After two full days of this, Jacinda had to face the truth: she was stalking him.

She lifted her camera again and peered through the zoom lens. Apollo stood on his driveway on this Saturday morning, in nothing but a pair of shiny red shorts that went nearly to his knees, washing his Charger. The muscles of his back and arms flexed and undulated, and the beads and rivulets of his sweat made him seem to glitter in the sun.

It was a sight straight out of an 80s music video. As sexy scenes with a car went, Tawny Kitaen had nothing on Apollo Armstrong.

For two full days, she’d blown off most of the work of her actual, paying cases and followed him around. He’d worked at the Sinclair station, hung out at the clubhouse, gone home. Even last night, when the clubhouse had gotten loud and crowded, he’d left before dark and ridden home. For those two days, at least, he’d been nothing but a mechanic with a boring life.

He’d also called her four times. She hadn’t picked any of those calls up, but she’d listened to his messages a few dozen times, and she’d heard in his tone that he wouldn’t be calling much more. Maybe not again.

She believed he hadn’t fucked that woman. She did. But seeing her hanging on him, and then watching him walk right by without a word, following that woman while she herself stood there feeling like she’d been emptied out with a melon baller—that was pain greater and deeper than she’d felt in years, and the sheer size of her hurt terrified her.

That was what she would be letting herself in for to have a relationship with him. Or with anyone, maybe. It wasn’t the violence of Apollo’s life that scared her, it was the violence of love itself. It was too much power to hand over to another person. He wouldn’t have to tie her down and offer her up to be gang raped to tear her apart.

So why had she been tailing him? Why was she parked here, around the corner from his house, shielded by a neighbor’s shrubbery, spying on him through a zoom lens? Sweltering in a car on a hot July day?

Good question.

Until that moment, standing outside the elevator, waiting to go up to the Detective Division and hand over some evidence her father had discovered on a case, the past two weeks had been wonderful. She’d fallen hard for Apollo, and until that moment, she’d felt safe with him.

The pivotal event had been that first night in her bed, when she’d blurted out that she loved him and he hadn’t gotten weird about it. She hadn’t loved him when she’d said it, she’d had premature ejaculation of the mouth was all, and he’d simply understood that to be the case.

She was pretty sure that was the moment she had fallen for him. When he’d made her safe even then.

And then the elevator, and she’d been gutted.

If she could tell herself that she’d overreacted, that might have helped. She did believe that he hadn’t fucked anyone but her since they’d met. But her reaction had only superficially been about his cheating; she’d understood that when he’d explained, and she’d believed him, and she’d still felt horrible.

It was about his capacity to hurt her. The power she’d already given him. And that, she couldn’t reconcile.

Why was she following him around? Because she couldn’t stop thinking about him, and she wanted so badly to make that elevator scene just go away. Failing that, she supposed she hoped to see him do something that truly did break her trust. A reason to hate him so she could forget him.

So far, he hadn’t given her any reason. It sucked.

Jacinda watched him wash, and dry, and vacuum, and polish his Charger. It was beautiful, a classic ’73, gleaming black. She’d been in it a few times; the black interior was just as cherry as the exterior. He loved his Dodge almost as much as he loved his Harley.

When he was finally finished, ending the session by caressing the beast with a white cloth that might have been a diaper, he packed up his gear in a plastic caddy, wound up the hose and hung it on a holder bolted to the side of his garage, and went into the garage through the open overhead door.

His house was a tidy little bungalow in a neighborhood filled with tidy little bungalows. There wasn’t much to his design choices—the house was beige brick with lighter beige trim, and the landscaping was just a few bushes and hostas, and a large elm tree in the middle of the lawn—but everything was well tended. Just like his neighbors, Apollo took care of his property. While she’d sat here, stalking, several lawns had been mowed and cars washed. The summer air swelled with the sounds of mowers and water sprayers and the scents of fresh grass clippings, gasoline, and car wax.

Not a lot of kids around, though. Most of the residents here were retired folks, whose families had moved on, or young singles and couples who hadn’t started a family yet.

Did Apollo want kids? She did. Of course, there wasn’t much chance of that, was there? Not if she couldn’t pull herself together enough to deal with a relationship.

Okay, this had to stop. It didn’t matter whether he’d told her the truth or lied, if he was a good guy or not. She had to end it because her mother was right—she wasn’t ready. She couldn’t deal with the possibility of getting hurt, and that wasn’t about trust. That was just the nature of love, and of life, and she wasn’t ready.

She disconnected the zoom lens and capped the camera, then began packing her gear up in its padded cases. She’d spend the rest of the day catching up on work she hadn’t done while she’d been on this psycho field trip.

Movement at the edge of her vision stopped her, and she glanced out the windshield. Apollo was walking right for her, still shirtless and barefoot.

With no other choice, she watched him come and waited for him to reach her truck.

He leaned into the open window; his face was serious, but not angry. “Okay, baby. I think that’s about enough, don’t you? Much more of this, and you’re gonna cause trouble for both of us. Come on in, and let’s talk.”

Again, caught red-handed, she was short on choices, so she closed up her Pathfinder, gathered up her expensive camera rig and her messenger bag, and got out.

When he offered her his hand, she took it.

––––––––

~oOo~

––––––––

At the threshold of his front door, Jacinda froze, and Apollo turned back and frowned. “Don’t back out now.”

But there were rules. She had rules. Like not going into a guy’s place, where everything would be unfamiliar and she wouldn’t know her exits.

She was already past the rules with him, but this was new territory, and she no longer had that safe feeling with him she’d had before.

He tugged on her hand. “Jacinda. I’ve never had a woman in my place before. You freaking out is freaking me out. Just please come in.”

It helped that he was freaking out, too. She stepped up and into his house.

She was surprised by how open the layout was. Somebody—probably not Apollo, based on the evidence of the boring exterior—had knocked down some walls in this mid-century bungalow. The living room stretched straight across to the dining room, and the kitchen turned a corner from there, without even the typical open doorway to divide the spaces.

The floor was covered with beige wall-to-wall carpeting, and the walls were all a greenish-beige. There were a few cheaply-framed posters on the walls, of bikes and cars. His living room furniture consisted of an immense microsuede sectional sofa—beige, of course—and an open-front entertainment center with a huge black set, a couple of gaming consoles, a VCR, a stereo receiver and CD player, and a few shelves of games, tapes and CDs. Tall black speakers framed the piece.

Nothing else but a floor lamp at one side of the sectional.

The dining room was just a table and four chairs, a matched set she recognized from a circular in every Sunday paper for as long as she could remember.

Yeah, he was not much for decorating. But the furniture was in decent shape, and the place was clean.

He gestured toward the sectional. “Have a seat. I need a drink. You want something?”

She set her bags on the floor. “Iced tea, if you’ve got it.”

He laughed.

“Beer, then?” It wasn’t yet noon, but what the hell.

“Coming right up. Gimme just a sec.” Instead of the kitchen, he turned down the hallway that led from the living room. She watched him walk all the way down to the end and go through a door.

While he was gone, she indulged her curiosity and checked out the kitchen. The first thing she noticed was the back door, at the back of the kitchen. And the garage door, in the dining room. He’d left his overhead open; if she needed to get out fast and couldn’t use the front door, the garage would get her there.

She didn’t believe she was in any danger. In her heart, she knew he would never hurt her. But her feelings for him had given him the capacity to hurt her badly, and it helped to know her exits anyway. Just in case she was wrong and had put her trust where it didn’t belong again. Just in case. Just in case.

The kitchen was clean, too. A small space, not much more than a galley. A glass canister set was arrayed along the back of one section of laminate counter, and a wire basket held a small selection of fruits—a couple of freckled bananas, three green apples, and a fat peach. A coffeemaker, a pop-up toaster, a roll of paper towels on a stand, and a ceramic pot full of utensils sat on the countertops as well. There was a dishwasher, but a drainer in one side of the double sink was full of the dishes of a meal for one: a plate, a glass, a coffee mug, a small skillet, a whisk, a fork, and a knife. Looked like he had eggs and toast for breakfast.

She really liked how neat he was.

Just as she’d wondered whether his refrigerator was full of real food, or only beer and condiments, he spoke from right behind her and actually answered her internal question.

“Beer’s in the fridge.”

She spun around, shaking off the twinge of guilt for her snooping. Apollo wore a t-shirt and jeans now. If he’d meant to turn down the sex on his appearance, he’d failed. Bare-chested and in shiny shorts, or in good-fitting Wranglers and a snug white t-shirt, the man was just stupidly hot.

Wearing a grin just as sexy as the rest of him, he opened the fridge. Yes, it was full of real food. And beer and condiments. He pulled out two cans and closed the door. Popping open the first, he held it out to her.

She took it and drank down a whole lot of the cold, calming liquid. When she opened her eyes again, he was watching her, his grin softened to sweetness.

“You gotta stop following me, Jacinda. If the club sees you sitting outside the clubhouse with your damn camera, we will have real trouble. That’s the thing that makes them worry about you.”

“I’m not spying on your club.”

“I know. You’re stalking me.”

This was fucking awkward. “How did you know?” She was good at surveillance; she knew how not to be seen.

“Seeing in a full circle’s kept me alive. I saw you Thursday afternoon, while I was at work. I’d’ve gone out there right then, but I couldn’t do it without letting on to my brothers that you were out there with a goddamn zoom.”

“You didn’t say anything when you called.”

“I don’t ever leave detailed messages, and you didn’t pick up.” He finished his beer in two more swallows and set the empty can on the counter. “Look, Jacinda. You don’t have to follow me around, hiding in the bushes. I want you right here, with me. What is it you want?”

“I want to protect myself.”

“I didn’t fuck her. If we’re together, I won’t fuck anyone else.”

“I believe you.”

“Then what?”

She set her half-full can next to his empty. “It hurt. Seeing you with her, it hurt. It—God, it felt like I’d been stripped naked and spread wide, like I was trapped there, without any way to get away from it. I couldn’t be more vulnerable. It was nothing like what Blake did, of course it wasn’t, but that you already have that much power over me—that scares me to death.”

Saying it out loud, to him, made her really face it for the first time. She’d worked hard to be strong and in control, to know she could defend herself, protect herself. She’d gotten her PI license to make a point to herself as much as to do the work—that she could take charge, face danger, defeat it. And she’d devoted her work to uncovering secrets and exposing people’s evils and misdeeds.

But she was still the scared girl her parents had scooped up out of the Norman Regional ER and carried home, who’d hidden in her childhood bedroom for months, barely eating, barely talking, barely sleeping. Bathing and bathing and bathing until her skin peeled off in sheets.

Tears filled her eyes all at once. Shit! She didn’t cry anymore. She had better control over herself than that! She tried to blink them away, but they escaped and ran down her cheeks. As she felt their trails, her will cracked and then crumbled completely. “I’m so scared. I can’t be scared anymore.”

He came to her and cupped his hands around her face, smoothing his thumbs over her wet cheeks. “You don’t need to be scared of me. If you trust me, then I can’t hurt you. The last thing I want is for you to be hurt. I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with you.”

She sniffed and tried to smile. “Pretty sure?”

“Well, it’s never happened before, so I don’t know what it feels like. But that’s my best guess, yeah.”

“I have felt it before. I know what it feels like. That’s why I’m so scared.”

“How can I make it better?”

“You can’t. I’m just gonna have to deal with it. Because I don’t want to go.”

His bright blue eyes studied her intently. Understanding that he wouldn’t make the next move, the one that would close the chasm that had opened between them, Jacinda pushed her hands under his t-shirt and around his waist, sliding her palms up the broad planes of his back.

When he bent down and kissed her, she opened her mouth and her heart and closed the door on her fears.

––––––––

~oOo~

––––––––

Apollo slid his hand all the way up her arm, holding it aloft and pushing his fingers between hers. He kissed her shoulder and buried his nose in her hair. “All of you is so soft, like you’re made of silk.”

Resting back against his chest, Jacinda turned her head and brushed her forehead on his beard. “Are you gonna get sappy on me now?”

“What, you don’t like compliments?” He brought her hand to his mouth and sucked on her fingers, one by one.

“Mmm. I’m hungry.”

They’d gone to bed straight from their talk in his kitchen, and they hadn’t left it yet, except for a couple of bathroom breaks. The sun had set, and all the light that remained of the day was the hazy lavender glow of twilight. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and she guessed that he hadn’t, either.

With her finger in his mouth, he chuckled and nipped at the tip. “You want me to make dinner? Or no—you know what? I have an idea.”

“What?” She’d been about to say she’d love him to make her dinner. A guy had never cooked for her before.

“Let’s pack up some sandwiches and beer.” He sat up and tossed the beige sheet back, uncovering them both. “I’m going to take you for a picnic.”

She laughed. “You are getting sappy. A picnic? It’s almost dark.”

“Nighttime picnics are the best.” He stood and held out his hand. “Do you trust me?”

She took his hand and got up.

While he went to the kitchen, she used his bathroom to clean herself up and make herself presentable. His bedroom and bathroom were like the rest of his house—comfortable, tidy, sparsely decorated, and beige. Even his towels were beige. She found it fascinating that a man with so much life and personality had made his home in what could best be described as a showroom model.

The doors to the other bedrooms were closed, and she wanted karmic credit for at least hesitating before she eased the knob around and pushed the first door open. She didn’t flip on the light, but the hall light brightened the room enough that she could satisfy her curiosity. For now.

She was disappointed. The first one was completely empty.

The other one, though, was his office. This room wasn’t like a model. A big desk and an ergonomic chair, a shelving unit full of different kinds of tech gear and supplies, and, at the desk, a fairly elaborate setup, with two desktop monitors and a laptop—and shit, he had broadband; she saw the thick cords running off the side of his desk. Lucky bastard.

With that gear, he might be an actual hacker, rather than a garden-variety snoop like her, with a friend who’d given her a few skeleton key scripts.

“Hey, Catwoman. Come tell me how you want your sandwich.” Apollo reached over her head and grabbed the edge of the door, pulling it closed. “Obviously, we’re going to need some rules. Like nobody goes in my office without my say. Trust works both ways, cupcake.”

“I wasn’t in your office. I just peeked in the door.”

“Uh-huh. Let’s go.” With his hand between her shoulder blades, he firmly nudged her down his hallway.

“You know your way around the web, don’t you?”

“I do okay. Not master level, but I can get where I need to get.”

“Then why do you need to chase secretary skirts?”

He stopped at the edge of his kitchen and pulled her around to face him. “Baby, don’t. Let’s get this trust thing straight right now. For both of us.”

“I won’t snoop on you anymore, I promise. And I do trust you. I just need to understand.” Hoping it would ease the creases from his brow, she added, “I’m not trying to start a fight.”

With a great huff of a sigh, he took her by the shoulders and sat her on a dining room chair. “Let’s do this just one time, okay? One: I told you I won’t fuck anybody else, and what I did before I met you shouldn’t matter. Two: not all information is digital, and you know it. There’s lots of shit that I can’t get to from a keyboard. Secretaries are the people who know everything and nobody pays any attention to—as you also know, I’m sure.” He sighed loudly again. “I would have told you all of this the other night, if you hadn’t thrown me out.”

“So what are you going to do, without your secretaries?”

“I don’t know yet. I’ll figure something else out.”

“Maybe I could help.” It wasn’t a terrible idea. She hoped.

His brow furrowed again. “What?”

“Like, I could bring doughnuts to one of my guys and ask your questions.” Depending on the questions, they wouldn’t have to know they weren’t helping only her out.

“You’d do that?”

“Not to get anybody hurt, but other stuff, sure. I could try, at least.”

“I don’t know...let me think about it. I couldn’t always tell you why I needed it.”

That brought up another open question. “Can you tell me why you were taking that girl out this week?”

He blinked in surprise, but he didn’t evade. “That wasn’t for the club. That was...it was for you.”

“What?”

“I wanted to get Tyrell’s prison file.”

Her heart went cold. “Why?”

He answered with a meaningful stare, and she understood. The question of whether he was a killer had never been answered directly, but there hadn’t really been much doubt. Now there was none.

“No, Apollo. I don’t want that.”

“I might be able to—”

“I don’t want it. Life in prison is enough. No parole is enough. He’s going to live the rest of his life in a cage, and death would free him from that. Leave him where he is. Please—it’s not yours to fix. It happened to me. It’s not about you, or what you want or think you need to do—that’s you trying to make what happened to me about you.”

“I never thought...Okay.” Just like that, he dropped it. And she believed him.

“Why only Tyrell?”

“Cartwright died in a prison fight three years ago. You didn’t know?”

That information had surprisingly little effect on her. He was dead. Okay. “I’ve done everything I can never to think about them. I told everybody involved a long time ago that unless something happened and they got out, I didn’t want to know.”

“I’m sorry, then, for bringing it up. I thought it was something I could try to do for you.” He laughed in a sheepish way. “Actually, it was a stupid fucking idea because the club would never have gone for it, and if I acted on my own on something like that, Delaney would have my balls, wrapped in my kutte, and tied up in a bow with my intestines. But ever since you told me what happened, I just...I don’t know.” He shrugged. “You make me stupid.”

“So you were going to fuck that girl so you could get intel on Tyrell so you could have him killed for me, except you couldn’t have him killed because your club wouldn’t let you. That’s...that’s really weird and twisted. And kind of sweet, in a totally douchebaggy way.”

“I wasn’t going to fuck her. I just hadn’t figured out how to get out of it yet.”

“Just to be clear: don’t fuck anybody else, not even to help me.” She stood up. “Okay?”

He grabbed her hips and dragged her up against him. “You have dibs on my dick. Got it.”

––––––––

~oOo~

––––––––

Apollo managed to get their whole picnic—a stack of ham and Swiss on rye sandwiches, an insulated bag with a six-pack of Busch cans, and a bag of chips, plus a blanket he produced from his coat closet—into his saddlebags, and they rode his Wide Glide out of Tulsa.

He had night riding glasses with pale yellow lenses, but she only had her Oakleys, so the night was doubly dark as they left the lights of the city. She liked it that way, with the black speeding by, only flashes of light and the wind through her hair giving her a sense of how fast they truly moved. The engine between her legs roared, but the hard body in her arms was steady, keeping her grounded, shielding her. She set her chin on his shoulder and held on tight. His hand wrapped around hers where they linked across his belly, and he held on tight, too.

They rode for a long time, far out into the country, off the interstate, onto winding roads, through farms and fields and sparse woods. Eventually, he turned onto a narrow gravel road that was barely more than a trail through a thick copse of trees. They came to a rickety wooden gate, and he dismounted and opened it, then got back on and followed the wisp of a road, leaving the gate open behind them.

He stopped near a small lake and parked the bike. A stand of pines ringed the water, and there was a narrow, pale rim of sand circling the shore. It was lovely, the trees like a lens up to the sky, and the water smooth as glass, reflecting the brilliant explosion of stars in the deep blue heavens.

Jacinda stared up at the stars while Apollo unpacked the saddlebags. “This is beautiful.”

“Yeah.” He came and stood right behind her; she didn’t have to look back to know he stared at the stars, too. “My dad used to take us here when we were kids. We’d lay out a picnic and then stretch out on the sand and look up at the stars. This is how I learned how to find the constellations.”

He took her hand and led her to the sand, and they spread out their picnic.

“Your parents live near here?”

“This is their place. We came in the back way, but the house is a little ways over that rise.” He waved across the lake to a rise she couldn’t see through the shadows of the pines.

He hadn’t exactly brought her home to meet his folks, but this was better. He’d brought her home, to a place that held meaning for him, and he’d made it intimate, something just between the two of them.

The strutting cock she’d met at an Irish pub was just his shell. This man had a sweet, gooey center. Before they started in on their meal, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed the shit out of him.

When she broke away, breathless, he turned her and settled her between his legs, and they ate their simple, perfect supper sitting like that, nested together.

Afterward, they stretched out on the blanket together. Jacinda snuggled into the crook of his arm, resting her head on his shoulder, and looked up at the stars. Here, away from the glare and noise of Tulsa, the world was something totally different, alive with light and sound, but the opposite of bright or loud. She look a deep breath and let the peace fill her up.

“Do you still remember the constellations?” she asked.

“Sure.”

“That’s the Big Dipper, right?” She pointed out one of the three constellations she could identify, the others being the Little Dipper and Orion.

Her head shook gently as he chuckled. “Yeah, good.”

“I get why they call it a dipper. That’s obvious. I never understood the Ursa Major thing, though. Ursa means bear. It doesn’t look anything like a bear.”

“That’s because you’re not looking at the whole thing. The Dipper is only part.” He picked up her hand, stretched her arm out, and pointed her index finger, his hand around hers. “The Dipper is his head and body. Seven more stars make up his legs.” With her finger, he drew lines from one sparkling point to the next, sketching bear legs on the sky. “See?”

She saw. “I can’t believe no one ever taught me that before. I asked the question in school.”

“Here’s a cool one. It’s hard to see without a telescope, so you might have to trust me on this, but do you see a little star just off from the head of the bear? Not as bright as Ursa, but a little bit brighter than the others.”

He pointed, and she followed. There were a lot of stars, but she thought she saw the one he meant. “Yeah, I think.”

“That’s the tail of Draco, the dragon. I’ll see if I can point the rest of him out.”

Holding her hand, he made a long slow sweep almost all the way across the sky, curving up and down, and then a circle at the end.

“Wow.” She wasn’t sure she’d seen each star he’d singled out, but as their fingers moved over the sky, she saw a snaking shape emerge.

“And Cassiopeia. She’s easy. Bright stars that make a W.” He drew that form, too.

“How is that supposed to be a woman?” She reached back to her sixth-grade mythology lessons. “She was a beautiful woman who bragged she was the loveliest of all or something like that, right? Pissed off Hera?”

“Right. She was a queen. Poseidon put her in the heavens and trapped her on a throne.”

“Oh. She’s sitting. I get it.” Turning her head so she could see his face, she asked, “You’re a mythology buff named Apollo?”

He laughed. “I guess. My dad is insane about astronomy, and mythology sort of goes hand in hand with it, with all the constellations named after gods and goddesses and the people they loved and hated. It was impossible to come up in our house and not know a lot about both. And some physics, too. The name Apollo didn’t happen until about six years ago, when I started prospecting with the club, and that was all about the name my folks gave me. It’s all related, I guess.”

She turned back and stared at the wide circle of lively sky. “Your dad sounds awesome.”

He kissed her temple. “You want to meet them? Come with me on Wednesday night, if you want. I’m having my birthday with them. Mom’s a pretty good cook, and there’ll be cake.”

Now she sat up and faced him directly. “You want me to meet your parents?”

“Sure.” He grinned. “This is the real thing, right? Between us?”

“Yes.”

“Then meet my folks.”

“I would love to meet your folks.”

Feeling happy and calm, and safe with him again, Jacinda stretched out on top of him. He closed her up in his arms and kissed her, groaning as she writhed against his whole firm body and the rigid length of his cock.

When she pressed her hips forcefully down and let her legs fall to his sides so that only their clothes prevented penetration, and she moaned her own pleasure against his tongue, he turned out of their kiss.

“I want to tear your clothes off and fuck you under the stars.”

She sat up, straddling him, and looked around. They were entirely surrounded by woods, with no one near but night animals, the frogs and whippoorwills, and the bats flitting in the sky. Staring down into his eyes, their blue light sparkling back the starlit night, she pulled her top off and tossed it aside, then unhooked her bra and sent it to follow.

He rolled up and latched onto her breast, sucking her nipple sharply against his teeth, making her body flail and tremble. Arching backward, she gave him full access while she ground her hips on his, savoring the punishing slide of his hard cock, and the seams of their jeans, against her clit. His fingers tangled in the swinging ends of her hair and pulled her head farther back.

She snatched at his t-shirt, wanting to feel his skin on hers, and he pulled away and reached back, yanking the shirt up and over his head.

When she tried to grab him close, he caught her arms and held her off with a mischievous grin.

“You ever skinny dip?” he asked.

“What?” Her brain had laid out a very clear agenda: get naked and get fucked. A swim hadn’t been on her mind at all.

“I want to fuck you in the lake.”

Panting and still a little confused, she glanced over her shoulder at the sparkling, glassy water. “Is it cold?”

“It’s a small lake and it’s been a hot summer. Not too cold, I bet. And I’ll keep you warm.” He bent down and planted a kiss on her nipple. Her eyes fluttered shut as her body took the wheel from her brain.

“Condom,” she managed to eke out while her brain was still engaged.

“I’ll pull out.”

That was risky business, and she pushed her brain back to the front. “Apollo...”

His tongue flicked over her nipple, and he blew cool breath over the sensitive flesh. “Trust me, baby. I don’t want to make you pregnant like that, and I’m no fool.”

“I make you stupid, you said.”

“Not that stupid.”

Like that, he’d said. I don’t want to make you pregnant like that. Of all the romantic, sappy things he’d done and said on this night, that was the thing that really turned her head. I don’t want to make you pregnant like that. But he did in some other way? Or at some other time? Was he thinking about them like that, with a future like that? Oh, she enjoyed the idea far more than was prudent.

“I want to feel you, Jacinda. Nothing but us.”

“Okay.”

They stood and stripped off the rest of their clothes. Apollo took her hand and strode down the narrow strip of sandy beach, into the lake. The water was only cool, and the soft floor washed over her feet. He led them into water up to his chest, then pulled her into his arms.

The lift and sway of the water added an ethereal sensuality to every movement, and her body felt as if a thousand soft hands held her and caressed her. Apollo gripped her ass and picked her up. As she let her legs float around him, he pushed in, his progress smooth and purposeful, and she dropped her head back as a cry left her throat, loud enough to silence the frogs along the lake’s edge.

He bent forward, latching his mouth onto her neck, and rocked his hips harder and harder, making the water surge and splash around them, and it was all so completely breathtaking, every sensation different and familiar, soft and hard, gentle and rough, cool and hot, that Jacinda could only hold on and let him have everything.

The climax came upon her suddenly, while her mind was spread out everywhere, taking in every sensation as far as she could reach, and when it grabbed her, she slammed her body to his, wound her arms like vises around his neck, and was sure she would have broken apart if not for his arms around her.

If he came inside her, she wouldn’t stop him; it wouldn’t occur to her to try.

Holding her tightly, he pulled out with a pained grunt, and his body tensed and twitched as he came into the water.

She could trust him. She would always be able to trust him.