ADEN

I woke that next morning to the gentle sounds of Celia breathing against my chest.

Not the panic of gunfire.

Or the visions of blood and death.

Just the warmth of the woman who has managed to bring a semblance of peace to my life like nothing else ever has.

Not booze.

Pills.

Or therapy.

Even now with her hair tangled and splayed out over my arm, her leg thrown over mine, her naked body works like an anchor in a sea of madness. I wonder if that’s all this is, because like Cal pointed out I don’t know much about her, except I know how she likes to be touched, what makes her breath hitch, and her body shake. I’ve memorized the hypnotic sounds she makes when I lavish every dip and flare of her frame.

I have to acknowledge that it’s the sex that’s making me feel things I’m not used to feeling. It’s as if I’m falling, but know the landing will be the softest I’ve ever felt. Something shifted, and no matter how hard I try I can’t put my finger on exactly what it is. All I know is that someone I want to spend my days with is not under my control. The thought is as terrifying as it is comforting because coupled with the fear is the excitement that I’ve never had these feelings for anyone before.

This is why I shouldn’t think. I should just act. Roll with it and see where things go. If Celia feels even a fraction of what I feel for her she’ll consider staying in San Diego, or at the very least trying the long-distance thing. It’s not ideal, but it’s better than nothing.

As soon as the words tumble through my head my focus moves to the boxes stacked around her bedroom. She’s clearly set on moving home.

I have twenty-four hours to convince her to stay.

And if she does, if she sticks around for me, when all these warm gushy feelings wear off, where will that leave us?

I groan and rub my eyes. Stop overthinking this shit!

Her legs shift, rubbing against me with the soft skin of her inner thigh. I bite back a hum of pleasure. “You up?”

She smiles and palms the length between my legs while pushing in close. “No, but you are.”

“You can feel that, huh?”

She laughs and the sound is throaty and lust-heavy. What is wrong with us? If we didn’t have jobs to do we’d both stay in bed and probably die of malnutrition.

Speaking of . . . “We skipped dinner last night. Since you’re all packed up I’m assuming you don’t have food in the house.”

“I have a little, but probably nothing you’d like. I’m starving.”

“Okay, so let me feed you.”

“Mmmm . . .” She nuzzles my neck and shifts so that her body is half on top of mine.

I grip her hips to hold her to me. “You’re gonna kill me, woman.”

“Go on.” Her lips brush against the sensitive skin below my ear. “Tell me more about you feeding me.”

“I ah . . . what . . .” My words fade into a groan when she straddles my hips. “Food. Sex. And I thought we could—oh my—” I bite my lip as she kisses down my stomach and hovers over my hard-on.

She looks up at me with those big eyes and fat fucking lips and I’m lost. “You thought we could what?” Her tongue darts out, licking me until my hips jack off the bed.

“Town. In town . . . it’s . . .” I fist the sheets to keep from gripping her hair and pushing myself down her throat. “Fourth of July.”

She props her elbow on my quad and I blink down to see her grinning. “You want to spend the Fourth with me?”

I nod frantically. “Yes. So much, yes.” Now get your lips back on me.

“Sounds like fun.”

My stomach knots with anticipation as she settles back between my legs.

And after she feeds on me, I feed on her.

Then I take her to breakfast.

Don’t be a fucking pussy.

The sun is setting over the water by the time we finally make it to town. It took hours for us to get ready and between the stripping, showering, and many attempts at dressing it was impossible to keep my hands off Celia.

I had no idea watching a woman blow-dry her hair could be so erotic.

Or doing her makeup.

Sliding jeans up those velvety thighs.

All of it was like a shot of adrenaline straight to my libido.

The only reason I finally left her alone is because I promised her we’d go out and see if a Fourth in OB lives up to the hype.

I haven’t been since I was a kid, but it’s exactly how I remember it, except maybe a little more crowded.

Which is why I’ve been giving myself a pep talk for the last forty-five minutes.

I told myself I wouldn’t drink, that I’d be strong for Celia, but after fifteen minutes of being surrounded by hundreds of strangers I snapped at Celia for not walking fast enough.

The hurt on her face was enough to make me want to kick my own ass. I grabbed a beer from the rooftop bar, watching the sunset, hoping to mute the raging paranoia in my head.

I feel everyone’s eyes like a prick against my skin, warning me to be alert. The only thing grounding me against the mounting panic is the melodic cadence of Celia’s voice as she goes on about God knows what. I struggle just to pay attention.

Her gorgeous face is cast in the orange glow of sunset, making her already reddish-blond hair seem almost pink. Her eyes are on the ocean and I make myself take deep calming breaths to remain here with her rather than consumed by the memories of war.

“. . . I swear, sometimes I think I’m cursed.” She turns to face me with a shy smile, and a small fraction of security returns to my chest.

“What do you mean?”

Stay focused on Celia. Let her be the only person in the room. And maybe I’ll get through tonight without showing my ass.

SAWYER

I can’t put my finger on when it happened, but sometime between the cottage and the bar Aden shut down on me. He probably doesn’t even think I noticed, and I don’t think pointing it out will do any good, but he’s been looking everywhere but at me since we got here. I’ve filled the awkwardness with idle talk about things I know he’s not listening to, hoping it would help him to relax. In the short time we’ve known each other I’ve found a few things that seem to put him at ease. Sex. Fishing. And taking all focus off of him.

So I’m babbling on about myself until something I say catches his attention. Finally.

“I’ve always felt, I don’t know, I think the best way to describe it would be doomed.” His lips twitch with a restrained smile, and God the view is such a relief the knot loosens in my chest. “It’s not funny!”

He forces a frown. “I’m not laughing. Go on.”

I sip my margarita and notice from a side glance that he’s watching and waiting for my next words. I turn to face him head on. “It started when I was eight.”

His eyes pop wide and another shadow of a smile begins to pull his lips. “How does an eight-year-old girl get cursed?”

“You don’t believe me.”

He gulps from his beer and flags the waitress for another. “It’s hard to believe. Explain.”

“I had a week where every day something bad happened— Stop laughing!”

“Bad, like, your dog ate your Barbie?”

“No, bad like I got in trouble at school for kicking a teacher, and before you go thinking the worst of me it was an accident.”

“I believe you.”

Picking apart my napkin I relive the week my life seemed to go wrong. “Then I got sick and . . .” I killed my grandmother. “Let’s just say things just went downhill from there.”

“Nothing you’ve said so far would lead me to believe you’re cursed, freckles.”

“Well, it gets worse.”

He swallows back a healthy swig of beer, releasing his lips with a pop. “Go on, I have to know.”

“When I was ten I got in a huge argument with my best friend, Amy Noelle. She told this boy at school that I liked him when she promised me she wouldn’t breathe a word to anyone. Anyway, the boy ended up telling the entire school and they made fun of me for two months straight until summer came. I was so humiliated. I told Amy I hated her and wished she’d move to Korea.”

“Why Korea?”

I shrug. “I don’t know, maybe because at the time it seemed like the farthest away place there was. Anyway, two days after I wished that, she told me her dad got a promotion at work and they’d be moving to Florida. Still to this day I haven’t heard from her.”

His expression morphs into a skeptical scowl.

“It was all my fault.”

“Something tells me there’s more.”

“At twelve I caused a car accident outside my house, fifteen I backed the car over our dog, fifteen and a half I made muffins for my class and gave everyone food poisoning, sixteen I got suspended for a poem I wrote about suicide that was really the lyrics to a song written by some metal band. I thought it was deep and thought-provoking. Do you want me to continue or do you get the idea?”

His jaw hangs open on its hinges and I take that as my cue to continue.

“Seventeen I broke my PE teacher’s arm, nineteen I gave money to a homeless guy in my neighborhood who used it to buy drugs and OD’d, twenty—”

“Hold on, you’ve got something for almost every year of your life from the time you were eight?”

“Eventually I figured out there was something wrong with me, so . . .” I locked myself in my room for over a year. “College kept me indoors.” Online classes. “I was relatively safe if I avoided people.” I bite my lip, fearing I’ve exposed too much Sawyer to be Celia.

“And how old are you now?”

“Twenty-four.”

“You realize this is ridiculous, right? Wait.” His jaw gets hard. “The photos.”

“The what—” Oh God.

I fucked up!

“You’re so afraid to fuck something up, yet you take risks most people wouldn’t, how?”

My mind scrambles to come up with an answer. If you don’t know what to do, flip the coin. My sister’s words come washing in and I blurt, “The coin.”

His mouth remains tight, but his shoulders relax a fraction. “So you flip the coin to help you make choices you’re afraid of.”

I guess that’s close enough to the truth. “Once it’s taken out of my hands . . .” I can’t even look at him while lying. I don’t know what happened. I completely forgot to pretend. “Fate takes over.”

“And you allowed these freak accidents to dictate what’s safe and what’s not.”

“I didn’t allow it, Aden. It just did.”

“And what about now? Do you still feel cursed?”

A couple of weeks ago I would’ve said yes, but after this last week? “Not as much, no.”

“Good.” He leans back with a huff. “Because it’s a horrible way to live.”

“I just . . . I feel like I have blood on my hands.”

He jerks his gaze to mine, and they flash with irritation. “You didn’t kill anyone, Celia. Okay, maybe the dog, but you don’t know what it’s like to kill until you do it on purpose with intent.”

I jump at the way his words are barked at me and remember he has a history of death and violence that I know very little about. His eyes are back to being cold and guarded and I want to kick myself for losing him again so easily.

“You’re right, I’m just . . .” Trying to get you back.

Things between us are so easy when we are alone, but anywhere else everything with Aden becomes complicated.

He returns to scanning our surroundings and defeat punches me in the chest. “I’m going to go to the ladies’ room.”

He nods and has to back up so I can push my seat back as he’d had me pinned between a wall, the table, and him.

Before I walk away I gently touch his forearm. He startles and his eyes come to mine and immediately soften in apology.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve known better. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He smiles shyly and takes my hand to bring it to his lips when—pop!

His big body slams into mine. I’m crushed between him and the unforgiving block wall at my back. He smothers me. My lungs pant for air.

I pat his lower back. “Aden, you’re crushing me.”

His muscles are tense and shaking. “What the fuck was that?”

“It was a firework.”

Slowly he pulls away, his eyes looking wild and unfocused and—pop! Another fires. His shoulders tense, but he manages to hold back his response.

I reach up and cup his jaw only to have him jerk away from my touch. “We need to go.”

“Okay.”

His eyes scan the bar and I follow his gaze, expecting to see whatever threat he sees. People dressed in various arrangements of red, white, and blue, laughing, drinking, and harmlessly celebrating. “Aden?”

His face is pale and the muscle in his jaw ticks. He throws a wad of cash on the table and hooks me around the shoulders. “We can watch the fireworks from the cottages.” He roughly guides me through the crowd. “The view, we can see the pier and it’ll be more—” He glares at a group of men who stumble in front of us, blocking the exit. “Get the fuck out the way.”

They turn toward us and Aden shoves me behind his back.

“You got a problem, asshole,” the bigger one of the group says while his friends laugh.

Aden steps close and has at least three inches on the guy. I don’t know what the dude sees in his eyes, but he backs off, shaking his head. “Damn, chill out.”

They move and Aden grabs my arm and ushers me out the door, down the steps, and directly to his truck.

“Are you okay—”

“Of course.” He swings the door open, not looking at me, and then throws it closed the second my feet are safe inside.

Another pop and Aden flinches while jogging around the hood.

What in the hell is going on?

It’s a short and quiet ride back to the cottages, and other than the obsessive way his wild eyes check the rearview mirrors he seems to have calmed. He throws the truck into park and I hesitate to say anything, fearing that it’ll trigger his anger.

“I’m sorry.” He’s stares blindly out the front windshield. “It’s the crowds.” He turns toward me and in the dark his eyes look black. “They remind me of a time when everyone was a threat.”

I nod slowly. “Okay, I understand.”

“It’s bad enough when I’m alone, but with you it’s . . .” He blows out a breath and the action seems to loosen his muscles a little more. “Worse. If anyone hurt you . . .” He shakes his head as if the thought is too deplorable to imagine and my whole body warms.

“Can I touch you?” Earlier my touch seemed to upset him and I want to make sure I don’t cross some invisible boundary.

He takes my hand and presses it to his chest. The rapid beat of his pulse feels like hummingbird wings against my palm.

“Oh my God, Aden . . . your heart is racing.”

He laughs humorlessly. “I know.”

What happened to him?

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He drops my hand and stares directly into my eyes. “No.”

I lean across the center console and he doesn’t push me away so I press my lips to his. At first they’re firm and unyielding but after a few gentle swipes of my tongue he hooks me around the back of the neck and devours my mouth. The kiss is desperate, angry, and he nips at my lower lip with an impatience I’ve come to expect from Aden when he needs me to help him forget.

I gasp as I come up for air. “Let’s go inside.”

He grins, and a sliver of my Aden comes back. “You go ahead, I’ll meet you there in a few.” With a long, lingering wet kiss I jump from the truck and head back to Celia’s cottage with the lead weight of a plane ticket back to Phoenix weighing down my purse and my thoughts.