I can count the times on one hand when I’ve seen Colt Emerson sulk.

When he didn’t make the wrestling team the first time he tried out.

When he couldn’t afford the limo he wanted for homecoming.

When Bear, his family’s arthritic twelve-year-old basset hound, died.

Most other times, he glossed over the bad stuff and bounced back from adversity as though he were wearing rubber clothes. But not today. Today, he’s someone I don’t know. Shoulders slumped. Head bowed. Hands jammed into his pockets.

During the cab ride home, he says nothing. The super jock who usually glides through the waters of life on a boatload of snappy comebacks, broods the entire time. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s…depressed. I prefer anger, yelling, sarcasm, anything but this unfamiliar moping. I’m at a loss for how to comfort him.

“Hungry?” I ask, when we enter the penthouse.”

He shakes his head, not bothering to make eye contact with me.

I walk over to where he stands gazing out the living room windows at the fabulous view of downtown L.A. My eyes roam his bedraggled physique. His shirttail hangs loose. His black pants are ripped at the knee. I’d wanted to ask about the bruise on his cheek earlier, but I’d let him mope beneath the cloud of funk he chose to stand beneath.

I try to put myself in his shoes. Colt Emerson is accustomed to getting everything he wants. Sure, he’s lost games before, but failure in his personal life must feel like a crushing defeat for him.

He surprises me when he finally speaks. “Sorry you have to deal with my family. Ruger can be an ass sometimes.”

“Sometimes? That man has made a full-time job of being an ass. In fact, he should put it on his résumé.”

Colt grunts, but otherwise doesn’t reply.

I’d known it would be difficult coming here and dealing with his family. Indeed, I’d relished being able to put his brothers in their places. But I didn’t even have to get my hands dirty today. Colt jumped in and defended me. I still can’t believe he’d stood up for me like that.

“Thanks for having my back.”

“You’re my wife.”

His matter-of-fact comment is a reminder of the promise we’ve made to each other. We each have a role to play. I pat him on the hand to reassure him. “Don’t worry. I’ll uphold my end of the bargain.”

He turns, fixing me with his heated gaze. “You’re a good woman, Shayla. I should have never left you. I should have never treated you the way I did.”

The intensity of his gaze hits me like a hurricane. Hazel eyes meet mine, sending silent signals, misting over with regret and hurt. My heart sputters like an old engine struggling to life. Needles of pain prick the back of my eyelids. Blinking back tears, I force away the sudden empathy that threatens to choke me. I can’t afford to be sucked into that vortex of emotion again. Years ago, that mistake was almost my undoing. Colt’s abandonment was a betrayal that snatched the life force from me. I survived that dark period, but I’m not strong enough to handle the trauma a second time.

Suddenly, I’m preoccupied with my bare feet. My pumps lay stranded near the front door, where I’d left them the moment I’d entered the apartment. Colt’s strapping physique towers over me.

“I screwed up a good thing,” he admits. “Years ago, you needed me, and I abandoned you.”

“Oh, Colt. Stop, please.”

“Don’t make me feel better about it. I had everything. The perfect woman. The perfect life. And I threw it away. It’s okay if you think I’m a greedy, selfish bastard.”

My stomach churns. My eyes squeeze shut. Bands of pain convulse around my heart. Finally, a real apology! Instead of being happy, I’m exhausted. A sob crawls up the back of my throat. My shoulders shake as the floodgate of emotions threatens to break the dam I’ve carefully built over the years. Thinking about our failed marriage and all of the years I’ve spent doubting myself is useless. I’d put it behind me when I accepted his proposal.

Opening my eyes, I focus once more on the man standing beside me. Conflicting feelings war inside me. Part of me wants to scream, “Hell yeah! You hurt me. You son-of-a—” But another part of me aches to fold him in my embrace and comfort him. I feel his pain. With one glance, he communicates it so well it seeps deep inside me and gnaws at my intestines until I’m nauseous. For the first time, I understand his despair. He’s taking all the blame. But maybe he isn’t the only one at fault. Maybe I should have tried harder. Maybe I shouldn’t have just let him walk away.

“I’m grateful to you, Shayla. Grateful you took a chance on me and Cee. I’m sorry I blew it. I’m sorry I came back empty-handed. That little girl is out there somewhere. Who knows where?”

“Don’t think like that. This is only temporary. We’ll find her.”

His shoulders slump. “What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I get it right?”

My heart aches for him. I’ve never seen this side of Colt. In all the years we’ve known each other, he’s never shared his deepest pain and greatest regrets. “No matter what your shortcomings, I refuse to let you put yourself down. That’s my job.”

I watch for the twitch of a smile on his lips. Some hint of amusement in his eyes. I realize my technique has failed when Colt utters his next words. “You were right. I can’t handle a kid. What was I thinking? Why didn’t I listen?”

“Look at me,” I command. His eyes lock with mine, and once again, I fight the urge to draw him close. “Life is not about the mistakes you make, but how you learn from them.”

“I’m trying, Shayla. I’m trying to be the best man I can.”

“I believe you.” His long dark lashes close for a moment, and then open again. He tilts his head toward me and holds my gaze. “I never stopped loving you, Shayla. I told you that and I meant it. I still love you.”

I’ve never stopped loving him, either. That’s one thing we have in common. Is this where I’m supposed to tell him that? The words slip from the back of my throat and slide to the tip of my tongue. I savor them, roll them around, and then at the last minute, I swallow them. My emotions are too raw. Or maybe I’m afraid of what saying those words aloud will do to my psyche. I chicken out.

“Thank you for your honesty, Colt. It took a lot of courage for you to tell me that.” He leans his forehead against mine. His slow and steady breathing calms me. “I don’t know what you want from me, Colt. But things will never be like they were between us again.”

When he speaks, his voice is a whispered caress. “I don’t want things to be the same. I want them to be better.”

I caress the hard line of his jaw. Then my thumb brushes across his lips. I’m not sure what possesses me. Maybe I want to comfort him. Make him feel better. Pull him back from the dark abyss he’s in danger of sinking into. I’m breaking my rule. No touching. But once I start, I can’t stop myself. Touching him is soothing. Familiar. So right.

My lips find his. I press soft kisses against his mouth. Slow nibbles at first, and then finally, my tongue slips inside his mouth. It feels like coming home after a long trip. I want to stay and catch up on old memories.

Our tongues circle each other’s in lazy, unhurried movements. Insatiable curiosity blooms inside me. The burning need to explore every inch of his mouth, to see if it feels and tastes the same after so many years drives my actions. Our kiss in the elevator was brief. This one is languid, compassionate, and bittersweet, as though our mouths are making up for years apart.

At last, Colt pulls away, his breathing ragged. “Shayla. I need you so bad.”

I want to be needed.

He tugs at the nape of my neck, clutching a handful of my curly locks in his fingers. He trails kisses down my chin and the column of my throat. I inhale sharply when he licks the hollow of my throat.

Flames of pleasure snake from my abdomen and settle between my legs. I welcome the intense heat and the eruption I know will come soon after. Colt sweeps me into his arms and carries me to the sofa. As he lays me on my back and gazes into my eyes, a nervous tremor spirals through my body. We’ve done this a thousand times, but the years we’ve spent apart makes it feel like we are first-time lovers.

Colt spreads my legs and nestles his torso between them. He takes his time unbuttoning my blouse. The phalanx of butterflies is back in my stomach as he inches toward the last button. When he parts the thin material to reveal my lacy bra, his eyes stretch wide.

“As beautiful as I remember,” he says.

Heat courses through my body as he licks his lips. That gesture always drove me wild. Expert hands reach behind me and release my bra clasp. When my breasts spring free, he bends low kissing each one.

I groan as his skillful lips hungrily devour me. “Oh, God.” My back arches, thrusting a distended nipple deeper into his mouth. He catches it between his teeth. Sparks of pleasurable pain shoot through me.

“You feel so good,” he murmurs.

He feels good, too. I’m drowning in a sea of raw, pure unadulterated desire. The fire between my legs demands to be quenched. Our hips meet and I feel his insistent erection press against me. After all these years apart, I never thought I’d feel his touch again. I relish the feel of his mouth on my most intimate parts.

I tug at his zipper. My nimble fingers reach inside his boxers and feel the long, hard length of him. He sucks in a breath. My ego soars. There is power in my hands. I massage his erection, pumping in slow, sensual strokes.

His guttural moans are music to my ears. “I’ve missed you so much, Shayla.”

“I’ve missed you too, Colt.”

“I swear I’ll be a good husband this time.”

A good husband.

He’d said similar words years ago.

“I’ll be a good husband to you, Shayla.”

Fast-forward nearly a decade. Now I have a bigger ring. And a bigger promise. Colt has a lot riding on this marriage of convenience. Of course, he would pull out all the stops and tell me he loves me.

The cloud I’m drifting on evaporates.

Denyse was right. Who is the real Colt Emerson?

I retreat. “I can’t…”

He lavishes kisses down my neck. “I want you so bad.”

I want him, too. Which is exactly why I’m not going to fuck him. I can’t trust him. Not yet. We’re both getting carried away—pitching our tents at the campground of Euphoria. Colt is using me to release his frustration and self-pity. I’m using him…well…I’m using him because I am horny as hell. We’re doing this for the wrong reasons. I’m tired of regrets. I’ve had enough to last a lifetime.

Palms pressed against the flat planes of his chest, I shove him away. “Stop.”

He pulls back. A frown mars his handsome features. “What’s wrong?”

“We can’t do this.”

“Yes, we can. We’re husband and wife.”

“You are not emotionally equipped to handle this.”

He places my hand on the rock-hard bulge in his pants. “I don’t think there’s any doubt that I’m equipped to handle anything you’re willing to give, sweetheart.”

“We’re both riding high on emotion. Even Ruger said you’re vulnerable right now.”

“You’re being ridiculous, Shayla. If you don’t want to make love, just tell me.”

A tug of war erupts between my body and brain. Even as I say the words, I try to ignore the delicious throbbing between my legs. “I don’t want to make love.”

His playful grin fades. He sits upright and holds up his hands in mock surrender. I roll from beneath his muscular body. Cold air replaces his warmth, but a slow simmering heat still burns at my core. I should’ve never let it go this far. I was supposed to keep my distance. Now it looks like I’ve been toying with him. That hadn’t been my intent at all.

I stand. “I’ll sleep in the bedroom. We’ll find Cee in the morning.”

“Wait.” He tugs my wrist. “I don’t want to be alone right now. Just lay here with me for a while. I won’t touch you—unless you ask me to.”

I draw a deep breath and then push it out in slow mini-bursts. He’s giving me the same look I’d once seen on a puppy at a pet shop. Sad eyes. Head cocked to the side. Mournful expression. I’d made it out of the pet shop without falling for the dog. Tonight, I wasn’t so lucky.

I lay back down and spooned with Colt, feeling the heat of his bare chest against my shirtless back. His strong biceps wrap around me, pulling me so close my backside rests snug against his abdomen.

It takes only a moment for his hard-on to subside, but twenty minutes for my heartbeat to slow. Only when I hear his soft snores does the tension ease from me. I’ve always had a hard time resisting this man. Thank God he’d backed off. If he had only been the tiniest bit more persistent, I might have given in. I’d held him off this time, but next time, I might be the one who can’t hold back.