When my alarm goes off, I barely have enough energy to move. I reach over and slap the clock just to stop the irritating noise. If I close my eyes again, I know I’ll be out like a light and will most likely miss the snooze alarm. Sitting up takes too much effort, so I roll off the side of the bed, letting my feet hit the floor a half second before it’s too late to catch myself. I stumble into the bathroom and get the hot water flowing. By the time I get out, I feel a little better than before, but not much.

I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up.

Dressed and ready for work, I walk out of my bedroom and come to a complete stop when I reach the top of the stairs. The bright light from the kitchen illuminates the steps and the foyer, and I know I didn’t leave it on last night. In fact, I didn’t go into the kitchen at all after I got home.

I creep down the stairs, careful not to make a sound, preparing myself to peek around the corner. My heart is pounding against the inside of my chest so hard I wouldn’t be surprised if the intruder hears it before he hears me. And what am I going to do if he’s still in here? I grab my phone from my pocket and dial 9-1-1—then wait to hit send. When I glance into the kitchen, my hand falls to my side as my mouth drops open.

“Blake?” He’s leaning against the counter with his arms folded over his chest.

“Morning,” he replies casually. Maybe a little aloof.

I look around the room, trying to get my bearings. I feel so lost.

“It’s Sunday morning, right? I didn’t sleep through the whole day, did I?”

His head tilts to the side ever so slightly while he studies me with narrowed eyes. “Yes, it’s still Sunday morning. Very early Sunday morning, as a matter of fact. I see you’re dressed for work.”

“Of course I’m dressed for work. What else would I be dressed for at this time of the morning? What are you doing home so early? Is everyone okay?”

I walk farther into the kitchen to get a bottle of water before I leave for work, and Blake pushes off the counter, blocking me from the refrigerator door. His eyes never leave mine as his hand grips the door handle. But he doesn’t answer me.

“Want me to make you a cup of coffee?” he asks.

“No thank you. I just want some water. I’m very thirsty this morning.”

He reaches inside, grabs the bottle, then takes my hand in his other one before pulling me toward the table. “Have a seat.”

He opens the bottle and sets it in front of me. I pick it up, ready to take a drink. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“Funny, I was just about to ask you that very question.” He pulls away from me, his back pressed against the chair, and hardens his features.

“I’m completely lost, Blake. I have no idea what you’re asking me. You’re the one who’s home early from a trip I bought for you and Kyle to enjoy spending time together.”

“We came home because we were both worried about you, Grace. You weren’t answering calls or texts. We were up in the mountains with no way to make sure you hadn’t been harmed. So we rushed home late last night when you still didn’t answer. You were so out of it, we talked about taking you to the emergency room. Then you said you were fine, just very tired. What the hell is going on, Grace? Are you cheating on me? Is that where you’ve been while I’ve been out of town—with him?”

The only way I’d be more surprised right now is if Blake slapped me across the face with the palm of his hand.

“You have a lot of fucking nerve to say that to me.”

Suddenly, a lack of energy isn’t an issue. I spring up, pushing my chair back with the force of my legs, and knock the almost full bottle of water over in the process. It spreads across the table, and Blake jumps up to grab a towel. I’d normally help clean up my own mess, but not this time. Instead, I grab my purse and coat off the rack then storm out the door toward my car.

“Grace! Grace, wait!” Blake calls from behind me, but I keep moving.

His fingers wrap around my arm, and he pulls me around to face him. His eyes search mine. A mixture of regret and sorrow swirls in the depths of his brown eyes…and fear. Whatever’s on his mind, fear is at the forefront. But I stand my ground and wait for him to speak.

“Are you just going to leave me hanging like that?”

“Yes.”

He runs his fingers through his hair, leaving pieces of it standing on end, and takes a step back from me. He looks disheveled but sexy. He groans in frustration, heat flashes in his eyes when he looks at me, and I once again feel the powerful undercurrent of desire that’s been missing from our relationship for so long. He stalks toward me, grips my shoulders, and crushes his mouth against mine. Without asking, without waiting, he plunges his tongue into my mouth. He’s taking what he wants with the most seductive force.

Only when my back bumps against my car do I realize he’s walked me backward. He pushes my coat apart to run his hands over my body. Then under my shirt. Over my breasts, where his thumb lingers until my nipple peaks into a taut bud. Desire courses through me, shooting through my veins like wildfire consuming everything in its path. I wrap my arms around his neck, my fingers thread through his hair, and with every pass over my nipple, my grip tightens.

His lips move across my face, down to my neck, where a blazing hot trail of kisses leaves me gasping for air. He lifts me until my legs wrap around his waist. My scrubs and his jeans separate us, but they seem to fade away to nothing when he drives his hard cock against my core. A deep moan escapes my throat, conveying my desire much better than mere words could.

“You belong to me, Grace,” he says between wet kisses against my skin. “All of you. I won’t share you. I’ll fight until my last breath for you.”

He crushes his mouth against mine before I can reply. It occurs to me he did that on purpose. A reply isn’t what he wants—he’s proving his words to me one action at a time.

“Only I can fill you until it hurts so good. I’m the one who knows every inch of your body, every spot that drives you wild. I’ll fucking show you who owns your body. I won’t lose you when I just found you again.”

Another urgent kiss is followed by the hardness of his length between my legs. My body is on fire despite the cold predawn temperature and whipping winter winds.

“Grace, touch me,” he pants.

I reach between us and grasp his cock through his pants, rubbing up and down his length. His hips surge in rhythm with my hand. His hands cup my face, holding my gaze with his.

“I’ve missed this so much. I’ve missed you so much. Whatever you’re doing, whoever he is, end it now. When you come home tonight, you’re mine and only mine. And I’m yours and only yours. I swear it.”

I’m stunned nearly speechless.

“Blake, are you sure you want me? In the last few months, you’ve been hot and cold. Loving and distant. It feels like you keep stopping yourself every time we get close, then I stop myself because I question if you’d changed your mind about us…about being attracted to me.”

“Babe, I’ve tried to give you time to deal with everything. I’ve waited for you to come to me, ready for me to touch you and please you. But I’ll be damned if I wait around like a whipped dog begging for forgiveness while some other man fucks my wife. If you’re thinking I have no room to talk, you’re absolutely right. But that won’t stop me from fucking him up when I catch him.

“Listen to me, Grace. You’re who I want—the only one I want. We said for better or for worse, didn’t we? We’ve had worse. I only want better from now on. Come back to me. The thought of someone else touching you drives me fucking insane. I only want you to want me, to need me, to know I’ll fulfill your needs.”

The next kiss is slow and controlled but every bit as scorching hot as the frenzied, unbridled, passionate ones we started with. “When you get home tonight, we’re newlyweds, retaking those vows we made. Promise me.”

He squeezes me, urging me to agree to his demands. Our gaze remains locked, and we are linked by more than our physical connection. His pleas touch me deep inside, and without conscious thought or decision, I nod in agreement. When he lowers me to the ground, I realize he doesn’t have a coat or shoes on, only his house slippers. He chased me out into the cold, desperate to cling to the one he loves.

Maybe I should’ve pursued him the same way when we started growing apart. Maybe we’d be in a much different place today.

“You won’t regret it, I promise. But if he ever comes around here, I guarantee he will regret it. You’ve seen the pensive Blake, sorry for what he did. You’ve seen the sweet and romantic Blake, trying to make up for lost time. But now you’re going to see the man behind it all—the one who isn’t afraid to take control and take his life back. That includes taking his wife back.”

He backs away toward the house, one slow step at a time, keeping that tether between us tight and secure. “I’ll be waiting for you to get home. Be careful, babe.” He pauses—both in steps and in words—and confidence exudes from his very being. “I love you, Grace.”

---

When I walk through the ICU doors, Leigh is already at the nurses’ station getting her briefing from the night nurse. She looks up at me, her non-poker face revealing her every emotion. The squinted eyes say she can’t believe I’m here. The parted lips warn she’s about to begin a very long rant. When she throws down her pen, I know she’s about to throw down the gauntlet.

“What in the hell are you doing here?” she demands.

“Working,” My blasé tone is accentuated by a dismissive shrug, as if the answer is obvious and she should already know it.

“Grace, come on. Even you have to admit this is a bad idea.”

“We’re already short-handed. Let’s just make it through today, then I have four days off.”

“Fine. But we’re working together today. I’m helping you with your patients, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“When do you ever?” I retort with a smile.

“Have you told him yet?” She stands and puts her hand on her hip. She already knows the answer to that question too.

“Leigh, if you don’t leave me alone about it, I’m going to accidentally give you a shot of Xanax and knock your lights out today.”

“Promises, promises.”

I love my best friend with all my heart. There’s nothing I haven’t shared with her. Nothing I haven’t asked her advice on to help me through a tough situation. She keeps asking me about this one—specifically, if I’ve told Blake about it yet.

I haven’t. I can’t. When I found out about Tammy, I never expected to fall in love with him again. I never thought he’d fall in love with me again. My plan revolved around Kyle and getting him off to college before the world crashed and burned around us. Not telling Blake didn’t start out as a secret I intentionally withheld from him—it just didn’t feel like I was his business anymore.

Funny how quickly everything can change. What didn’t seem important one day suddenly becomes a life-or-death matter the next. That may be a little extreme, but it drives home the point to me nonetheless. I agreed to be his and only his when I get home tonight. He says he’s mine and only mine.

Time to test those vows we made. Again.

These thoughts spin in my mind on repeat all day. True to her word, Leigh was with me with every patient, helping me and prodding me to talk to Blake as soon as possible.

“He’s done everything to earn your forgiveness and deserve your love again. The boy has it bad for you. Give him some credit and trust that he’s learned from his mistakes. I’m betting on him not to fuck everything up again. You should too.”

Every hour on the hour, I heard some variation of that message from Leigh. At one point, I asked if I was her best friend or if he was. Though I tried to hide it, her answer rocked me.

“You and Blake are one now. You’re married to him, Grace. You love him. I wouldn’t give advice that would come between that bond.”

She’s right, she’s right. Dammit, she’s right. Any hope I had of sweeping this under the rug is gone. Any plan I had of hiding it from Kyle to protect him is futile.

I have to woman up and face this beast head on. Hopefully with Blake still at my side.