We climb out of the car together and he retrieves my suitcase from the back seat, then comes around to stand next to me.

“Reece picked it out. He comes from money so he’s gotta have the best of the best of the best. Me? I don’t need all this. You know me...” He grins sheepishly.

I do. This guy used to sleep on the ground under a bridge with nothing but his duffel bag for a pillow and a solar lantern for light.

“How many cars do you have?”

“Just this one. And a Harley. I’ve only had time to ride it twice, though. Reece wanted all this garage space for his two cars and a hot rod he’s restoring.”

“Nice.”

He nods off toward the edge of the property. “Later we’ll go for a walk by the water. Every time I walk out there I wish you and Acorn were with me. The sunset over the water is incredible.”

I follow him to the front door and he leads me into a foyer with a wrought-iron chandelier hanging high above. A wide staircase curves up to the second floor, and the main floor splits from the foyer. The walls are a very pale cream—not quite white as Blue described them—the tile floor just a few shades darker. The furnishings—at least what I can see—are a deep mahogany wood, the accents black metal. Strong and masculine, yet just enough softness to have its own elegance.

I like it.

“It’s beautiful.”

He smiles and puts my suitcase down. “You don’t have to whisper, babe.”

I’m not sure why I am.

“C’mon.” He takes my hand and tugs me to the right archway, which opens up to a huge living room with a black leather u-shaped couch that looks like it could fit fifteen people. A matching, but much smaller, love seat sits in front of a wall of glass that overlooks a flower garden. Leather pub chairs in both black and white are placed strategically around the room along with dark accent tables, lamps, and statues. I feel like I’ve walked into one of those homes they showcase on houses of the rich and famous.

“Hey, you made it.”

The decor has me so entranced I didn’t even see Reece lying on one end of the couch. His long black hair blends almost perfectly with the leather. He stands and crosses the room to pull me into a hug.

“I made it,” I say. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“I was just gonna say the same. Make yourself at home. You need anything? Just yell and we’ll get it for ya.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll show you upstairs, babe. You can put your things away.”

I give Reece a little wave and follow Blue upstairs, past large matted photos of the band, mingled with articles and awards hanging on the walls.

Everything is so neat and clean. Not a dirty sock or empty bottle in sight. I’m impressed.

Blue takes me to a bedroom down the right wing of the second level and places my suitcase just inside the door.

“Reece and I each have a master bedroom and a guest room. His rooms are to the left of the stairs, mine are down here. I thought you could keep your things in this room. The closets and dressers are empty, and it has its own bathroom so you can put all your makeup and stuff out.”

I scan the huge room, wondering if any other women have ever stayed in here to visit him.

“Thank you.”

He snakes his arms around me and pulls me tight against his body. “I really don’t want you sleeping in here, though.”

“No?”

He presses his lips to mine and slides his hands down to squeeze my ass through my jeans. “No. You always wanted me to have a bed. Now I’ve got one and your sweet little ass better be in it every night.”

I go up on my tiptoes, wrap my arms around his neck, and smile up at him. “I can’t wait to be in your bed. Maybe I can beg for your autograph,” I tease.

“You want to role play, Ladybug?” His husky voice gets my pulse going. “I’ll write my name on every inch of you and then make you scream it when I’m pounding into you.”

“Ooh.”

He picks me up in his arms like a new groom on his honeymoon and carries me down the hall to the last bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him.

“This one is mine. Now that you’ve teased me, I don’t think I’m letting you out anytime soon.”

I tighten my arms around his neck. “I never tease you.”

He throws me onto the bed and falls on top of me, pushing my legs apart with his and pinning my hands above my head with one of his.

“Tell me about the tattoo,” I ask as he moves his lips across the skin revealed in the V-neck of my T-shirt.

He lifts his head and shakes his hair out of his face. “Which one?”

“The ladybug on your hand.”

A grin graces his lips. “When did you see that?”

“Years ago. At the hotel. I just never remembered to ask you about it.”

Lifting his hand, he turns his wrist so I can see the tiny tattoo again. It’s almost exactly like my own, only his is surrounded by the rest of his sleeve design. I’m not even sure how I noticed it that day.

“I got it a few months after I left. I wanted something to remind me of you. I told you the myth was true, didn’t I?”

“You did.”

“Do you believe it now?”

“I’ve always believed it.”

He dips his head down again and presses his warm lips against my neck. “We should get married.”

My breath catches in my throat, right beneath that sensitive spot his mouth is covering.

“Wh-what?”

“Me and you,” he whispers, nudging the fabric of my shirt away with his face and dragging his lips to my collarbone.

I am utterly, without any doubt, shocked speechless. I raise my hand and touch his head, threading my fingers in his hair as he continues kissing me like he didn’t just drop a huge bomb on me.

My brain fights through the tremors spreading through my body from his touch.

“Blue...do you have any idea what you just said?”

“Mmm,” he hums, lifting my shirt and kissing my breast through the thin white lace of my bra.

“Evan?” This is a conversation that might require his real name.

Finally he looks up at me, his blue eyes smoldering. “I fucked this all up, didn’t I?”

“I guess it depends on what this is.”

“This is me trying to tell you I want to be with you forever.”

I sift his hair through my fingers and search his face. “You used to be afraid of forever.”

“You’re right. I’m not anymore. Now I’m afraid of not having it.”

“So am I. You kinda kept taking my hopes for a happily ever after away.”

His jaw muscles twitch. “I’m trying to give it back.”

“I know,” I say softly. “And I love it so much. I just think we have to take things slow.”

I hate saying those words. The last thing I want to do is take things slow. I want everything now—Him. Happiness. A wedding. My own family, together. I want it now before he changes his mind or something happens to take it all away.

He nods but says nothing. Just moves his fingers lightly up and down my ribcage and the curve of my waist.

“And I think you’re not supposed to make any real big life decisions during your first year or so of being clean. Right?”

“Someone’s been reading,” he accuses, then moves his attention to the dip between my breasts. He slides his tongue over my goose-bump pebbled flesh.

“I have,” I admit. “I want to understand, and help you, that’s all.”

“I know you do, babe. That’s why I’m gonna be chasing you down with a ring in a few months.” He leans up on his elbows, looking down at me with his notorious sexy smirk. “So you better take off running, or be prepared to get caught and have a diamond as big as an ice cube on your hand.”

I laugh and he covers my mouth with his, capturing my laughter. Swallowing it. He grinds his hips into mine as he slowly pulls my clothes off. When I’m naked and lying in the middle of his bed on the slate gray comforter, he reaches into his nightstand and pulls out a pen. He twirls it in his fingers like an expert drummer.

“About that autograph...” he chides.

Staring up at him, I reach for his shirt, seductively undo the remaining buttons, then run my fingertips over his abs.

“I’m your biggest fan,” I coo. “I know the words to all your songs.”

He scrunches up his face, trying not to laugh. “I bet you do.”

“Can I get your autograph?” I bat my eyelashes.

“Only if it’s on your breasts.”

This time it’s me who tries not to burst into giggles.

“Oh my God. That would be soooo amazing.”

He pulls the pen cap off with his mouth and spits it out onto the floor, then cups my breast in his hand, bending down to place a soft wet kiss on the tip before signing his name across my pale skin. I could’ve sworn I’ve always seen him write with his left hand, but he signs me with this right.

“I’ll never wash it off,” I say, twisting my body beneath his and rubbing myself against his thighs.

“You better not.” He stands and tosses the pen onto his nightstand, then pulls his shirt off, throwing it onto the floor. My stomach still does a somersault every time I see him shirtless—or even better—when I see him totally undressed. While I appreciate a nice body, I’ve never really been the type to get all drooly over bodybuilders, movie stars, or hot naked men. But when it comes to Blue—there’s just something so sensual about the confident way he moves and how his hair flows over his broad chest and shoulders like a Viking. The tattoos covering almost every inch of him are the icing on the cake and it all sets off sparks of desire in me.