I drove around the city for hours, too terrified to go home. Terrified that Mace wouldn’t be there. Terrified he would, but that he’d be drunk. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but my mind kept taking me through every worst-case scenario until I convinced myself I’d be walking into a nightmare.

It got late, and I had no choice but to finally head back to the house. When I pulled into the drive, the first thing I noticed was Mace’s car sitting in front of the garage. The second thing was that it looked like every single light in the house was burning bright. I wanted to bitch at him about the cost of the electric bill, but there were far more pressing things we needed to discuss first.

I pulled my car in next to his and cut the engine, then moved up the front walk like I was heading for the hangman’s noose, slowly and full of dread.

The house was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. “Mace?” I called out hesitantly. I got nothing for several seconds until a glass clanged from the kitchen, reverberating like a deafening boom in the otherwise silent house. I followed it and jerked to a stop just inside the entryway, my heart breaking at the sight of an open bottle of Jack and a half-full glass he was turning in his hands on the granite island.

My heart hit the floor and my stomach revolted, but before I could ask he spoke. “Nothin’ to freak out about,” he grunted. “Haven’t had a drop. Only poured it.”

“Then why’s it sitting in front of you?”

He kept his focus on the amber liquid in the galls, like the swirling, wavy pattern was too mesmerizing to look away from. “To prove to myself I could.”

My throat felt like it was closing, but I still managed to get out one simple word. “And?”

“And… I can.” The tension in my muscles started to release until he continued talking. “I want nothing more than to pick this glass up and down the whole goddamn thing in one go, but I’m not going to.”

I blew out a breath of relief, but still… “I’m glad you’re not gonna drink that, honey. But you think you could do me a favor and dump it if that’s the case?”

He slid the glass across the counter, and I grabbed it and the bottle, carrying both to the sink and pouring them both down the drain. Once I finished, I set the glass down and tossed the bottle in the recycling bin before turning to face him and placing my hands on the cool stone of the counter across from him.

“He was a drunk, wasn’t he?”

My head jerked up, eyes wide as I whispered, “What?”

“Your ex. He was a drunk. I get it now. Twice you’ve mentioned losing too much at the hands of an alcoholic, and twice I’ve tried to figure out what you were talking about. I knew Will was killed by a drunk driver, but I didn’t put the rest of the pieces together until tonight. I’m right, aren’t I?”

I continued to whisper as I admitted, “Yes. He was an alcoholic.” He didn’t say anything for so long that the silence began to scare me, and I couldn’t take it any longer. “So… are you still mad at me?”

His gaze, which had been on the recycling can where I’d chucked the bottle, shot to me. “Why would I be mad at you?”

“Because…,” I croaked, fresh tears spilling from my eyes. “Because I kept it from you all this time.”

“Jesus Christ,” he grunted, scrubbing at his face before dragging his fingers through his hair and leaving it in disarray. “I’m not mad at you,” he said once he finally looked back at me. “I’m mad at my-fuckin’-self.”

My chin jerked back into my neck as I batted away the wet on my cheeks. “What? Why?”

“Because I could’ve stopped it!” he barked, shooting up from the stool and beginning to pace the length of the kitchen.

“How could you have possibly stopped it?” I asked in bewilderment. “Mace, there was nothing you could’ve done.”

“Bullshit,” he snapped. “I could’ve prevented it from ever happening! If I hadn’t been such a goddamn coward all those years ago when you told me you loved me, you never would’ve ended up with him. If I’d just told you the truth, if I’d claimed what had always been mine, it would’ve been me and you all these years, and that fucker wouldn’t have even been a memory!”

“What truth?” I asked softly as my heart threatened to burst through my ribs.

“What?”

“What truth, Mace? You said, ‘If I’d just told you the truth.’ What truth are you talking about?”

“You know,” he said, narrowing his eyes curiously.

I did. Or at least I suspected I did, but I needed the words. This was too big, too important. I needed to hear him say it. There wasn’t any room for speculation, not when it came to something so monumental. “Tell me, Mace.”

We stared at each other in silence for what felt like an eternity, then “I love you, Lyla. Christ, I’ve loved you forever. I loved you that morning you came to my apartment and laid it all out in black and white. I loved you when you showed up at our concert on your birthday.” It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever heard, the words I’d longed to hear for so much of my life, but the agony in his voice as he said them kept my heart from taking flight. “I think I’ve loved you since the first moment I laid eyes on you, so now you see… it’s my fault you have those wounds, baby. If I’d just told you the truth there wouldn’t have ever been room in your life for him.”

“You love me,” I breathed, unable to grasp anything but that.

“Of course I do. You’re mine, Goldie. You’ve always been mine.”

“You love me,” I repeated.

“Yeah.”

A slow smile stretched my lips so wide my cheeks began to ache. “That’s good, because I love you too.”

And just like that, my declaration snapped him out of the misery he’d mired himself in and he moved, rounding the counter at a fast clip. I didn’t even have time to take a step back or brace before he was on me, wrapping his long, strong arms around my waist and pulling me against him as he lips came crashing down on mine.

It was merciless and urgent and demanding, the most wonderful kiss I’d ever had in my life.

My arms circled his neck at the same time he palmed my ass and used the grip to lift me off the ground like I was light as a feather. I instantly wrapped my legs around his waist, holding on for dear life, not wanting to break the kiss even for a second.

I sensed him moving but kept held concentration of our mouths, driving my tongue against his in a battle for dominance. When I bit down on his bottom lip, he let out a growl that caused a rush of wet to drench my panties.

“Say it again,” he gritted, his lips teasing mine as he spoke against them.

“I love you,” I panted, desperate, eager, needy, all for him. “God, I love you.”

Mace went positively feral at my declaration, nipping and sucking, his tongue tasting every inch of my mouth. The kiss was taking me so high and I never wanted to come down, but at the same time it wasn’t nearly enough. I needed more, more, more.

I felt his feet bump something and didn’t have a clue what it was until we both started going down. He controlled the descent, one of his hands coming up to cushion my head as we fell onto the stairs, not having made it even two steps up before he took us to the floor.

“Again,” he commanded, having broken the kiss in order to tear my shirt over my head.

“I love you!” I said on a sharp exhalation when he yanked the cups of my bra down and sucked my nipple into his mouth. He lapped at each one, paying them equal attention and working me into a frenzy.

“This’ll be fast, baby,” he grunted, making his way up my chest and neck, back to my mouth. “Need you too bad.”

“I don’t care,” I insisted, tugging at any and every article of clothing I could get to so I could feel his skin. “Need it now.”

“I’ll go slow later,” he vowed.

Our hands went between our bodies, his working the button and zipper of his jeans, mine diving past the waistband and wrapping around his straining cock. “Fuck me,” he grunted.

“That’s what I’m trying to do!” I cried in desperation.

Mace’s eyes opened and gazed down at me with a smile. His pupils had blown, the black consuming the crystal-clear blue and making his desire known. “Pants off.”

I didn’t bother balking at his commanding tone, just squirmed beneath him, undoing my own jeans and working them down my legs as he sat back on his haunches and fisted his rock-hard dick. My underwear went next, leaving me in nothing but my skimpy bra.

He climbed back over me as soon as I kicked the scrap of lace off my foot, aligning himself with my entrance and driving in with a savagery that had me shouting in ecstasy.

The edge of the steps dug into my back as he powered in and out, but I didn’t care. His growns mingled with my small gasps and whimpers as it started to build inside me.

“Harder,” I demanded, reaching down and grabbing his ass, digging my nails into the tight flesh as he pumped into me with abandon.

He wasn’t fucking me. He was claiming me. And I loved every goddamn minute of it. I wanted him to own me, to mark every part of me as his from now until forever.

“Yes, honey,” I gasped, drawing closer and closer to that epic release I knew only he could give me. “Just like that. Don’t stop.”

“Fuck, I love you,” he snarled, the power of his thrusts increasing in speed and intensity. “So goddamn perfect.”

“I’m close. Oh god, Mace. I’m so close.” That tightening deep in my belly grew more and more acute until I feared I’d be swallowed me whole.

One of his hands slid between us, and he pressed against my clit with the pad of his thumb. “Get there, Goldie.”

And that was all it took. With a long moan, my walls clamped down around him and stars exploded behind my eyelids as it washed over me for what felt like hours.

I finally drifted back down to earth just long enough to listen and watch and feel as he reached for his own climax. And god, it was a thing of beauty. The cords in his neck strained, his jaw clenched, and his eyes went even darker. One, two, three more drives, and then he buried himself as deep as he could and poured himself inside me as he shoved his face into my neck and let loose a long, low, gravelly growl that sent an aftershock through my body.

I held on to him as tight as I could as it finally left him and the muscles in his back loosened.

I got those sweet, seductive blues back once he was able to lift his head and look down at me.

“Hi,” I whispered, trailing my fingertips along his back beneath the cotton of his shirt.

“Hi back,” he whispered with a soft grin as he brushed a tendril of hair from my forehead and tucked it behind me ear. “You love me?”

“I do. You love me?”

He dragged the tip of his nose along the side of mine and answered, “I do.”

We watched each other just like that as one minute ticked into the next. Finally, he broke the silence by asking, “What’s on your mind, Goldie?”

To which I answered, “You really shouldn’t leave so many lights on. Your electric bill is gonna go through the roof.”

He burst into laughter, and that was almost as beautiful as how he looked when he came.