The memory of that fucker grabbing her, of me rushing across to end him, of Becca’s scream for me to stop, sat front of mind even after he’d been arrested. I’d barely restrained myself. Kept him in a chokehold until the cops had arrived, all while I contemplated breaking his fucking neck on the spot.

Not exactly a doctor’s MO, but this was the asshole who’d broken her trust. He’d hurt her. He’d screwed our pseudo-relationship from beyond the grave before it could take off.

I shook my head and tried to focus on the present. I leaned against the side of my Dodge, my arms folded across my chest, studying the front of the police station, waiting.

I’d stayed out here after giving my statement for fear of what I might do given the chance. Becca was still inside.

An officer exited the building, tramped down the front steps, then turned and walked through the parking lot toward a cruiser. At least ten had come and gone in the past half an hour, and each time that door opened, my heart stopped beating in my chest.

Screwed. You’re beyond screwed. You’re falling for her.

For once, I couldn’t control the thought and put it aside. I gravitated around it, examining it from every angle. It’s true. I was fucked in so many ways.

I’d never wanted this. I’d sworn off love and marriage after witnessing Tabitha’s decline and my best friend’s betrayal.

The front door to the station opened again, and Becca emerged at last. My insides squirmed around like I was a fucking horned-up teenager all over again. Shit, worse than that. Like it was prom night and she was my date.

She spoke briefly to an officer in the front then walked down the stairs, those baby blues fixed on me now. So clear, and filled with…something. Something I couldn’t place.

Jesus Christ, I love her. I fucking love her. Look at her.

I could see beyond who she was on the outside. She wasn’t just my gorgeous next-door neighbor or the office assistant I’d fantasized about at the practice. She was Becca. My Becca.

She was rose petals, and strength, and a dirty mouth.

“Hey,” she said and halted in front of me.

“You all right?” I asked, gruffly. Didn’t want to open up to this too much or I’d end up fucking myself again.

“I’ve been better.” She gave a soft smile. “I—uh, I filed a restraining order against Kieran, and he’s been arrested. He pretty much admitted to setting the fire and to stalking me. He crumbled the minute one of the cops laid into him. That’s what they tell me, anyway. Regardless, he won’t be a problem again.”

“You’re damn right he won’t be a problem again,” I growled. “Becca, Christ, if you think I’m going anywhere after this… Angelface, I’m never leaving Stoneport while you’re here. I’ll be your neighbor for as long as you live here.” I held up a hand to block her complaint. “You don’t have to believe me. I’ll show you.”

“That’s not what I wanted to say.” She stepped a little closer and took my hand, stroking her small fingertips across it. “Thank you, Mason. Thank you so much for coming over when you did. I was terrified.”

“Hey, don’t undersell yourself here,” I replied, lifting her hand in mine, examining the fine veins along the back of it, turning it over and tracing the lines of her palm. “You kicked him so hard in the nuts he choked on ’em.”

Becca burst out laughing—a true tinkle of mirth, which gave me relief. She was herself. She was fine. She wasn’t fucking scarred from what’d happened. But the laughter died after a minute and was replaced by the silence of the evening, broken only by a car passing and the clack of the doors at the front of the station.

“Can I ask you a question, Becca?”

“Shoot.”

“Why him? What did you ever see in that guy?” It’d been eating at me ever since I’d cooled down enough to think about it. He wasn’t a bad-looking dude, but his personality was a kick in the face. He was a stalker-creep.

Becca wrinkled up her adorable nose. “I could ask you the same question about Tabitha. She’s not anything like me.”

“True,” I replied, but I left the question hanging between us.

“He wasn’t that way when we started dating,” Becca said at last and met my gaze head-on. Another thing I loved about her. She never backed down from a challenge. “He was sweet and kind and he filled my head with big ideas and dreams. Maybe I was young, or maybe…he was just a manipulator. Whatever the case was, I trusted him. His true colors only came out later on.”

I could relate to that.

“That’s why,” she continued, “I’m so scared of—” Becca clammed up and looked away, out at the parking lot and the distant trees, the light of a nearby lamppost catching her features just so, casting half her face in shadow. “That’s why.”

“I get it,” I replied. “But I’m not going to let some dumb motherfucker ruin what we have going on. Hope you understand that.”

“What are you saying?” She turned back to me.

“I’m saying that this is not a fling. It’s not friends. It’s not some shapeless weirdass semi-dating deal. You’re the one I want to be with. I wasn’t going to leave you, Becca. I didn’t want to tell you about the plans I had before I met you because I didn’t want to piss you off. I didn’t want you to leave.” I didn’t want to lose you. I couldn’t say the words yet. Couldn’t bring out the fact that I’d fallen for her.

“Mason—”

“I know, Becca, but it wasn’t so much a conscious decision as it was…unimportant. I forget everything when I’m around you. I refuse to believe you can’t relate to that.”

Becca bit on her bottom lip and looked down at her feet.

“I’m not letting you go. I’ve told you before, tell me to leave and I’ll leave, but until then…” I let it hang in the air between us, waited for her to give me the signal that she was, in fact, done with all of this.

She didn’t.

Becca looked up at me, at last, and met my gaze, blinking fast. “What do you want, Mason?” she asked.

I hadn’t been asked that question in a long time. Nobody had given enough of a fuck to bother with it—cry me a river, right? But now, it meant something.

“You,” I said. “All I want is you.” I wrapped her in my arms and pulled her to my chest, working my fingers down her spine and to her hips.

She was still hoarse, still smoky, still soot-streaked, but she melted into me like she’d forgotten everything that’d transpired over the past couple hours.

“Take me home,” she whispered. “Your home.”

Thirty minutes later, we were there. Ty was asleep in the kitchen, blocked off by a couple of those fucking boxes that’d started all of this, and the house was empty. Becca made short work of filling up the water and food bowls for her puppy then turned and came back to me.

“I need to get clean,” she said.

“Come with me.” I led her up the wide set of stairs to the second floor of the house and onto the landing. We took a left and moved down the hall to my bedroom. “I’ve got just what you need. Massive shower. I prefer showers to baths.”

“Me too,” she said, but her words carried so much more meaning than just casual chitchat.

We entered the bedroom—my bed neatly made out of habit—and moved into the bathroom. There was more than enough space for the both of us, and our gazes met in the mirror above the sink.

“I look terrible,” Becca said, brushing her hair back. A yawn cracked her jaw. “God, look at the state of my hair.”

“You look perfect to me.” I slipped my fingers down the zipper of her jeans and undid them, then helped her shimmy out of them. “But you also look like you need a little help.”

“I do,” she said.

I removed her blouse next and admired her breasts in the mirror, her nipples puckering from the change in temperature. I withheld the urge to take them into my mouth, to feast on her and fuck her over the counter.

She needed comfort. My animal urges would have to wait.

I stripped my clothes off too, then turned on the water. Steam filled the bathroom, brushing across the surface of the mirror and misting it over.

“Come,” I said and took her hand. I helped her into the shower and placed her under the stream, then took up the soap and worked it into a lather in my palms. I put it down again and smoothed it over her body, washing her arms, her stomach, her breasts, her back. Everywhere.

I worked thoroughly, massaging her body with my fingertips, my dick hardening at the sound of her soft moans, the sight of her body responding to my touch.

Becca leaned back against the shower wall, and I worked my fingers between her legs, growling at the wetness gathered there. It was all her, nothing to do with the water streaming down from above.

“Jesus, angelface, you’re so fucking deliciously wet.”

“I want you,” she breathed. “Mason, I’m starting to think I won’t be able to come ever again without you inside me.”

“Good,” I replied. “That’s the way it’s meant to be.” I looped one leg over my shoulder and pressed her back against the wall, spreading her wide. I buried my face between her legs, licked her clit once, pressing my tongue flat and savoring her.

Becca jerked against me and moaned, dug her fingernails into my shoulders. “Mason.”

“I’m going to eat you until you come, baby, and then I’m going to make love to you all fucking night long.”

She moaned something incoherent, working her pussy in time with my licks. I pressed two fingers inside her, using my free hand to steady her in case her legs gave way.

Becca’s body was an instrument beneath my fingers and tongue. I sucked her, and she let out noises that were fucking music to my ears. I stroked her G-spot, and she shuddered against me, gripping my shoulders to keep from keeling over. “That’s right,” I said, between licks. “That’s right, baby. Come for me.”

She tangled her fingers in my hair, tugging hard, and sailed over her edge. Becca went wild, clawing at me, rocking back and forth, pressing her pussy into my face. Fuck, it was heaven. Her orgasm brought me too much pleasure.

I caught her as she fell, then I rose and cut off the water. I carried her out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, both of us still dripping water, her eyes drifting closed.

“Time to sleep,” I said, softly.

“But—you. I want to make you come, too.”

“Tomorrow.” I lowered her to the bed, fetched a towel, and dried her off, taking extra care between her legs. She moaned, still sensitive from her climax, and my cock throbbed again. Christ, sleeping after this would be difficult.

“I want you inside me,” she said and opened her eyes. “Mason, please. I need you.”

Fuck, how was I s’posed to resist that? She was fucking begging for it. I lowered myself onto the bed beside her and ran a finger over her curves, down between her legs. She was wet all over again, swollen too.

“Please,” she repeated.

I rolled her onto her side, slipping one arm beneath her head and neck, then tucked her against me, angling her hips so I could enter her.

My dick throbbed against her entrance, just as fucking needy as she’d been. I kissed her neck, inhaling her scent, sucking on her flesh, and living in this damn moment. She was all I wanted. Nothing else mattered.

Not the job. Not the town. Not anything.

Slowly, I pushed into her, biting gently on her shoulder at the pleasure that streaked through me.

I went slow, savoring each thrust, each gentle, feminine noise from her.

“Can’t hold on much longer,” I said.

“Fill me,” she whispered. “I want all of you. I always want all of you. Give it to me, Mason.”

I pounded into her then, lost the control I’d kept such a tight rein on, and did as she asked. Gave her what she needed. My mind was fucking transported by the orgasm, shell-fucking-shocked. I lay there, holding her, my dick still inside her velvety warmth.

Slowly we drifted off into dreams, my nose against her skin, her smell surrounding us.

Never let you go.