Author: Jill Shalvis

“Not everything revolves around you, Chloe.” And at that, he walked away.

“Well, I know that—” But he wasn’t listening. He was gone. Her initial thought was to walk out the door, just let everything go. The old Chloe would’ve done that in a heartbeat. But she didn’t want to be that Chloe anymore, that person who skipped town rather than face hard reality.

So she pressed a hand to her nervous stomach, dropped her purse in the entry, and forced herself down the hall after him. That’s when she saw the low wooden coffee table, and against the wall, an entertainment unit.

Sawyer had been busy making the place look more like a home.

She found Sawyer in the master bathroom, reaching through the shower to open the window there. To her surprise, one wall was half painted. It’d been a rather outdated shade of green, which he was covering up with the wildly imaginative off-white. “How did you decide on a shade?” she asked.

“It was on sale.”

She might have smiled if it hadn’t been for the knots in her gut. “It’s two a.m.”

“Yep.” He reached for the roller.

Every part of her wanted to run for the door, say what the hell, it’d been fun while it lasted, because she’d known, God, she’d known, that this couldn’t last.

But the hell with being a big, fat chicken. She was braver now. She didn’t understand. She needed to understand. “So what was that call about earlier? More crazy women skinny-dipping by moonlight somewhere?”

“No.” He rolled a careful stripe of paint, perfectly even. No crooked walls tonight.

“Your dad okay?” she asked.

“He’s fine. Blowing me off, but fine.”

“Blowing you off?”

He shrugged. “He told me to stay away, that he’d got some kid to do odd jobs around his place. A really great kid who’s always on time and doesn’t try to screw him and is a fucking pillar of virtue.”

“Well, good for him,” she said. “Those pillars of fucking virtue are really hard to find.”

He tossed the roller down. “There’s no damn kid, Chloe. He’s making him up.”

“Maybe he’s trying to save you the time or save face.”

“Save face?”

“Yes, you know, stupid male pride?”

“You don’t understand,” Sawyer said grimly. “And how could you? I’ve never told you about who I used to be.”

“So you were a punk-ass kid,” she said. “So what? A lot of us were.”

“You don’t know.”

“I know who you are now,” she said. “And that’s all that matters. You’re loyal, strong, caring—”

He snorted and went back to painting. Clearly they were done discussing this. Shock. She stared at his broad, expansive back, watching with avid interest as the muscles there flexed and bunched while he stroked the walls with the roller. “Do you have another roller?”

“No.”

She squeezed in between him and the wall. “Hi. My name’s Chloe, and you might not have noticed, but we’re friends. Naked friends, sure, but friends nevertheless. And friends share. If it wasn’t your father tonight that pissed you off, what was it?”

He met her gaze. “We’re more than just messing around naked friends,” he said.

She did her best to squelch the burst of emotion those words caused. “Then talk to me.”

He made a restless movement with his shoulders, like he was to-the-bone exhausted. “If you’re mad at me,” she murmured, “I think I deserve to know why.”

He stared at the wet paint on the wall above her head. “It’s not you I’m mad at.”

“Then who?”

“Me.” He drew a careful breath. “I’m between a rock and a hard place here with what I can say.”

“Okay.”

“It’s DEA business. We’ve been waiting on a break. I’m on call now, but thanks to me being out of range tonight, our lead went underground and took any evidence with him.”

Chloe closed her eyes, stricken with guilt. This was because he’d been at the mud springs checking on her and her sisters. “Oh, Sawyer. I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

His gaze swiveled to hers, and he studied her meditatively. “That’s your only question?”

“No, I have at least a dozen, but I’m working on not being an impulsive pain in your ass.”

With a quiet laugh to himself, he asked, “How is it you’re so good for me, and yet so bad at the same time?”

Well, if that didn’t reach out and punch her in the gut. “It’s a special talent of mine,” she managed.

His gaze roamed her face, and she hated this, hated standing here waiting for him to tell her that they were through. Because that’s where this was going, she knew it. She felt it. Everything about his voice and expression told her so, and she knew that she should have left when she had the chance, left and pretended she’d never found contentment and security in his arms.

“You asked if there was something you could do for me,” he said quietly.

She nodded numbly.

“You could come here.”

Without hesitation, she moved closer, pressing her cheek against his warm, naked chest, finding comfort in the strong, steady beat of his heart against her ear, as his arms surrounded her hard. “I’m not the man you think I am, Chloe,” he said into her hair.

“Wrong,” she said and pulled him closer. “You are exactly who I thought you were.” She kissed him, hard. He responded by pressing her up against the one dry wall, holding her there with two hundred pounds of solid, hard muscle. And he was hard, everywhere.

“Feeling better, then?” she whispered.

“I’m feeling something. Where’s your inhaler, Chloe?”

“In my purse by your front door. I just used it.” She slid her arms up around his neck and again pulled his head down to hers. “As a precaution.” The wall behind her was giving her a chill, but Sawyer’s mouth was hot and urgent on her throat. The hard curves of his back burned warm against her fingers. “I’m sorry about tonight, Sawyer. So sorry.”

“It can’t happen again. Not ever again.”

The words skittered down her spine, causing a shiver. Because it was going to be over. She’d known that. A part of her had always known that. But it was going to destroy her.

Tomorrow.

For now, right now, she still had this, had tonight. He wanted her, that much she knew, and she wanted him.

More than she’d ever wanted anyone in her entire life.

Not willing to waste another second of it, she slid her hand between them to unsnap his jeans. He lifted his head, his gaze searching hers. His expression softened, and he took over, stripping out of his jeans. He was commando, and she took him in, one taut muscle at a time.

Heart-stopping.

Breathtaking.

He unzipped her sweatshirt and groaned at the strip of skin he exposed from the pulse point of her throat to the hip-hugging waistband of her jeans. Then he tugged the sweatshirt off, letting it fall to the floor on top of his jeans. Her bra went next. “Turn around.”

When she didn’t move fast enough, he spun her so that she faced the mirror, setting her hands on the countertop like he was going to frisk her. Instead, he pressed up close behind her.

Together they looked at her body in the mirror.

She could feel his warm breath on her neck, coming a little faster than his usual hibernation rate of breathing, and it gave her a little thrill. “What?” he murmured when she shuddered, bending to kiss her neck.

She gasped as his hands skimmed up her torso to cup her bare breasts, his fingers plucking at her nipples. “I make you feel things,” she said.

He rocked into her. “Yeah. You sure as hell do.” He unfastened her jeans and nudged them down along with her panties, kicking all the fallen clothes away from their feet. His hands settled hers on the counter again, one foot nudging her legs farther apart. When he had her arranged to suit him, he put his hands on her hips and met her gaze in the mirror.

“Are you going to search me now?” she teased.

“Mm.” He skimmed one hand up her belly to cup a breast, the other between her thighs. “I could look at you all day,” he said.

She soaked up the warmth of both his words and his big body behind hers. “Look later.” She wriggled. “Do now.”

He didn’t hesitate. He plunged into her, and she cried out in sheer, mindless pleasure, gripping the counter with white knuckles as she thrust back against him.

With a groan, he pushed even deeper. “Open your eyes.”

She hadn’t even realized she’d closed them, but they flew open now and met his in the mirror.

They were hot and demanding, much like the man.

“You want this, Chloe?”

“Yes. God yes.”

Cursing beneath his strained breath, he bent her over the counter, one hand on her hip, the other between her thighs, using it to drive her straight to the edge. There were no other words for what he did to her. He controlled their movements, and he knew what he was doing. In no time, she was flying, sobbing his name as she came. Pulling her head back, he kissed her deep as he followed her over.

Her legs were wobbling, and he felt like her only anchor in a spinning world. They sank to their knees there on the bathroom floor, his arms hard around her as if maybe she was his anchor as well.

After a few minutes, he kissed her sweaty temple. “Okay?”

If she didn’t let herself think. “If I say no, can we do it again?”

He let out a low chuckle and leaned over her, pushing damp hair from her face. “You’re breathing pretty hard.”

“Yes, but that’s your doing,” she said.

“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” He rose to his feet in one quick, economical movement, scooping her up in his arms.