It’s just past midnight when a loud shout wakes me. I sit up straight, eyes wide in the darkness. I don’t even have access to my own light switch in here, so I have no choice but to sit in complete darkness and strain my ears for sounds.

There’s nothing for a while. Long enough that my thoughts wander to my failure. I talked myself out of lying to Angelo. No freedom was worth putting him through that. This was my own problem. My prison. I didn’t need to hurt him to save myself from it. I’d bear whatever was going to happen and find a way to fight through it for my baby’s sake.

I’d also harbor the guilty hope that one day, no matter how far off, Angelo would find me. It would be the small fire I’d hold deep inside to keep me struggling forward.

Footsteps ring out from just beyond my door. From the sound of it, someone is scrambling down the stairs as fast as they can. The lock to my room clicks, rotates, and then releases. The door swings open and the light flicks on to reveal my father standing in the doorway, eyes wide and a little crazed. He’s holding a pistol in his right hand.

I don’t even have time to think or try to figure out what’s happening before he’s wrapping his arm around my neck and pressing the gun to my temple. He stands behind me, gripping me like I’ve seen terrorists in movies hold a hostage when they need a human shield.

“What’s happening?” I croak. My voice is strained from the weight of his forearm against my neck, but he doesn’t loosen his grip.

“Quiet!” he hisses.

More shouting comes from upstairs. My entire body is on edge, anticipating the sound of gunshots and screams. I don’t hear any though. Just shouting and loud footsteps, like dozens of people are moving around above us. The voices grow more quiet but I can still hear the rumble of many people talking. There’s a quick, surprised shout and then a loud thump. A long moment of apparently silence comes while my father looks up to the ceiling, constantly shifting his feet and dragging me closer and closer to the corner of the room.

He’s scared, I realize. For most of my life, seeing my father scared would’ve felt wrong and upsetting, even. He has always been so unshakable and strong. His personality is founded so firmly in strength and confidence that seeing him afraid would threaten to undo everything he claims to be.

I enjoy his fear tonight. I feel how tense his body is and I can smell the sour odor of his sweat. He challenged Angelo by taking away what mattered most to him—me—and thought he could handle Angelo’s worst. Now he’s seeing he made a mistake. All the months of confinement are almost worth it just to experience this moment.

I see the people coming downstairs this time because my father left the door to my room open and the lights on. At least five men come down, and not nearly in as much of a hurry as my father was. I can’t make out their faces until they file into the room and spread out in a semi-circle, guns held at their sides.

Once I see Angelo among them, I can’t see or think of anything else, like tunnel vision. He’s all I see.. My mind is numb.

I try to step toward him, forgetting the gun against my temple and my father’s arm around my neck. My father tightens his grip, pulling me closer and forcing a choked sound from my throat.

“Give her to me,” says Angelo. His voice is strong and deep. Powerful. “None of your men are seriously hurt. None are dead. Give Ana to me and we’ll walk out of here like nothing ever fucking happened. Simple as that.”

“Fuck you,” says my father. “I’ll die before I let you put your hands on my daughter again.”

“She stopped being yours, if she ever was, when you treated her like a prized cow.”

I want to say so much, my father’s grip on my neck is too tight and all I can do is focus on bringing in enough air to stay conscious. My fingers dig at his forearm, urging him to relax his grip, but he’s too distracted to notice.

“She. Is. My. Daughter.” He emphasizes each word by pressing the point of the gun more firmly against my temple like little exclamation points. “She will obey me. She loves me.”

“Let her talk. Ask her to decide then.”

My father seems to consider this for a few moments, and then his grip relents and I only keep from falling because he’s still clutching me, just not so tightly that I can’t breathe. I realize then if I had fallen to my knees, I would’ve taken away his shield. Would Angelo have shot him then?

The question makes me feel cold all over, because no matter how much I picture it happening, I can’t find the revulsion I know I should feel at the idea of my father getting shot. I think I’ve known I don’t love him anymore, but the idea of him getting hurt is something else entirely, something I don’t think I’ll ever be able to allow.

“Tell him the truth, Ana,” says my father.

I can’t quite believe my father really doesn’t know yet. He thinks I’m going to choose him over Angelo, doesn’t he?

“Angelo,” I say as calmly as I can, trying to ignore the gun against my head and the little voice asking what will happen when father doesn’t like my answer. “I need you to promise that no matter what I say, you won’t hurt anyone.”

“You have my word,” Angelo says. “Nobody gets hurt. No more blood. I just want you.”

I put my hands to my father’s forearm and gently urge it away from my neck so I can turn to face him, to look into his sweating face and his slightly wide eyes. He looks so scared. It’s almost hard to stay mad at him, but then again, I don’t think what I feel toward him is even anger. It’s just a kind of detachment now.

“I’m never going to marry someone for you. I don’t want anything to do with your life. You ruined mom. You ruined as much of my life as you could. You ruined your own life. You’re poison, and I’m only sorry I chose the easy way out and played along as long as I did. I never want to see you again.”

An unexpected burst of anger and sadness flashes up inside me then, and I surprise myself by slapping him hard across the face. For a brief instant, his eyes light up with the old fire and purpose I’m used to seeing there, and I think he might actually point the gun at me again and try to shoot. Instead, he averts his eyes, looking down at the ground with a profound sadness in his features I’ve never seen there before.

I’m done with him and with my old life. I turn to Angelo and put a hand on my stomach, feeling the tight skin and imagining the tiny little person growing inside me. For the first time in months, I can imagine a happy life for the baby and I. I can imagine being a family.

We sit around a fire on the beach outside Angelo’s house. The waves lap at the sand behind us, but the sound is barely audible over the crackle of wood burning in the small bonfire the guys started. It must four or five in the morning by now, but the combination of sleep deprivation and the euphoria of being released and back with Angelo seems to have muddied my ability to tell time. All I really know is the stars are out, the moon is over our heads, and the night is beautiful.

My toes are buried in the cool sand and I’m leaning into Angelo, head resting in the crook of his neck while he wraps his strong, tattooed arms around me like he might never risk letting me go again. Neela and her sister, Jamie, sit across from us with Brendan, who is fast-asleep in Neela’s arms. Enzo has his arm around Neela and the two of them can’t seem to stop staring lovingly at their sleeping son.

Gino has been making himself smores for what feels like four hours straight, and I can’t quite seem to wrap my head around how he still looks like he’s in such amazing shape.

“One day that’s going to catch up with you,” Enzo says, grinning at Gino.

Damian snatches the smore Gino was about to eat and pops it into his own mouth and then flicks his eyebrows up at Gino a little playfully. “Your brother’s right,” he says with a full mouth. “Just watching your back.”

Gino glowers. He stabs two more huge marshmallows with a metal skewer and holds them over the fire. “It’s your back you’d better be watching,” he murmurs.

Angelo chuckles.

“I don’t want to ruin the mood or anything,” I say slowly. “But speaking of watching backs, shouldn’t we kind of be… hiding, or something?”

“No more hiding,” says Angelo. He stands up, sliding his arm out from around me, leaving me feeling cold.

He stands beside the fire, eyes down while the flames cast a flickering bronze glow across his skin. He looks magnificent in the firelight. His shirt is mostly unbuttoned to reveal his tattooed and tan chest and he’s wearing his slacks still but with no shoes—a combination I apparently find nail-bitingly sexy. I take in his strong, clean features and the determination in his eyes and can hardly believe I’m having his baby.

“I understand why you did what you did,” Angelo says to Enzo.

“Left the life behind?” Enzo asks.

Neela’s sister, Jamie, perks up at this. Her eyebrows furrow and she looks quickly between me and Angelo.

Gino looks up too and lets the first of the dozens of marshmallows he has roasted in the past few hours catch fire and burn.

“Yeah,” Angelo says. “What wouldn’t you do?” he asks, so quietly I think the question is almost to himself. He shifts his eyes from the fire to the waves, saying nothing for a long time.

“You’d do anything,” Enzo finally says.

Neela gives his hand a little squeeze and smiles to herself.

“You meet women,” says Enzo. “You feel infatuation, maybe. They keep your interest for a few days. A week. Maybe even a month. But it’s shallow. No different than playing some poker with the guys or catching the football game when it’s on TV. It’s a distraction, but nothing you’d make a sacrifice for. But then one stubborn little firecracker comes your way and changes everything.”

Angelo takes his eyes from the waves and flashes his brother a half-grin. “Yeah.” He looks to me then and his grin widens. “Makes everything that came before seem insignificant.”

Jamie, who I hadn’t been watching since Enzo started speaking, gets up suddenly and leaves.

Angelo notices her and grimaces a little. He looks like he considers going after her, and then thinks better of it.

“Here,” says Neela, who carefully hands Brenden to Enzo. “It’s okay, Angelo. I’ll talk to her.”

Angelo purses his lips and nods to Neela, then motions for me to walk with him away from the fire and toward the water.

I gladly follow him, wanting to be away from the suddenly tense mood around the fire. He takes my hand and we start to walk along the beach where the sand is wet and the water occasionally slides up and cools our feet.

“I wanted to make sure you’re okay with all of this. Everything that happened,” says Angelo.

“It’s going to take time. I mean, my own father, he—” I cut myself short, shaking my head and licking my lips. “I think it’s one of those things that’s only going to heal with time.”

“I’ll respect what you want,” says Angelo. “I need you to know that. If you want to try to fix things between him, I’ll never keep you from your family. But,” he adds a little hesitantly. “I’m not going to let him take you away from me again, either. That’s my only condition. He’s never going to hurt you again. Never.”

I squeeze his hand a little and smile at that. Maybe I will want to try to fix what has been broken eventually. Once the baby is born and there’s no doubt that Angelo and I love each other. Once we’re married, I dare to think. Maybe then my father will finally give up the idea of using me as bait and be able to see me as a daughter instead. Part of me doubts it, but maybe. Knowing Angelo would let me explore that means the world, though.

“About the night he took me,” I start. “I had a lot of time to think about how I wasn’t ready to try what you wanted, and I feel like I should’ve at least tried to, you know. I should’ve tried it instead of getting so freaked out.”

“No. I’ve thought about it too. I was being greedy. I moved you too fast and didn’t take enough time to be more sure about what you’d like. It’s not a mistake I’ll make again.”

I give a little shrug. “I like that you think about it so much. About pleasing me, I mean. It’s like a science to you, but somehow not in a cold and detached way.” I laugh a little at my terrible explanation. “It’s sexy.”

“I take it very seriously,” he agrees. “Reading the signs. Reading the body language. There are tells, you know,” he says.

We stop beside a rock outcropping that cuts across the shore until it reaches a group of dunes farther inland. There’s a little semi-circle tunnel that looks like it was carved through the rocks to give unrestricted access between both sides of the beach. He takes me inside the rock tunnel and puts my back against the wall.

It’s still dark, but the first hints of sunrise are staining the sky behind us pink.

“Tells?” I ask. My heart is already thumping and my chest feels tight. He wants to act like body language is mysterious, but there’s no mystery in his. Every time I’ve seen that look in his eyes, I’ve ended up naked or nearly naked with his hands all over my body within minutes.

“Skin temperature,” he says, “for starters.” His finger sends chills up my stomach when he slowly moves his thumb, circling above the waistband of the shorts I borrowed from Neela after they rescued me from my father. “It tends to elevate when you’re aroused.”

“Is mine elevated?” I ask.

“Very. Heart rate increases, too.” He presses his hand to my chest, letting his palm casually rest on my breast with his fingertips over my heart. He nods, as if confirming something he suspected.

“Increased?” I whisper.

“Very much. There’s one sign that is the most foolproof, though.”

“There is?” I ask. My chest feels so tight I start to be afraid I’m going to pass out from a lack of oxygen. I hadn’t experienced the horny phase of pregnancy I’d heard so much about yet, partly because horniness was one of the farthest things from my mind while I was locked away at my father’s house. It’s as if my body is making up for lost time now. Angelo doesn’t need any help from me to look good, but whatever chemicals my body is pumping me full of are putting everything into overdrive.

Warmth floods my lower belly and there’s a constant, pleasant tingling kind of buzz between my legs.

“It’s a tricky test,” he says, as if admitting something embarrassing. I barely notice his fingers which had been exploring the elastic band of my shorts start wandering around to the front. “Sometimes it’s not so easy to get your fingers where they need to be to check.”

He moves his fingers inside my panties and cups me between the legs, letting his middle finger glide along my valley, where I feel my slickness easing his way.

“Just as I thought,” he says seriously, face only inches from mine.

“What?” I whisper.

“Highly aroused. You’re showing all the signs. There’s only one thing left to do at this point.”

“What’s that?” I ask.

“I’m going to have to make you cum all over my cock.”

The warmth in my belly explodes into heat at his words, tingling through my body and to my fingertips and toes. “What if you’re not as good at reading body language as you think?” I ask. My lips brush his neck as I speak and I can smell the familiar and sexy scent of him, like home and something exotic and expensive all at the same time.

“That would be a problem, because I don’t need to be an expert to know I’m showing all the signs, too. I need to be inside you,” he breathes into my ear. “I need your walls choking the life out of my cock. I need your hands on my back. Your tongue in my mouth. I need to taste you. I need you, Ana. I fucking need you so bad it hurts.”

I bite my lip, searching his eyes. “Only since you asked so nicely,” I say, grinning.

His lips crash into mine, warm and sweet. The stubble of his beard tickles me, our tongues swirling together in a hot, wet tangle that is as delicious as it is out of control.

He’s careful not to crush his body into my belly, but that’s the only restraint he seems to have energy for. His hands tangle in my hair, gripping so tight it almost hurts. He kisses me hard, fast, then slow and soft, but there’s a rhythm and naturalness to the kisses that makes me feel like I could get lost for hours with his fingers threaded through my hair and his mouth against mine.

He, on the other hand, seems to have other plans, because he pulls away from the kiss long enough to strip off my shirt and bra, followed quickly by my pants, panties, and then his own clothes, until we’re both very naked on a public beach. I’m not feeling even close to sexy with my belly the size of a half-inflated basketball, but it’s hard not to let Angelo’s relentless, frenzied exploration of every inch of my skin start to convince me that he’s not having any trouble finding me sexy.

“No games,” he says into my ear, then bites my earlobe hard enough to sting. “I just need to fuck you.”

I put my hands on his shoulders, and grip tight so I can wrap my legs around him, using my back against the rock and his shoulders to keep myself from falling down to the sand. He grips my ass and takes all the weight into his own hands like it’s nothing, then with a single thrust of his hips, he enters me.

A gasp spills out of me. Shock and surprised pleasure mingle together. He uses one hand to grip my ass, whether to help hold me up or just because he’s enjoying it, I don’t know, but the other hand is clearly for his enjoyment, because his face is drawn in concentration and pure bestial hunger as he palms my breasts, my neck, my face, and runs his thumb across my lower lip all while he pounds into me with a kind of urgency I haven’t yet seen from him.

He wasn’t lying when he said he needed to cum. There’s none of the measured, deliberate pace he adopted when he slept with me before. He isn’t the one in control while I’m the squirming, inexperienced girl under his masterful touch. This isn’t the kind of sex meant to be had on silken sheets behind lacy curtains.

It’s the kind of sex that’s meant to be outdoors. Wild. Untamed. Pure unadulterated lust.

He grunts with his pleasure each time he drives his cock into me, grip growing tighter and tighter on me as he nears his climax.

My own body can’t catch up or acclimate itself to the barrage of sensations: the dig of smooth rock against my back, still cool from the night and smooth from years of constant, salty breezes, the hard muscle of his ass against my heels while my legs are wrapped around his naked waist and the way it flexes with each powerful movement of his body against me, the feeling of his tight, warm skin covering nothing but endless inches of carved, shifting muscles, and the impossible fullness I feel when he’s deep inside me.

It’s perfect.

It’s terrifying.

It’s magic.

I squeeze a handful of his hair and he leans his forehead down to rest against mine, ripped body still moving ever-faster, ever-more powerfully.

The pain of months apart are blasted away in a white wash of pure bliss.

He tenses, and his own pleasure is the final straw to send me into my own pleasure filled oblivion.

We climax together in the pink-washed cave while the first hints of the sun rises up above the waves behind us, while the only sound is our mingled, ragged breaths so much like the white noise of waves and water and wind.

We say nothing, and we don’t need to, because all the meaning I’d ever need in the world is in the way he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear and lets his fingertips graze my jaw before he leans in to kiss me.