“Come on, Mom.” Morris rests a tattooed hand on my shoulder. “Let the kids have their fun.”

  I nod and follow him down the hall, watching my happy little girl until I’m too far away to see the living room.

  When I reach the bedroom door, I hesitate and clutch my hands in front of my chest. “I think I’m going to sleep on the couch,” I say and then turn back toward the living room. “I don’t like the idea of leaving Zoey alone with a stranger.”

  “She’s not alone with a stranger,” Morris says. “Well, okay, she kind of is. But we’re all right here. Nothing is going to happen to Zoey. I promise that.”

  “We don’t know, Morris. I mean, anything… Anything can happen at any time. You just never really know someone.”

  I clench my hands into fists. I know it isn’t likely, but every horrifying possibility runs through my mind.

  “Alice.” Morris lowers his face to mine. “I’ve known Tiny a long time. And if he’s been communicating with this girl for months, and he’s brought her into his life, I trust her. Let’s give trust a try until we have reason to doubt her.”

  I nod, not entirely convinced.

  He has a point, though. I left my old life to start a new one.

  And that means new people.

  New friends.

  New ways of doing everything.

  “Okay,” I say, louder this time.

  “Fantastic,” Morris says. “Now, are you going to let me tuck you into bed?”

  The door that’s closed is Leo’s bedroom. There are two other rooms in the hallway. One is Leo’s older brother’s room. The brother has been gone for over a year, and Leo’s cleaned the room up since his brother was last here, so Morris has volunteered to sleep there. That leaves the grandfather’s former room for me.

  I take a fast shower and get changed into sleep shorts and a tank top before heading into the room where I’ll be crashing tonight.

  “Turndown service,” Morris says, knocking lightly on the door.

  I left the door ajar, so I smile and motion him inside. “What’s involved in this turndown service?” I ask.

  Morris hasn’t changed or cleaned up yet. He’s still wearing the jeans that fit his body like a second skin, but his boots are gone, and he’s wearing only a plain white tank. He taps the bed.

  “Climb in,” he says.

  I do and tuck in under the covers. I pat the bed beside me, inviting him to join me.

  Morris climbs onto the bed, and I notice the mattress doesn’t squeal under his weight. I scold myself for even thinking about quiet mattresses.

  Morris sits beside me, and we lean against the simple wooden headboard.

  “What a day, huh?” I ask, trying to make light of it.

  Morris grabs one of my hands and laces his fingers through mine. “One for the books, that’s for sure.”

  “What happens next?” I ask. “I keep running from Jerry. He finds me, I run again. How does this ever stop?”

  Morris squeezes my hand. “Tomorrow, we get up. We take it one hour at a time. We figure it out. And you don’t run.”

  “Don’t run?” I repeat. “Morris…” I shake my head and twist toward him in bed. “I’ve been running my whole life, and it hasn’t made a bit of difference. I ran away from the grief when I lost my mom and ended up paying for that decision.”

  “You got Zoey out of the deal,” he observes.

  “Yes, but then look what I’ve given my daughter. A man to provide for us who’d rather see us scared and controlled than living the lives he provided for.” I rest my head on Morris’s shoulder, desperate for the comfort I know it will bring. I can’t help thinking it may be the last time. Tomorrow, Jerry will find me, and this whole effort will have been for nothing.

  Morris tilts his head closer to mine. I can smell the musk of his skin.

  I close my eyes and drink it in for a moment. The heady fragrance of sunshine and sweat, oil and man.

  He adjusts his legs on top of the blankets, and I sigh.

  “What am I doing here? I have no job. I owe Leo a shit-ton of money for fixing my car. He’s giving us a place to stay… I can never dig myself out of this hole. Maybe I should just go back to Jerry. Tell him he was right. I am a fucking cunt. A stupid, traitorous bitch who doesn’t deserve the life he provides.”

  “He told you all that, did he?” Morris seems to take it all in stride, but he tightens his grip on my hand. “Well, let me tell you something, Alice Sparrow.”

  He traces the fingers of my left hand, the one interlaced with his, with his free hand. The light touch sends sparks trailing through my body, up my arm, through my chest. I can feel his presence beside me, and it’s as if every ounce of my being is straining to get closer, to feel more of his touch.

  “You ever hear of broken wings, little bird?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “Is that a biker thing?”

  He nods. “When a rider has a broken wings patch, it means that rider’s been in a crash. Usually a pretty bad one.”

  I take a deep breath and focus on the richness of Morris’s voice. His words vibrate through my body like he’s speaking to my soul.

  “But you don’t just earn the patch by falling off the bike,” he continues. “You earn the patch by getting back on. Riding again. Overcoming your fear and flying—even if you have broken wings.”

  I nod slightly. “Morris…” I know he’s trying to make a point. “This isn’t the same. I love what you’re trying to do. It’s sweet. You’re so…sweet.”

  When I say that, Morris turns and grips me with a lightning-quick hand. He slides his fingers under my hair and twists so our faces are angled close.

  “Baby,” he says, his voice low and silky. “It’s exactly the same thing. You think we only fall once in life? We ride, we crash. We ride again, we crash again. Sometimes we’re lucky, and we don’t fall far enough or hard enough to do any permanent damage. But most of the time, a fall means bad news. Real bad. You’re fucked up so bad, you’re not sure you’re gonna make it. But if you wanna earn that patch and ride again, you get back up. You ride again, Alice Sparrow.”

  Before I can form another argument, Morris sweeps his lips over mine.

  “Morris,” I gasp his name against his mouth.

  In a flash, he’s out of bed, and he’s twisting the lock on the bedroom doorknob.

  “Yes?” he asks, his eyes searing their heat into my skin.

  My nipples pebble under my sleep tank at the question. I know what he is asking, and there’s only one answer.

  Yes.

  Yes.

  Yes.

  Even if it’s only for one night, even if it’s the worst mistake I’ve made yet, I say it. I get back up on the ride. “Yes,” I breathe.

  Morris strips off his jeans, and I’m not at all surprised he’s not wearing anything beneath them. I am ravenous as he strips off his tank, all muscles and arms and abs and hips.

  I watch him, soaking in every ounce of his beauty, every inch of his strength.

  He is massive and solid and…colorful. Tattoos cover his chest and arms, his back, even his hands and the sides of his neck. I could spend hours just tracing the shadows and shapes, memorizing them, asking for their stories.

  But he gives me an even bigger distraction as my eyes travel down past his waist. Morris is hard as a rock, his cock thick.

  I can’t pull my eyes from his length as he crosses the bedroom in long, quick steps.

  “Left on the light. Figured you liked what you saw,” he says, smirking at me. “I know I’m gonna like what I see.” He lifts his chin toward me. “Your turn. Get up.”

  “Up?”

  We’re both already in bed.

  “I want the show, darlin’. I’ve been watching that ass bend, walk, and bounce all day. Now, get over there and show me what you got.”

  I curl my lips together in an embarrassed pucker. “You’ve been watching me all day?”

  “Since the gas station,” he says. “Now, get up. Go!”

  He swats at me playfully, so I climb out of bed.

  God, it has been such a long time since sex was fun. Since it was something I wanted, not just something I had to get through.

  I almost don’t know what to do, but then I see the way he looks at me.

  Morris leans back on the bed, completely naked. He’s unapologetically watching, waiting for me.

  He wants me.

  Me.

  A man I’ve known for such a short time and yet whom I feel impossibly bound to.

  I quirk a brow at him and vow to get out of my head. But then it hits me. I’m married.

  “Morris,” I say, my confidence plummeting into my toes.

  “Darlin’?” he asks. “I’ve got stamina, but I don’t know if I can take much more chatting.”

  “I’m…married,” I say. “I—”

  “Fuck that fucker,” Morris says dismissively. “Do you love him? Is he good to you? Is he the man whose bed you climb into every night? Whose name you scream when you touch yourself all alone?”

  I shake my head in disgust. “None of that. It has never been like that. Not with him. Not with anyone,” I admit.

  “You plan on filing for divorce?” he presses.

  “First fucking chance I get.”

  “That’s all I need to know. Now strip, baby. Please.”

  Somehow, his reassurance and the hidden fantasy I’ve nurtured all day of Morris’s chin scraping along the contours of my body bring me more strength than I realized I had. I give him a saucy twirl, and he settles back against the headboard.

  “I love it, baby. You’re so fucking gorgeous, Alice.”

  I don’t exactly know where to start, but it’s not like I have much on to take off, so I start with what I think he wants.

  I turn around and face the door, so my back is toward Morris. I grab the hem of my tank top and slowly pull it up, lifting it over my waist and torso, and then slowly wriggle my shoulders until the tiny piece of material is over my head. I twirl it like I imagine a stripper would, and Morris starts cracking up.

  “Love the theatrics, baby,” he says. “Now, get to the main event.”

  Still facing the bedroom door, I bend slightly and stick out my ass toward Morris, smiling to myself.

  He growls in response, a hungry moan that rattles deep in his chest.

  “Fuck,” he hisses. “Your body, baby.”

  I assume that’s a good thing, so I continue, not looking back at him and not saying a word for fear I’ll break the mood and scare away what little guts I’ve summoned.

  I hook my fingers in the waistband of my sleep shorts and slowly work them down over my hips. I bend from the waist, so as I remove them, I’m slowly leaning forward and giving him a full, face-level view of my ass.

  “Oh my fucking…” Morris’s words and breathing are thick, slow. His lids are heavy. “Alice,” he says worshipfully. “Come to me, baby.”

  I turn and face him.

  He has scrambled out of bed and stands naked with me beside the bed. He turns me to face the bed and holds my naked back to his front.

  “You are exquisite,” he breathes against my hair. He reaches his hands around my middle and cups my breasts in his hands.

  I drop my head back against his chest, my legs already weak from the perfect pressure of his callused hands on my skin.

  He pinches my nipples lightly, tugging and twisting as I gasp in pleasure.

  “Like that?”

  “Love it,” I pant.

  As he works my nipples between his fingertips, I sway on weak knees. My core is lava, on fire with a liquid heat that rushes so quickly, the sensation stuns me. I’m nothing anymore, no words, no resistance. I’m not worried about the world outside or anything other than the delicious, torturous bliss flowing from his fingers through my nipples.

  “Perfect,” Morris sighs. “Your body is perfection, baby. Your ass, your pussy.”

  He moves his hands from my breasts, and in those seconds he’s gone, I miss him. I yearn for it. I want to reach out and claw at his hands, putting them back where they belong.

  Me.

  On me.

  But I don’t have to wait long before those hands are exploring my ass, kneading my cheeks and spreading me wide.

  “Morris,” I gasp, not certain what he’s going to do. But again, I should just trust him. He’s spread me open, and I feel the cool air from the room for just a second before the heat of his tongue flicks against my pussy.

  I fall forward against the mattress, my feet still supporting my weight on the floor. Morris has dropped to his knees. His hands keep my ass spread wide while his tongue licks deep into my pussy.

  “Fuck, you taste good,” he pants. “Alice. Can’t wait.”

  As much as I want to explore all of him, every inch, every taste, right now, the longing I feel, the raw hunger, almost make me crazy, rabid. I’ve never felt like this before.

  It’s as if a blindfold covers my eyes and all I see is a lust haze, and behind it, Morris’s hands, his tongue, his fingertips finding my clit and stroking it in firm circles until I’m close to exploding.

  “Morris,” I warn, my legs trembling.

  “Give it to me,” he demands. “Open.”

  He spreads my ass cheeks wider with his hands and leaves all the work of my pleasure to his tongue. I don’t know how he can reach my clit, but his tongue flicks and sucks me until I can’t hold back the scream in my throat. I climax in volcanic shakes, my knees shuddering until I collapse facedown against the bed.

  “You good, baby?” he asks, standing behind me.

  I’m lying facedown like a reverse snow angel, speechless and weak. “I’m great,” I whisper, too exhausted to speak.

  “Don’t have condoms here,” he mutters.

  “Doesn’t matter,” I say. “I’m good, IUD. Clean.”

  “Same,” he says. “Except the birth control part.”

  I giggle, and before I can catch my breath, he’s behind me. I feel his hands on my waist and he tries to scoot me forward on the bed, but I tense immediately.

  “Not facedown,” I say in a rush, cold starting to seep into my body. “I don’t wanna be facedown,” I say, and I struggle against his weight to flip over.

  But I don’t have to struggle.

  He releases my hips and grabs one of my hands.

  “Even better,” he says. “I wanna watch your face while I fuck you until you come again.”

  “I’m not going to—” But the words fade on my lips as Morris straddles my hips and eases his way inside.

  He doesn’t thrust hard or fast, but he enters me slowly, inch by agonizing inch. I can hardly control the pleasure. I squeeze my eyes shut and clench the blankets in my fists, because he’s right. I am going to come again.

  His deep thrusts hit just the right angle. He’s kneeling on the bed, and my knees are in his hands, my feet in the air, and I’m open, exposed.

  This is raw, wanton.

  It feels wild and untamed.

  I’ve never felt anything like this before. But with Morris inside me, I’m not shy. I’m not insecure. I’m a greedy bitch, planting my hands on the insides of my thighs and opening my legs as wide as I can for him.

  After a few slow thrusts, my body responds with a rhythm all its own. I work my hips and hold open my thighs, watching through my lashes as Morris closes his eyes, opens his mouth, and pants through his climax.

  We collapse beside each other on the bed, sweaty and breathless. As the erotic haze starts to lift, I listen for the sounds in the house around us.

  “I better clean up,” I say. I slip my pajamas back on and leave Morris faceup, eyes closed, dick still hard on the bed.

  I use the hallway bathroom, relieved to hear undisturbed chatter from Lia and Zoey coming from downstairs. I can hear Leo snoring through his closed bedroom door, so at least he wasn’t disturbed by our quiet coupling. I clean up and dry myself off, and then I grab a fresh hand towel to bring back to Morris.

  When I get back to the bedroom, he’s snoring lightly with an arm draped over his face. I smile at the sight and marvel at the fact that he’s dozed off, and yet his cock is still semi-hard

  I climb into bed beside him. I tug on the covers and roll onto my side.

  “Mmm,” he says. “Good, baby?”

  It’s a sleepy question, but it’s also the answer. “Good, baby,” I echo.

  Then Morris surprises me by lifting his head and planting a featherlight kiss on my lips.

  That soft touch, loving and tender, promises more. Promises more than just getting back up after a crash. Morris’s kiss promises me that I am getting back up after the fall. I’m earning the patch. And as I fall asleep in Morris’s arms, I have a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, I’ve earned my broken wings.

  18

  When I turn over in the middle of the night, my dick finds Alice’s ass cheeks and immediately wakes me up. I peer around the unfamiliar room, and it all comes back.

  We’re at Leo’s house. A guy I didn’t even know twenty-four hours ago. And now I’m under the covers with a woman who, likewise, was a stranger to me until yesterday morning.

  But she’s no longer a stranger.

  She’s sound asleep on her side, the curve of her ass nestled tightly against me. In the quiet, I can hear her breathing, soft and sweet against the hand she has tucked under her cheek. My eyes have adjusted to the dark, and I see a digital clock on the dresser.

  Two a.m.

  I wonder, if I wake her up, if she’s the kind of woman who’ll swat me away and try to crawl back into her dreams. I suspect Alice is the other kind.

  The best kind of woman.

  My dick won’t let me rest until I find out what kind of woman Alice is.

  I tuck in a little closer to her, and my erection nudges her cheeks through her pajamas. I stroke her hair, brushing it back from her face, and I’m gifted with a whiff of that spun-sugar fragrance. How Alice smells like candy even when she’s sound asleep, I don’t know, but I don’t question it. Because as I touch her, she stirs slightly under the covers.