Shea: Hey, I’m here.

The text came across my phone, and I put my book down before heading for the elevator. It dinged just as I reached the foyer.

“Glad to see you remembered the code for—what the fuck happened to you?” My voice rose with my temper as I took in the swollen, raw, busted-open side of her face.

“Shhh,” she begged. “I don’t want Elliott to hear you.”

I’d already crossed the foyer, cupping her uninjured cheek in my hand so I could inspect the abused one. “She won’t hear you,” I promised Shea, my thumb gently running along the edge of the mark. “Her room is on the other side of the house.”

“She has her own room?”

I shot her a who-the-fuck-cares-whose-room-it-is look. “Who. Hit. You?” Each word snapped out of me with whip-like annunciation. I was going to kill the asshole.

“It’s nothing,” she assured me, even though it obviously was.

“Have you seen it?” I hissed and turned her toward the mirror I constantly thought about removing. Whoever had lived here before me had been way too into themselves.

“Oh God,” she whispered, her fingers coming up to touch the swollen area. She flinched as the digits made contact. “Elliott can’t see me like this.”

“Well, it’s not going away in the next five minutes,” I growled. “But she passed out a half-hour ago. We practiced for hours while you were gone. Wore her out. Now,” I said. “What the fuck happened? Please don’t make me ask again. I’m going out of my mind here.”

Her eyes met mine in the mirror.

“Shea.” It was all I could do to keep my voice level.

“It was a case. The father swung, and all I could think was that he was going to hit the baby. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“You stepped in.” I didn’t even have to ask. Her look of guilt was confirmation enough—not that she had shit to feel guilty about.

She turned her head slightly in the light and hissed. “It didn’t look this bad before. Then again, the lighting isn’t exactly good in a cop car.”

I took her hand and gently led her to the kitchen.

“I’m glad the cops got involved.” I took her by the hips and lifted her to sit on the expanse of marble counters.

“Because now there’s a record of violence, right? It makes the case so much easier.”

“No, so I don’t have to kill him.” I turned away before I could see her reaction, reaching for the freezer door. I took out one of the gel packs I kept in there, and a soft, thin towel, so the cold wouldn’t burn her skin.

“You wouldn’t actually kill him...would you?” She tilted her head as I held the gel pack to her cheek.

“As long as you have the police involved, then it doesn't matter. I won’t have to.” She was already apprehensive of my propensity for aggression, the last thing I needed to tell her was that hell yes, I’d kill him. I’d smash his face in over and over until he understood what it was like to be hit by someone stronger and faster. Until he felt as helpless as the mother of his child had. “Hold this here,” I ordered, placing her hand on the pack.

She took the pack as I opened the cabinet just to her right and pulled out a clear, plastic box that I kept all of my first aid supplies in.

“You’re prepared. Really prepared. Is that a suture kit?” She peered into the box.

“Yeah, I got tired of hauling someone in every time I needed a few stitches. Saves me time to do it myself.”

“That’s...disturbing.”

I shrugged, opening the supplies I needed. “It’s efficient. That guy isn’t getting his kid back, right?”

“I can’t really talk about it. Confidentiality and all.” Her voice dropped off.

“Well, he shouldn’t.” I motioned to her hand, and she dropped the gel pack so I could get a better look at the cut. “If he threw a punch in front of you, he’s done a hell of a lot worse in private.”

She studied me, her gaze inquisitive, her mouth pursed. “Your dad?”

My eyes flickered to hers as I lifted an alcohol swab. “Yeah. Violence escalates. It’s not like he was beating my mom while they were dating. This is going to sting,” I warned her, wishing I could take the pain for her. Wishing I could have taken the punch.

She didn’t make a sound as I cleaned the cut, her eyes unfocusing as if she’d gone somewhere else. Shea obviously wasn’t a stranger to pain or hiding it.

Be patient, I reminded myself. She’d tell me about her past when she was ready. About how the hell a sixteen-year-old girl had ended up a single parent who was so worried for the safety of her daughter a decade later that she kept a tracker on her, and still stepped in front of punches meant for other women.

“Why is it a woman who abhors violence surrounds herself with it?” I asked her.

“Because if I don’t, who will? There will always be bullies. And there’s…” she sighed softly. “There’s something about this case that reminds me of me. Like it’s my chance to pay back the second chance I got, that Elliott and I had. If not for our social worker…” she trailed off, and her lips tensed, then pursed as she looked away.

Subject closed. Got it.

“Doesn’t need stitches,” I told her. “He split the skin, but it’s nothing a couple butterfly closures won’t heal up. It’s small, but I can’t guarantee it won’t leave a scar. I don’t think it will, but I haven’t exactly been to medical school. You know what?” I glanced at the clock. Late, but doable. “Let me call a plastic surgeon for a quick consult.”

She grasped my wrist when I slid my phone from my back pocket. “No, it’s fine. I can’t afford a plastic surgeon.”

“Well, I sure as fuck can.” It pissed me the hell off that she’d make her medical decisions based on cost when I had enough money to live off of the rest of my life.

“I don’t really care if you can. I can’t.” Her muscles tensed, infused with her stubbornness.

I cupped her pain-free cheek in my hand and stepped between her knees, parting them with my hips until we were nearly flush. “Why can’t you just let me take care of you?”

Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she sighed. “Because I don’t like depending on people. People leave.”

Her raw, honest answer ripped open my heart, the sensation a dull ache in my chest where I’d been happily numb for the last nine months.

“I don’t leave. I don’t break my word. I am as dependable for you as I am for Elliott. It’s okay to need people.”

She smirked. “And who exactly do you need?”

“My mother,” I answered honestly. “I don’t care if that makes me a mama’s boy. I need to know she’s safe. Cared for. I need my brother, even though he has the maturity of a fucking thirteen-year-old.”

“He’s thirteen?” she asked, a soft smile shaping her lips.

“No, he’s twenty-three. Just acts like he’s thirteen. Now, I’m serious. I can have a plastics guy here in twenty minutes, and I’ll pay for it. You won’t spend a dime.”

She shook her head.

“Damn it, Shea.” My breath left in a hiss of exasperation.

“Would it bother you if it scarred?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Oh.” Her face fell. “I didn’t think you...I mean, I get it. You have gorgeous, flawless women who aren’t scarred on their faces or bodies, and don’t have stretch marks from having a baby, so of course it would bother you to see a flaw—”

I used my mouth to shut her up, kissing her soundly. My tongue demanded entrance, and she gave it. Fuck, I could kiss her for the rest of my life and still not get enough. She was sweet, and so giving and honest in her desire. No feigned reactions. No faked orgasms. She was as real, as perfect, as a woman came.

She was dazed by the time I lifted my head.

“I don’t give a fuck if you’re scarred. You’re perfect. Every mark you have on you at this moment is your history. You should be proud of every single one of them, even if they’re not pleasant memories, because they brought you to this moment, where you’re strong enough to protect someone weaker. What I care about is seeing a reminder on your beautiful face every single day that you couldn’t lean on me, wouldn’t depend on me enough to get a damn doctor. That’s not something I want to see for the rest of my life—a visual reminder of my failures on your skin.”

Her lips parted, and she gave me that look again—the one that seemed like she was seeing me for the first time. “If it means that much to you, okay,” she acquiesced.

“Thank God.” I whipped my phone out, and twenty minutes later had one of the best plastic surgeons in the country examining her cheek.

“It shouldn’t scar,” Lennox assured us, having cleaned it again, glued it shut with something that made Shea flinch, slathered it in ointment, and secured it with butterfly strips just to be on the safe side.

“You’re sure?” I asked.

He rolled his eyes at me. “I’ve kept your face pretty since you became my upstairs neighbor, haven’t I?”

“Truth,” I admitted.

“Then trust me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a couple really gorgeous blondes I left sleeping to come to your rescue. Shea, it was lovely to meet you. You should consider ducking next time.” He gave her a grin.

Stupid, fucking, pretty boy. He wasn’t as built as I was, and he stood a couple inches shorter, but the guy dressed like he walked out of GQ and didn’t have a single flaw. Not. One.

“I’ll walk you out.”

“Me, too,” Shea added, and I lifted her from the counter, letting my fingers brush her lower back as we made our way to the door.

Okay, it was possessive. So what.

Once our thank yous were said, and Lennox and all his shiny Ken-doll hair was in the elevator, Shea looked up at me with wide eyes.

“He’s really a plastic surgeon.”

“Yep. Graduated med school at twenty-two or some shit. He’s twenty-nine now.”

Her eyes flickered back to the elevator. “He’s pretty.”

“He’s emotionally unavailable.”

“Look who’s talking,” she smirked up at me.

“Hey, I’m an open book. You’re the secretive one.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Point for you, Porter. Besides, he’s apparently into threesomes, and I don’t share, so I guess that means he’s off the table.” She shrugged, and the sparkle in her eyes had me grabbing her by the ass, lifting her to my eye-level.

She wound her arms around my neck.

“Those blondes he’s talking about are his sons. Twins. Six-years-old. And he’s off the table because your fucking table is already full.”

“Oh?” She ran her fingers through the curls that formed at the base of my skull. “Full of…” She raised her eyebrows in obvious challenge.

“Me.”

Her attention drifted to my lips, and I put her down slowly, letting her slide down, rubbing every curve she had. If I kissed her now, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop, and that wasn’t a chance I was willing to take.

Her feet hit the floor, and she tugged her lower lip between her teeth.

“Why don’t you stay here tonight? Some of the swelling should be gone by morning. I have more than three bedrooms,” I assured her.

“Because you wouldn’t want me sleeping in your bed?” she teased.

“Jesus, woman. Because I know how worried you get about what you expose Elliott to, and I’m trying to take care of you, not fuck you.” I stepped back and rubbed the scar on my eyebrow.

“So you don’t want to fuck me? Because last night your tongue was saying something else entirely.” She didn’t bat her lashes or act coy, simply looked up at me with those honest, gray eyes, daring me to deny it.

“Oh, I want to fuck you. Trust me. The amount of time I fantasize about sliding inside you borders on insanity. Plus, my bedroom is far enough away from Elliott’s that she wouldn’t even hear a whisper if you were screaming my name—which you would. I promise.” I leveled that guarantee at her the same way she had—daring her to challenge it.

She didn’t challenge or deny it. Just parted her lips, and stared at mine.

Fuck me, she was sex incarnate, sensual in her every reaction, and she didn’t have a damned clue.

“A bath would be really nice,” she whispered.

“I can do that. The best tub is in my master bath, though.”

“I trust you not to ravish me while I’m not looking,” she jested.

“Oh, you have jokes, nice. Do you want to check on Elliott first? Both bedrooms are upstairs, and hers is down here.”

“She’s tucked in and safe?”

“Yes. I even read her a bedtime story.”

“Goldilocks?”

“A summary of the Gretzky offense. It was riveting.”

“Sounds like it.” She tilted her head to the side. “We can head up. If you say she’s tucked in...I...I trust you.”

That ache in my heart increased to a dull throb. She trusted me. Not just with herself, but with Elliott. That was… fuck, it was monumental.

“Okay,” I said, trying to sound natural. “Let’s get you in the bath.”

I led her through the penthouse, shutting off lights as we made our way upstairs. Her eyes flew wide as she took in my bedroom. I tried to see it through her eyes, the wall of windows that left you feeling exposed even though it was one-way glass. The space was pretty massive for the cost of square footage downtown, and so was the furniture. It kind of had to be. I was a pretty big guy.

We walked into the master bath, and she gawked at the giant, jetted tub that took up a hefty amount of space.

I started the water, and dumped in bath salts—I had that shit in spades to remove muscle aches that came from being a professional hockey player.

She didn’t say a word as she turned, taking in the amenities.

“So, you own your own spa?”

I ignored her joke and the fact that she was about to be naked in my bathroom. “Okay,” I said, grabbing her two giant, soft towels and a bathrobe.

“I didn’t strike you as a bathrobe guy.” She tilted her head at me as the tub filled behind her.

“Realtor left it as a closing present. I’m not a bathrobe guy. Or a pajama guy,” I admitted. “But I’m absolutely a comfort-driven guy, so I’ll put something of mine on the guest bed so you can sleep...you know…”

“Not naked?” she offered.

“Right. That. Enjoy the bath.”

I ran the fuck out of there.

Thirty minutes later I’d laid out a set of sweats on the guest bed, made sure the temperature in her room was suitable and put a glass of water with some painkillers on her nightstand next to an extra cell phone charger I kept.

I walked back into my room as she was coming out of the bathroom.

Steam raised the humidity in the room, and I could smell her skin—all citrusy from the salts—from here.

The bathrobe dwarfed her, the bottom of it reaching her ankles. She looked nervous, biting her lip, but looking me straight in the eye. Her hair was piled on her head in a knot.

“I got you all set up,” I told her, breaking the silence.

She was naked under that robe. Naked, and wet, and I was an asshole for even thinking about that when she’d just been physically assaulted.

“I don’t see pajamas.” She looked at my bed, which brought my dick to full mast. Stop being an idiot, I lectured it in my mind.

“Right, I put them on the guest bed.”

“Do you have your phone on you?” she asked, her voice strengthening with every word.

“Uh...yeah.” I pulled it from my pocket, more than confused.

“Good, set the alarm for six thirty, please.” She walked toward me.

“Okay?” I questioned but did it. The woman had some odd requirements, but I’d get her up in the morning if she wanted. “Why?”

“Because Elliott gets up a little after seven, and I want to make sure I have time.” She kept coming, only a few feet away from me now.

“Time for what?”

“To get in the other bed.”

She tugged the belt on the robe, and rolled her shoulders, dropping the heavy fabric in a pool at her feet.

Leaving her completely, utterly, gloriously naked.

I deserved a motherfucking award for keeping my eyes on hers. For not looking at what I knew was the epitome of the female figure as she walked toward me without getting any closer.

Because I was backing away step-for-step.

“Shea?” I questioned, my tongue thick, my breath already more than a touch ragged.

“Are you running away from me?” she questioned, her eyebrows raised.

“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully. “I have no idea what’s going on, so I’m really not sure what I’m doing.” My thighs hit the mattress. Great, I’d backed myself straight to my bed. And she was naked. And I wanted her so badly I couldn’t fucking breathe.

And...I was out of thoughts.

“You said something about me screaming your name,” she said, her eyes clear and bright.

She wanted sex. With me.

“That’s the pain meds talking,” I said firmly.

“Tylenol does not make you horny.”

I almost swallowed my tongue. Almost looked down. Almost grabbed her and said fuck-it to being the gentleman I never was.

“Do you know what you’re asking?” Because my dick was pretty sure, and I’d need some major space and a cold shower if I was wrong.

She closed the distance between us and put her hand on my chest. “Do I know that I’m standing here, naked, really exposed, and getting a little embarrassed, asking you to fuck me? Yes, I do know that.”

The urge to unzip my jeans, whip out my cock and plunge inside her dominated the next few seconds of my entire thought process.

“I don’t want to take advantage of you,” I growled, my dick hating me for saying the words. “With what happened tonight…”

“Please take advantage of me,” she pled. “It’s not about tonight. Or maybe it is, a little. It’s also about last night, and the nights and days before that. It’s about giving into something I’ve wanted for so long that it feels like I was born wanting you.”

“Are you sure?” My muscles hurt with the effort to hold myself back. “Because I’ve always said I’ll stop if you ever ask, and I will. I swear I will, but Shea, you’ve got me wound so tight with needing you that I’m deathly afraid of hearing you say yes right now, when what you really need is just to be held. And I can do that. Just hold you. Just make you feel safe. But you’re going to have to put some. Fucking. Clothes. On.”

“Hudson,” she whispered, her fingers trailing up my forearms to my biceps. “I’m of sound mind and decent body. Would you please, if you so desire, maybe use that mouth of yours for something other than talking, and fuck. Me.”

“Yeah,” I answered, my voice thick with need. “I can do that.”

I gripped her bare ass and lifted her against me, groaning at the feel of her soft skin in my hands. Then I kissed the breath out of her, tangling our tongues, bumping our teeth, making sure she felt exactly how badly I wanted her.

A twist of my body and I had her in my bed, laid out like a fucking feast.

And I was starving.

I ripped my shirt over my head as she came up on her elbows to watch. Those gorgeous gray eyes were wide with lust, her pupils dilated, her breath hitching.

A few simple movements and my jeans and boxer-briefs were on the floor. I stood naked before her, hard and ready to take her.

I wondered momentarily if she understood I wouldn’t be letting her go.

Her gaze felt like a caress as she ran it over my body, her lips parting when she reached my cock. Her eyes widened slightly, a flash of apprehension stealing a little of the desire there.

I palmed my length and stroked once. Twice.

“Yeah, you’re small. Fucking tiny as a matter of fact,” I told her, approaching the bed. “And I’m not small.”

She fell back against the gray covers as I slid over her, pushing my knee between hers so her thighs parted just slightly.

“I’m going to stretch you, Shea. Take you so deep that you’ll feel me with every step you take tomorrow. You’re going to squeeze my cock so tight that I’m not sure I’ll survive it.” I bent to her, running my tongue along the shell of her ear. “And you’re going to fucking love it. I won’t hurt you. Not ever. And you’ll take me to the hilt.”

She swallowed. “You’re so sure.”

“Yeah, I am.” My hand slid from where I braced my weight at her side, over her hip, my fingers grazing her thigh before I slid them through her soft, slick folds. She arched her back and moaned as I let my fingers run the length of her from pussy to clit. “Because you’re already drenched for me. Already slippery and ready. And I haven’t even started on you yet.”

Her fingers tangled in my hair, gripping almost painfully, pulling me to her mouth.

I gave it to her, kissing her with abandon, letting my leash out a little, giving in to the need raging in my body to claim hers. I did it with my tongue, first in her mouth, then at her throat, her breasts.

“Fuck, these are perfect,” I told her, swirling my tongue around her nipples, then sucking on one, then the other, until she keened, squirming beneath me. “You’re so curved. So soft. You were made for this, Shea—for loving.”

I kissed my way down her torso, lingering at her belly button, then the soft hollow where her belly planed out to her hips. “I could live here,” I swore as I breathed her in, catching the scent of citrus and her.

Her legs parted wider as I descended lower, and I slid into the cradle of her thighs with my torso, letting my hands run up from behind her knees to hook behind her thighs.

“I could exist on only you.” My tongue parted her and sank into heaven. Just as sweet as before. Just as intoxicating.

“Hudson!” she cried out as I flicked her clit with my tongue, then pulled it between my lips and sucked.

A wave of her desire greeted my fingers as I ran them around the small opening of her pussy. Nine years, I reminded myself. I had to make this good. Had to make sure she was ready.

I sank one finger inside her, and her muscles gripped me.

“God, Shea. You’re so damn tight.”

She rocked in answer, riding my finger with a moan. “That feels so good,” she told me.

“Good, baby. You tell me if something doesn’t feel good, okay?”

She nodded, the movement jerky, and I licked her again, savoring her gasp as my finger moved in and out.

I tongued her, sucked at her, nibbled her until her muscles tensed and her breaths grew ragged. “Hudson...I...I…”

“That’s it. Come for me.”

And damn if she didn’t. Her skin flushed, and she screamed my name as I fucked her with a second finger, stretching her tight passage.

“God, yes!” she keened, her hips bucking.

“Hold on, Shea, it’s going to get intense,” I promised.

“Like. It’s. Not. Already?” she asked between pants, her fingers tight in my hair, her pussy drenching my third finger as it joined the other two.

“Fuuuuuck, Shea. I can’t wait to be inside you,” I groaned, pressing my anxious dick into the bed.

“Then don’t wait,” she snapped, her body already coiling, muscles tensing as I rubbed at her g-spot, stroking her with every movement of my fingers.

“Almost, baby. Almost,” I promised to her—to myself, fuck if I knew. I was lost in her, in being what she needed.

She came apart with another cry, warmth flooding my hand as she orgasmed again.

I slipped my fingers free, then grabbed a condom from my nightstand, losing precious seconds to rip open the box I’d purchased that morning on a whim.

She leaned up on her elbows, licking her kiss-swollen lips as she watched me roll the condom down my length.

“You’re gorgeous. You know that, right?” she asked.

I slid back over her, my cock resting at the juncture of her thighs like it belonged there.

“Not compared to you,” I assured her. “You’re perfect.”

She smiled, raising her knees to cradle my hips. Then she kissed me, and I lost my damn mind. Her tongue darted between my teeth, taking possession of what was undeniably hers.

I’d never be able to kiss another woman without tasting Shea.

Never fuck one without feeling Shea’s curves beneath me.

She was branding me, making me hers even if she wasn’t entirely mine.

I used my thumb to work her clit, bringing her to another fever pitch, and just before she was ready to tumble over, I looked her in the eye. “Tell me you want this, because I’m on the verge here, Shea.”

“I want this,” she assured me, wiggling down so my cock met her entrance. “Take me, Hudson.”

My forehead rested against hers as I worked in the first inch, tasting her gasp with my lips, feeling beads of sweat slide down my back from the exertion of going slow.

“More,” she urged. “God, more.”

“Fuck. Hold on. Don’t wiggle like that, Shea. I’m trying to make this good for you.”

She gripped the sides of my face and looked in my eyes. “It’s already good. God, it’s amazing. You’re amazing. I won’t break, Hudson.”

I gripped her hip with one hand and wove my fingers through her hair with the other. Then I kissed her, thrusting my tongue into her mouth as my cock plunged into her heat, sliding through her taut muscles and velvet flesh until I was balls-deep and in serious danger of coming without another movement.

“Holy. Shit. Shea.” I bit out each word, grasping the thin string of my control as I looked down at her, searching for any discomfort.

“Hudson!” she groaned, swirling her hips in a way that made me bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep from coming. “God, yes. You feel so good inside me.”

Whatever control I had left snapped.

I pulled out slightly, then thrust back in, living for her moans, her cries as I did it again and again, rocking within her, using my cock to stroke every ounce of pleasure from her body. I gave up trying to kiss her, and let my face rest at her neck as I picked up the pace, swinging my hips to the rhythm of her pounding heart. Or maybe it was mine. Or maybe they were one and the same.

“Harder,” she urged, her back arching. I slipped an arm through the space.

“Hold on,” I ordered her, and she looped her arms around my neck, and her ankles around my hips, taking me even deeper. “Fuck,” I groaned.

Then I let loose, thrusting, working us both to the edge, watching her neck arch, her eyes glaze, her lips part again and again as she began to whimper, her muscles locking.

“Yes, Shea. That’s it. Give in.”

“God, Hudson. You have. To. Come with. Me.” She was living, breathing, writhing sensuality, lost to the feeling, the sensation underneath me.

“I’m with you, baby,” I promised, biting the edge back from my impending orgasm. It barreled down my spine, demanding release.

She clenched around me, her pussy locking down on my cock with a velvet grip that ripped my orgasm from my body as hers consumed us both, locked us both in a world where nothing existed besides the pleasure we’d found in this bed.

I growled out her name as I came, like I could claim her, mark her, brand her as she’d done to me.

She answered with her own cry.

I swear, I blacked the fuck out.

When I came to, I quickly rolled to my side so she could breathe, taking her with me, unwilling to withdraw, to lose the connection.

“I think I’m dead,” she groaned.

“I think I’m finally alive,” I said in a burst of honesty.

She peered over at me, her eyes soft, something I was scared to call affection caressing me with her gaze.

We lay there for countless minutes, staring, letting our hands stroke each other, learning the little lines and curves.

When I slipped free of her body, I excused myself to dispose of the condom, then got right back in that bed, tucking her under the covers with me.

I kissed a line across her collarbone, stopping at a scar that ran the length of my pinky finger.

“Glass coffee table,” she answered.

My eyes flew to hers, but she just gave me a warm, sleepy smile, and touched my eyebrow. Quid pro quo.

“Beer bottle. Courtesy of my father. I was eleven.”

My finger grazed her scar again, hoping she’d give me the same honesty. “Elliott’s father. I was sixteen.”

“Thank you for telling me.”

She nodded slowly.

Then I thanked her again, this time using my body until she cried out twice more.