He’s been on his computer all night. I’m pretty sure he snuck out of bed after I fell asleep. I can always tell when he’s not next to me. I don’t sleep as well.

“Are you almost caught up?” I clasp my hands together behind my back, stretching.

He pushes away from the kitchen table and closes his laptop. “I’ve been away for weeks.” Laughter rolls from his lips as he spins around and grabs me by the hips. “It’s going to take me a while to get caught up on the emails, let alone everything else.”

“Well, it was your idea to come here. You could be back in that big tower office of yours, barking out orders and making your employees quake with fear.”

His chin lifts and a pair of stormy blues settles on my face. He raises the hem of my tank top and presses his mouth to my stomach. His thumbs smooth over my skin alongside his lips. “Is that how you picture me at work? A dictator?”

“I know how you are in bed, so I can only imagine what you’re like there.” My teeth sink into my bottom lip when his hand travels up to my breast and palms it, his mouth still making my stomach flutter as his four-day-old beard rubs against my flesh.

“You don’t like when I’m in charge in bed?” His fingers pinch my nipple, and I arch my hips forward, giving in to the pressure that pulses between my legs.

“I didn’t say that.”

“I’d be happy to let you take control tonight.” A huskiness moves through his voice, and a shiver licks up my spine and splinters out through my veins.

“You’re such a liar.”

I can feel his smile against my skin, his mouth still planting kisses all over my abdomen.

He drops his hand to my hip bone and pulls back to look at me. “What can I say? I’m a changed man. Maybe it’s the air here.”

“Rio can do that.” I grin.

We’ve been in Rio de Janeiro for five days now. We came after a week in Columbia, where I spent time learning more about my mother’s true roots.

He had his brother ship his laptop and work to him. He seems hesitant to go back, and I’m sure it’s because of me.

Even though Rory’s dead and most of his crew are in county jail, thanks to the exposé Mya wrote last week, he probably assumes I’m not ready to face the city.

“What are you afraid of?” I’m ruining the moment, but our time in Brazil has already been filled with so many moments that maybe it’s time to face reality.

I just have no idea what my new life is supposed to look like.

“I’m not afraid of anything,” he says.

I shuffle back and out of his reach and head to the sink to fill a pot of water for coffee. He rented us a beautiful little house on the outskirts of the city, and it has a killer view of the Christ the Redeemer statue.

Warm hands rest on each side of my ass cheeks. Maybe I should have put pants on before coming out here. I knew that only a tank and panties would distract Cade from having any real conversation.

Maybe I didn’t realize I was ready to have it until now, though.

My head falls back, my ear almost touching my shoulder when he slides his hands around to hold me. “I think you’re avoiding going home.”

“No,” he says into my ear. “I can work from anywhere. Hell, you can sit on my lap while I’m on conference calls.”

I chuckle. “Well, that wouldn’t end well. I’m pretty sure you’d be unable to focus with me grinding on you.”

“What? You can’t be good and just straddle me?” His lips twist into a knowing smirk, his eyes turning robin’s egg blue, light and free.

He’s right about one thing: he’s a changed man.

We both changed.

And I refuse to let the deaths of my parents become a perpetual shadow of darkness over me. My mom would want more for me, and my father—well, he might have been a bad man, but he died so I could live, so I should do exactly that.

“Ahem.” I turn and drape my arms over his shoulders. “You’re the one who wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from behaving.”

“Never.” His lips meet mine for a brief kiss. “I’m always in control, remember?” He smiles and touches his forehead to mine.

“So then tell me why you don’t want to go back to New York.”

He grumbles and backs up, releasing me. “We need a vacation.”

I wave a hand at his laptop. “And you’ve barely slept on this so-called vacation. As soon as I’m asleep, you work. You’re going to burn yourself out. It’s not fair to you. I’ve messed up your life enough. You should head home.”

He leans back against the kitchen island, studying me from a few feet away, and I copy his move but fold my arms. I’m not backing down on this.

“First of all, you didn’t screw up my life. We’ve been through this. You brought me back to life.”

He’s said these words to me before, and the honesty and almost poeticness of it gets me every time, especially from someone who claims to be carved from ice.

“Secondly”—he shoves away from the counter and comes back to me, as if the small distance is too much to bear—“I’ll do whatever makes you happy. And being here makes you happy, right?”

My eyes fall shut as his question sweeps through my mind.

“I used to think it would. I used to think that, if only I could make my way back here, everything would be okay.” My breath catches in my throat at the touch of his hands on my shoulders.

“And now?”

“Now, I only care about being wherever you are.” Maybe it sounds cliché, like something from a Harlequin novel, but it’s true.

“And what if I feel the same?” His thumbs caress the sides of my bare arms, then one finger slips beneath the strap on my shoulder.

“Then I think we should get back to New York. I also think that, maybe, you’re avoiding your family for some reason.” I open my eyes. “You should come clean with Grace and Corbin. Tell them who you really are.”

His lips lift, and his eyes focus on mine. Like flecks of gold glistening beneath the sun, there are bits of amber within his blue eyes. “And who am I really?”

“You’re a good man.”

He huffs out a breath and lets go of me. I can tell he’s going to back away, so I grab his biceps, demanding his attention.

“You have a family, Cade. Maybe your parents are screwed up, but you need to hold on tight to your brother and sister and never let go. You’re lucky to have them, and they need to know how you really feel—that you care about them.”

“They know,” he grumbles.

“But they don’t know everything.” I swallow, knowing what I’m about to say will completely eviscerate anything left of his fun, flirty mood. “They don’t know about Samantha and how your father blackmailed you.”

“What good would come from telling them?” he bites out.

“It’s a start at truly building a solid relationship. You’re never going to be the brother they need if you keep your walls up. This would be a giant step in the right direction.”

His lips tighten, his face hardening, and I’m worried I’m losing him.

“Why can you be so open with me, but not with them?” I palm his face, the prickliness of his beard tickling my hand.

“Because you and I are . . .” He lets his voice trail off as his hand comes up to cover mine. Then he lifts my palm and kisses it. “You’re the woman I love, so it’s different.”

My heart stutters in my chest, and my stomach drops.

His blue eyes are shielded by his lids now, and he angles his head down. “Shit, I fucked that up. I was planning on telling you in a more romantic way.”

I make a fist and tuck it beneath his chin, tipping his head up, needing him to look at me. “Are you kidding?” A thin layer of liquid forms over my eyes, the tears threatening to fall.

“What?” He finally looks at me.

“I’m not a girl who needs romantic gestures.”

“And what do you need?”

I sniffle. “You.” I sling my arms around his neck, and he holds me against him as I whisper into his ear, “I love you, too.”