“Yeah, with both. Kara’s gettin’ to a stage, doesn’t get along with her Mom so I try to be around and if I can’t, I’m a phone call away. Something she takes advantage of so it’s good for me since I connect with her often though it sucks why she feels the need to do it. Brand’s all me, top to toe to heart to mind, all my boy.”

His casual, yet careful, words pierced through me like spears and I froze in an effort to contain the pain.

Then the pain engulfed me and I couldn’t contain it anymore.

As it swallowed me into its dark, fiery pit, I tossed my plate of ziti on the table. It went skidding across the files and flew over the other side as I drew my other arm back and brought it forward in a sidearm slice, releasing my beer so it sailed past him and shattered against the low wall under the windows at his back, foaming beer spraying in wide spatter all around.

His feet came off the table and I knew by his eyes, he knew.

He knew.

He didn’t forget.

That motherfucker knew.

“Sylvie, let me –” he started.

“You named her kids my names,” I whispered, my breaths coming heavy.

“Sylvie –”

Shit, f**k, shit.

I couldn’t take it.

We’d talked about it. We’d talked. Frequently. Talked. Dreamed. Planned. Frequently.

I told him, we had a girl, she’d be named Kara. We had a boy, we’d name him after his Dad.

Those were my names.

My f**king names!

“You named her kids my names!” I screamed then attacked.

Launching myself over the table, I hit him in the chest. His chair slammed back, taking us and his plate with it, ziti smushed between us but I did not give one, single, solitary f**k.

He named another woman’s children my names!

That f**king motherfucker!

I shot up to straddling him, my knees in the back of the chair, my arm coming back in preparation to land a blow and he shot up with me, arms coming around me, effectively taking away my target. He pulled me to him, rolled the both of us free of the chair then kicked it and I heard it slide and crash against something that stopped it.

I’d learned early and quick that my size was a major detriment to pretty much anything, especially if it was physical. I was in shape, no doubt about it, but I was small, thin and a woman so I had to aim true, be willing not to fight fair and be smart, fast, ballsy and sly.

I was so pissed, I lost sight of all that and Creed immediately gained the advantage. If I didn’t pull my shit together, his weight, height and power would have me defenseless in seconds.

But there was no way in f**k he was winning this.

No way.

No f**king way.

Therefore, I lifted my head and sank my teeth in his neck so hard, I tasted blood.

“Fuck!” he ground out, reared back and I went with him, using his momentum to take him to his back. I shot up, straddling him again and didn’t delay in pulling back an arm and landing a fisted blow to his cheekbone.

He grunted and his head shot to the side.

I didn’t get a second one in. He got his hand around my wrist and rolled me to my back, him on top of me.

I got my boot planted in the floor and rolled him so I was on top. I grabbed both sides of his head and lifted it in preparation for a head butt when he came totally up, knifing at the waist. I automatically held on, my hands fisting in his hair.

“Calm the f**k down and let me explain,” he growled.

“Fuck you!” I shouted, let go with one hand, brought it low, shoved it up the back of his shirt and scored my nails through his flesh.

“Jesus,” he hissed, shifted to his knees and immediately fell forward so my back slammed into the edge of the coffee table before it went skidding. Then my back hit floor and Creed’s body pinned me.

Not good. I had his weight on me and his h*ps between my legs so I couldn’t get a knee to his crotch. He reached back and pulled my arm from around him, his other hand going to my other wrist and yanking my hand out of his hair. He pulled them around and between us, locking them there.

We grappled, pushed, pulled, shoved, both of us growling, grunting and hissing, me rocking my h*ps and planting my feet, arching my back, nearly rolling him but not succeeding.

Fuck, he was going to win.

Fuck, I had to fight dirty.

I lifted my head, he reared back to avoid my teeth but couldn’t get back fast enough. I got my mouth on him and didn’t use my teeth. I used my tongue.

The element of surprise worked.

He stilled instantly.

It was a tactical error.

Not on his part, on mine.

He smelled good. He tasted good and f**k me, he felt good.

The pain of his further betrayal, one even more unforgivable than the last, still consumed me and it had to go. It had to go and I knew only two ways to stop it. Two ways I’d blindly turned to over the years. Two ways that didn’t work for long but they worked for a while.

Without thinking, to dull the pain, I needed one of those ways.

So I went for it and licked up his neck to below his ear and God, God, the scent of him, the feel of him on my tongue, the taste of him…

God.

Suddenly and instantly, something altogether different consumed me.

I bucked my hips, put my weight into my foot on the floor and rolled him so I was on top. I went right in, my teeth to the collar of his tee, my fingers curling into it, I used both until I got the tear then my mouth went away and I ripped it all the way down.

His hands curled in at my waist. “Sylvie –” he murmured but I bent. My mouth to the sleek, muscled skin of his chest, I liked the feel of him against my lips so much my tongue snaked out.

Oh yeah. So good. Fucking beautiful.

I took more, across his collarbone, down, to his nipple I sucked deep and his hands slid from my waist to become arms wrapped tight around me.

“Baby –” he whispered and I jerked up, slammed my mouth down on his and darted my tongue between his lips.

He took it and let me take, hard, deep, f**k, f**k, he tasted of beer and ziti and Creed. I remembered that taste, could swear it tipped my tongue countless times for going on two decades. I missed it and I loved it.

Loved it.

The kiss went wild, his hands went into my hair, holding my mouth to his then he took his turn to take from mine.

I gave him a taste then shafted up. His hands fell away from my hair. My hands went to my tank and ripped it off.

He had one second to take in my torso before I bent back to him and it was done. Even if I had the strength to fight it, I wouldn’t have tried.