I walk into the bathroom and take a deep breath before pulling his T-shirt off my body and shoving his shorts off. I step toward the shower, but then stop, remembering what happened on the balcony.

  I stare at his shoulders and take in the strength in them. Then I allow my eyes to travel down his strong back and watch his muscles work as he rubs his hands through his hair. His waist tapers in a—dear God, his muscular ass is beautiful.

  I want him.

  I take a deep breath and knock on the tile. He looks over his shoulder.

  I open my mouth, planning to say something incredibly sexy, but nothing comes out.

  His eyes narrow, his jaw flexes, and he runs his hand down his face, ridding it of the excess water. His eyes run from my toes slowly up my body, leaving goosebumps in their wake. When his eyes meet mine, he takes in a deep breath and licks his lips.

  “You need my cock?”

  “I need you,” I say with a tremble in my voice as I watch him grip his cock and stroke slowly up and down.

  “You need my cock.” He groans.

  I nod, watching him.

  “Get in here.”

  I do.

  “Foot on the stone bench.” His voice is thick with desire and demanding.

  I obey.

  “Show me how you touch yourself.”

  I look at him, not moving.

  “Now.”

  I slide my hand between my legs and rub my fingers between my sensitive lips.

  “That’s it, angel,” he hisses, and I continue. “I want your finger in your pussy. Spread your legs wider.”

  I do.

  “How does it feel, angel?” His hand pumps his cock.

  “I want you,” I whisper.

  “Say it louder.”

  “I want you,” I repeat more loudly.

  He releases his cock, grips my hips, lifts me up, lines his wide head up against my pussy, pushing me against the tiled wall, and without warning, he slams into me fully.

  “You can’t come in here like that,” he hisses. “I can’t control myself.” He pulls out and slams back in. He groans against my neck as he swivels his hips, stretching me.

  “Then don’t,” I pant.

  He slams in and then out. “I can’t go easy.” He pulls out then slams in again. “I won’t go easy.” He does it again. “Get there.” Out and in. “Now, dammit.”

  “Oh, God,” I cry as his pace increases and his thrusts become more powerful. My body explodes in a surge of pleasurable waves as he pulls out and comes on my inner thigh.

  When I walk out of his bedroom, he is putting broccoli on a plate.

  He glances up. “Didn’t you see the bag?” he asks, referring to the bag of my clothes he brought over.

  “Yes,” I say, walking toward him wearing a different pair of his boxers and another of his T-shirts.

  “Nothing you like?”

  “I wanted to wear yours.”

  He stops cutting up the steak, looks over at me, and nods.

  A few minutes later, we sit across from each other, our eyes connected as we eat. He devours his steak while I pick at mine. I’m not hungry for food. I’m hungry for him.

  “Not good?” he asks before taking another bite of his steak.

  “It is.”

  “Not hungry?” he asks after wiping his mouth.

  “Starving,” I answer, looking away. “I’ve been starving for years.”

  “Then eat, angel.”

  I look up at him. “Not for food.”

  His jaw clenches, his eyes narrow, and his nostrils flare. “Two more bites . . . please, Lo.”

  He eats fast, and I do as he asks. He then gets up quickly, walks behind me, and pulls out my chair. I stand up, and he turns me toward him and lifts me.

  “I’m gonna feed you my cock all night long.”

  He walks quickly toward the couch, but as soon as my ass hits the leather, someone knocks on the door.

  He grabs the blanket and hands it to me. “Cover up.”

  I watch him open the door without looking through the peephole. “Perfect timing.” He holds the door open wide, and two men walk in carrying a mattress. “Right in there.”

  Twenty minutes later, the two men leave with the mattress his ex destroyed.

  I get up, lock the door behind them, and turn to see Jason leaning against the doorjamb.

  “Get in here.”

  I do.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sleeping with her next to me is something unlike what I shared with Missy. The way she fits beside me, the way she relaxes and rests, calms the beast inside me. Today, I have to work and so does she.

  My alarm goes off, and I get up quietly, sliding out from under her as I silence the damn thing. Socks and Boots look up at me lazily from their cozy corner at the end of the bed, and I look back at them, thinking, When the hell did I become a cat man?

  I have lots of love for pussy. I love a variety of pussy: dark pussy, light pussy, even multicolored, tattooed pussy. I have had smooth pussy and fuzzy pussy, but never did I think I would get up in the morning and worry about feeding pussy rather than feasting on pussy.

  Making my way to the kitchen, I open a pouch of the fish-smelling, tuna-flavored cat food and split it between the two bowls. The cats wind around my legs, their fur soft against me as they purr and prowl, waiting for me to step back so they can dive into what they find delicious.

  Moving to the bathroom, I empty their litter boxes first before beginning my routine. I brush my teeth and rinse with my mouthwash. The tingling on my tongue and all the thoughts of pussy have me in need. I can spare twenty minutes to wake Lorraine up properly, I think with a sly smile as I make my way back into the bedroom.

  Before me lies an angel. Her blond hair is spread out over the black of my sheets. Her face is soft and features delicate as she continues the steady rise and fall of her chest. Climbing in beside her, I slide back the sheet. She stirs yet doesn’t wake. I part her legs, and she whimpers.

  “Sleep,” she whines as I let my hot breath hit her inner thighs.

  Naturally, her legs fall open, and I slide her panties over and blow on her lips. The curls of her pubes move, and I see the glistening on her lips. I swipe my tongue between them, parting her. Up and down, I lick and lap her up before I put my nose under her hood, making circles as I thrust my tongue in and out, curling it at her clit with a flick.

  I gaze up to see her wide eyes looking down at me as she props herself up on her elbows. Using my bottom teeth, I graze the sensitive skin under her pussy. I suck her clit, and her legs instantly wrap around my head, holding me in place as I devour her through her orgasm. She throws her head back in ecstasy as her stomach trembles in bliss.

  I lick her through the aftershocks and give one last minty blow against her sensitive mound. Then I pull away and stand.

  “What a way to wake up,” she whispers.

  I laugh. “It’s better than Folgers in your cup.”

  I don’t say another word. I leave her to her post-orgasmic moments while I head to the bathroom to finish preparing for my day.

  I’m not in there long before she comes in behind me.

  “Um,” she starts shyly.

  I lean down and press my lips to hers. Then, as I turn to move to the shower, she grabs my arm.

  “What about you?” she asks, pointing to the tent in my boxers.

  “We don’t have enough time for me to do all the things I want to do with you before we both have to be at work.”

  “But, you um . . . you gave me—”

  “I wanted pussy for breakfast.” Her eyes grow wide at my bluntness. “I wanted your pussy for breakfast. I had it. Now tonight, you can have cock for dessert. Baby, I gotta get ready for work, and if you stand here much longer, looking as fucking delicious as you do, neither of us are going to make it in today.”

  “Oh,” she says, biting her bottom lip.

  “Yeah, you get me that worked up. You do that, Lorraine, not anyone or anything else. You have that power over me. Now let me take a shower before I take you in the shower, and like I said, if I let myself get started, neither of us are going to make it to work on time or at all.”

  She smiles almost proudly before she rolls up on her toes and places her lips against mine. “That was definitely the best way to wake up.”

  “It started my morning off right,” I say with a wink before stepping out of my boxers and into the shower, blasting it on cold.

  Once I have my cobra under control and my body and hair washed, I step out. Wrapping a towel around my waist, I move to the bedroom where she is waiting to take her own shower. Instantly, my cock starts to harden, and I try to think of my grandmother to keep my erection down.

  I dress for the day and give a quick knock on the bathroom door when I hear the shower turn off.

  “I’m off to work, Lo. See you tonight after the gym, baby.”

  “Okay,” she says with hesitation in her voice.

  “You need me to stay till you’re ready?” I ask, thinking about her fears of the world. When her answer isn’t immediate, I go over all the security in the place. “I’ll set the alarm. I’ll have the doorman on the lookout for you. If you aren’t comfortable with that, I can wait.” Thinking, I realize the one thing I forgot to show her. I’m a hands-on man who is used to fighting, but I also keep a weapon in my home. “There is a handgun in the nightstand,” I inform her. “It’s loaded. Just flip off the safety, and it’s ready to go, baby.”

  She creeps out of the bathroom in just a towel with her hair dripping wet and water beading on her body. I swear today is a battle of wills, and I’m going to fucking lose.

  “Show me,” she whispers.

  I move to the nightstand and pull out the Glock, placing it in her small hand with my large hand covering hers. Taking her other hand, I guide her to hold the gun properly and stand with her legs shoulder-width apart for optimum direction in her shot. I show her how to slide off the safety, how to aim, and then I explain how to pull the trigger.

  “Don’t waste time. If you are in a position you need to use this for any reason, disable your guy and get the fuck out. Don’t hesitate.”

  Tears fill her eyes as she nods. I let go, and she holds the weapon firmly in her hands.

  “Why do you have a gun living here?” she asks and I can see the fear start to creep up.

  “Do not be afraid here, angel. I have it because I fight,” I answer her honestly. “The night in the hospital, it’s an underground thing. No one can know where, who, and the how, so don’t ask me.” Her eyes grow wide. I wish I had more time to explain. “Look, I have aggression and it’s a safe way to get it out.”

  Still holding the gun firmly, she looks to me. “I wouldn’t call it safe with the way you came in,” she whispers, and I revel in her concern for me.

  “Sometimes it’s not. I need it, Lo. I don’t have time to explain it. There is a time for Jason to be Jason and sometimes I have to release the cobra to get the snakes out of my system. It will not ever touch you. I give you my word, the life I lead as a fighter will not ever touch you.”

  She studies me and the gun before looking at me firmly. “You can go now. I’ll get ready and be on my way.”

  I watch as she slides the safety back on and secures the gun into its place. With a quick kiss to her forehead, I step away before I can’t stop myself and end up taking her on the bed, leaving us both needing another shower.

  Work is a pain in my ass, but it’s a means to an end. I get paid, and I get paid fucking well to be a paper-pushing motherfucker. The more I try to work, though, the more my mind goes over the people Lorraine follows as Heidi.

  I tried to do an Internet search for disorders of people assuming someone else’s persona. However, I couldn’t figure out the psychobabble and realized I should have paid better attention in Psych 101. I don’t know what to do for her. I feel helpless, and if I’m feeling that way, I can only imagine how she feels.

  She was there and witnessed my father’s way of dealing with me firsthand. She knows my past without me telling her—well, most of it. I have warned her I’m a monster. She can’t seem to stay away as much as I can’t seem to hold back, though. Can two totally fucked-up people find a way to make something good out of some seriously bad pasts?

  I don’t have an answer. After Missy, I am afraid that one experience doesn’t bode well for my angel eyes and me.

  I also don’t have any more clues to the murder of her family than she does. The police called it an invasion. In their findings, they felt it was a random thing, yet Lo goes out at night as Hi and follows these city officials . . . for what?

  My mind goes over and over following her. The one thing all of those people have in common is my father. Would he be capable of putting a hit on the Boschs? There isn’t a single doubt in my mind that he could and would without hesitation if he felt threatened.

  I just don’t see what her family has to do with him. I don’t see where her father could have had enough blackmail on my family to even pose such a threat. The pieces to the puzzle don’t fit. The only thing that replays solidly in my mind is, if I find out my father had something to do with it, I will kill him.

  He can beat on me all he wants. He can tear me limb from limb. He can tell me I’m not good enough, that I will never be anything—I’m used to all of his shit anyway. But I won’t let him get away with destroying a good family like Lo had. I won’t stand for it, and he will pay.

  My phone rings, bringing me out of my thoughts. I see who it is, and rather than avoid her any longer, I slide to answer.

  “I’m gone for good!” she screeches.

  I move to step outside of the office.

  “Thank fuck for that. What do you want, Missy?”

  “I just wanted you to know I’m out of the condo.”

  “Yeah, I got a visit from my father. You’re a dumb bitch. Don’t come back. Don’t ever come back. You got involved with the wrong Stanley man now.”

  I don’t listen to what she says next; I simply disconnect the call.

  I gave her time to get her closure. If she called thinking I would beg her to come back, she was wrong. After involving my father in our business, she is dead to me. That’s the one button she knew never to push, and her running to him makes me realize she wasn’t the one, because through all of our fucked-up relationship that was an understood, accepted, and never-to-cross line.

  Her call only drives me harder to keep the distance between us. I’m not usually the kind of guy to give up on anything. We had three years to get it right, and with every passing day, it seemed to get worse. My mind moves from the struggles and fights of trying to make something work that was doomed long ago to the ease of having Lorraine in my space.

  Closing my eyes, I lean back in my office chair and picture her hair spread out over my pillow like it was this morning. I think back to the fear she has in her home. I think about her taking on her sister’s identity to follow people, people I know. I just don’t know why she is following them specifically.

  I also wonder if she’s had help, psychiatric sort of help—shit, good ol’ Dr. Sam would’ve noticed the need, right? I keep coming up with more questions; the why’s are bombarding me.

  I’m glad she has a good job she loves, and it suits her. Only, her life in every other aspect stopped that night in April and I feel compelled to help her figure out why.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Today is a seven-to-seven shift. Three on, three off, but I always pick up extra shifts. Normally, I want to run to the comfort of the hospital. Today, I don’t want to leave the comfort of this place. His place.

  I sit down, and Boots jumps on my lap. He is already accustomed to Jason’s condo. Socks shows trepidation, though. I feel a twinge of guilt for having given him anxiety—my anxiety.

  My first week home after graduating college, he ran outside in the dark. I was terrified, but I couldn’t leave him outside. I ran around the backyard, calling for him. Panicking, my heart raced so hard I thought it would come out of my chest. When I found him, I was so angry. I held him to me and cried. This was after boarding up the damn stairs so he wouldn’t go up there. It was not my finest hour. It was the first night I slept in the basement room—my father’s old home office—and it was the last day the stairway to hell was opened.

  My hysterics and the sounds of me using my father’s tools probably caused him to seek comfort in the same place I did—the basement. From then on, I fed him there and tried to protect him from my demons, ones I gave him.

  I pet Boots, holding him as I stand and walk to the bedroom where Socks is hidden under the covers. I sit down and pet them both until they purr almost in sync before standing up.

  “You’re safe. Go soak up the sun.” I pet them again and look at Boots. “Take care of him.”

  As I ride the elevator down to the ground floor, I watch as the numbers light up. With each passing floor, the fear of the box I am in eases, yet the thought of someone coming in becomes no less terrifying.

  Reaching the ground floor, I let out a deep breath as the door opens. I walk out, looking both left and right.

  “Good morning, Miss Bosch,” a dark man says with a nod. “Mr. Stanley asked that I let you know your car is parked in front and that he was the last in it.”

  “Thank you,” I tell him, looking away.

  I pull my sunglasses over my eyes and walk outside to my car sitting right up front as promised.

  I don’t understand why he insists he isn’t good, why he says he is bad. Everything he does shows me the total opposite. He is considerate of my feelings, and he doesn’t judge or run from the knowledge of who I am or the piece of craziness that lives inside of me.

  The way he touches me isn’t monstrous—not to me, anyway. The way he wants me as much as I want him is not wrong, even though it sometimes feels a bit possessive. It’s also protective, and to a girl like me, that protective and possessive manner coming from a man who wants me is the best type of feeling I have ever felt.

  I need him; I want him; and I will have him until I can’t.