I pointed up ahead to a decaying seven-story red brick building. “We grew up right there. Third floor, middle unit.”

All three of us boys and my mother had shared a two-bedroom, one-bathroom apartment. We’d lived that way until I was seventeen. Only when my mother passed away did we finally leave the projects and the government-subsidized housing we’d grown up in. Seeing it all again felt surreal, and suddenly I doubted my decision to bring Emma here.

Christ, this is depressing.

I pointed up ahead to the next block. “We walked to the school two blocks down. I used to hang out on that street corner with a pack of hoodlums who are all probably either dead or in jail today.”

Why in God’s name we’d stayed here all those years, I had no clue. During the good years, my mother had enough funds to move us away, yet we’d stayed. Then the money slowed—or rather, my mother got older and her clients became fewer and further between—and we were stuck.

When Quinn hit sixteen, he’d gotten a job doing manual labor at a nearby construction site, and I’d started bagging groceries at the local supermarket. We’d shielded Cooper the best we could, funneling him lunch money or his favorite gummy bears when we could. Even at age fourteen, I’d had my priorities straight. The rent payment came first, groceries next, the electric bill and so on. New clothes and shoes weren’t even on our radar. Now, of course, I tended to overindulge and spoil myself. Growing up without, I definitely enjoyed the finer things.

Gazing off into the distance, I could still remember my mother strolling down the street in her chic wool coat with its fuzzy faux-fur collar tucked up under her chin, tramping through the snow in her high-heeled boots. She’d loved this dilapidated little neighborhood. She knew every shopkeeper, every neighbor, and made sure they all looked out for us.

She was a single mother of three boys doing her best. She never spoke of my father, and the few times I’d tried to ask about him, she’d barked, He’s not here now, is he? So, forget about him.

My mother pushed hard work and education above all else. She hadn’t graduated from high school, but demanded our attendance and good grades. I knew it was her unconventional example of work ethic that pushed me today.

Emma watched a drunk stumble past our car, cursing loudly and waving his fist. She turned toward me, concern in her eyes. “I don’t know what to say. Why are you letting me in like this?”

Looking straight ahead, I took in one last glance at the place that had been my home for so many years. I’d heard the city planned to tear this building down in a few months. It was filled with lead paint and asbestos, and the housing authority had deemed it unfit.

I shrugged. “Just felt like reminiscing, I guess.”

It might not have been the most romantic gesture, but it was all I had. Emma could have said no that first day in my office, but instead she’d agreed to our arrangement. This was my way of reciprocating and letting her in too.

Emma’s eyes widened as she took in our surroundings. Not missing a single detail, she gazed out on the street. “Thank you for showing me.”

“Ready to get out of here?”

She nodded.

I drove us toward the highway, punching the accelerator harder than necessary, eager to leave this part of the city in the past where it belonged.

When we pulled up to the French restaurant I’d chosen for dinner, I parked right in front.

Emma peered out the window. “Are you sure it’s open?”

I nodded. “I rented the restaurant for the evening. The chef is a friend of mine. A client, actually.”

Emma’s eyes widened and her mouth lifted into a smile. “So, it’ll be just us?”

“Indeed.”

Once inside the dim restaurant, I led Emma back to the table near the fireplace, my favorite spot. Quite the dichotomy, from the projects to fine dining. I could tell by Emma’s expression that the irony wasn’t lost on either of us.

We had a simple meal of perfectly cooked steak and green salad. I was pleased the conversation flowed easily between us, hints of that sexual chemistry I’d come to expect zapping between us as we spoke.

“Will you tell me more about your childhood?” Emma finally asked.

I’d been wondering if she would after what I’d shown her tonight.

“Another time.” My mind had had enough of exploring memory lane, and my blood was burning for Emma. I left a stack of bills on the table and rose. “Let’s get out of here.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Emma

Tonight, Gavin had shown me a side of himself that I was still coming to grips with. Inexplicably, he’d let me into his world—shown me a painful glimpse of his past, treating me to a front-row seat to all of it.

I knew from Cooper that they’d had a rough childhood, but I never could have imagined what our little tour entailed. Driving through those streets, seeing his run-down neighborhood and the desolate apartment building he’d called home, I still had chill bumps on my arms just thinking about it. Graffiti-littered streets and women waiting on street corners weren’t a part of my upbringing. But they had been his, and he’d entrusted me with that knowledge.

To know that even now he only lived thirty minutes away from it all, it made me realize that his painful past might not be so distant after all. I knew it wasn’t something he’d share with just anyone. As strange as it sounded, that was special to me, and for that reason, it was a memory I’d cherish.

It probably hadn’t been the best idea to go touring the slums in a brand-new Mercedes, yet I’d never felt unsafe. With Gavin by my side, I’d felt secure in the knowledge that he could handle anything that came our way.

I would never forget his expression when he’d parked. The hard set of his jaw, the feel of his warm palm on my knee, the sleek, luxurious interior of his car where we sat safely cocooned against the stark poverty outside our windows. It was an experience I’d never expected.

But then again, with Gavin I was learning to expect the unexpected.

As close as we’d grown, I knew he was still holding a part of himself back, but I had a feeling tonight was going to change that. Maybe it was because of the way he’d made himself so vulnerable today, or because of the sweet dinner date he’d planned. But with the way his voice had gone husky and his eyes had blazed with passion when he asked if I was ready to leave—I knew he was taking me home.

My skin tingled with the desire for his hands, my body warm and flushed with the secret knowledge that tonight was going to be the night we’d have sex for the first time.

I certainly wasn’t a virgin, so none of this should have felt new or nerve-racking to me, but it did—incredibly so. Gavin wouldn’t be like my other lovers; I knew that for certain. And the anticipation was killing me. I wanted my hands on him, wanted to feel the weight of his body on mine.

And there would be no going back.

We drove on, turning right onto an almost-deserted street lit with pretty streetlights for another few minutes, until finally pulling into an underground parking garage. Gavin used a keycard to gain entrance, and the mechanical gate slid open silently to admit us.

After pulling into a designated spot right next to the car I recognized as his driver’s, Gavin killed the engine.

“Are you ready?”

I nodded and unlatched my seat belt.

Outside the car, I swayed in my heels, the wine we’d enjoyed at dinner catching up with me. Gavin reached for my elbow, steadying me. He took my purse, holding the strap in his free hand, and led me toward the elevator.

The sight of Gavin holding my deep purple clutch—this big alpha male, well over six feet of solid muscle—it made my heart swell. He certainly knew his way into my panties, but my heart? Was that open to him too?

Before I had time to ponder that, the doors to the elevator closed and Gavin’s muscular frame was pinning me to the wall, his mouth descending firmly over mine. As he nipped at my bottom lip, I knew as long as I lived, I’d never tire of his kisses. The way his tongue moved expertly against mine, the way he coaxed soft moans from my throat despite my best efforts to remain as neutral as he seemed, it was intoxicating. I was drunk on him, and still I wanted more.