A carefree energy flowed between Skye and Ash while the miles disappeared behind them.

Skye’s heart thumped when their gazes caught. A touch sent her flying. His laughter loosened the tight grip she held on her emotions.

She offered to share the driving, but Ash refused to let her handle his baby. They split every expense right down the middle, except when they stopped at a secondhand store to buy Ash clothes for the trip.

Standing beside the Jeep, Skye stretched up on her tiptoes, gravel crunching beneath her feet, and threw her arms around his neck. Passion simmered between them with a growing desire for something more. As she pulled him down, the smile slipped from his lips, only to be replaced with a lusty smirk.

“Skye,” he breathed out.

“Shut up, and kiss me,” she said, letting her lips meet his.

The moment of contact short-circuited her brain. A low groan escaped him as he wrapped a hand around her waist, obliterating any free space between their bodies. His chest expanded with each pull of his breath. His hips molded against hers, his legs shifting to support their weight. His tongue skimmed along her upper lip—licking, tasting, and teasing. When she opened for him, he bit playfully at her lower lip.

He rocked his hips, pressing his erection against her. “Feel what you do to me? You’re going to drive me crazy.” His fingers traced the line of her jaw. “Stay here while I buy some clothes. And, while you’re thinking about that kiss, I’d love if you’d think about what defines sex.” He gave her a wink. “Because there are lots of definitions.”

“Definitions?”

“Yeah, I want to know where the line is…so I can make sure I don’t cross it.” He shrugged. “I mean, we’ve already established kissing is on the table and this”—he traced the outline of her breast—“but we never settled on where I had to stop.”

She bit her lower lip and held back a groan, unwilling to let him see how much he affected her. “Do we really have to talk about this now?”

“Better now than later.”

When he cupped her breast, she turned, slapping away his hand. “Ash!”

“Was that a yes or a no?”

“Not here!”

He laughed. The sun glinted in his eyes, flashing a beautiful shade of green. “Still not sure if that’s a yes or a no.”

She crossed her arms under her breasts. How far was she willing to let things go?

With Spencer's jealous streak, she’d already crossed the line with the kissing, but this wasn’t about Spencer—at least, not anymore. The only way to know if Spencer should remain in her life was to see if another future might be possible.

That wasn’t really true though. She didn’t need a backup man or someone found on the rebound. Skye needed to focus on her health, find happiness without a man, and maybe even reevaluate her life’s goals.

But damn if Ash wasn’t hot…

“Can we discuss this somewhere else?” she asked.

His arms crossed, mirroring hers, and his brows lifted. “I’m the one standing here with a hard-on and no sex stretching out ahead of me for days. I’m cool with that. But I want to know how much I can touch you.”

His lip twitched when she didn’t answer. Then, his eyes narrowed, making him look positively sinful.

He stepped close and whispered in her ear, “I want to know if I can kiss your breasts, lick your pussy, and finger you until you come.” He took a step back and smiled down at her, looking entirely too pleased.

She wanted every bit of what he was offering—his lips on her nipples, maybe even his tongue down there. If he performed as well as he kissed, dear Lord, that spelled trouble.

Still, her body was what it was—broken and shattered. She could give him a blow job or even fuck him, and he would be happily satisfied. But for him to breach her defenses, draw pleasure from her body, that possibility had her stomach churning in knots.

He kissed her cheek. “Think about it while I go buy these pajamas you insist I wear.”

Several minutes later, he exited with a gently used backpack stuffed full of clothes.

Soon, they were back on the interstate, heavy metal streaming through the radio. He tried several times to delve into her past, but she would steer him away from her childhood every time.

He showed great interest in her job, and she talked about that with enthusiasm. He spoke very little about what he did for a living, clamming up with the same tight-lipped silence she showed with her childhood. It wasn’t a problem because they found plenty of other things to talk about, like what kinds of food to buy for the cabin.

They stopped at a local market and argued, once again, about splitting the bill.

Late that evening, long after dusk, they drove up the tree-lined dirt road to Bob’s small cabin. The aroma of pine needles infiltrated the air, fresh and clean, filled with the promise of new beginnings. The moon peeked out between the trees. Bare trunks and branches stretched out into the night as the quiet of evening settled over them.

Ash parked and then handed her a flashlight from the glove box.

Skye found the key to the cabin under the mat and unlocked the door. The chill from outside followed her into the small one-room cabin. He placed their bags on the bed, and then went back to grab the groceries. The place had a country kitchen, a circular pine dinner table with two chairs, and a sitting nook filled with a love seat. Rustic end tables bracketed the love seat. A door led to a bathroom with a tiny shower enclosure. The cabin was cozy, quaint, and very cold.

“There must be a heater,” Ash said after returning with the food. “I’ll see if there’s a switch.”

“Bob likes to keep things rustic. The fireplace is our sole heat source, but he said there should be plenty of firewood lying about.”

Compared to the photos Bob had shown her, the cabin was so much smaller in person—as was the bed she would be sharing with Ash.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Forest.

WTF, my summer Skye? UR crazy! Text me every 8 hrs, or I’m sending the cops! In the woods with a stranger? And you have a fiancé? Prenup! What? So confused. If I wasn’t stuck on a boat in the GD Pacific, I’d throttle you.

Well, at least he still cared.

She texted a reply, letting him know she’d arrived.

Her attention moved to the bed. If they didn’t get the heat sorted out, they could cuddle, and while kissing and a little petting was fine, she didn’t want anything else. He’d realize how fucked in the head she really was, and she wasn’t ready to watch him run from the mess which was her life.

Spencer claimed she was frigid. Her body worked fine. It was the memories an orgasm brought that would destroy any chance for intimacy.

If Ash touched her? If he tried to make her come?

Memories of her abuse surfaced. Pressing a hand to her mouth, she gagged as her stomach turned.

“Hey”—Ash returned with a load of wood—“I found something to burn.”

She heard his words but couldn’t process what he’d said, lost in the beginnings of a flashback.

The firewood clattered to the floor as Ash rushed to her side. “Are you all right?”

Ignoring him, she ran to the bathroom, barely making it before her stomach heaved.

Ash followed. “Skye?”

She slammed the door.

Images of her foster father leering over her while she was tied, spread-eagle, swam in her mind as she emptied the contents of her stomach. She curled into a ball, hugging her knees, while tears streamed down her cheeks. It’d been years since she had a meltdown. Why now?

Her clinical mind analyzed and dissected the problem from the viewpoint of a physician. What she needed was a psychiatrist, someone who could fix the messed up signals shooting to her brain. During medical school, residency, and now attending in the emergency department, she hadn’t had time to see a shrink. Not to mention, there was the risk of what psychoanalysis might reveal or the secrets she needed to hide.

What a horrible beginning to her time with Ash and after such a wonderful drive, too.

She scrubbed tears off her cheeks. Her voice trembled as she responded to Ash, “I’ll be out in a minute.”

His palm dragged against the wood on the other side of the door, and it made her heart lurch. Even now, he was reaching out to comfort her.

Spencer had always tried a more direct approach, never realizing he forced her in the same way she’d been violated in the past. Not that it was entirely his fault. She’d never shared with him why her body would grow cold with his touch. She didn’t want to share that with anyone. Unlike Ash, who gave her space, Spencer would have yanked the door open and pulled her into his arms, exactly the last place she needed to be.

“Please,” she begged, “give me a minute. Start the fire.” She leaned against the door, opposite of where she thought his hand might be, and closed her eyes. Please, leave. Don’t be like Spencer. Don’t bully your way inside.

His hand scraped against the wood. The floorboards creaked under his weight as he walked to the fireplace.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror above the sink. Speaking low enough that Ash couldn’t overhear, she chastised herself, “Skye Summers, get it together.”

She rinsed her mouth, and then she splashed cold water on her face. “You can do this.” And, with those words of encouragement, she opened the bathroom door.

Ash turned at the sound of the hinges, a look of relief etched on his face. He started to come to her but stopped mid step, giving her the space she needed. A piece of her fell in love with him for that.

“It’s late,” he said. “I figured we’d turn in for the night.”

He’d already changed into a pair of gray pajama bottoms and a black T-shirt. A fire blazed in the hearth, and all the lights had been turned off. He had the bed turned down. On one side, the comforter and sheets had been pulled back. On the other, he had placed a blanket over the comforter.

“I hope the sleeping arrangements are okay,” he said. “I’ll sleep on top. I don’t trust myself to get under the covers with you. Better safe than sorry that way.”

God, she loved the way he stared at her. He had an intensity that would steal her breath every time. Even better, he honored her wishes and had given her space.

“About that—”

“No worries. But if you’re done in there…” He held up his toothbrush and toothpaste.

“Go ahead. I need to find mine.”

He disappeared into the bathroom, leaving her alone. She flicked on a light to search her bag for her toiletry kit and noticed one item had been left in the Jeep. She went outside to get his guitar. All day, she’d been dying to hear him play, and before she went to sleep, she wanted a song.

She changed into pink sweats and turned the lights off. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, she balanced his guitar case over her lap.

When he exited the bathroom, she asked, “Will you play for me?”

In the flickering light of the fire, his expression was buried in shadows. Gently, he picked the case up and set it on the small table in the kitchen. He turned and breathed out a long, deep sigh. “Not tonight. I’m pretty beat.”

The clock on the wall showed a few minutes past midnight. Had she scared him off with that little freak-out? Maybe he felt trapped with a crazy woman in a cabin in the woods.

She tried not to let her disappointment show, projecting as much cheer into her voice as possible. “Maybe you can play something in the morning while I make breakfast?”

His lips thinned, nearly curved at the corners, but failed to find his signature smile. “Sure, babe. That sounds great. I’m just tired from the drive, and my head hurts.”

She jumped up. “Are you okay?”

Spencer had punched him, and Ash could have a concussion. Her fingers itched to shine a light in his eyes and examine his pupils, but she refrained. Like he’d said, he was probably fatigued from the drive.

Ash put a hand to his temple. “I took some Tylenol, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to call it a night.”

Her eyes followed each languid step of his as he moved in front of the fire. He poked the logs to the back, added a few more, and put the fire screen in place.

“That should keep us warm until morning.” He moved to the bed and stretched out his long form on top of the comforter, pulling the extra blanket over, but his toes poked out at the end.

“Your feet are going to get cold.” A quick search of the cabin, and she found another blanket. After laying it on top of him, she crawled under the covers. “Do you feel okay?”

His eyes pinched with pain. “It’s only a headache.”

He lifted up, leaned over, and pressed his lips against her brow. The velvety-soft touch skimmed across her skin, searing her with his kiss.

“Good night, babe.”

She gripped his shoulder. “Good night, Ash.”

Flickering firelight cast shadows over the ceiling as she clutched the blankets around her neck. All concerns over whether Ash would adhere to his promise settled within moments as he turned his back toward her and faced away. She listened to his breathing, waiting for him to fall asleep.

Thirty minutes later, the telltale glow of a cell phone lit up his side of the bed.

“Ash,” she whispered, “are you awake?”

He rolled over. “Yeah, can’t sleep. Sorry, did I keep you up?”

“Is it your headache?”

“No. I’ve got a song brewing in my head.”

“Oh.”

He lifted the phone. “I’m trying to get it down, so I don’t forget it.”

She sat up. “You won’t bother me if you want to work on it. I’m not sleepy.”

He glanced at her, eyes narrowing. “Earlier, when you…was it me? Did I do something?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. When you were in the bathroom, it felt like I’d done something wrong.”

“You’re going to hate this, but it’s—”

He threw his head back and laughed, interrupting her. “Let me guess. It’s complicated?” His signature smile made a triumphant return.

She put a hand on his arm to reassure him. “You’re getting to know me too well.”

He rolled out of bed. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to work this melody out. When I get a song in my head, I can get crazy if I don’t write it down. Will it bother you? I’ll be quiet.”

“I’d love to hear you play.” She’d never known a composer before. It’d be cool to listen to a song come to life.

“This isn’t so much…playing. It’s more messing around with what’s trying to get out of my head.”

Her belly churned with excitement. She pulled out her cell phone. “I’ll read. You won’t even know I’m here.” She made a shooing motion. “Go. Create. Make music.”

Ash bit at his lower lip, looking a bit uneasy, almost shy about it.

Maybe he wasn’t that good, and having her watch made him self-conscious. The problem with a one-room cabin in the woods was the definite lack of privacy. Nothing she could do about that. If Ash had issues with others listening to his music, he needed to get a new career.

She turned her cell phone on and thumbed to the beginning of a new book. Out of the corner of her eye, she peeked at him pulling his guitar out of the case.

He gave a wink. “She’s not as scary as she looks.”

“She?”

“My baby.”

“I thought your Jeep was your baby.”

He held up the guitar. “This is my baby. I’ve had her since I was fourteen.”

His fingers pressed down on the neck, and his thumb strummed out a tune. The cabin filled with a glorious full-bodied sound. His eyes closed as he picked out a series of notes.

Her jaw dropped. Ash was better than good. Damn amazing was more like it.

She forgot all about her book as he warmed up. He picked out notes and melodies and fingered chords from famous metal bands, but never played an entire song.

He merged with the guitar, the two of them becoming one unified being.

Watching him play transported her to a different world. She had never heard anything so majestic.

Ash was sex and power, all wrapped up in one glorious package, but with that guitar wrapped in his hands, he became a force of beauty. He made her head spin and other parts of her throb.

At some point, the warm-up stopped. Familiar notes and melodies of rock bands ended as new sounds emerged. A gasp escaped her lips. This was all him, and it was brilliant.

His creation developed in stages as he shaped the notes into being, each iteration morphing them into something wonderful. Notes coalesced into melodies as she listened. Chords bridged complexities, becoming a landscape of power, drawing images from her mind.

Wasn’t this what he’d described during their drive?

She closed her eyes, allowing the sound to wash over her, delving into the crevices of her mind, carrying her to an alternate plane. Dancing in a different world, where anything was possible, she existed in a reality where love took root in her heart, blossomed, and transformed her into something stronger, prouder, indestructible.

It was insane.

It was creative brilliance.

He made her feel like she had the ability to take on the world, and she soared in the grip of a love so intense that nothing could touch her. Nothing could hurt her. She was safe and cherished in the arms of her chosen love.

Forever safe.

His music carried her into a dreamscape of hope and empowerment where Ash’s voice lifted in song.