I sit up and wrap my arms around his neck. Two can play at this game. “Dane Wright.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Kiss me and don’t stop moving those lips until I tell you to,” I whisper in his ear.

His lips are so close to my ear that I can feel his hot breath. “I can keep moving these lips all day, baby. I can talk to you like this...” He moves his mouth next to my other ear. “Or I can talk to you like this.” Then he moves so his forehead is resting on mine, and his lips are so close all I would have to do is lean forward to taste them. “Or, I can talk to you like this.”

I can’t take it anymore as I grab his head in my hands and pull his lips to mine. I feel him smiling as I devour him. Our lips have this amazing ability to touch without really touching. They’re feather light, yet I feel so much. When our bodies finally connect, I feel the pressure building. All the time spent teasing each other wound my body up so tight that when it finally releases, it’s like an internal firecracker. Dane lights one spark, followed by another, until I don’t think it’s possible to feel anymore. His eyes never leave mine, burning with intensity. I rub my hands over his firm chest. When I move my hands down toward his stomach, his breath hitches causing me to wrap my legs around him a little tighter. He’s close; I can feel it. I kiss his neck, right below his ear because I know it drives him crazy. It’s all it takes before he’s burying his head in my hair, saying my name over and over as he quickly thrusts into me. My eyes meet his as he grips my h*ps tight and releases into me. His lips brush against mine before he collapses on top of me, working to catch his breath.

I still can’t believe I ever willingly walked away from him. I can’t imagine what I’d be feeling right now if he hadn’t given me another chance. He is my life.

He rests his chin on my chest as I run my fingers through his hair. “Well, this is my studio. I hope you like it.”

I smile. “I like what I’ve seen so far.”

“I bet you do,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. He has that cocky smile on his face that I used to hate. Well, maybe I never hated it, but it drove me crazy. It still drives me crazy.

“You know I do,” I say, smiling up at him. His wild, just-had-sex, hair is making me want to pull him to me again and never let him go.

He runs his hands through my hair before kissing the spot between my breasts. “Get dressed. I’ll show you the rest,” he says, standing up to pick up our clothes.

I start to pull on my clothes, and for the first time I notice all the sculptures around the room. By the look of it, he’s been spending most of his time in this studio. He has sculptures of at least fifty couples engaged in activities from dancing to embracing to kissing. He has an amazing talent, and I have no doubt that he will go far in his career. I’ve dreamt of living in a large studio apartment with him. It would have high ceilings and brick walls as well as bright lighting to showcase his sculptures and my paintings. It’s not a dream anymore; it’s something I can really see happening.

Dane hands me a pair of safety glasses. “Here, put these on.” I raise my eyebrows at him. “Manly art, remember?” he says, cocking his head to the side.

“I remember,” I say, smiling up at him.

“Well, get those on and let’s get started.”

I do as he asks and follow him to the side of the room that doesn’t have a window where he has all his sculpting tools set up. I watch as he pulls on a pair of yellow gloves that go all the way up to his elbows. This guy’s sexy as hell, even with shop glasses and welding gloves.

“What do you want me to do?” I ask.

He points toward the corner of the room. “Stand back over there. I have to shape this a little bit, and I don’t want anything flying at you.”

I walk to my assigned spot and watch as he moves the tool back and forth, making one of his signature couples. I can see him being famous someday, a man known for his romantic sculptures. He’s very intense as he works; it’s fun to watch his face scrunch up as he tries to create his next masterpiece.

When he’s done with the couple, he stops and grabs another smaller piece of metal in a slightly different shade, using it to make a heart. He places it in front of the couple and stands back, putting his hand on his chin to study it. “Does it look too perfect to you?” he asks, keeping his gaze fixed on the sculpture.

“How do you mean?” The sculpture is perfect but the way he says it makes it sound wrong.

“I mean, do they look too happy?” he asks.

“No, it reminds me of us,” I reply, stepping closer to get a better look. The couple looks very happy and content.

He smiles. “Good, that’s exactly what I was going for.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything. You should know that by now,” he replies. Dane has always been very honest with me. It’s one of the things I love about him.

“Why do you sculpt couples?” I ask, glancing around the room. There are couples everywhere. It’s as if he wants to capture every possible movement and emotion two people can feel together.

“I was so alone growing up and I hated it. I try to show unconditional love in my art. Like us, for example, we’ve been through so much, but we’re still here. There will be dark days, I can guarantee that, but there will also be sunny days. It’s just life,” he answers. “I want to capture all of it just in case I never see it again.”

His eyes wander around the room like he’s not quite sure how I’ll react.

I think it’s beautiful.

“Did you work on any while we were apart? I mean, I know it wasn’t a good time for you, but I was wondering if I could see them?”

He looks down so that I can’t see his eyes. “I sculpted a lot, but it was mostly work for the hotel and exhibit. I only sculpt things I want to remember, and the pain of the last two months is something I want to forget.”

“Me too,” I say, wrapping my arms around his stomach. When I need to let go of a memory, I paint it, but I don’t paint it to be a replica of the darkness. I paint it to let go of the darkness. Sculpting seems to do the same thing for Dane.

We spend the rest of the afternoon creating a spot for me next to the lone window in the studio. With Dane, I have an acceptance I’ve never had, and his support means everything to me. I chose him, and he reminds me why all the time.

I begin to work on my first painting when I feel his arms wrap around me from behind. “You ready to go for another ride on the bike?” he asks, nuzzling my neck.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Chapter Four

There’s an old saying that you can’t know what it’s like to be me until you’ve walked a mile in my shoes. My life would require more than a mile.

I used to try to hide my problems and pretend that everything was okay, but the negative feelings built inside of me until I couldn’t take it anymore. I tried to medicate the pain away.

And it worked.

For a short time, I forgot everything that was going on around me and could just live in the moment. However, living in the moment wasn’t all that great because it was spent hanging out in party houses and abandoned buildings, waiting for my next fix. My way for forgetting all the bad made everything worse. I’ve worked hard to escape that life and move on. I already did enough damage, though, and I’ve done some things I can never take back. If I’d never started down that path, I don’t think Nolan would have either. The guilt consumes me, but Nolan is the only one who can make changes in his life at this point. There are some things I just can’t do for him.

When Nolan called this morning and asked to meet with me, I was hesitant. I hadn’t spoken with him since dinner at my mother’s house when he made a complete fool of himself in front of Alex. I hate what the kid is doing with his life, but I can’t turn my back on him. I also don’t want Alex to have to be around him because I never know what kind of mood he’ll be in, or what he’ll say. Lying to the woman who just walked back into my life a week ago is probably not the smartest thing to do, but meeting with him and not telling her about it seems like the lesser of two evils.

Luck is on my side today, though. Alex has an interview at a clothing boutique not far from our apartment, so I’m meeting Nolan at the studio. He was supposed to be here twenty minutes ago, and I’m getting anxious because I want to get back to the apartment before Alex does. I don’t want to lie about where I was if she returns before me.

I’m ready to give up when the buzzer goes off, alerting me that someone is at the door. “Yes,” I yell, pressing the speaker button.

“It’s me.” Fuck, he doesn’t sound good. His usual arrogance has been replaced with a somber tone.

“Come up.”

I pace back and forth while I wait for him. My mind is racing with all the reasons he could possibly want to meet with me, and why he would sound the way he does. As soon as the door opens, I study the boy who walks through it. He’s thinner than the last time I saw him, and his eyes are sunken in. He looks sick, but I know better. “What’s up? You don’t look so good, man.”

“Yeah, I’m in deep this time. Fucking Chaps gave me some product, and now the product is gone, but I don’t have any money to give him,” Nolan says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“How many times have I told you not to f**k with Chaps? Damn it, Nolan. How the f**k do you expect to get out of this one?” This is bad. I used to deal with Chaps back in the day. Even on my wildest day, I would’ve never gone against Chaps; it was a death wish if anyone did.

“I need your help. Please, I don’t want this anymore. I’m done with it. I’m sick of all this bullshit. I can’t even go back to my own apartment right now.” My little brother who usually acts so tough is on the verge of crying. His forehead is wrinkled, and there is a slight tremble to his chin. I can tell he’s not high right now. In fact, he’s showing symptoms of withdrawals.