The truth changed things between Dominic and me. Pulled threads, scattered beads, reworked patterns on our timelines. Created overlap.

When I look at him now, I see more than the promise of punishment. More than a man I respect and desire, who plays my body like an instrument made for his hands. He’s multi-dimensional. Imperfect. Emotional. Human. Warm and sensitive, mature and thoughtful. I’m not sure how much longer I can protect my heart. Or if I want to.

Vulnerability didn’t use to scare me. My parents encouraged it when I was young, helped us map our emotions and communicate them in positive, loving ways. As an adult, I enjoyed the freedom and intimacy of it in my marriage. Or thought I did—before I fucked everything up. After, I was resigned to never experiencing that freedom again.

Now, by some trick of fate, here it is—a man who heard the absolute worst about me and isn’t running. Or if he’s running, it’s to me instead of away. Those words… they rocked me, illuminating deeper crevices of pain.

Paul ran.

He didn’t want to hear my apologies. Couldn’t. That night, after telling me I wasn’t the woman he thought I was, that he didn’t know me at all, he took his car keys and slammed the front door on his way out. I didn’t hear from him for three days. At that time, they were the worst three days of my life.

I had no idea what was in store for me.

My guilt hasn’t been diminished by my confession. It’s still there, round and hard and dark on my timeline. A black diamond nothing can scratch. I failed Paul. Failed us. And after he died, my shame was so great I couldn’t tell my parents what really happened. Not even Paris knows everything. The bargain I made. The sacrifice.

I told myself it was to protect them, but in reality I was protecting myself. Shielding myself from the truth.

There’s no running from the past, but until today, it never occurred to me to run toward it. Dominic Cross is either the wisest or most foolhardy man alive.

Wherever you go, there you are.

“Again.”

“I can’t, Dominic. I—”

“Again!”

Cursing under my breath, I lift my arms, the muscles quivering like jello. The boxing gloves weigh a hundred pounds each. Sweat stings my eyes. My shoulders burn, my abs burn. Everything burns.

“Any day, kitten.”

“For the love of—”

“One more set and I’ll fuck you tonight.”

I flush bright red as musical laughter floats to us from outside the boxing ring. “Oy, Dominic!” calls Liam. “Give her something she actually wants!”

I aim a feeble swing at the pads attached to Dominic’s hands. He bats me away like I’m a bothersome fly. I stumble, righting myself with a groan. In contrast to my pathetic state, Dominic bounces lightly on the balls of his feet.

“You’re a savage,” I pant.

“You’re weak,” he taunts, effortlessly dancing toward me and back. Muscles ripple on his bare chest; knowing him, it’s an intentional distraction. “I thought you were taking self-defense classes. You do know yoga doesn’t count, right?”

I swing wildly. Miss him by an embarrassing distance and almost fall again. Dominic grins, eyes twinkling. Wiping sweat from my eyes with my forearm, I scowl.

“Let’s see you take ten cold hits from a cane, Mr. Tough Guy.”

His smile turns devilish. “I’d put that on the table, but there’s no way you’d follow through.”

He’s right, the bastard. Not in a million years could I do to him what he does to me. Even the thought of caning him makes my stomach turn.

I look over at Liam, whose garage-turned-home-gym provides the backdrop to my misery. “What are you getting out of this?”

He laughs. “Free entertainment.”

Surrendering to gravity, I crumple to the mat. The bruises on my ass protest, but right now they’re the least of my pains. “I’m done. I can’t feel my arms.”

Dominic drops to a crouch before me, athletic shorts stretching over a certain part of his anatomy. “Eyes up, kitten,” he says with mirth.

Though rare for me, I disobey. “You’re not, uh, wearing underwear.”

Liam explodes in laughter. “You’ve just noticed? How the hell did you miss his giant cock flapping around in those shorts?”

“Feel free to get lost,” growls Dominic.

“Bah! You’re no fun. I’ve got a date, anyway. See you at Crossroads later?”

Dominic pauses while removing the pads from his hands and glances down at me. “Not sure yet.”

Liam aims a cheeky wink my way. “All right, then. Lock up when you leave.” Whistling, he saunters across the garage and into the house.

“How do you really feel?” asks Dominic, brushing a sweaty lock of hair off my forehead. The graze of his hot fingertips sparks a warm, drifting sensation in my belly.

“Pretty good.” Surprisingly, I mean it. “Hungry. Like really hungry.”

Grabbing my gloves, he hauls me to my feet, ignoring my muttered curse as muscles scream. He starts unwrapping my hands. “Food, then sleep for my brave kitten.”

“Sleep?”

Dark, sparkling eyes flicker up to my face. “Depends.”

My breath comes short. “On what?”

“On whether you can run a mile.” He glances at his watch, then nods toward the treadmill.

I gape. “Right now?”

Slow, wicked smile. “How bad do you want me?”

A rough, disbelieving laugh barks out of me. But it only takes another few seconds for me to toss my loose gloves on the ground and hobble to the treadmill.

Jamming my finger into the start button, I grumble, “That cock better taste like candy and vibrate.”

To the sound of Dominic’s booming laugh, I run.

Strong hands work over my skin, melting knots in my legs and back. I’m far past any embarrassment at my periodic, unrestrained groans of pleasure.

“Ohh, right there.”

Dominic goes after a knot in my shoulder blade. The pain is exquisite. I breathe through the bright pulsing, sighing as the tension unravels. His hands retreat. Sheets rustle.

“Turn over.”

I flop onto my back, yawning as I blink my eyes open. Dominic’s soft smile greets me. “That was wonderful, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

His gaze drops, tracing my throat and down, lingering on my breasts. I’ve been naked before him so many times—been denied the full pleasure of his body—it doesn’t occur to me that tonight’s any different. The afternoon was just a tease. His specialty, maybe even more so than pain. He’ll tuck me in and leave like always.

Only… he’s not leaving.

Awareness frissons down my spine, wrapping around my torso and stiffening my nipples. A broad, tanned hand cups one breast, kneading and plucking the tip. I squirm, arousal turning on like a flipped switch. My legs squeeze beneath the thin sheet covering my lower half.

Time slows, pauses for my memory to capture the moment. Candlelight in the shadowed bedroom, the scent of coconut oil and lavender. The soft waves of his dark hair. Thick lashes shadowing midnight eyes, the curve of firm lips. Broad shoulders rising, then falling as he sighs. The soothing warmth of his hand on me, familiar and not. He’s never caressed me without some part of me being immobilized.

I’m afraid to say the wrong thing, make the wrong move. Afraid he’ll leave, and this small, precious space between us will vanish like smoke. Afraid, too, of that space. Of how badly I want to dive into it, regardless of whether or not I remember how to swim.

His hand slides across my ribs to my other breast, owning it with the same commanding touch. “London,” he murmurs, voice low and raw. Tormented eyes find mine. “Tell me you want this.”

The fog of arousal clears momentarily, and I finally understand. He isn’t asking if I want to have sex—he’s asking if I want to make love. My heart burns, an inferno of need and twisted hope. Brilliant light shines in its darkest corners, searing through shadows and webs of fear. I’m powerless over the truth. And I don’t care anymore.

I cover his hand with mine. “Everything I have left to give is yours to take. I’m yours, Dominic.”