In the night, she turned to him. More than once. Twice, three times, she lost count. Sleep never lasted long, but in the moments between, he was there. Covering her with his body, surrounding her, filling her. Chasing away the darkness with pleasure and need.

She hadn’t agreed to his idea. It wasn’t safe or sane. She’d worked the program, and she understood all too well how dangerous it was to transfer an addiction.

But she wasn’t strong enough to say no, especially since she’d already been halfway addicted to begin with. From the first time they’d danced—as weird as it was because the jerk barely moved—something about being against him had felt right. Familiar, but exciting too. She’d never anticipated being with someone before so much in her life. And now that they’d been together, she only wanted more.

And more.

Luckily, he was more than happy to oblige. As was his overeager cock. Beast indeed.

Toward morning, he murmured for her to stay in bed. That he’d be back soon. She’d nodded and fallen back asleep, exhausted and sore and emotionally weary in a way rest couldn’t cure.

The next time she opened her eyes, the room was full of sunlight. She crawled across the mattress to fumble for her phone on the nightstand, pushing aside the half empty box of condoms.

They might have taken a while to make it into bed, but once they’d gotten there, there had been no stopping them.

It was past noon, and more than half a dozen texts waited for her. What the hell? She hadn’t had her phone on silent that long, had she? But she had missed messages from Denver, Michael, and Nicky, along with two missed calls. Lila had texted too.

And Jules. Finally.

Thank God.

Elle swiped the text across the screen and read it with her throat tight.

I’m sorry I’ve been out of touch. Please come home soon.

She lifted the cell to her forehead, her shoulders shaking with the effort not to cry. She couldn’t break down again. Every time she cracked, it became that much harder to shore up her defenses again.

“Let me be your addiction for a while.”

She hadn’t agreed, not officially, but that hadn’t stopped her from fucking him senseless all night long. Already, she wanted him again. He was a craving in her blood that she wasn’t sure she could ever sate.

More texts waited for her, and she had to answer Jules, along with figuring out where Mal had disappeared to.

First, she had to pee. Really freaking bad. And a shower would be good. She’d probably lost a quart of her fluids from the workout she’d put her body through.

Despite everything, she smiled. Actually, that he’d put her body through.

She climbed out of bed and had taken two steps before the ache between her legs kicked in. The one in her shoulder along with the intermittent numbness she was already getting used to. But this? She hadn’t felt that sore since the first time she’d had sex with Andy Carter in the flatbed of his parents’ tricked out Silverado.

Unsurprising, since Mal was basically the human version of a Silverado himself. V-8 engine and all.

On her way to the bathroom, she detoured to the window framed by pretty lace curtains tied back with gingham ribbons. The mix of delicate with homespun was as charming as the rest of the rustic room. She peeked out, pulling the curtain aside and gasping at the few meandering flakes coming down from a slate-gray sky. The sun that had been bright just a few moments ago was already gone, but now there was snow.

She pressed her fist to her mouth. Was it the first snowfall of the season? That was special.

Just as fast as it had begun, it stopped.

She frowned and glanced down at the miles of rolling pastures and orchards below. Well, that was lame. None was on the ground, so those few flakes must’ve been it. She shifted her head, checking to make sure, her hand fisting on the curtain as she glimpsed Mr. And Mrs. Ronson and Mal stringing lights along the back fences. She smiled. He’d bitched nonstop about Christmas, but there he was, helping his grandparents just the same.

Even from this high up, he was freakishly tall and broad. Impossible to ignore. She released the curtain and traced her fingertip over the light sheen of condensation on the glass, grinning as she noticed she’d drawn a heart.

You’ve got it bad, Crandall.

She was overdue. Long overdue. She’d had her share of failed romances, but she’d only felt like this about a guy…never.

Precisely never.

Not even close.

She made herself turn away from the window and head into the bathroom. Quickly, she took care of business and stepped into the shower, glad for once she didn’t have to deal with her sling. The water was pleasantly hot, the pressure strong, and as she palmed the evergreen-scented shampoo, she caught herself smiling again.

There was little reason to. What was waiting for her at home would be emotionally trying, to say the least. As much as she wanted to be there for Jules and Tristan and the rest of the band, she didn’t feel prepared. Who ever could be for something like that?

Now there were investigators in the mix too. What could they think had happened? She didn’t have any answers for them. She’d barely realized what was happening before Mal had pushed her down, blocking her with his body—

She gasped as the shower curtain flew across the rod. She stared at Mal as he stepped in, shrinking back against the tile wall to try to make room.

He cocked a brow as he pulled the curtain closed. “Hi. Remember me?”

It made her laugh and sputter water as she slicked her hair back. “You were just outside.”

“Now I’m in.” He gripped her hip and dragged her close. Right up against his cock, which was already happy to see her. “Hoping to be all the way in soon.”

She groaned softly. “Soreness is a thing here. Ever heard of breaking a girl in gently?”

“No, because there hasn’t been seconds in years.” His mouth came down on hers, hard and unrelenting. She reciprocated in kind, raising up on her tiptoes to wind her good arm around his neck and press her breasts to his chest. God, that felt good. All that hot, taut, wet skin, rubbing against her nipples—

She jerked back. “No seconds?”

“No.” He tugged her up again, taking her mouth with a hunger she’d never get tired of.

How long had she waited to be wanted even half this much?

“For years, you said?” she asked between kisses. Not that she had much time to get the words out.

“No.” He reached down and palmed her ass, slipping his fingers down until they hovered just outside her pussy. “If you want to know how long it’s been since I’ve had an actual girlfriend, just ask.”

“Okay.” She shook back her soaked hair. “How long has it been since you’ve had an actual girlfriend?”

“Since Cassalia, months before the night we met.”

Hearing her name didn’t make Elle’s jealousy abate. She wasn’t proud of it, but she couldn’t help her feelings. Even though his relationship with Cassalia was in the past, it was natural to feel possessive of someone you lo—

Liked. A lot. Right.

It was too soon for anything more.

“Okay.” She arched against him, attacking his mouth to stop her runaway thoughts and because he tasted like spiced apples and sex.

He knotted his hand in her hair and pulled her back a fraction, already breathing hard. They both were. “I’d ask you, but I know all your fucking boyfriends.” He thumbed her hair aside and bit her earlobe. “I hated every one of them.”

“Most weren’t boyfriends.”

“I feel better. Not.” He tipped up her face to his. “Time for number three.”

“What?”

He picked her up, hitching her legs over his hips as he turned toward the tiles. She figured he’d just decided to break her in his way—trial by fire—until he hoisted her higher up the wall. Luckily, these ceilings were pretty high, higher than the usual bathroom, but holy shit. Was he going to—

“Grab that shower rod and hold on tight. Legs too.”

Her legs were now around his neck. His neck, for God’s sake. Her head was practically bumping the ceiling, so she ducked, leaning over him, fumbling to hold onto the shower rod and not freak the fuck out at being in such a precarious position.

Then his tongue was there, taking away everything but him. His mouth was everywhere, eating her with a ferociousness that made her gasp and arch and beg. She didn’t even know what she said. The deities she made promises to.

Water sluiced over them, still warm, adding one more layer of sensation as he lapped at her clit and shifted her until he could slide his tongue all the way inside. Jesus. Her thighs were already shaking, and he still had no fucking hair to grab on to.

So she grabbed his ear to direct him, making him choke out a laugh. He didn’t stop. Didn’t even slow down. Maybe he’d been reluctant to explore this part of sex—selfish fucker—but he was learning fast. In fact, she’d have to say he was ruining the curve for everyone else.

Anyone else, ever.

Her fingers slid off the slick shower rod and she scrabbled to hold on as her back bowed. There wasn’t time to warn him, but he had to know. Her body was at his mercy. His tongue was like a freaking spear, filling her just right while he bounced her up and down just enough to give her the friction she needed.

Then he sucked on her clit and she jolted upward, hitting her head on the goddamned ceiling as her climax blasted through her. It would’ve buckled her legs if she hadn’t had them wrapped around his head.

She screamed. That might’ve been from the pain in her head too, but it was mostly from the O spinning through her limbs and sparking stars through her vision.

He didn’t even give her time to recover before he was dragging her down his body and turning her around, parting her slick thighs and thrusting so deep inside that she came again, just from a single searing stroke.

“Christ. Fuck. No condom.” He started to pull out, but she dug her nails into his hip, rocking back on him as she turned her head to kiss him frantically.

“I’m on the Pill,” she panted when she finally needed to take a breath.

“Thank God.” His lips raced over hers, moving down to the pulse point just below her jaw. “Hang on to me.”

She already was.

He was relentless, driving her up again with short, churning strokes. His thumb found her clit and she bucked back against him, turning her head so he could feast on her neck while he ravaged the rest of her. If anything, he was even wilder than he’d been the night before. More desperate. His other hand came up to squeeze her breasts and for a second, she was sure he must have five of them. It seemed as if he was touching her everywhere at once. Enveloping her in the best freaking way.

“Can’t hold on,” he growled into her ear, trying to pull back again.

“In me. All in.” No way was he wasting it on her back or her belly or her breasts. She was greedy enough to want every drop inside her.

“Shit, you feel so—Ricki.” His teeth grazed the side of her neck and that combined with the grind of his thumb right where she needed it sent her over one more time.

Shuddering, crying out, she dragged him right along with her.

They crumpled against the wall, his heavy weight pressing her still-tight nipples into the warm tiles.

When she could breathe again, she turned her head. “Don’t think I’m any cleaner yet.”

He laughed and the sound made her grin. She could become addicted to that too.

Every part of him lured her, more and more.

“No, you’re a fucking dirty girl and I love it.” He smacked her ass and picked her up again, plopping her down in front of the now cool spray before drizzling body wash between her breasts and over her pussy. “Hate cleaning you up before I’ve gotten my mouth on you again.”

She sucked in a breath. “Speaking of fucking dirty…”

“Problem?”

She tipped her head back and grinned at him. “Only that we didn’t do this two years ago.”