It’s time to do what I came here to do, I think, reaching into the outside pocket on the purse that’s slung over my shoulder and grabbing the two pieces of paper that I’d stored there. I pull them out, clutch one in each hand, and then lift my head at the same time I lift my arms, holding the papers up for him to see as I look him right in those beautiful blue eyes and demand, ‘So which one is it, Jase? Which one is real? And which one is a fucking lie?’

  Chapter Two

  JASE

  As my stunned gaze moves from the pathetic, handwritten break-up note that I’d sent with Emmy’s things from the Hotel Del, over to the photo that’d been taken of me and Chloe a few days ago, my stomach knots with dread.

  Shit! I knew I shouldn’t have got the tattoo. But the constant ache I have for Emmy Reed has been eating me raw inside, and I’d just wanted something that made me feel . . . Christ, I’d just wanted to feel connected to her, in whatever way I could. So I’d dropped into one of the tattoo parlors in London when I was down there last week, pulled up a beautiful photo of Emmy on the beach in her bikini, and showed the artist what I wanted. I could see Emmy choosing the unique design because of its beauty, and despite the problem it’s caused in bringing her here, I love that I have this link with her that can never be undone. Not by the shithead screwing with my life, or by my own stupidity.

  My eyes burn as I look away from the note and the photo and devour the sight of her, soaking in every detail like a blind man who’s finally been gifted with sight. I’ve watched Tyler’s Facebook page like a stalker, desperate for any information on how she was doing after the surgery, and am grateful as hell that the guy felt the need to keep Emmy’s friends updated. She’s a bit paler and has dropped a few pounds, but still shines like a drop of sunshine. Still glitters like a diamond. I’m going to shake my head with embarrassment later for thinking up these cheesy similes, but right now, there’s just no help for it. Her beauty is captivating, and I’m drinking it in like this might well be the last sip I ever get.

  And the way her skirt and top are wrapped around her mouthwatering body is making it so damn hard to keep my distance, when all I really want is to be buried so deep inside her she can feel me in every part of her.

  I’ve been in shock since the call came in that she was on her way up, unable to believe she’s here. When the private security team I’ve been paying to watch over her in San Diego called to say that she’d gone to the airport with a suitcase, I assumed she was flying back to Georgia to visit her parents. Well, her mother at least. After what went down four weeks ago with her old man, I doubt she’s interested in seeing him. But she obviously got on a plane to the UK instead, though that still doesn’t explain what she’s doing here, in Scotland.

  I’ve been hiding out up here in this flat for the simple reason that very few people know my company owns it – and I never even got around to telling Emmy about it. Hell, I’ve only stayed here twice before, partly because I don’t often need to come to Edinburgh, and also because my cousin Oliver owns a flat in the same building, and I try to avoid that little shit as much as possible. I’ve never even mentioned to him that I own this place. To be honest, the only reason I bought it is because Martin has family in Edinburgh, and I wanted him to have a place to stay when he’s here visiting them.

  But it occurs to me now that maybe my trusted employee would’ve simply rather stayed with his relatives. It’s just that given how awful mine are, I always just assumed he’d rather have his own space.

  ‘Jase!’ Emmy snaps, holding the note and photograph up higher, practically shoving them in my face. ‘Answer the damn question!’

  ‘You should still be resting,’ I bite out, finally finding my voice. Then I quickly follow up with a gritty, ‘How the hell did you even find me?’

  Her golden brows lift, and I hate the tears that are glistening in her cinnamon-colored eyes, the ring of black around the outer edge as unique as it is stunning. ‘Really?’ she asks with a bitter laugh, tossing the photograph and the note on the floor between us. ‘That’s what you’re going with?’

  I have the strangest sense of déjà vu, but realize that it’s the way she’s looking at me that feels so familiar, and not the words themselves, since her expression reminds me of that first argument we had in San Diego, when I’d shown up at her apartment. God, that seems like a lifetime ago. And so much has changed since then, taking a direction I could have never predicted. Not in a million bloody years.

  The silence between us is getting painfully heavy, and I know I need to say something, so I grit my teeth and force out a guttural, ‘You shouldn’t have come, Em. This isn’t a good time for me.’

  ‘Yeah?’ she asks, marching past me as she barges in. ‘You got one of your new fuck bunnies in the bedroom waiting to get serviced?’

  I work my jaw a few times as I shut the door behind her, and even though I know I shouldn’t, I hear myself snarl, ‘You really believe that? You really think I would climb into bed with another woman after what happened between us in San Diego?’

  Anger rises in her so quickly I can almost feel its heat charring my skin. ‘Exactly which “happening” are you referring to? The one where I gave you every part of me? Or the one where you ran like a fucking coward?’

  The smile that curls my mouth is as bitter as it gets. ‘Not every part, Em.’

  Her own lips twitch with a sad smirk, and I realize she probably thinks I’m talking about her round little arse. But I’m not. I’m talking about her heart. About the part of her I want most, but can’t have, because I love her too much to pull her into whatever shit this is that’s started raining down on my life.

  It sounds dramatic, but hell. If you can’t turn into a belligerent dickhead when someone’s trying to kill you, when can you?

  Her hurt, glistening gaze is still locked in hard and tight on mine, and I know she’s searching for the truth in my eyes as she swipes her tongue over her plump bottom lip, then quietly says, ‘Tell me it’s been an act, Jase. Tell me you didn’t sleep with those other women.’

  In this moment, I know I have a choice to make. I can give her the truth, and hold on tight to everything I’ve ever wanted, ever craved, without even knowing it was possible. That it was out there in the world, waiting for me to find it. To find her. Or . . . I can lie and tell her that I’ve nailed every one of them. That I’ve had a dozen different women since I flew home, and she’ll run out of here so fast my head spins, jump on a plane, and go home. Go back to where I know she’ll be safe – or at least a hell of a lot safer than she’ll be here with me.

  And if I do it, I know that will be it. That I’ll never see her precious, beautiful face again.

  Truth or lie? Fuck! This is such a miserable choice. Only . . . Hell, there’s really no choice at all. Not if I want to do what’s truly right for her.

  ‘What?’ I force out in a low, mocking drawl, giving her my best impression of an arrogant, self-centered arsehole. ‘You really think me feeding you a bunch of pretty little lies is going to make you feel any better, Emmy?’

  She jerks back a step like my words have just slapped her across the face, and I fucking die a bit inside. I scrub my hand over my mouth, like I can wipe those shitty words away, and something in my chest crunches. I feel like my heart’s being squeezed by a massive, spike-covered fist, and I swallow hard, trying to keep it together and not throw myself at her sandal-covered feet, the way I’m dying to do.

  She goes pale, losing all that angry flush of color, and tears track down her cheeks like rainwater against a window. So many tears, I doubt she can even see through them, and my own eyes start to burn even hotter. Burn until I feel like my entire head is about to catch fire.

  Without a single word, she suddenly turns and lurches for the door, but I’m there before I even realize what I’m doing, slamming the damn thing shut so hard it makes a booming thud that no doubt just startled every other person on this floor. My hand is big and dark against the pale cream of the wood, and I hear myself make this thick, raw sound at the back of my throat. It’s an animal sound, wounded and angry and full of frustration, and I know there’s not a force in heaven or hell that could get me to move my hand and let her go.

  Christ, I tried. But I can’t do it. I can’t watch her walk away, because I know what it will mean. Know that there won’t be any second chances once I’ve found my way through all this crap, no matter how desperately I beg.

  I need to be strong, but this girl . . . Shit, this girl is my weakness – my bloody kryptonite and Achilles’ heel all rolled into one – and I can’t do it. It’d be easier to reach up under my ribs and rip out my beating heart.

  ‘Move,’ she whispers, her spine stacking up with rage as she grips the doorknob tighter.

  ‘No,’ I growl from so deep in my chest, the words are almost coming from my gut. ‘No way in hell, baby.’

  ‘Damn it, Jase!’ She smacks the door with her free hand, and her entire body starts to tremble. ‘Stop playing your stupid games and just let me go!’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘You have to!’ she shouts, her voice cracking with pain as she shakes her head so hard her honey-gold curls whip against me. ‘Because I can’t be here. I don’t want to be anywhere near you!’

  ‘No, don’t say that,’ I scrape out, shuddering, feeling wrecked in a way that even the horrific car crash hadn’t accomplished. I’m ravaged and torn and ripped open, all but bleeding out on the floor in the same way she’d nearly bled out on me that night. ‘You don’t mean that!’

  She draws in a deep, shaky breath, and I can sense her gathering her emotions around her like a cloak – or like the armor she hid behind when we first met. In a voice that’s suddenly gone cold, she says, ‘Get your fucking hand off the door, Jase.’

  It’s painfully obvious that she’s done – done with me and this whole fucked-up situation – and panic crawls up my throat so fast that I nearly choke on it. ‘It wasn’t an accident,’ I say in a graveled rush, gasping for breath, my chest so tight I feel like concrete’s been poured into my lungs.

  The second the words leave my mouth, I flinch and think Shit! All my delusions of playing the heroic detective when I flew home, and then swooping back in to win the woman of my dreams, are being reduced to nothing more than a pile of ash and bone. But there’s no going back now. All I can do is promise myself that if she decides to stay, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe. That I’ll protect her with everything I have, to my dying breath.

  ‘You have two seconds to explain yourself,’ she snaps in a voice that’s clogged with tears, ‘and then I start screaming loud enough to bring your neighbors running over here.’

  ‘It wasn’t an accident,’ I say again, dropping my forehead to the top of her head, her warm, sensual scent filling my lungs each time I gasp for air. ‘That night, after we were hit, I . . . I heard them talking. The bastards who were driving the truck. Someone paid them to kill me and make it look like an accident. They just weren’t very good at it, because I walked away. But you didn’t.’

  For a moment, she just stands there, the only sound that of her ragged breaths keeping time with my own. And then she spins around and shouts in my face, ‘You stupid asshole!’

  I blink, and she lifts her hands, shoving against my chest so hard that it knocks me back a step, and I’m amazed she doesn’t slap me, because I can see how badly she wants to. How desperately she wants to strike out and share the pain that’s burning so violently in her eyes it makes me feel like she has hit me. Like she’s beating the hell out of me.

  ‘Oh, God, Jase, I could kill you myself,’ she sobs, glassy tears spilling past her lashes. ‘You actually did it, didn’t you? Broke my heart and pulled all this crap with those women because you’re trying to protect me!’ She’s screaming now, and her hands are in her hair, pushing it back from her face as she completely loses it. ‘You’ve even had a security team watching me, haven’t you? While you staged those stupid photo ops with those women to make everyone think we’re no longer seeing each other!’

  ‘It’s the only fucking choice I had. I have no idea who’s behind the threat. Still don’t.’

  ‘And you thought that was the answer?’ she snarls, kicking the photo of me and Chloe that’s lying on the floor.

  ‘It’s the only answer!’ I roar, so much tension pulling across my shoulders I feel like they might snap. ‘You’re right, I had to make whoever’s behind this bullshit believe that we’re no longer together. I couldn’t risk them coming after you to hurt me!’

  They’d already hurt her once because of me, and I wasn’t going to let that happen again. I’d had security with me on the three dates I’d deliberately had since coming home, but I knew those women would be safe. I didn’t travel with them, the only time I spent with them while we were surrounded by others. There was nothing to say they were significant enough to me to make it worth this dickhead’s effort. But a girlfriend? I could all too easily see some sick fuck deciding that was the best place to strike, if their intention is to hurt me, as well as kill me. And since I really don’t have a clue what’s going on, I couldn’t take that chance.

  Emmy’s head drops forward as she locks her fingers behind her neck and just stares at the floor, her panting breaths still harsh. I lose count of how long she stands there like that, letting my words soak into her brain, while I keep soaking in the sight and scent of her, unable to get enough. Knowing damn well that I’ll always want more.

  Finally, after what feels like forever, she pulls in another sharp breath and slowly lifts her head, her shattered gaze melting into mine. ‘How about . . . How about trusting me to be smart enough, and strong enough, to stand by your side? Did that never occur to you? That I could be those things?’

  The words are soft and hoarse, but they lash at me like a whip.

  I shove my hand into my hair so hard I nearly rip it out. ‘This isn’t about fucking intelligence or strength, Emmy. I can’t lose you. I won’t.’

  Her nostrils flare, and she fists her hands at her sides, looking as if she’s preparing to go into battle. ‘Damn you, Jase! I’m not a child in need of your protection,’ she seethes, the look on her tear-streaked face cutting right to the heart of me. ‘I’m a grown woman. A partner.’

  ‘You’re—’

  ‘The woman who loves you,’ she cries. ‘Do you understand that? I love you! And it’s my goddamn right to stand by your side and help you, in whatever way I can!’

  She . . . what? What the . . . ? Did she . . . ?

  My jaw hangs open as I blink down at her in shock, and I know I probably look like I’ve just been smacked in the face with a two-by-four, but I can’t believe that she’s said it first. That she’s said it at all.

  And until this moment, I hadn’t realized just how terrified I’d been that my heart was the only one on the line here. I mean, I knew she cared about me, and had harbored the hope that she would come to love me one day. But there’d still been that little voice in my head, that little kernel of fear, whispering that she wasn’t on quite the same page as I was. That no matter how much time I gave her, that damn guard of hers would always rise between us, holding her back.

  But now she’s made the grand gesture, chasing after me. Not only that, she’s willing to face the danger with me.

  And she’s spilled first blood. Her own. Opened her heart up and offered it to me in her soft hands, and shit just got real.

  I’m on her before I even know I’m moving, my hands fisted in her hair, my mouth at her ear. ‘I love you, Emmy. Love you so fucking much,’ I gasp, finally able to say the words that have been bottled up inside me for so long. But they come easily now, slipping from my tongue like breaths, and once I start, I can’t stop. ‘Love you,’ I say again, over and over, as I strip her clothes off with unsteady hands, throwing them to the floor, until every inch of her creamy skin is bared to my burning, possessive gaze.

  Picking her up, I carry her into the bedroom and lay her down on the bed. I tear my own jeans and T-shirt off so fast I hear seams rip, and then I’m crawling on top of her, my thick, vein-ridged cock so hard and dark and long it looks brutal, and neither of us give a damn that the curtains are drawn wide on the windows, the sunshine pouring in on our naked bodies. There are some buildings close by that are tall enough someone could probably see in, but we don’t even care, both of us too focused on touching and tasting as much skin as we can, our bodies coming together like it’s what we’d been born for.

  I suck and lap at her beautiful breasts, tonguing her pink little nipples until they’re so sensitive every pull of my mouth makes her writhe and gasp, while her hands stroke over every inch of my fever-hot skin she can reach. But as much as I love her lush, heavy breasts, it’s been three long, miserable weeks since I’ve had the mouthwatering taste of my woman’s juicy cunt on my lips, and I can’t wait a second more. I rear back, forcing her thighs out wide with my hands, and shove my entire face against her, the scent of her so warm and sweet it makes me growl. Then I tilt my head a little, open my mouth over that drenched, narrow slit that leads straight to heaven, and push my tongue inside her like I own her. Like she’s mine, because she is. She so fucking is.

  I go wild on her then, no practiced technique or experience. I’m just raw, animal hunger, sucking on her sensitive clit until I feel her hands pulling at my hair so she can tug me closer . . . closer. I lick my way back to that sweet little hole, and start fucking it with my tongue, getting her so slick and slippery that she’s melting all over me, drenching my face, and I love it. Can’t get enough of it. She comes for me with a sharp cry that echoes off the walls, flooding my mouth with her juices, the way her tight sheath pulses around my tongue driving me mad, and I nearly shoot my load right then and there. But I reach down and squeeze my cock so hard that the pain pushes it back, just long enough for me to rise up over her and notch the wet, engorged head of my dick against her quivering slit.