“What?” A chill roiled her stomach. Not possible. The pan slipped from her hands, dropping into the sink with a clang. She’d been so careful. "What . . . did you say?" Gripping the edge of the counter, she released a panicked breath, desperate to school her expression before she turned to face him.

Brooding gray eyes stared back. Rational. Emotionless. "Okay-- that's a yes."

"I'm not-" She stalled. How’d he know? How could he know? Unless he'd . . . seen something?

"Who is he?"

Teagan sipped coffee as though they were discussing a trip to the farmers market—while she swallowed a lump of panic. "What makes you think-"

"He's mid-fifties," he cut her off. "Stocky."

"No." Her whispered plea hung in the still, eerie quiet. She was suddenly aware of every sound. Her breathing. TJ's aggravating calm. He couldn’t have found her—not here.

"Dark hair," he catalogued, his voice clinical. Detached. Only his eyes flickered-- with annoyance-- as though she'd done something wrong. "Dark beard."

"Stop." Suddenly woozy, her knees sagged. She held tight to the counter. "H-how do you know that?"

"He looks a little like me."

Alyssa sagged to the floor, oblivious to his chair scraping back with a muffled curse. Muscled arms locked around her as he hoisted her to her feet, the brace on his forearm rough against her skin as he pushed her into the chair he'd vacated.

"Easy, sweet." A large hand stroked her back, as though calming a skittish colt. He crouched next to the table. "You're safe," he whispered.

"He's-- here." It was hard to breathe around the tightness in her chest. Where could she go next? Not her mother's place- She couldn't endanger them, too. She glanced around wildly. "I have to go-"

He eased her back into the chair. "Lyss-- look at me."

Her brain was on overload, making lists of all the things she needed to remember. A new place- Covering her tracks- "I need to-"

"Look at me." His eyes flashed with sudden intensity. “No one will hurt you.”

“But-” She pushed against his hold.

“No one will touch you,” he clarified. “I told you last night I’ll take care of this.”

Adrift in the confusion of her thoughts, she locked onto his quiet voice, clinging to the reason she heard there. “This isn’t about blackmail.”

His gaze sharpened as her words sunk in. “How do you know they aren’t connected?”

“I just . . . know.” Alyssa held his gaze, resisting the urge to look away. Her mind wanted to derail—over the realization her stalker had found her in five days. But Teagan’s voice was insistent. Authoritative as it disrupted splintering thoughts.

"We’ll get into the details later.” Still leaning over her, he stared. Through her. “Are you okay?"

"I'm trying," she admitted. Fierce, gray eyes burned into hers as she fought to regulate suddenly strangled breathing. As she came back to herself, she realized she was gripping his hand. "You've-- seen him?"

"Keep taking deep breaths," he encouraged, ignoring her question as his gaze willed her not to look away. He lifted the clammy hair from her neck.

"I don't know why he’s after me," she whispered, confessing her worst fear. How could she stop someone when she didn't know the reason why? “Two years—I’ve thought about it-” Her words choked in her throat.

“What?” Teagan frowned. “What do you mean-- two years?”

She waved him off, the thought of her long, depressing explanation too much to contemplate. The bearded man who’d left her for dead. Two years later, she still had no answers. And now—he’d returned. Had she provoked him? Was he a random crazy? Someone from work? Was he tied to the blackmailer? A shudder tore through her. How would she endure the repeat of a nightmare? "I can't do this again."

"Tell me what happened," he urged, his husky voice nearly irresistible to her careening brain. As though . . . he truly could take care of any problem.

"It's alright, Lyss. I'm here."

"For how long?" She couldn't seem to stop trembling. Head in her hands, she leaned on the table. "You-- you'll be gone in a few weeks-"

* * *

“Weeks, Lyss,” TJ reminded, squeezing her fingers in encouragement. He liked the feel of her hand in his. The weight of it. The reassuring warmth of contact that had nothing to do with sex. It was the same faith-in-humanity sensation he'd experienced when he'd heard Matt had a baby. Shock first, to be sure. And then a comforting sense of rightness had swept him.

“There’s plenty of time.” He’d fix it for her. Because of Matt. Their friendship. He'd fix it because of his fondness for Madeline. The woman who'd seen something in him when no one else had. He'd fix it because of loyalty. He owed them.

Not because he’d spent the remainder of the night pacing after the No-Key incident-- trying not to imagine what could've happened to Lyss if he hadn’t been there. Not because she somehow seemed smaller when she was trying to look brave. And definitely not because he still wanted her after all these years-- like a maddening addiction he would never be cured of. Spending too much time with her would be dangerous. Because talking with her made him smile. Wanting her made him feel alive. And thinking about her—about them made him feel a ridiculous, pointless sense of hope.

"Sweet, I know you don't believe this, but you have to trust me when I say it won't be that hard." When her frightened eyes filled with tears, his gut knotted with something that felt like helplessness.

She shook her head. “You’re so arrogant.”

Or maybe it was just the French toast. She certainly had a way of taking him down a notch. “We’ll resolve this in a couple days," he repeated. "Everything will be fine.”

“This is complicated.” Dusky sapphire eyes flashed anger. She blinked back the wetness as though she could simply command her tears to stop. “Two years I’ve lived with it. It’s not going to be fine.”

TJ stared at her, wondering why her every expression reminded him of that night. Of somehow failing her—before they'd ever started. A million hours in bleak desert terrain had left him plenty of time for wondering. Wishing. Wanting. Endless days in maddening heat. Eternal nights of bitter cold. Plenty of time for playing 'what if'. If he hadn't been leaving. If she hadn't been off-limits. If he'd just never friggin' met her.

“Why don’t you fill me in on exactly what you’ve been dealing with for two years? The pictures only arrived yesterday.”

"I misspoke." Her small fist clenched on the table. “They’re probably not related.”

Liar. How was he supposed to help if she withheld information? Maybe he hadn’t missed out all those years ago. Instead of boarding that plane believing God had played a sick joke on him-- the beautiful, sexy, perfect girl who got away. Maybe God had granted him a ginormous favor. He chuckled over her suddenly mutinous expression. More like a perfect pain in the ass.

"I'm glad you find this funny." She sent him a withering glance.

The compact, restless hand shook free of his, proving exactly how his stupid brain had been jerking his chain. A decade of dealing with her stubborn personality? The luscious body and blast furnace smile would’ve only carried them so far.

"Tell me about two years ago," he repeated, tracing his memory for any clues he could be harboring. Madeline's letters with snippets of news from home. He'd heard from Matt every few months. But Maddie had been like clockwork. Working backwards, his brain catalogued the letters he'd received over the years. With nothing else to do, he'd re-read each one a hundred times-- until it wore out-- or he received the next one.

Eyes narrowing, he remembered talk of an engagement. How the hell had he forgotten that bit of information? The psychologist in him winced. Blocked was more likely. Two years ago? Three? Maddie's enthusiastic letter had punched him in the chest. Regret. And then anger over being pathetic. Because seven freaking years after jumping from her window should've been plenty of time to forget her.

A drunken bender week staggering back to barracks had muted the sting. Until he'd finally decided he was happy for Lyss. Relieved, even. He was happy for Maddie. She'd talked of planning the wedding.

TJ frowned, trying to remember the rest. Unlike the other letters, he hadn't saved those. After several readings . . . mostly because he'd felt like torturing himself, he'd balled them up and launched them in the trash. When he'd sobered up and gone looking for them again, his bunkmates had finally copped to burning them.

"I'm not blabbing my personal history for you to judge."

"Lyss-" His sigh was exasperated. He didn't like where his mind had drifted. To the dusty storage locker he'd kept locked for too long to contemplate reopening. "I'd never judge you." He glanced at her hand again. Bare. Ringless. Not exactly something he would've missed. Especially the previous night-- when the simple act of kissing her had leveled a blowtorch at his groin. He'd wanted her naked and writhing as he took her on- Hell-- this table.

Perspiration gathering at his spine, TJ averted his gaze. Images crowded his mind. Her glorious, scented skin. How unbearably soft it had felt to his work-toughened hands. There was no softness where he'd been. No pleasure. The way Lyss gasped into his mouth-- the way he'd wanted to swallow it-- as though he could somehow steal a part of her to take with him. The passion that deepened her eyes to glittering sapphires. Her beautiful, pink body splayed on the barn board-

Hidden by the table he could no longer look at, his body was rock hard. The painful ache of wanting her for more years than he would ever admit.

Alyssa's eyes turned mutinous. "My personal life is not relevant to this discussion."

TJ counted to ten, willing his body under control. "If I don't know details, I can't determine whether they’re relevant."

"So-- you just get to interrogate me?"

Even now, it pissed him off to admit he could still be this pathetic. All these years believing he'd maybe lost something-- when she'd never been his to lose. "It's not exactly a thrill," he mocked.

Clearly unimpressed, she stared at him. Through him. "Do you ever feel anything? Fear? Joy? Compassion?" Intent on turning the tables, her how-do-you-like-it smile was deliberate. "You're like a robot-- with a chip for a brain."

No shit. His blood pressure spiked when her wildass shot hit the target. Fine. At least he wouldn't have to hide it from her. He rose from the table. "Suit yourself."

The tension coiling through her seemed to visibly release when Lyss believed she'd won. But like any ruthless adversary, TJ seized upon the weakness. "Tonight-- if your bearded friend breaks in again-"

Shock tremored through her body, stabbing his tightened chest. But Major TJ O'Brien wasn't exactly known for mercy. His pile of medals hadn't been won for compassion. In the doorway, he glanced over his shoulder, willing himself not to be moved by the fresh terror in her eyes. She'd demanded his help. He would be in charge-- or they could damn well do it without him. "Maybe you can use your umbrella on him."

* * *

After a shower. After trimming ten pounds of beard into the wastebasket. After finally shaving off the rest of it. After changing into his first civilian clothes since arriving home. After beating himself up a hundred different ways, TJ cautiously retraced his steps.

What if she'd gone? Bolted from the house? Upset. Terrified. Possibly straight into danger. If No-Key was watching the apartment-

She'd baited the hook and like a mindless shark intent on prey-- he'd jumped for it. He'd lost his temper. Something so rare in the last fifteen years-- he could compare it to a solar eclipse. He didn't get angry anymore. For as long as he could remember, anger had wreaked havoc in his life. Anger with his narcissist mother for leaving him on the porch like a Hefty bag of stinking garbage. Her excuse burned into his brain. "You're such a handful". As though her simplistic explanation to a devastated nine-year-old was all that was required before dumping him on her over-burdened sister.

With the teachers who'd grown weary trying to channel his energy. To the bullies on the playground who'd made the mistake of taunting someone weaker in his presence. Later it was in bars . . . any male of any age who made the mistake of tangling with an O'Brien. Have fists, will travel.

And finally with Finn-- a single disastrous night that had changed everything. Finn's stubborn insistence that his rich, sorority girlfriend wasn't cheating on him. Mama Lou's worry that her youngest son might get sidetracked and throw away his future. Instead of staying out of it- Instead of letting the kid learn from his mistakes-- an equally stubborn TJ had ruthlessly provided proof.

His anger over that catastrophic night had been with himself. For causing the explosion that had blown apart his adopted family. Mama Lou forced into defending his actions. The contempt on Finn's face when she'd tried to talk them both down. The peace-keeping, single-mother commander of a battalion of unruly boys-- reduced to tears. She'd raised five boys-- and the defective spare. The kid nobody wanted had officially overstayed his welcome. That night, TJ had known it was time to put them out of their misery.

A lifetime later, TJ's normal was to feel nothing. Not anger. Not fear. Not joy. There was a measure of comfort in nothingness. It was a reliable, cheap form of transportation through life. Like an old, rusted jeep that just kept running. Aside from the occasional regret, his normal meant no one ever got hurt.

Reassured when he heard noise from the kitchen, TJ released a grateful sigh. Dishes being rinsed. The muffled sound of crying. The self-loathing knot in his stomach shafted him again. "Damn stupid idiot." Dragging in a breath, he headed for the kitchen. He needed his normal to return as soon as possible. "Alyssa?"

When she refused to acknowledge him, he crossed the room. She hadn't left him. That had to count for something, right? Without thinking, he gently turned her to face him. "Lyss-- I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed-"

He caught a glimpse of her pale, tear-stained face before it collided with his chest. Relief swept him as he pulled her closer, reeling at the sensation. His body-- remembering hers. Adjusting. Cradling her smallness. The haunting scent of her hair tormenting his nose. Awakening the bitter yearning he'd believed safely buried in the desert.

"I'm sorry, too."

Her muffled voice tickled his chest, sending streamers of heat into the vast coldness inside him. His stupid brain began conjuring images of that night. His tongue tracing the soft, fragrant spot at the base of her throat. Her quivering response when he'd discovered the intriguing freckle on a perfect breast. The sensitive pulse behind her knee-

"You're not a robot. I'm pretty sure I can hear a heart beating in there."

TJ closed his eyes, his tortured smile erupting into laughter when she gently poked him. The cold knot that had taken up residence in his stomach loosened, warmed by an ember of something he suspected might be happiness. For a minute, he would allow himself to enjoy it.

* * *

Reluctant to lift her head, Alyssa clung to the sensation of safety. Teagan laughing. His arms wrapped around her-- comforting her. As though there was truly nothing to fear. Once she faced him, the spell would be broken. They'd revert back to real life. To a bearded stalker from her past. To a new blackmailer at work.

She'd return to covering her tracks. Hyper awareness of her surroundings whenever she left the apartment. Panic attacks. Hell-- she may as well return to her place. Since there was no longer anonymity at Teagan's-- she didn't have a reason for staying there.

"Lyss?"

She didn't want to read his expression. Didn't want to wonder what hers might reveal. "Can I . . . tell you about it later?"

His chest expanded with a sigh. "Yeah-- when you think it’s right."

A concession. A big deal for a problem-solver. A fixer. She was delaying his process. When his hold slackened, she summoned the courage to tilt her head back so she could read his face. The rigid determination she'd seen in his eyes had softened with a new willingness to understand. "Tonight," she promised. "After your dinner at my mother's."

"I'm not leaving you here alone."

"I figured you'd say that." She released a ragged sigh. No way did she want to discuss it with Maddie and Sean. "I texted her while you were in the shower. She suggested I come for dinner." She glanced up. "She wants me to meet Matt's best friend."

"Good." His worried frown dissolved for a moment. "You can be my ride. My bike is still in storage."

"But we can't know each other," she insisted, wondering why that part mattered so much when the rest of her life had descended into hell.

"Don't worry. I can fake it."

"My mother can't hear the part about the bearded guy."

Teagan pulled out a chair. "Does she know what happened before?"

"She lived it," she admitted. "It took a tremendous toll." Running a hand through her hair, she knew it was spiking around her head. And no longer cared. In two days, Teagan had pretty much seen her at her worst. She joined him at the table. "Even Matt . . . only knows part of it."

"Why would you keep it from him? He could've helped."

When he frowned, the angles of his beautiful face were thrown into relief. His face. "You shaved!" Forgetting all the bad news for a moment, she reached across the table. Grasping his chin, she turned his head back and forth.

"What am I? A show dog?" His amused smile suggested he wasn't as annoyed as he tried to sound.

"That's the beautiful face I remember," she muttered. The stubble against her palm felt rough and soft at the same time. When his gaze heated, she swallowed around the sudden dryness in her throat. An awkward silence enveloped them as she dropped her hand. "Anyway-" She glanced to the window. "What was I saying?"

"Your brother." His voice a rasp, he cleared his throat. "Why doesn't he-"

"He was away . . . on a case." Despite her vow not to get upset, her voice grew husky as she fought the unpleasant memory. Even after two years, she found it impossible to remain neutral. "I was . . . assaulted." She heard his sharp intake of air, but couldn't bear to look at him. "By a man . . . with a beard."

"Christ." Teagan's stare penetrated the icy coldness.

"By the time Matt got home-" She released a shaking breath. "I'd recovered . . . from the worst of it." She sensed the coiled stillness to his body. As though he battled the urge to spring up from the table. The methodical, too-controlled rhythm to his breathing compared to her ragged, hiccupping breaths. Unable to keep them still, her fingers drummed the table. Doing something. Anything. To keep moving. To distance herself from the conversation.

"Lyss-"

She shook her head. "I need to finish-" She startled when he covered her hands. The warmth of his fingers curled around her fist, the weight soothing. "Mom and I-- we decided it best not to . . ." Risking a cautious glance, she found his gaze locked on hers. Heated-- yet still impenetrable. "Matt never knew . . . the worst of it."

They'd both feared her brother's reaction-- that his desire for vengeance might overtake his good sense. There was a constant, backburner strum of worry over his job with the DEA. Matt disappearing for weeks-- sometimes months at a time. A year earlier, he'd been shot. After meeting Julie the previous year, her brother had contemplated quitting. Now, they had baby TJ. Her brother was happy-- his hands were full. It wasn't fair to burden him with her problems.

"The worst of it?" His strained voice broke the sudden stillness.

Emotions tumbled through her at his unspoken question. Memories. Fear. Failure. She shook her head. "Just . . . everything," she managed around the brick in her throat. How to explain the loss? Of self-confidence. Perspective. Humor. Her view of life? The bubble shielding her as she'd strolled through life had been shattered.

"Lyss . . . Jesus." His hand clutched hers. "You've lived with this . . . all by yourself?"

"Not completely." She thought about the coping techniques her therapist had taught her. The routines. The comforting steps that replaced order. She released several cleansing breaths. "I . . . have a therapist. She's been a big help."

"Does she know about your panic attacks?"

Surprise made her fingers flutter against his. "That just . . . started up again. Two weeks ago," she choked out.

"When he returned?" Teagan's grip tightened. "That's why you were here-- this apartment." He swore under his breath. "You're hiding." His eyes heated with anger.

"I didn't know you lived here-" She must have looked as stricken as she felt because he tugged her closer, stroking his thumb over her frantic fingers. "I remembered Matt saying he checked on this place every week because his tenant was away."

"Sweet-- none of this is your fault."

"I didn't know this would happen," she repeated. "I'd hoped it might be a mistake. A fluke," she confessed. "I even hoped-- it was just me being paranoid."

"So, he's breached your place?"

"Twice." Breached. A flicker of a smile found her lips. As though she were a fortress. Teagan's simmering violence was almost comforting. She'd felt alone for so damned long. Even if he didn't solve the two-year-old mystery-- maybe he could intimidate the bearded guy into leaving her the hell alone.

"Your mother doesn't know any of this?"

Alyssa jerked her gaze back to his. "I was in the hospital for weeks-" Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried again. "Mom had to deal with everything alone-- me in a coma. Matt on a mission in some damn jungle." She brushed aside tears. "The police investigation-- the bills. My job. She managed everything." The strain of that time had taken an unfathomable toll on Madeline. Her mother had been a rock. Her rock. But there'd been no one for Maddie to lean on. "I can't do it to her again."

"Lyss-- she has Sean now," he reminded. "We'll get the police involved-"

"No-" Her secret would spiral beyond her control. She read the desire for action all over his face. It was the same look her brother got when he decided to fix something-- whether or not anyone wanted him to. "No," she repeated, leveled her gaze at him. "Maddie and Sean can help with the blackmail issue. But-- not a word about the bearded guy."

Her mother needed a break. Despite her unflappable, able-to-handle-anything front, Madeline had been through the wringer two years earlier. Though her mother never spoke of it, she was afraid for Alyssa's safety. It was always there. The background hum of any conversation. Fear had become the giant, smelly elephant in the room.

Her mother's incessant push to get her married off- Before the attack, it had been a running joke-- her mother, the matchmaker. But the last two years, it had been her mission-- as though marriage somehow equaled safety. The irony obviously lost on the woman who'd been married three times.

"Lyss, if you think I'm letting you handle this all alone, you're crazy."

His fierce scowl made her smile.

"What the hell is there to smile about?"

"I'm not alone . . . right?" She blinked him back into focus. "I have you now."

* * *

TJ went rigid at her words. His mind a turmoil of wrath and anguish over what she'd experienced. The guilt over what he too, had unwittingly put her through. Breaking in that first night-- she'd likely been terrified, yet she'd kept her head. She'd attacked. Actions that hadn't made sense before. Her words pierced the cloud of despair. I have you now.

Slowly, he rose from the table, gently pulling her to her feet. Grateful he could finally hold her. Thankful the need to unleash his tightened, strumming body could be used for something other than hurting. Staring into the bluest eyes he'd ever known, he could no more resist the need shimmering there than he could deny his own. Not for a single moment longer. "Lyss-" He lowered his mouth to hers. Felt her response rocket through him when he brushed his lips over hers. "You have me now."

She melted into him, her pink, perfect mouth sealed to his, arms entwined around his neck. Hands in his hair, tugging him closer. Alyssa scorched through him like an arc of electricity. A power surge that would leave his circuits melted. A mortar round that would detonate from the inside and tear him apart.

"Teagan-"

Ten years vaporized as her voice crawled down his spine. The breathy, raspy, sexy voice that scraped him like no other. He took the kiss deeper as he hoisted her into his arms, suddenly desperate to feel all of her against all of him. Not desperate, his mind argued. This was comfort-- for her. Until she hooked her legs around his waist. And he was transported back to a darkened hallway. The distant sound of laughter. Music. A twenty-five year old grad student . . . hitting the jackpot with the most beautiful girl on campus. They'd stumbled up the stairs to her room . . .

Alyssa tugged restless fingers through his hair, sending heat roaring through his chest. She's like me, he realized, his thoughts splintering. Restless. Always moving. When she broke away with a shuddering gasp, her panting breath fluttered against his neck. Liquid, heated need pulled him into a vortex of wanting. This. More. Her.

Pushing aside the cock-hardening image of taking her up against the refrigerator, TJ staggered through the door, his damned knees wanting to buckle with each step. Blindly, he moved through the living room. Mindless to anything else, he absorbed Alyssa's frantic need-- unified in their quest for pleasure. Her fingers threaded in his hair. The deep, sexy moan as she pulled him in for another endless, drugging kiss. When he stumbled into the couch, she landed on top of him.

"Here, Teagan.' She moaned the plea against his mouth, her restless fingers plucking at the buttons on his shirt.

"Easy, sweet-" When her muttered complaints heated his collar, surprised laughter bubbled up from his chest. Despite the painful need to get her naked, TJ meant to enjoy every minute. After ten years, they both deserved his best effort. "We have . . . four hours," he said around her roving lips. "Before we need to be at your mother's."

Glaring at him, she kissed him again. Jesus-- the woman could kiss. She swallowed his groan when she tasted his mouth, branding him with her tongue. How often had he fantasized about this? How many times had he wished for another night with her? A second chance?

TJ surged up from the couch, her gorgeous body plastered around him. An eon later, they crossed the threshold to his room. Bed. His brain locked on it like a beacon. But when he tried to set her on the edge, her slow whimper nearly undid him. "Let me take care of you, sweet."

Sparkling jewel eyes cloudy with passion, she stood on the edge of the bed. As tall as he was, she was nearly the perfect height. He tugged her shirt over her head, pausing to grin over the freckle he remembered on a perfect breast. He took her in his mouth, lavishing attention on the tight, raspberry bud. Her moan cascaded down his spine, sending wild pleasure to every cell.

Cupping her gorgeous butt, he tugged her closer, resisting the urge to yank the yoga pants from her perfect frame. He wanted this to last forever. Even if it came at the cost of his sanity.

At her whimper of frustration, he slid a hand in the form-fitting pants. Slowly. Lust pooled in his gut as he feasted on the sensation of the yielding, knit fabric against the back of his hand-- while his palm stroked amazingly soft skin. He could tear them from her, he thought lazily. Or slowly peel them down. Use his teeth to drive her as crazy as he felt. Perspiration dotted his brow as he gazed into dilated, sapphire eyes.

"T . . . I want-"

His gut seized-- his entire body a tuning-fork honed to her unique sound. Her plea. She thrashed against him. Slowly, exquisitely, he teased her with his fingers. Barely breathing, he locked eyes with her. Hers unfocused, soon to be mindless with what he would do. "Easy, sweet."

Her gaze flashed with acknowledgment. Memory and . . . something else. His body a painful, all-consuming inferno, TJ rode the sensation of desire crashing into memory. Her tight heat. The mindless pleasure of possessing her. It would be his again. Finally. A ten year drought-

"Teagan-- stop."

Her frantic cry made him freeze. He stared into eyes that had gone distant with shock. His hand still pressed to warm, soft skin. His fingers still- He released a shuddering breath, forcing his brain to re-engage.

"Stop?" Stop? What had he missed?

She jerked free of him-- so forcefully that she fell back on his bed. His body still screaming with the need for release, TJ staggered back, aware he needed distance. Until she explained herself. Until he got himself back under control. What he couldn't do just then was look at her. Lips still bruised from his mouth. Skin still flushed from his touch. Her lush, achingly beautiful, naked-from-the-waist-up body lying back against his tangled sheets . . .

He spun away from the vision, teeth clenched around a bellow of frustration. Warring with concern. Something had just happened. Something he probably needed to figure out. Once his dick recovered from the failure to launch, his brain might be able to wrap around Alyssa's bait and switch.

"Teagan-- I'm so . . . sorry."

"Sorry?" He smirked, angry that his body was still-- craving hers. After she'd loaded the weapon with no intent to fire. He heard her moving on the bed and winced as she scrambled to cover herself. The not-looking-at-her thing wasn't working. Because her damned voice could still get to him. He'd spent too many nights trying to conjure it from his memory.

But the tears clogging her voice penetrated the lingering fog of lust. Ignoring the knife blade lodged between his shoulders, he released a sharp, painful breath. "Is this your version of payback?"