Three days after Mike had nearly walked in on me and Jax. I was still shaking. I felt like a giant tornado had torn through town heading straight for me. Only at the last second had it veered off path for a narrow miss. I couldn’t believe any of it had happened.

First, I couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that Jax had randomly stopped by my apartment to visit. I’d become accustomed to my own obsession with him. My nearly constant thoughts of Jax had kept me company for months now. But I’d told myself it was one-sided. I’d figured my crush was just the by-product of a woman in the midst of an unhappy marriage. It was pretty easy to get attached to Jax. I was sure women got attached to him all the time. I was probably only one in a long line of women thinking about him, texting with him, reading way too much meaning into his brief messages and glances.

I’d pretty nearly convinced myself that nothing was really going on with Jax. It was all in my head. And it had helped me to stay away from him. For most of the last few weeks, I’d managed to stop sending him texts. I thought about him all the time, wondering what he was up to, wanting to share my day, my thoughts, but I’d stopped acting on impulse. I told myself it was pathetic, my attachment. I was acting like a nerdy schoolgirl crushing on the popular football star who barely knew she existed. In reality, I was a married woman, and I needed to focus all my energies on changing that fact.

But then he’d shown up, at my door, just like I’d fantasized about him doing so many nights. He’d looked exactly like I always imagined, wearing worn jeans and a black T-shirt that hugged him just right. He looked so rugged, with a little bit of stubble. And the way he looked at me, as if he’d missed seeing and talking to me as much as I’d missed him. It nearly took my breath away.

And I’d already been slightly winded. When he’d rung the doorbell, I’d been right in the middle of a hot fantasy about none other than Jax. I’d been on the bed, lost in my imagination as I fucked myself with my vibrator. I’d started out slow, just my fingers. Mike was out and I didn’t expect him home, so I’d taken my time. Building it nice and steady, I’d pictured Jax, sitting with him in his truck like we had the night he’d driven me home. Only this time he hadn’t just dropped me off. Instead of my hopping out of the cab, he’d pulled me close to him, kissed me deep and full. I’d slid over, straddling his lap, running my hands over his body the way I’d wanted to so many times.

When my fantasy got more X-rated, him unzipping his jeans, shoving my skirt up and slipping me out of my panties, I’d reached for my vibrator. I’d wanted to feel it up inside of me, thrusting in where I was so wet for him, while I thought about his cock. How it would feel to have him inside of me, taking me, making me ride him in the darkness, so forbidden, so hot.

Right when I’d been about to cum, imagining him grabbing onto my hips, ramming me down again and again onto his huge, hard cock, the doorbell had rung. Disoriented, panting, I’d barely managed to slip on a pair of shorts. And apparently I hadn’t remembered to turn off the vibrator. I’d left it there buzzing away on the bed, a little too close to the edge.

I’d felt so obvious, standing with him the kitchen, my vivid fantasy mingling with reality. He had to have noticed I was flushed, my hair all messy, my breathing coming fast. I wasn’t even wearing a bra. I clearly hadn’t been thinking, answering the door like that.

And then the clunk. I’d nearly died of embarrassment when I’d realized what had fallen down onto the floor in my bedroom. Hearing that buzz on the hardwood, I’d known instantly what made the sound. I’d sprinted as fast as I could. I bet if someone had clocked me I’d have set a new world record.

But when he’d caught me, burning shame had turned into a whole different kind of heat. Backed into a corner, trapped, a switch had flipped inside of me. I went from praying he wouldn’t find out what I’d been up to, to desperately wanting him to know. I’d wanted him to make me tell him how bad I’d been. I’d needed to admit my obsession. Finally touching, kissing, confessing, it had felt like getting swept up in a tidal wave, all that pent-up longing built up over all those months crashing over us.

Then we’d heard Mike in the other room. If we hadn’t, we’d both probably be dead. I’d been so far gone, so lost to the moment, I think I’d been about 30 seconds from unzipping Jax’s jeans and begging him to take me. If he’d spread my legs, I would have pleaded with him to fuck me hard, right up against the wall. Then Mike would have walked in and killed us both.

I wasn’t exaggerating. Mike kept a gun on him at all times. If he’d walked in on Jax and me having sex, there was no way he would have wanted to have a conversation about it. Nor would he have been satisfied with using his fists. Things would have gotten real bloody real fast, especially since he was drunk.

I’d narrowly avoided complete disaster. And as the survivor of a near-death experience, I knew what I should do. I should make the sign on the cross, blow a kiss up to God and vow to live the rest of my days in a sanctified and righteous manner. I should embrace eternal gratitude that Mike’s stumble gave us the 60 seconds of warning we needed to cover up our transgressions. And I should never talk to Jax again.

My phone rumbled with a text.

Jax: Are you all right?

I put it back into my pocket and continued my rounds. So far, in the three days since we’d nearly gotten caught, I’d managed to avoid him. I’d lost myself in the constant busyness of work, the unending stream of demands. But I functioned on autopilot, my body doing what was required while my mind stayed locked on one subject and one subject alone.

Because my guilty secret was that, deep down, I felt thrilled. Elated. Jax liked me. Late at night, while I’d been alone in bed thinking about him, he’d been doing the exact same thing. The thought of it was like taking a big shot of potent liquor, the liquid flowing through my veins like molten lava. I shouldn’t be thinking about it. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

I kept replaying certain moments. The feel of his large, warm hand sliding along my waist. His thumb caressing my jaw as he tipped my head back into a kiss. The way he whispered into my ear, his breath making me tingle, his words making me ache. I thought I’d been obsessed with Jax before? Now I felt certifiably insane, unable to focus on a single thing other than him.

But I had to force myself to do it. After Jax climbed down the fire escape, Mike had barely grunted at me before he’d passed out on the bed. With him snoring so loudly, completely out of it, I’d snuck into the other room, climbed up on a stool and reached into the deep recesses of the uppermost shelf to get out my backpack. The one with my stash of money. With shaking hands, I’d counted it all up. I had a little over 800 dollars. I’d almost started crying.

I felt like I needed 2,000. The getaway wouldn’t cost too much money. Bus fare to Phoenix was cheap, and then I could stay in a pay-by-the-night hotel, but probably only for a week. Those places were rough. I didn’t want bedbugs, guys harassing me, fights outside my door between a pimp and his girls. Plus, it was too public. If Mike somehow figured out what city I headed to, he’d start by looking in those transient hotels, knowing that was where I’d be most likely to be found.

What came next was the part that would require a lot of cash. I needed to disappear. I figured the best way to do that would be to find a little apartment somewhere in a quiet neighborhood where I could keep to myself. With cash on hand, a landlord wouldn’t require references, my credit history, my last address, making all the kinds of inquiries and phone calls that would light up a trail connecting me to Mike. I could find someone who’d take it in hand, no questions asked, and give me a place to live.

I bet I could find work pretty easily. Everyone needed health aides, whether for home care visits or in a facility. I was sure Maria would act as a reference for me, and I knew I could trust her completely to never divulge anything to anyone. But that would still take time to find and start a new job.

At this rate, it would take me another eight months to save up what I needed. That made me want to break down and cry. I had to find another way to make money.

Pushing an elderly resident in her wheelchair, giving her a slow turn around the courtyard for some fresh air and sunshine, I racked my brain. I loved baking pies, but they weren’t exactly a huge moneymaker. Baking in my kitchen in small batches, mostly using fresh ingredients since they tasted best, I had a narrow profit margin. I hadn’t crunched all the numbers since it was still a hobby more than a business, but I figured I made about 50 cents a pie. That would be a lot of pies before I hit 2,000.

Almost as soon as the next idea came to me, I pushed it aside. I wasn’t that desperate. Yet. But I knew a girl back in my hometown who’d started making good money as a camgirl. She’d bought herself a webcam for 50 bucks, set it up in her bedroom, joined a site and started her career.

She’d bragged about it to anyone who’d listen. She said that the guys were dumb and it was easy to get them to pay you to do things. It was fun to earn 300 bucks masturbating in your bedroom for a few hours. I already spent pretty much every night doing that. Jax had me so worked up I could barely see straight. If I could really earn that kind of money, in one week I’d be all set and ready to go.

But I couldn’t do it. First, there was the very real possibility of Mike finding out. If he walked in and found me naked, playing with myself to an online audience, he wouldn’t exactly laugh it off. And then there was the fact that I just didn’t think I could do it. I was pretty handy with my vibrator, but that was in the dark, alone, for my own private enjoyment. There was a good chance that in front of my computer, lights, camera, action would leave me anxious, uptight and dry as a desert.

So, no to camgirl. No to pie making. I’d just have to work as many extra shifts at the home as I could. And maybe I could cut back even more on spending? Never buy a cup of coffee. Always bring my lunch to work, and make it something cheap like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Making good on my intentions, I covered the first couple hours of Maria’s shift that night. But that meant when I got home, it was late. And Mike was there.

“You cheating on me?” he asked, breath hot and heavy with the fumes of alcohol.

“No, I covered part of someone’s shift.”

He stalked over, backing me into the corner, leering through bloodshot eyes. “You can’t get nothing past me.” He fastened his hand to my throat, holding me against the wall, pinning me there while he stared into my eyes. I clawed at his hand, unable to breathe, eyes wide with panic. Then he released me, told me he wasn’t staying for supper, and headed out the door.

In the bathroom, I splashed water on my face, then sank to the edge of the tub. Head in my hands, I knew the truth. There was something deeply wrong with Mike. There probably always had been, I just hadn’t wanted to see it. I’d been too excited to leave my small town of people doing nothing and going nowhere. Too flattered that the big, tough motorcycle guy from L.A. had picked me to ride with him to Vegas.

I’d seen clearly during those few seconds he’d gripped my neck. He was strong enough to cut off my airflow. But what was worse, I could see the capacity to do it in his eyes. There was a coldness there, something dead, non-responsive and black.

I needed out, and I needed out fast. If I worked as much as I could and lived like a nun, maybe by February I could leave. Six months. I could make it that long. Even if it sounded like a lifetime away.

But during that time I absolutely had to stay away from Jax. It felt so good in his arms, everything I’d dreamed it would be and more. I lost all my inhibitions, instantaneously. All common sense, all awareness of reality had vanished the second he’d touched me. That was the problem. He was like a drug, and people got crazy when they were on drugs. Now wasn’t the time to get crazy. Now was the time to play it safe, keep my head down and focus on my goal. So I kept ignoring his texts, even as he kept trying to reach me.

The next Monday, he came to visit Ace. I knew we were bound to see each other soon. He arrived in the late afternoon. I’d been holding my breath, waiting and wondering.

“There she is!” Ace exclaimed as I entered, carrying a package that had arrived for him in the mail. “You’re a sight for sore eyes!” Ace always made me feel like I started a party by walking into the room.

“Let me get that for you.” Jax took the package from me, his hands grazing mine for the briefest moment as he lifted it. My heart raced, the air between us so charged I could practically feel it crackle. He looked so dark and big my mouth watered just from being in the same room. Now that I’d been wrapped in his arms, standing so close without touching felt painful. Resisting the unknown temptation was hard. Resisting the known delight was even harder.

So I bustled around, tidying, asking Ace about his day, what he’d eaten, whether he’d taken his medication. “Your movie request got approved,” I enjoyed telling him. He liked shaking things up.

“No kidding.” He looked pleased. Friday night, the retirement community would be watching Dirty Grandpa featuring Robert De Niro and Zac Efron. “You should watch with us,” he encouraged me. “It has that young boy in it. The one with the nice chest.”

“I might do that,” I agreed. After plumping the pillows on the couch and folding up a blanket strewn across a chair, I excused myself, explaining I had a lot to do. All the while, though I was so hyper-aware of Jax’s presence, I managed to not even make eye contact.

But he followed me to the door. “You working anyone else’s shift tonight?” His low, gravelly voice made anything sound sexy. I bet even when he called to order a pizza the woman taking his order fell for him.

“No, not tonight.”

“You’re off at six?”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, look or any other basic functions. It took all my focus and effort to walk out the door. Why did Jax remember the timing of my shifts when my own husband couldn’t? Because he paid attention to me. Because he liked me. I knew the answers now, and it didn’t exactly firm up my resolve to keep my distance.

When I walked out at ten past six, Jax was waiting for me standing by his truck. I slowed down when I saw, but kept walking toward him. His magnetism was so strong he may as well have caught me in a tractor beam.

“Hey.” He shifted his stance, from leaning against his truck to standing, thumbs hooked in the belt loops of his jeans as he looked at me. “Can I give you a ride?”

Swallowing, I nodded. As he walked around and opened the passenger door, I followed, telling myself I wasn’t violating any rules about keeping my distance. This way, during the ride home, I could clearly and calmly explain why we needed to stay away from each other. It would be a clean break.

In the cab together, I instantly realized I’d made a grave mistake. I’d changed after my shift, as was my habit. August was Cavallo Canyon’s hottest month, so I’d slipped into a sundress with spaghetti straps and a high hemline. It showed way too much skin. Now that I sat so close to Jax, every inch of it tingled.

“How you been?” he asked as he pulled out into the street.

“Fine. Working a lot. You?”

“I’ve been worried about you.” He glanced over before returning his gaze to the traffic. “What happened that night?” He shook his head, seeming angry with himself. “I’m sorry I put you in that situation. But I can’t say I’m sorry it happened.”

“Jax, this is really…” I closed my eyes, struggling for words. “This is really complicated.”

“Do you love him?”

“What?” Startled, I looked up, studying his profile, his strong jaw locked and tense. At the next store we passed, he turned into the lot.

Behind the building, he parked in a space. Then he turned to me. “Do you love him?”

“Mike?” I knew he meant Mike, I just couldn’t quite believe we were discussing him. Over the past six months our growing friendship had neatly and completely avoided the subject. Jax nodded in affirmation.

I looked down and fiddled with my dress. I looked up and felt tears burning in my eyes. It was such a simple question, but I felt like a bad person answering it honestly. But, finally, I did. “No.”

“Leave him,” he responded instantly. “Leave him, Sky. He doesn’t deserve you.”

Burying my face in my hands, I shook my head. “It’s not that simple.”

“But it is.” He brought his hand to my shoulder, palm to my bare skin and I lit up at his touch. “Sky.” As he stroked my hair, I leaned into him. Even the way he said my name was a caress. “You should be with someone who takes care of you. Makes you feel good.”

He made me feel so good. After all the worry and stress and guilt, it felt so good to stop, just stop and feel the heat of his fingers, his lips as he leaned down and kissed me. I reached for him, drawing him closer, shifting so I could get closer still. Kissing, twisting against him, panting, I couldn’t get enough. I could tell he felt the same way, clutching me, a rumble deep in his throat as he kissed and licked my neck.

His hand roamed down to my thighs, stroking, working its way up. I moaned, fisting his shirt. I wanted him to touch me so badly, right where I’d ached and throbbed for him for so long now. I brought my fingers down to his. Looking up into his eyes, I pressed his hand, showing him exactly where I wanted him to touch me and just how much I wanted it.

He growled with masculine satisfaction as he slid a finger along the silk of my panties. “So wet,” he murmured, reverent as he stroked me. I moaned at his touch, shamelessly opening my legs, desperately needing more. “I’ve wanted you so long,” he whispered, pushing my panties aside, stroking me where I was so slick for him and hot. “You feel so good,” he groaned, kissing my ear, my throat, my lips as he started working me in a rhythm.

“Jax.” I grabbed at his arms, his shoulders, digging my nails into his forearm. He crooked his finger inside me, pressing against my clit. I gasped, so close, so quick.

“I want you to cum for me, Sky. Cum on my fingers.” His voice alone, rough and deep, got me so fevered I cried out, about to do exactly as he said. But then I opened my eyes. A few spots away from us, a mom and her kid were getting out of their car. We were in a public parking lot, sunlight streaming down on us through the window of his truck.

“Wait, no.” I pushed him away, moving over to the far edge of the seat, pulling my dress down. I missed him the second I lost contact, but what the hell were we doing? We couldn’t get carried away. It would only lead to more heartache, more pain. “I can’t do this.”

“What?”

I didn’t answer, knowing how quickly I’d melt if I started to talk. Instead, I unlocked the door and climbed out. He came around, at my side in an instant.

“Sky—”

“I need to go.” I started walking toward the corner I knew had a bus stop. I’d wait until the next bus came and then I’d take it home, alone, safely away from Jax.

“Don’t push me away. I want to help.” He stayed by my side, walking with me, until I responded.

“If you want to help, then leave me alone.” I kept on walking, but he stopped. Behind me, I heard him curse in frustration. But he respected my request, leaving me alone. I should have felt relieved, but all I felt was empty.