But I was on a long, ugly roll of losing men that meant something to me. I’d barely survived the most important one.

What would happen if I lost the only one on this earth who was perfect for me?

“It’s all gonna be good, Rosie,” he said.

I really wished I could believe he was right.

“Okay, Snapper.”

“Go to sleep,” he ordered.

“All right, honey.”

He drew in a deep breath and let it go.

I kept my eyes closed (I just didn’t do that tight).

It didn’t take long before I fell asleep.

The pain in my ribs drove me to my back in the middle of the night.

But now, here I was again, tucked to Snapper’s side with his hand resting on my hip.

“Awake?” Snap asked, his deep voice thick with sleep.

“It’s past dawn,” I told him.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“And right now I’d totally kiss you if I’d grabbed my toothbrush last night and wasn’t terrified of morning breath,” I declared.

I just got out the word “breath” before I found myself hauled full on top of Snapper’s long, lean body and I was looking in Snapper’s downy-snowy-sleepy eyes.

“I don’t give a fuck about morning breath,” he growled.

So be it.

I tilted my head.

And I kissed him.

Now this…

This…

This was the perfect first kiss.

Both our mouths were open before our lips touched and both our tongues were out and tangling before our lips settled.

I didn’t know about me but he tasted wet and warm and musky and I barely had that taste before I wanted more.

So I tilted my head further and gave Snap more in order to get my more.

I knew he wanted it because he didn’t hesitate to take it.

He also gave it, keeping one arm wrapped firm around my waist, the other hand trailed up my back, twining in my hair to hold me to his mouth.

It lasted long and it went deep and every millisecond was a thing of pure beauty before he gently fisted his fingers in my hair, tugged back a bit, and pulled his mouth from mine.

“That was fuckin’ spectacular, Rosie, but I gotta ask you to help me out again,” he rumbled.

I’d help him any way he wanted.

“What?” I breathed.

He shifted me on his body so “what” was without a doubt digging with steely determination into the flesh of my belly.

And “what” felt heavenly.

“Gonna get up and grab a shower, yeah?” he said. “You snooze. I’ll make you breakfast then I gotta go.”

Wait.

He was going to…

What?

“Snapper—”

“I want that,” he all but snarled, his eyes suddenly flooded with heat, which sent a reciprocal wave of the same blazing through me.

Unfortunately (but also amazingly), he kept talking.

“But we’re doin’ this right, Rosie. We’re talkin’ and we’re gettin’ shit straight because we’re not just doin’ this right, I’m doin’ you right. For years, you’ve had a rough ride, what’s happened recently just the most recent. You’ve been jacked around since your daddy died and I don’t think either man meant to do you wrong but in the end they did. And I’m the man who’s gonna do you right, Rosalie. With me, that rough ride is gonna end, baby. So as much as I want more of what you’re offering, I’ll take it tonight when we both know where we’re at and I can be assured you’re right there with me.”

Perfect for me.

I stared into his eyes as I slid my hand up his chest, his neck, into the bristles on his cheek.

Holding him there, holding his gaze, only then did I whisper, “Thank you for being you, Snap.”

He made a noise that sounded in my womb before he rolled, his rock-solid cock now pressed to my hip, his chest looming over me for a scant second before he laid another wet, hot, crazy-awesome one on me and then lifted his head to me panting and holding on to his shoulders.

“Stop bein’ you for five seconds so I can get outta this bed,” he ordered gruffly.

Snapper sounded nice talking gruffly.

But I nearly burst out laughing, contained it and beat back the snort doing that welled up in me before I asked, “Who do you want me to be?”

“Someone annoying.”

“Snapper,” I whined dramatically, “you know I don’t like it when you throw your clothes on the floor.”

“Now you’re bein’ cute and I still wanna fuck you.”

“I have syphilis,” I lied.

He started laughing.

“And I used to be a man,” I went on.

He started laughing harder.

“A gay man, so we’re good,” I told him.

He laughed even harder.

I slid my hands from his shoulders up to cup his jaw and said quietly, “I hate to end this goodness because you laughing is a beautiful thing but I need you to take a shower, have breakfast, and leave me by myself, because except in my car, I haven’t been alone since it happened and I’ve gotta learn to do that again, hopefully without freaking.”

The laughter vanished and he dipped his face close to me.