“Hey,” Ivy’s voice startled me away from my cell.

I’d stomped off after Hudson had snapped and left me there, gaping and raw and more than furious with myself. I’d snuck away to a corner to check and make sure I didn’t have a text or missed call from Grace. It wasn’t that Elliott hadn’t slept over at her house before—she had, dozens of times—and she loved spending that uninterrupted time with Charlie, but I never not worried about her.

“Hi,” I finally said, returning my cell to the small clutch I’d brought. It was the only one I owned that went with the dress I wore. The one I now felt ridiculous in. After the spat with Hudson, I felt more out of place than I ever had before.

And I knew it was my fault.

Could tell by the way my heart battled with the new cracks splintering across it. The way guilt gnawed at my insides, and that small voice inside me screamed that I was a total idiot.

How could I have said those things to Hudson?

Something a decade old and covered in ice snaked through my blood.

Fear.

I was letting fear control me.

Fear of him, not Hudson.

Ten years and the asshole was still controlling my life.

I’m an idiot.

“I don’t want to overstep,” Ivy said, drawing my attention while looking stunning in her gown, her blonde hair in perfect waves over her bare shoulders. She fit in perfectly here. Hell, she looked like a model who had come to the event on her own rather than be her husband’s plus one. “But I might have seen what happened,” she said innocently enough. “And I didn’t want you to stew alone if you needed someone to talk to.”

I sighed, the frustration cooling in my chest. I liked Ivy—had since the moment she stepped up and helped Connor when he was struggling to adopt Hannah. That was before they were even together, which earned huge points for Ivy. Though, it wasn’t hard to step up when you loved a child—there was simply something different about that kind of love. A stronger, deeper connection that went beyond a bond and further than protective instinct. I couldn’t really explain the love I had for Elliott, but it was fierce and wrapped in my soul so intricately it defined who I was as a woman, mother, friend.

“Thanks,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m just…and Hudson is just…”

“I know,” she said when I couldn’t get the words out correctly. “Shark men are complex.” A slight smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “They’re as passionate off the ice as they are on it. And sometimes that can be…overwhelming.”

“Yes,” I said, nodding. “And terrifying.”

“Truth,” she said, clinking her champagne flute against mine.

“I don’t know why he wants…” I stopped myself and took a good long drink of the champagne.

Me.

More.

More of me.

I choked on the words. Because he’d said he wanted a relationship with me. Wanted me to be his and him to be mine and for this chemistry between us to mean something.

But why? We were two completely different people from completely different lives.

Sure, we had an amazing time together, and we laughed more than I’d ever laughed with anyone, and he seriously loved my kid, but—

“Feel free to stop me whenever,” Ivy cut into my thoughts, her hands raised in innocence. “But if you’re having doubts about the lifestyle…”

“Why would he want to give that up?” I asked, honestly. “He could have any girl he wanted or several at a time.” The thought made something dark twist in my stomach. “They have away games, and he has enough money to fly off on a whim to a remote island if he wanted. Why tie himself down?”

She arched a perfectly trimmed eyebrow at me, and heat flooded my cheeks. “I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “That was rude.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s honest. And, I can tell you—at least from my and my sister’s experiences—we’ve all had the same thoughts. We were both terrified before we started dating a Shark, but sometimes you can’t help who you...like.”

I grinned at her obvious lack of the word love in my case because truly, how could I know if what was between Hudson and me love? We’d tolerated each other in the beginning, then graduated to friends, and then…

More.

It was more.

We were more than some convenient physical release.

We were more than the chemistry that crackled between us.

We were more, and all he’d wanted was to define it.

And I’m a huge jerk.

“Also,” Ivy went on. “I can tell you this about Porter,” she said, and I bit back a smile at how she called him by his last name like the rest of the Sharks. “He doesn’t sleep around. Doesn’t drink—not even when they all go out.” She eyed me. “He’s intense but grounded, and if he’s pushing for something with you, it’s not on a whim.”

A fluttering warmth trickled into my blood.

Followed quickly by terror.

So this is real.

And if it was real, it meant it would hurt like hell if I lost it.

But was I ready to lose him now? Before I got deeper?

My heart screamed no, and my mind did too.

I scanned the area, my eyes hoping to lock onto the giant of a man.

“I think I saw him head toward the elevators,” Ivy said, motioning her head that way. “Probably up to his room to brood.” She chuckled, and I smiled at her.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Anytime!” she called after me as I clicked my way across the gala.

My heart raced with each ding as the elevator took me up and up and up.

But a freeing sensation unfurled within me so fast it made my head spin.

This is real.

This is more.

For the first time in my life when it came to a man, hope outshone the terror.

And it was that hope that had me rapping my knuckles against his door in a frenzied way, like a wild woman on the hunt for her mate.

“Lukas, I swear to God I’ll murder you if you ask me one more time about F—” Hudson’s words died as he opened the door and discovered that I wasn’t, in fact, a six-foot-six Scandinavian. “Shea?” his blue eyes churned—sadness and regret and desire.

“I want you,” I said, and though his eyes sparked, his shoulders dropped. So I clarified, pushing against his chest, backing him into the room far enough for the door to close behind us. The fact that he let me push him was enough.

“I want more with you,” I said, my fingers grazing down his chest as I looked up at him. I bit my lip. “I’m…well, it’s not a secret that I come with a past, Hudson. Come with a darkness in my life that birthed walls and worry and a constant state of fear that I’ve been able to live with and manage every day of my life since Elliott was born.” I sighed, my lip quivering as the reality, the depth of my words sank into my soul. “I know that is a bullshit excuse for my complete bitch moment down there,” I said, my eyes clenching shut. “I’ve never felt safer than when I’m with you.” I forced my eyes to open, to face the man who I’d unintentionally hurt minutes ago.

To be real and raw and exposed.

“You won’t hurt me. I know that. Deep down, I can feel it. The fear though…from that darkness, it’s real and strong, and I’ll likely never outrun it. What happened downstairs, that’s what down there was about. My own fear. Not just of making a mistake again, of being helpless and weak again, but of the pain that comes with losing…” I sucked in a sharp breath. “Losing you will hurt. More than any kind of physical pain. I know that. And I’m not perfect. I know myself, know that when the old fear coats my veins, my mouth loses its filter. My brain shuts down from logical mode and shoots straight to protect, flee, survive mode. And I can’t offer you a thing you don’t already have—”

“Stop,” he cut me off, his hands cupping my cheeks. “You are perfect.”

I shook my head. “There are pieces of me that may always be broken.” I leaned into his warm hands. “But I’m yours. Wholly. If you still want me.”

The words snapped something inside him, and before I could blink, I was lifted off my feet, my breasts pressed against his chest as he hefted me to his eye level. He crushed his lips against mine, a fierce, consuming kiss before he pulled back. His nose grazing the tip of mine.

“You’re perfect,” he growled. “Perfect for me.” He pressed his forehead against mine. “I’ve got darkness, too,” he said. “And I haven’t wanted to share it with anyone. Until I met you.”

I ran my fingers through his hair, kissing his lips gently, then the line of his jaw, working my way up to the scar that dissected his eyebrow.

“I’m yours,” I whispered against his mouth.

A rumble vibrated his chest, and he slowly, agonizingly, sat me on my heeled feet. His mouth on my neck as he reached behind me and fingered the zipper on my dress. He locked eyes with me, a question.

Always my choice.

I nodded, and he unzipped the dress, letting it fall in a puddle of silk around my ankles.

He hissed at the sight of the red lace I’d splurged on just for this occasion, and the desire that churned in his blue eyes was worth every single penny I’d spent on the set.

“You look like a fucking treat,” he growled.

Heat soared over my skin as he devoured me with nothing but his eyes.

“What should I taste first?” A wicked smirk on those lips as he trailed a fingertip over my ribs, down to my hip, over the hem of the lace, and back up again.

“Hudson.” I sighed his name, needing more contact, more of him.

He laughed hoarsely at my impatience, and gently gripped my hips, backing me up against the door.

“Shea,” he mimicked me, lightly kissing my neck, my bare shoulder, and over my collarbone. One hand grazed my skin, fire underneath his touch, while the other slipped over the lace, teasing between my thighs with touches that were too light, too quick.

I arched against his hand, trying like hell to get the pressure that my body begged for, ached for.

“Here?” he whispered, his voice guttural as he slipped a finger beneath the lace. He growled at the wetness he found there.

Sparks danced over my eyes, my entire being focusing on where his hand now played in a lazy sort of way. Like he had no intention of taking me hard and fast against the door. Like he had eons of time to draw his name from my lips.

“Or here?” he asked, sliding a finger into my warmth.

Lightning shot down my spine, and I moved on him.

He captured my mouth with his as he added another finger, stretching my walls that ached and pulsed to the rhythm he set. I arched against him as he made love to me with those fingers, sighing into his mouth as his tongue danced with mine.

Consuming.

That’s what he was. The taste of him, the scent of him, the way he played my body like an instrument he’d mastered? It was enough to drench me.

He teased my clit with his thumb, light flicks that had me groaning between his lips.

Faster he pumped, yanking his lips away to watch my eyes.

The moment so charged and coiled I was scared I might burst.

“Let me take care of you,” he said, his voice low, his breath warm and mingling with my own. “Let me show you what it’s like to be mine.”

I dug my fingers into his strong shoulders as he circled my clit with his thumb, pressing harder as I rocked against his hand.

And I lost my control.

Let him own me completely.

“Hudson!” I screamed, my head arching back as I clenched my eyes shut, the sparks and flames too bright to take as they shot across my skin, down my spine, and collected between my thighs. Over and over again I shuddered, never once fearing he’d let me fall.

I caught my breath as he slowly, gently withdrew his hand, and brought his index finger to his mouth. He wrapped his lips around it and sucked. “Such a delicious treat,” he said, and I was sure I would combust from the heat under my skin, from the want of him. “Think I’ll have seconds,” he said, and swept an arm behind my knee, cradling me to his chest as he whisked us to the bed.

Gently, he laid me down, before backing up to take off his clothes. I watched every move, my breath quick, my skin sensitive and swollen for him.

Gloriously naked, I took in the sight of him. The way his muscles were taut, the way the dark ink decorated his skin, making him look like some ancient tribal warrior who had long since lost fear of anyone or anything.

He nudged my knees apart with his hands, spreading me wide after he’d slipped the lace off. And then his mouth was on me and stars burned behind my eyes—white hot and shooting across the sky in my mind.

“God, Hudson!” I couldn’t contain or comprehend the words. Couldn’t think of anything beyond his tongue dipping in to taste me.

“Mmm,” he responded, the vibrations from the sound curling my toes as I arched into his mouth.

“Now,” I said, my breaths coming too fast, my heart trying like hell to leave my body. “I need you right now, Hudson.”

He drew back, looking up at me from between my thighs, and the sight of him there, on his knees in the bed, feasting on me…

“Demanding woman,” he growled, a smile on his lips. He made to move off the bed, likely to retrieve a foil packet.

“No,” I said, wrapping my legs around his hips. “I want you. All of you.”

He stilled like he needed the control of his muscles to stop himself from plunging inside me that second. “Shea.”

“I got on the pill,” I said. “After that first kiss.”

The wicked grin grew wider. “You knew it would come to this?” he teased.

“How could it not?” I made a point to slowly trail my eyes the length of his body, stopping to linger on the wonderful size of him.

“You’re sure?” he asked, already situating himself between my thighs, his elbows on either side of my head.

“I haven’t been with a man in nine years, Hudson. No one until you. I think I was waiting for you the entire time...I just didn’t know it. And I want to feel all of you,” I said by way of answer, and rolled my hips against him for good measure.

A tremor racked his body, so I did it again.

And again.

He stayed so incredibly still above me, those eyes on mine as I teased him, soaking him in the warmth he’d created.

And when I couldn’t stand a second more, I reached a hand between us and fisted that considerable length, guiding it right to the center of me.

“Hudson,” I begged when he held himself at the edge of me. “Please.”

The plea loosed the tether he’d had on himself, and he plunged inside me. Slow and deep and searing, until he was sheathed to the hilt. Then he drew back out and did it over again. Each time with a little more power, and I met him thrust for thrust.

“Fuck, Shea.” He slipped his hands beneath my ass, hefting me up to get a deeper angle.

I moaned as he slid in and in and in.

Writhed against him as I tightened and shook against him.

Screamed as his grip held firm, his pace increasing.

I was on fire.

A coiled spring of molten flame, the sparks teasing each one of my nerve endings. The feel of him, bare and hot and huge, the way he filled every space, every piece of my soul—God, it splintered my mind until I was nothing but the pleasure he wrenched out of me.

Faster.

Harder.

“God, yes, Hudson, damn.”

I was a wild, incoherent thing, shooting off into orbit.

“Shea,” he growled. He hardened inside me like granite, and I moaned.

“Yes!” I tightened around him. “Come with me,” I said, begged.

“Fuck, Shea.” The words, the way he slightly trembled, sent me over the edge.

I shattered around him, flew apart so much I was certain nothing but sparking embers remained. And as he found his release inside me, I held his gaze—that strong, penetrating gaze—and I gave myself to him in every way that mattered.