“The point is,” he said softly, “we’ve established we get it. There are lines we don’t cross. We both know why. We both got shields up to protect ourselves and each other from the shit in our lives. But that doesn’t mean we can’t give a shit and that doesn’t mean we can’t be decent to each other when the need arises.”

“I…I…” I didn’t know what I wanted to say, so I finished weakly, “I actually am fine, Sebring. I have some things on my mind but I’m fine.”

He scowled at me.

I wanted to shut this down. I wanted to stop myself from feeling what I was feeling because it felt too good.

But he was right.

We got it.

And if that was true—and he believed it was—and if I could convince myself of that—then we did get it.

So I could have it.

“However, if needed, I’ll be certain to get shitfaced safely with you or…” I shrugged, “other.”

“You do know you can be cute,” he remarked curtly.

I could?

“No,” I told him.

“And it’s fucking annoying,” he declared, sounding like it was far worse than that.

I had the deep desire to smile.

Instead, I pressed my lips together.

His eyes dropped to them and he suddenly looked well beyond fucking annoyed.

His gaze came back to mine.

“And, just sayin’, in a perfect goddamned world, I’d know who taught you it wasn’t okay to be happy, not even for the length of time you’d give yourself to smile, and I’d fuck them right the fuck up,” he declared, his words and their tone proving he was definitely beyond fucking annoyed.

But still, I liked he had that emotion for me.

And liking it, I felt my body melt on his as I whispered, “Sebring.”

“Now,” he rolled me to my back, “with all that shit, I’m not fine.” His mouth came to mine. “So we’re fucking until I feel better.”

“Okay,” I agreed, sliding my arms around him, perfectly fine with giving at least that to him.

So I did.

We fucked.

And by the time he walked me to my car, I didn’t know how much better Nick felt.

But outside of leaving him, I felt great.

Chapter Twelve

Rearview Mirror

Olivia

5:26 – Saturday Evening

My phone rang, I looked at it and didn’t bother fighting it.

I answered it.

“Hey,” I greeted.

“Hey,” Nick replied. “Got somethin’ that came up. Can’t do dinner tonight.”

My heart sunk.

“Text you when my shit’s done. You can come over or I could come to you,” he finished.

My heart got light.

I wanted him to come to me. I wanted his presence in my house, the memory of him in my bed.

But I did not want anyone who might be watching to see him come to me or see his Jag in my drive.

“Text me,” I said. “I’ll come to you.”

“Right, later.”

“Later, Sebring.”

We hung up.

I finished what I was doing at David’s office and headed home because I had to make myself dinner and then be ready for Nick whenever he was ready for me.

* * * * *

11:38 – Saturday Night

When the text came from Nick (that text being, I’m home), I should have let it go. It was late. Much later than I expected. Too late and thus rude to be texting a woman who you want to come over so you can fuck her.

I should absolutely not let him think I was up, waiting for him.

And I should never give him the impression a late summons such as that would get me in my car, driving the streets of Denver just to get a dose of him.

What I should do was answer it the next day, saying I’d gone to sleep and missed his text.

Or better yet, not answer at all and make him communicate with me.

I knew all of that.

However, the only thing I could muster was allowing twenty minutes to pass before I checked for signs anyone was watching the house and then I went to the garage to take the tracker off my car and I headed out.

I felt slightly better when I was barely on my way before another text came in from Nick.

You awake?

I didn’t text him back and not just because I was driving.

I went to his house. I parked. I walked up the iron stairs.

He had the door open by the time I made the top.

I barely walked through before he slid the door to at the same time he shoved me to the side.

He pushed me against the wall.

I was about to push back when I froze because Nick didn’t go for a kiss.

Or he did.

But he went for a different kind of kiss.

He dropped to his knees in front of me.

I drew in a sharp breath as I felt my hips jolt when he yanked my jeans and panties down to my thighs.

I dug the back of my head into the brick of the wall when I felt his tongue dart out, forcing itself into the tight juncture between my legs.

And I felt my jeans bite into my thighs as I automatically tried to force my legs wider to give him more access.

Nick didn’t need more access. He was doing just fine thrusting his tongue into my close wet.

Yes.

Oh God, yes.

He was doing just fine.

“Sebring,” I breathed, and lost his tongue as he surged up.

But I got his eyes and I got his finger as his gaze caught mine and he shoved his finger tight against my clit.

My eyes closed and my lips parted.