We spent the long drive back from Waverly in silence. Charlie and Olivia spoke to each other in hushed whispers in the back seat, but other than that, it was quiet. Sebastian was tense, his bulging muscles flexed and rigid, the veins in his forearms protruding. Heat emanated from his body, like his blood was actually boiling. Under different circumstances, it would have been sexy as hell.

He held my hand, kissing the back of it now and then, letting me know he wasn’t upset with me. He didn’t need to say it. I understood.

That had been one of the most uncomfortable situations of my entire life. I’d known without Sebastian telling me that Cami had to be his ex. There was no mistaking the way he’d looked at her. I didn’t know much about her, or what had happened between them, except that she’d left him when he’d been sick.

I hated her for it.

It wasn’t the general dislike a woman might have for her boyfriend’s ex. It didn’t bother me that he had a girl in his past, even one he’d been serious about. What made me hate her was knowing she’d abandoned him when he’d been weak.

And now that he was strong again, she wanted him back.

That was perfectly clear. She hadn’t been at dinner because she was an old friend who wanted to see how Sebastian was doing. Or to catch up after years apart. I knew a thirsty girl when I saw one.

But the worst part had been Sebastian’s mother. An ex-girlfriend who thought she might have another chance was one thing. A mom who had orchestrated the meeting, obviously thinking her son would come alone, was another. She’d invited Cami because she wanted Sebastian to get back together with her. Even knowing he was with me.

Made it obvious what she thought of me—and my relationship with her son.

The first time we’d met, I’d been one step away from homelessness, sporting a black eye and a split lip. I knew what she must think. I was trash—not good enough for her son. It wasn’t because I wore beaded bracelets, peasant blouses, and boots. Although maybe if I’d come over in a cardigan buttoned up to my neck and a modest skirt that hung below my knees, like a good little Iowa girl, she would have thought twice about judging me.

But it wasn’t just the way I dressed or my lack of a manicure—though I’d seen her notice that too. She didn’t need to know the details of my past to see it. She could tell. Some people just could. I didn’t know how to explain it, but sometimes I encountered people who could read my past. As if the story of my fucked-up life was tattooed on my skin. Often it was because they shared a similar history—a child of an addict or an abusive parent recognizing a kindred spirit. But others took one look at me and knew I’d grown up poor and neglected—and instantly looked down on me for it.

Mrs. McKinney had done just that. She’d done it the first time we’d met, when her eyes had widened with alarm at the thought that her son was associating with that kind of girl. And she was doing it now—even to the point of attempting to sabotage our relationship by getting Sebastian to hook up with his ex.

It made me sick to my stomach. I didn’t want to cause a rift between Sebastian and his family. But it was probably too late.

We dropped off Charlie and Olivia at the guys’ place, then drove the short distance to my house. We went inside, and as soon as the door closed behind us, he grabbed me with rough hands and kissed me. I melted against him, draping my arms around his thick neck. Raised up on my tip-toes and pressed my body against his.

He held me tight, his kiss hard and aggressive. Filled with the anger coursing through him—turning rage into lust and desire. I could feel the urgency in his thick muscles, in his tight biceps and flexing chest.

“I love you,” he growled into my ear, backing me up toward my bedroom. “I love you and I’m sorry.”

His mouth on mine cut off my reply. There would be time for talking later.

In my room, we yanked off our clothes, but he stopped me from taking off my boots. He slipped my panties down over them, then turned me around and bent me over the side of the bed.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he said.

I looked back at him while he got out a condom and rolled it on. His hard length stood up straight, protruding from his lean hips. He had the perfect amount of hair on his broad chest—enough to make him look manly and powerful—and the sexiest happy trail running down his lower abs. The veins in his arms stood out and his mesmerizing eyes roved over me.

“I’ve wanted to fuck you in those boots since I watched you put them on,” he said.

He slid his hand down the center of my ass until his fingers brushed across my opening. I practically vibrated at the light touch. He put pressure on my clit and rubbed slowly while his other hand gripped my hip, holding me in place. I tried to arch back, to make him give me more, but he held me fast.

“I know, baby,” he said. “You want my cock, don’t you? You want me inside you.”

“Yes.”

He rubbed faster and my eyes rolled back. He knew exactly where to touch me to make me insane. Slipping his fingers into my pussy, he groaned.

“That’s my girl,” he said. “So wet for me. I’m going to fuck you so hard, baby. Are you ready for this?”

“Oh my god, yes,” I said.

In one quick movement, he took out his fingers, grabbed hold of my hips with both hands, and thrust his cock in. I called out at the abruptness of it. The fury. He held tight, his fingers digging into my flesh, and plunged into me—hard. Over and over. His hips drove his thick cock in and out, his body slamming against mine.

I clutched the sheets for dear life, arching my back to take all of him in. His power and strength were overwhelming. I wanted him to take it all out on me—all his anger and frustration. I wanted to forget how I’d felt, wilting under his mother’s judgmental gaze. The humiliation and shame. The guilt. I wanted him to fuck it all out of me.

He was relentless. Fierce. Slamming me into the mattress, making the bed scrape across the floor. He grunted and growled with every thrust, his voice primal and raw. No one had ever done this to me before—fucked me with so much passion and intensity. I didn’t know how much more I could take, but I never wanted it to stop.

The heat in my core built, almost to the breaking point. Tension mounted, like a rubber band being pulled tight. Just when I was about to plunge over the cliff, he slowed. His grip eased and his thrusts relaxed.

He pulled out and turned me over. I backed up onto the bed and he climbed on top of me. His breathing was ragged and he was covered in a sheen of sweat. It glistened off the hard lines of his body, accentuating every angle and curve. His eyes held mine and I watched as they went from glassy and unfocused to piercing, all that intensity trained on me.

His cock slid in again. Gentle, this time. Slow, powerful thrusts had me riding the edge of climax, the mind-numbing pleasure soaking through me. With our eyes locked, we moved together, a slow dance of bodies teeming with heat. With tension and passion. A moment of connection that filled the space in my chest, once left hollow. Filled it to bursting.

I felt his cock thicken inside me and I knew he was close. Desperate for release, I clutched at his back, grinding my hips into him with each thrust. He wouldn’t break eye contact, the fierceness in his gaze demanding I do the same. He could see through to my soul, see every bit of me. I was more naked and exposed than I’d ever been, my whole self on display.

His brow furrowed and his back stiffened. He drove harder, and the first pulse of his orgasm sent me careening off the edge. I burst into flame, hot sparks lighting up every inch of my body. My senses ceased to function, my brain only processing the almost violent waves of pleasure.

The magnitude of it left me gasping, clinging to him. He tucked his face against my neck, his breath hot against my skin. We held each other, sweat mingling, bodies pressed together. Soaking in the moment.

He lifted himself up and brushed my tangled hair from my face. His kisses were gentle—reverent. Our eyes met and the fullness in my chest almost brought tears to my eyes.

“I’m sorry for what happened,” he said. “It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. All that matters is us.”

I nodded. “It’s okay, and it’s not your fault anyway.”

He kissed me again, then got up and went into the bathroom. I took off my boots and set them beside the bed. A minute later, he climbed back in bed with me and drew the covers up around us. I tucked myself into the nook of his strong arm and rested my head against his chest.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he said.

“Do you really want to work for your dad?” I asked. “You’ve never talked about that before. I didn’t realize that was what you were planning.”

“That’s because I don’t know if it is anymore,” he said. “That was the plan, once. I guess back in high school, it made sense. My dad had been a wrestler, gone to college. He opened his first dealership when he was my age. It seemed natural that I’d follow in his footsteps.”

“But that was before,” I said, my voice soft.

“That was before,” he said. “I don’t understand why no one wants me to be any different. It’s like I was traveling down a road, and when my heart gave out, I veered hard to the left. And I kept on veering, taking unexpected turns. I wasn’t even going forward anymore. Sometimes backwards, sometimes sideways. Then after my surgery, I started to get better. At the time, it seemed like it was never going to end, but eventually I was healthy. It seems like ever since, people in my life keep waiting for me to get back on that original road. But I veered so far away from it, I don’t even know where it is anymore. And if I found it, I don’t know if it would be the right one.”

“That road ended in Waverly,” I said. “Working at your dad’s dealership.” Married to Cami, or at least someone like her. An Iowa girl with corn silk hair.

“Exactly.” He paused, still caressing my skin. “I almost died. And it was agonizing and slow. I don’t know how my parents could watch me go through that and not see how it changed me.”

“I guess sometimes people see what they want to see,” I said.

“Yeah.”

“What do you want?” I asked. “If you don’t want that life in Waverly.”

He took a deep breath, his chest expanding against me. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

“Why would I laugh?” I asked. “Unless you’re going to say you want to be a drag queen. Then I make no promises.”

“No,” he said with a chuckle. “I’ve been thinking about going into architecture.”

I propped my head on my hand so I could look at him. “Really?”

“Yeah. I’ve always been interested in it. Although back in high school, I was so focused on sports, I didn’t think about much else. I figured I had a job waiting for me after college, so why worry about it? But when you can’t do sports, and you’ve lost almost all of your friends, you have a lot of time on your hands. I did a lot of reading when I was sick. I read about a lot of things, but architecture fascinated me. I actually had a subscription to Architectural Digest for a while, but I stopped getting it.”

“Why did you stop?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “It seemed stupid. I’m already so close to finishing school. There’s nothing wrong with a business degree, even if I don’t work for my dad. I can do a lot with that. I’m already behind, you know? I lost years to my illness. If I start over now, with a completely different major, it will take that much longer before I’m finished.”

“It doesn’t seem like the time should hold you back,” I said. “But college is expensive.”

“Yeah, but that’s not a big issue,” he said. “I don’t want to sound like an asshole about it, but my parents have plenty of money. They gave me my entire college fund and let’s just say it was overkill. I haven’t even gone through half of it yet.”

“Wow, that makes it easier,” I said. “Then what’s holding you back?”

“That’s a good question,” he said. “Maybe I’m still trying to figure out what road I’m supposed to be on.”

I settled down against his chest again. The warmth of his body was so relaxing. But I couldn’t help but wonder if the road he was meant for was a road also meant for me.