“Can we keep going?” she asks, her voice subdued. “I can’t wait to see it.” She turns her back to me so I can continue her tattoo.

She never got an answer to her question, but I let it stay that way, hanging between us. Fuck. I hate this black cloud that’s hanging over us, waiting to explode into a tornado of lies, deceit, and grief.

We are a ticking time bomb. Not even Gram and her cookies can fix this shit.

Tabitha

Two weeks. Fourteen days. No matter how I think of it, I can’t grasp that in such a short amount of time, my life has changed in ways I never could have imagined. I am so immersed in Vandal that I can barely remember him not being part of me. He is a drug that I cannot get enough of. A little is never enough; I always need and want more.

When he’s not touching me, all I can think about is when he will touch me again. Making him smile has become a daily goal for me. While once all I wanted was to sleep, now I don’t want to sleep unless I am in his arms.

Like now. I have just woken up, my back against his chest, his arm tight around me, our hands linked and curled at my breast, our naked bodies spooned tightly against each other perfectly. I move slightly and he moves with me, his cock already hard and pressing against my ass. He slips his hand out of mine and slides it across my stomach and up over my hip, then down to my thigh, lifting my leg up and back over his. He raises his head off the pillow and sinks into my neck, his lips warm and moist, as he slides his cock into me slowly from behind. My body instinctively arches back to curve to his, opening up to him. He lifts my leg further, and I roll forward just a little, angling my ass up to meet his thrusts. We are one perfect fluid movement, completely in sync with each other’s bodies. I have never felt such an intense physical and emotional closeness to someone as this.

“I love fucking you when you’re barely awake,” he groans in my ear. “You’re so soft and warm.”

“Mmmm …” I murmur, turning my head to meet his lips.

“You want me to fuck you awake every morning, don’t you?” His hand delves between my thighs, his fingers stroking my clit perfectly.

“Yes,” I pant, rocking my body back against him.

“Beg me and I might.”

“Please …”

His teeth graze the flesh behind my hair as he pumps deeper into me, forcing a moan out of me. “Please what?” he demands. “Don’t make me pull words out of you, Tabi. Beg for what you want, or you won’t get it.”

His deep, commanding voice turns me on like a vibrator on warp speed. I squeeze my thighs together around his hand and reach back to wind my fingers around his neck, grabbing a handful of his hair in the process. “Please fuck me every morning forever,” I breathe, as my body starts to tremor.

In one swift movement he pushes me down on my stomach and lifts my hips up, driving his cock back into me. “Forever’s a long fucking time, baby. You’re gonna have to beg better than that.”

“Please … fill my pussy with your cock every morning.”

“For …?” He pounds into me so hard I swear he’s slamming into my cervix. My muscles contract wildly around his girth as the ripples of orgasm course through my body. My hands clench his Egyptian cotton sheets.

“Forever.” I gasp as my body shudders around him, and his hot come spurts deep inside me. His hands slide up my hips and gently caress my back.

“Your wings look so beautiful,” he says softly, still breathing heavy. “I love watching your back when I fuck you; you have no idea how gorgeous you look.” He pulls out and gives my ass a playful smack. “Go make breakfast. I’ll be there in a few.”

We’ve fallen into a sort-of comfortable daily pattern. At the end of my first week with him, he gave me an e-reader after he learned that I love to read. Along with my usual romance novels, I purchased a bunch of books on submission and light BDSM lifestyles. As I learn more and explore with him, a part of me has woken up to something I can feel I was meant to be. Submitting to him feels natural to me. I enjoy serving him, doing everything he asks, and giving him everything he needs. And it’s not because I am a weak woman who gives in to a man, because I have never been that person. This is entirely different. I have a deep need and desire to give myself to him and trust him with my body, mind, and soul. Even at his dirtiest, I still feel adored—even cherished—by him. While I don’t understand exactly what drives him to behave in certain ways, I don’t mind being the outlet that he needs. I had no idea what I was getting into when I accepted his ride here, but I am forever changed.

Buried deep beneath his hard exterior, there’s a man who wants to be loved but has been hurt badly. I think he has been very misunderstood and never had anyone just accept him for who he is. I think he wants this sort of relationship because he feels like he is controlling everything, and protecting himself. I know he is grieving his daughter, even though he refuses to talk about her. If my being here and giving him what he wants and needs helps him, then I’m totally fine with that. He has lived up to his promise of helping me move on from the depressed rut I was in.

While he checks his email, I make us pancakes and eggs and then wait at the table for him. When he comes in and takes his seat, I lean over and kiss him.

“Thank you for the ramming,” I say, but for the first time, he doesn’t laugh at our little joke. His face is hard and unsmiling. We eat in silence, and when he’s finished he pushes his chair back and stands.

“I’m going out for a while. I left words in the book for you.”

Left words? “Okay. Is something wrong?”

He shakes his head, but his eyes are dark and troubled. “No. I’ll see you later.”

Confused, I watch him pull his boots on, grab his keys, and walk out the door, slamming it hard. A few minutes later his motorcycle roars to life and pulls out of the driveway, the sound of the engine fading as he travels farther away. Away from me.

After I clean up the kitchen and feed Sterling, I go to the guest room and open up the journal. There’s also a box on the bed, but I’m not going to open it yet.

Tabitha,

You’ll know what to do with what’s in the box. I’ll be home at five. I’ll eat while I’m out, so don’t make dinner. Please be showered, dressed, and waiting in the dining room. Put on extra black eyeliner and dark lipstick for me.

V

Hmm. His note sounds off to me, and not quite like his usual sexy or mysterious self.

I open the box and reveal a very short, slinky black dress with a plunging neckline, open back, and black pumps that have about a four-inch heel. If I don’t break my ass in these shoes, it will be a miracle. I leave the items in the guest room and go about keeping myself busy for the day.

I call my best friend, Lara, whom I haven’t spoken to in about a week. I know if I don’t call her, she’ll start to worry about me, and psycho-text my phone.

“It’s about time. Where have you been?” she asks when she hears my voice.

“I’m still here in the mountains. I’m fine.”

“You’re still staying with Mystery Meat? Girl, what the hell is going on there? Please tell me you’re not in the basement putting the lotion on.”

I laugh, missing her and our crazy talks. “I’m totally fine. Actually, I feel better than I have in a long time.”

“You definitely sound better. I can’t remember the last time I heard you laugh. It’s good to hear that again.”

“Thank you. I miss you.”

“We should get together. I could come there if you want? I’d like to meet the guy who has practically kidnapped my best friend.”

I sigh uneasily. I don’t know how Vandal would feel about Lara visiting. His own brother keeps wanting to visit, and Vandal keeps putting him off, so having someone he doesn’t know come by is probably not a good idea.

“He’s kind of a recluse, Lara. I’m not sure that’s a good idea. But I’ll come see you soon. We’ll have lunch.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? This guy seems a little bit creepy to me.”

“I promise you, I am fine. He’s a really nice guy, just kind of a loner. He’s going through a lot of shit, like I am.” There’s a long silence on the other end. “He’s good to me. He’s completely different than Nick, and that’s what I need.”

“So are you dating him, or is he like a friend with benefits?”

I can’t explain any of the details to Lara because she won’t understand and will likely go off the wall. I would need hours to sit her down and really explain it to her, and I just don’t have the patience right now.

“I guess like friends with benefits. Maybe more, but it’s too soon. I’m just trying to find me. A me without Nick. It’s not easy, Lara. I miss Nick like mad but I need to try to move on, like everyone has been telling me to. I just know I feel better, and I’m actually getting happier. That’s all I want to think about.”

“Okay, I understand, hon. I just worry about you. You’re really fragile, and I don’t want you to get hurt. Is he hot at least? Can’t you text me a photo or something?” she jokes.

“Lara, he’s hot as hell. You would die. He’s over six feet tall, and built like a brick house. The guy is muscle on top of muscle. Total six-pack abs. And his hair is gorgeous; it’s long and jet-black, like an Indian’s. He’s got tons of tattoos. Actually, I don’t think I told you last time we talked—he’s a tattoo artist.”

“Get out, are you serious? I love me a tatted up man.”

“Wait ’til you see the tattoo he did on me! He put angel wings on my back.”

“What? You? I can’t believe it.”

“It hurt like crazy, but now that it’s healing up it’s beautiful. The detail is incredible. I’ll ask him to take a picture so I can text it to you. Oh, and he plays guitar. Or maybe it was a bass? I can’t remember, but he’s wicked talented. He’s just yum, on so many levels. And he’s romantic.”