Mal was tired of dealing with fucking Uber drivers. His girl was shivering next to him like it was minus forty instead of the balmy seventy-something it was. He ached to take her into his arms, but he was so fucking angry right now he was afraid he would hurt her.

For fuck’s sake, he’d already hurt her. He could tell by how she was holding herself.

But that pill bottle she’d shoved into his hand—he’d nearly popped a blood vessel. In fact, he’d actually seen blood-red in his vision. She’d been so afraid, so white with shock.

He never wanted to see her like that again.

Ever.

She slipped her hand over his tightly fisted fingers. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about.”

“I overreacted.”

“How else were you supposed to react? Christ,” he growled.

“Something felt off in my apartment, but I can’t explain why. Things in the wrong spot…” She trailed off with a shrug. “I guess Nick could have been there, but why would he move things?”

He unfurled his hand and laced their fingers before bringing their joined hands to his lips. Kissing them felt stupid. Romantic in a way he just wouldn’t ever be. He dragged his teeth over the fragile flesh of her wrist. And for the first time, he felt like he’d made the right move.

The stricken look faded from her face. Her lips parted and her tongue darted out to wet them. There. He wanted her like that. Not afraid. Not shocky and panicked. Wanting him, reacting to him—not that fucking room and those pills.

Fuck.

The anger tried to crawl back up his neck, but he knew she needed him to calm down. He didn’t know how to do that, but he was going to fucking try.

She tipped her head against his shoulder. “How could today be so wonderful and awful at the same time?”

He sighed. “I don’t know.” He rubbed his thumb along her hand.

They were quiet as the driver hit the highway and headed out to his place. He’d upgraded his apartment after the last leg of the tour. Tired of living like a Ramen-slurping college student, he’d finally found a loft that suited him.

Maybe he’d been working toward being worthy of her all along.

He honestly wondered if he would have ever gotten to the point where he would be ready for her if the accident and Randy hadn’t happened. He wasn’t good enough for her—he never would be—but it didn’t stop him from wanting her. And Jesus, he was keeping her.

At least until she got wise to what a shitty idea it was to take him on.

When the driver pulled up to his building, she gave him a look. “You gave me crap about my apartment and we’re in the warehouse district?”

“Always bitching,” he muttered as he hustled her out of the car. One thing he did like about the driver apps was he didn’t have to make nice with anyone.

Ricki rolled her eyes as he slammed the door. “Dude, not even a thank you?”

“My thanks was in tip form.” He thumped his hand once on the trunk and the guy popped it so Mal could remove their bags. A minute later, the car was heading out and he was leading her into his building.

He scrubbed his palm along his thigh before swiping his key fob over the sensor beside the door. It beeped once and the locks snicked open. He held the door for her.

She peeked inside the door before she sailed over the threshold. “Well, I wasn’t expecting this.” A trio of club chairs lined the wall in front of the stairs.

Normally, he took the stairs. He was on the top floor. He didn’t want to listen to anyone above him or next to him, so he’d settled for the loft.

She gave him a look.

“What?”

“It’s so…not you.”

He slapped the button for the elevator. “How would you know?”

She tilted her head. “That’s true actually.” She stepped into the car when the doors opened. “Now I want to see just what makes Malachi Shawcross scream this is home.”

Maybe taking her to his place wasn’t a good idea. He hadn’t really let anyone into his space since he’d moved. It was the one bit of sanctuary he’d allowed himself. And now she was here. He pulled at his fingers until the joints popped.

If he was going to bring anyone here, it would be her. He just didn’t know how to make her see that without sounding like some sort of lame asshole.

When the door opened, he hustled her down the hall to his door.

“Are you the only one on this floor?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh. Well, that’s surprising.”

He rubbed the back of his neck and up to his head. He needed to shave it down again. “The album is doing well. And the last tour blast gave us a nice cushion. Until…”

“Until…” She lifted her arm. “Yeah, I remember.”

He unlocked the door and flipped on the lights. “Don’t expect much.”

“Don’t…are you kidding?” Her soft-soled shoes didn’t make a sound on the hardwood, but it didn’t stop her from doing a twirl as she took in the industrial and brick loft he called home. She dragged her fingers over the jet-colored granite countertop of his island. A huge cement sink kept with the dark flavor of the kitchen. The rest was stainless steel appliances and pewter tile.

It wasn’t a huge space, but she took the time to walk around it. She checked out the large scale paintings he had on the walls. And the huge windows looking out on the city. When she spotted the ladder, she gave him a raised brow. “This is way cooler than I expected.”

“And they call you the charming one.”

Ricki let out a sexy little laugh. “Sorry, can’t help it. I was expecting white walls and knockoff IKEA furniture.”

He shrugged. His last apartment had been exactly that. Then again, his last place was only half a step up from her shitbox.

She went for the stairs and he followed up to the small loft that looked over the space. A California King bed took up most of the square footage with a matching dresser and armoire. She disappeared into his en suite bath and came back, her eyes huge. “We’ll be trying that out later.”

“I like a good steam.”

“That kind of steam shower you’ll need a gallon of electrolytes to recover.”

“Worth it.”

She grinned and unzipped the fitted hoodie she was wearing. The spit dried in his mouth as she revealed the lacy contraption under it. He was expecting a damn sports bra from the rest of the comfort going on in her outfit. Hell, the whole day had been full of twists and turns. Christmas decorating, impromptu gate crashing by his step-mommy, then ending in a panic attack.

Now…cotton over lace.

Whiplash much?

Fuck.

“I think I need a little something to make me forget tonight.”

“Whatever you need.”

Her long fingers slid up her smooth belly to cup her tit. “You. I just need you.” She released her breast and took his hand to replace hers. “Soft. I know we don’t really know how to do soft, but I just need…” Her eyes glittered bright in the shadows of his room. The only light came from the living space below.

He flicked his thumb over her tight nipple pushing through the lace. It wasn’t one of her push-up contraptions. No, this was just sheer black lace over creamy skin. He lowered his mouth to take her nipple, the scratchy lace abrading his tongue as he wet the whole area.

She slid her fingers up along the regrowth along his neck and up to the top of his head. He lifted her up and wound her legs around him. When she winced, he slowed down even more. It was hard to keep his shit in check around her. She made him want to take and take—but to give as well. And he needed to remember the giving part. Especially tonight.

He sat on the edge of the mattress and let her straddle him.

She reached between them with her left hand. “So hard for me.” She caught his mouth in a slow, wet kiss. “Always so hard.”

He grunted into her mouth, letting a low moan connect through their tongues as she undulated against his denim-clad cock.

“I want to ride this.” She pushed him back on the bed. “Will you let me?” She shoved at his shirt until he lifted it off and tossed it on the floor. She crawled up and laved her tongue over his nipple. She traced the intricate tattoos that decorated his chest.

She didn’t ask a zillion questions about the meaning behind them. She just used him as her own personal coloring book with her tongue as the ink.

Christ, she made him insane.

The entire time she slithered over his chest, her lace and silky skin alternating and crazy-making. He wanted to grip her hips and roll her over. He wanted to take control and push himself so far into her that there was no doubt of what he felt for her. What he needed from her. But it wasn’t about him tonight. As much as it pained him to hold back, he allowed her to pin him to bed.

The familiar crisp cotton of his sheets and comforter burned into his back and his forearms as she lifted his arms over his head with her left hand. Her right was sore, he could tell, but she used it to smooth her hands over his ribs and pecs before she scraped his skin with teeth and nails.

He could break her hold at any time. But he wanted to see what his little Ricki would do to him.

Just how far she’d take it.

She rolled up to straddle him before standing on his bed over him. “Stay right there.”

He folded his arms behind his neck. “All right.”

She stared down at him as she rolled her skinny jeans down her endless legs and tossed them over the edge before kneeling over him again. “You must have been freaked out tonight if you’re allowing me to do this.”

He lifted one hand to cup her breast, sliding his fingers between her breasts to lightly circle her throat. “I’d do anything for you.” He traced his thumb up her chin to drag it across her bottom lip. “Be anything for you.”

She bit the pad of his thumb. “I just want you.” She tugged at his belt and dragged his jeans down his thighs. He toed off his boots and flicked off his jeans.

He gripped her hips to settle her back against his dick. “You fucking have me.”

“Show me.”

He ripped the little string at her hip. The scrap of lace fell away and he lifted her up enough to slide her over his aching shaft. Her head tipped back as he lowered her slowly. Fuck, so goddamn slowly he was afraid he was going to lose it.

Heat engulfed him followed by the scent of plums. Her unique scent and his darker, earthy one mixed together to make his head spin. But he wanted those wild blue eyes—needed to see her take him this slow.

He grasped the back of her head, twining his fingers through her hair until she had no choice but to look at him.

“Malachi.”

Fuck. The way she said his name never ceased to ruin him.

Her hips snapped forward as she sunk the final few inches and took all of him.

His eyeballs threatened to reel back in his freaking head. So soft and perfect. He’d never gone bare with a woman before Ricki. And he never wanted a barrier between them ever again. Even something so inconsequential as latex.

He rolled up inside her again and gritted his teeth against each ripple of her pleasure squeezing around his cock. Sweat slicked between his shoulder blades as he slowly moved under her. As he let her take the lead and use him as she saw fit.

She wrapped her left arm around his neck. He gathered her other arm and hand, lacing their fingers together between their bodies. He pressed his forehead to hers and ached with each whimper she let free. She was so close. He knew what he needed to do to push her over, to let her fly.

But he also didn’t want to let her go yet.

He wanted to lengthen this moment until there was nothing but sweat and sighs.

His body had other plans. As usual, he had little control when it came to this woman. His head, his heart, his body—she owned all the pieces of him. She just didn’t realize it yet. And he was so fucking afraid to let her know.

She could break him.

Far beyond anyone in his life, she could shatter him.

He locked his fingers behind her head and dragged her mouth to his as he pumped inside of her. She sighed out his name again as her right hand twisted and flattened against his chest. Could she feel the way his heart raced and tripped for her?

He swallowed each sigh, each flutter of response from inside her, and finally, the sob that broke against his lips.

He held on tighter. Lost himself to the rushing blackness of release as he came inside her. He banded his arms around her waist until there was no air between them, nothing but skin and heat.

Her head fell to his shoulder and her limbs practically melted around him, but he didn’t let go.

Would never let her go.