more interested in peeling it off her—but this is… interesting. Oh hell yeah, very interesting. My dick takes notice, too, jumping against my stomach.

She’s wearing matching black lace bra and panties. The lace is fine and half-transparent, velvety against her pale gold skin. The cups lift her breasts and only half-cover her nipples. Her brown, hard nipples, which are stiffening more as I stare at them, transfixed.

The blood burns in my veins, and I have to lick my dry lips. My mouth is like a desert. In a trance, I lift my hand to touch the hard nub, and her head falls back, baring the column of her neck.

Fucking hell. I bend over her and kiss her under the ear, sucking on her sweet and salty skin as my hands trails over her breasts, finding and tugging on her nipples. She moans and presses her body to mine. My dick twitches again, swelling, seeking her.

Not yet. I need to feel her under my touch. I tear my hands off her breasts and trace patterns on her flat stomach, then circle her narrow waist and slide them down to her ass.

Another surprise. The lace is only a narrow strip, leaving her exposed. I smooth my hands over the silky globes, and my breath catches at the realization I’m about to come all over her again.

This is turning into a nasty habit.

So I force myself to take action. I sidestep and sweep her up in my arms. She yelps, and a mad grin splits my face.

“Bedroom,” I rasp and clutch her to me.

Mine. She’s mine.

The feel of her in my arms eases the storm in my head. I stumble into the bedroom and lay her on the mattress. Before she can sit up, I lower myself over her and grab the condoms from the bedside table. Making a mental note to buy more—loads more—I tear the foil with my teeth.

“Wait.” She pushes on my chest and sits up, dammit.

“Ev…”

“I want to taste you.”

And before I can blink, her mouth is on me, warm and moist and oh hell, my eyes are about to roll up in my head. She kneels in front of me, her copper hair coming loose of the ponytail, hiding her face. Her tongue is doing wicked things to the head of my aching dick, and my hands tremble with the need to grab her head and fuck her mouth until I come.

She only wants to taste. To try. The meaning between her words isn’t lost on me. She’s not experienced in giving blowjobs.

Don’t scare her. Go slow.

Fuck. Slow is the last thing I’m capable of right now. Still, I close my eyes and struggle not to move as she swirls her tongue. But then she starts sucking in earnest, and I can’t help the jerking of my hips. I groan out her name. Pleasure zips down my nerves, and pressure begins to gather behind my balls.

When I look down, my vision hazy, I find I’ve tangled my fingers in her hair despite my best intentions, holding her in place.

I release her hair and stroke it back, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead she puts her hands on my hips and licks my dick like a lollipop, sucking it into her mouth and dragging her tongue on the underside.

My balls lift, and I push on her shoulders until she releases me. My breathing is coming in short gasps. Grabbing the base of my cock, I grit my teeth and count backward from twenty. She’s staring at me, wide-eyed, probably wondering what the hell I’m doing.

Taking the time to explain is out of the question. As soon as I’m sure my balls aren’t about to detonate just yet, I roll on the condom and drag her down with me. She lands on her back with a huff, and I kiss her breasts, taking each sweet nipple in my mouth in turns, while reaching for her panties.

“Micah.” She’s as breathless as I am. She grips my hand, which has been traveling down toward her pussy. “I’m ready. Please.”

“No, Ev.” I won’t take her unprepared, not without making sure it will be good for her, too.

“I’m ready,” she says again and I dip my finger under her panty, between her folds, inside her, finding her hot and wet.

Once again I have to fight to keep from coming as I drag her lacy panties down her pretty legs, over the scars. I haven’t asked her how she got them yet, something about an accident, and I file the question in my mind for later.

The scars distract me enough so that I can hold on to my control a while longer. I brush my hand over them, then look up into her eyes as I push into her in one long thrust.

Oh fuck.

I must have blanked out for a second because the next thing I know she’s tugging on my shoulders, urging me to move.

She’s so unbelievably tight. And it’s her scent around me, her face below me. It’s Ev, and she’s with me. I pull out half way and push back in, watching her mouth fall open and her eyes close. Her legs wrap around me, and I lean over her until I’m propped on my elbow, my other hand teasing her breasts. I bring my mouth on hers, slipping my tongue inside, tasting her, licking her until she clutches at me desperately.

Her hips rise, and she clenches around me, inner muscles rippling in a maddening rhythm. This time there’s no way I can stop this orgasm from slamming into me like a runaway train. It tears through me, making my body writhe. My hips are moving in a frantic rhythm of their own, and wave after wave of burning pleasure washes though me. Not sure I can take so much of it without going mad.

Then I feel it—the exquisite tightening around my still jerking cock, and I hear her cry out as she comes.

Too much. Breaking the kiss, I muffle a howl into her shoulder, and hunch over her, my whole body trembling.

She shifts beneath me, and I lift my head, blinking the sweat from my eyes. “Holy shit,” I whisper.

She grins. She’s so fucking sexy I want to start all over again, but my body can’t cooperate just yet. I think it will take me more than two seconds to recuperate from something this strong. I don’t think I can even shift enough to pull out of her. Maybe we can stay like this forever.

I shouldn’t like the thought so much.

My lids are heavy, but she seems full of energy. Tugging and pushing, she manages to roll me on my side, and she rolls with me, still wrapped around me, one leg over my thigh.

Comfortable. Warm. I inhale her scent of flowers, and I’m already dozing off when she clenches her leg, drawing me closer. As I’m still trapped inside her, this brings a growl up my throat.

She laughs, a silver sound. “Why did you think I wouldn’t come here tonight?” she asks, her voice soft.

I try to think of a plausible explanation. “Your folks? I thought you’d get into trouble if you did.”

Her face falls, and I want to kick myself for reminding her. “They know I’m staying at a friend’s.”

I don’t know what to say to make her forget. My brain is sluggish. “I like holding you.”

She smiles, her brow smoothing out. “I like it when you hold me, too.”

“I don’t wanna scare you away.” Damn, my mouth is on autopilot. Brain not connected. “Ev…”

“You can’t scare me away,” she says firmly, and fuck, I want to believe her. “Are you talking about taking me into that alley today, or are you hiding whips and chains somewhere in your room?”

She glances around as if expecting to see them hanging on the wall, and I snort.

“The alley,” I say, although that’s not all. That’s just the tip of the iceberg. “Won’t you tell me what scares you?”

Her lips part, and I’m tempted to kiss her again. I hold back. I want to know more about her. I want to understand her.

“My boyfriend,” she starts, and I freeze. I think my heart has stopped.

“Boyfriend,” I repeat, my voice choked.

“Blake,” she says, “my ex-boyfriend. Very ex.”

I release a long breath, and my heart restarts with a lurch. “Right. Blake. What about him?” I fucking hate the guy already, and that’s even before I remember where I heard his name before. “He’s the douchebag who tells you you’re a cripple, isn’t he? What else did he do to you?”

She doesn’t immediately reply, and heat rises up my neck. I’m gonna rip this guy’s head right off his shoulders. My pulse thrums in my ears.

“What did he do?” I ask again. “Did he hurt you? Where is he now?”

“Micah.” Her hand worms its way between us and settles over my pounding heart. “Calm down.”

“The hell I will. What did he do, Ev?”

“Nothing.” She bites her lip. “It’s stupid. He’s never been violent with me, or anyone else.”

Some of the tension leeches out of me, but I’m still grinding my teeth. “Then why are you afraid? What else did he say? If he—”

“He just talks a load of crap.” She presses her forefinger to my lips, stopping my questions. “Forget it.”

The adrenaline rush is still making the blood rush in my ears, but exhaustion drags me down. I manage to pull out of her and tie off the condom, then go clean up and return with a wet cloth for her. She moans softly as I clean her, and damn if my cock doesn’t twitch again.

Not sure I’ll survive another round tonight. So I tell my dick to suck it up, throw the wet cloth into a corner of the room and fall back into bed. I gather her close, tucking her head under my chin, still amazed at how such a tiny person can make me feel safe and content.

“What time is it?” she whispers, her breath tickling my skin.

My eyes are closing, and I struggle to open them again. “Must be midnight, I guess. Why?”

“Maybe I should set an alarm for tomorrow. Have to go to work.”

“Oh, right. I’ve set mine. I’ll wake you.” I reach out and switch off the light. In the velvet darkness, she’s curled against me like a magical creature, molding to me, soft and warm, small and yet strong.

“Thanks.” She trails her fingers over my chest, and it all fades for a while.

I come awake when she pulls away from me. I reach instinctively for her, not wanting to let go. “Ev?”

“Bathroom. I’ll be right back.” She smoothes a hand over my face. “You’re wiped out, aren’t you? Not sleeping well?”

“I sleep well with you,” I mumble, brain hazed and studded with snatches of dreams. “Ev, stay…”

“I’ll be right back,” she says, but I fall asleep before she does.

A figure stands at the door. It’s dark and I can’t really see, but I know her. She’s sat on my bed often and stroked my hair. She hasn’t been in my room recently, though, and I can’t quite recall her face. Her hair is dark and short, her eyes big and the color of the sky.

Mom… I wait, lying in my bed. I want her to come closer, to sit again beside me. I want to feel her arms around me, her hand on my hair, her lips on my cheek. I want to hear her voice saying my name.

‘Micah, baby…’ Her voice, soft. ‘I’m here.’

But she doesn’t move. She’s just a dark shadow against the light. Then she turns to go, and I’m scared. I know she’s never coming back. She’s leaving. Leaving me behind.

I twist, struggling to get up, go after her, but for some reason I can’t move. I’m tied to the bed, tied and gagged, and I’m not in my room anymore, not in a house, but at one of the group homes. I recognize the bare hanging bulbs and stained concrete floor. I know the faces crowding around the bed, and I see the baseball bats in their hands.

I know what’s coming next, but it still doesn’t prepare me for the first blow. When it falls, I jerk and shout for help. Blow after blow falls on me, and I shout and curse, all in vain.

“Micah. Snap out of it, man.” A male voice. A strong hand shaking me. “Hey. Enough. You’ll wake up the whole building. You don’t want the bitch from next door coming over to complain again.”

Another cry is caught in my throat, and I can’t breathe. A fit of coughing overtakes me, and I curl on my side, hacking and trying to breathe.

“I’ll bring you some water,” Seth says. He knows the drill.

But I sit up with a groan. “I’m okay.”

“Ew, man, cover up.” Seth makes a face. “I don’t need to see your fucking dick.”

I pull the sheet over my lap, and he turns to go.

He stops. The only light comes through the door, and I squint, trying to see what has him frozen.

A girl is standing there, wearing an oversized T-shirt, her hair hanging over her shoulders like sheets of beaten metal. My overtaxed brain keeps superimposing a dark shadow over her, and I know she’s leaving me.

“No.” I shake my head. “Don’t go.”

“Micah?” Ev, it’s Ev, her wide eyes flicking from me to Seth and back. “I’m not going anywhere. Just… What is Seth doing here?”

“What?” I scrape a hand over my face, hoping to restart my brain. “Seth lives here.”

“He lives with you?

“Got a problem with that?” Seth mutters irritably.

Ev rubs her temples. The T-shirt she’s wearing is mine. Why the hell do I feel warm at the thought of her wearing my clothes?

“It’s not… Not a problem,” she whispers.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Seth grumbles. “And try to keep it quiet, will ya? Trying to get some downtime here.”

He pushes past Ev, who flinches.

The hell?

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“It’s complicated.” She pads over to me but stays standing by the bed. “Are you okay? I heard a shout and then voices… And then you were coughing.”

“I’m all right.” I sigh. “Ev, you have to tell me what’s wrong. This doesn’t have to do with that asshole, Blake, does it?”

“I told you. It’s complicated.”

Okay, this is driving me nuts. “Maybe I’m not as stupid as you seem to think. Try to explain. Use simple words, if you like.”

She turns away, her face crumbling. “Please, Micah. Not now.”

I shake my head, both mystified and angry. “Why won’t you talk to me, Ev? What’s the story with Seth?”

“Micah...”

Fuck this. “Why do you run away whenever he’s around? And don’t give me again the bullshit about being concerned with his safety. Did he do something to you?” I’d give my right arm for Seth, but if he did something to her... The nightmare still lingers in the back of my mind, making me jittery.

“No.” She shakes her head vehemently. “Seth did nothing wrong.”

“Then what?” My head is pounding, and I press the heels of my hands into my eyes. “Dammit. Fuck.”

“Hey…” She sits by my side. “You have a headache, huh?”

No shit. It’s like a trio of jackhammers pummeling the insides of my skull.

“Pills?” she asks.

“Won’t help.”

She says nothing for a while. Then she puts her hands at the back of my neck, digging her thumbs into the muscles, and I hiss. It hurts like hell, but at the same time it feels so damn good. Her small hands are surprisingly strong.

“Where did you learn to do this?” I groan as she massages a particularly sore spot.

“My mom sometimes gets tension headaches. I paid attention to her physiotherapist when he massaged her back then, so I could do it for her at home.”

I swallow a moan of pleasure as she presses deep into clenched muscles, unlocking them. “Feels great,” I manage.

“Your back is a mess.” She pushes her thumbs into the base of my neck, and I jolt, electric pain shooting down my spine.

“Ow.”

“Your muscles are hard like stones. Could be a reason why you can’t sleep well. That and the nightmares.”

I say nothing.

“What were you dreaming about?”

I don’t wanna talk about this. But she won’t talk to me unless I talk to her, and I’m hiding a lot from her already, so fuck it. “Foster care.”

Just two words. There. Was it easy? Nope. I feel as if I’ve just had to break two of my teeth and spit them out.

I don’t talk about my nightmares to anyone. Ever. Not even to Seth who happens to be the one to wake me up every time. Or to Zane who has given me all I have. So why am I telling her?

Her hands stop their massaging. I frown, but before I turn to look at her, she slips her arms around me and rests her cheek between my shoulder blades.

“What happened to you there?”

My heart hammers in my chest. I try to swallow, but my mouth is too dry. “I don’t…” My throat clicks. Oh shit. I so don’t wanna talk about this. What was I thinking? “Nothing happened.”

“A nothing that gives you nightmares?”

My jaw clenches. “Yeah. Like the nothing that makes you scared of Seth.”

I hear her sharp intake of breath. After a few moments pass, she exhales. “Touché.”

But it doesn’t make me feel better. It makes me feel worse that I threw her words back at her. She doesn’t deserve this. She saved my life, Shane’s life. Probably more. She’s a strong person. Whatever happened must be still scaring her, stopping her from talking about it.

And because that means my past is scaring me, too, I force myself to talk about it. “It was hell,” I say.

Her hands shift, splaying on my stomach. I expect her to ask something, but she doesn’t. Leaves the ball in my court.

“We were all dumped together in this big old facility.” I lick my lips, desperately trying to wet them. “Some of us, the newer ones, slept on the floor. We had to fight over food. Some of the kids there formed a gang and stole all the food, then beat up everyone who resisted.”

She still says nothing, and the words come with difficulty. I’d never talked about all this before. “They raped the girls, even some of the younger boys, and I couldn’t…” Bile rises in my throat, and I swallow convulsively. Shit. “I couldn’t stop them.”

Can’t do this, dammit. I get up, shaking free of her arms, and pace the room. Shoving my hands through my hair, I stop at the window. It’s dark outside, and my reflection stares back at me. I look like roadkill, face pale, eyes wide, short hair standing on end.

In the reflection, I can see Ev sitting on my bed, hands in her lap. She looks sad and small. Shit, my outburst must have scared her. Hell, I don’t blame her. I turn around and walk back to her. I sit beside her and reach for her hand. She slips it into mine and gives me a smile, but it’s strained.

Fuck. “Ev? I know my past isn’t that good, and hell, I have nightmares and shit, but I’d never hurt you.” I take a deep breath. “You know that, right?”

She squeezes my hand, and her smile turns real. “Of course I know that. I’m not worried.”

Okay. I don’t know what else to say. She’s a lovely puzzle that I can’t solve—shy and bold, innocent and sexy, unafraid and scared, running and still standing still.

Unpredictable. Startling. Addictive.

“It’s just that…” She glances at me from under lowered lashes, and her pretty mouth twists. “Your words reminded me of my own failures.”

“Failures?” I don’t understand.

Her hand trembles in mine, and she looks away. “I’ve let people down, people who depended on me.”

Still don’t get it. “Your parents?”

She shakes her head. “I’m sure I’ve let them down, too, but they’ll survive. No, that’s not what I mean. People I helped on the street and didn’t manage to save.”

My heart thumps too fast against my ribs. “Like who?”

“A couple old people. You wouldn’t know them. They usually were close to home, not around here.”

I want to ask her if she remembers me at all—if she remembers a man who was sick, a man she saved. But she doesn’t mention me, and I don’t know if to feel relieved or disappointed. Don’t know if to just throw caution to the wind and tell her the truth or wait until I know the cause of her fear.

Yeah, isn’t this just great? Turns out I can’t even predict myself.