An hour after that, I checked my e-mail to see that Loretta not only sent me the picture of Tate and I on his bike, she sent me another one of us standing by his bike, his hand to my jaw, my hands were at his waist and we were kissing. Her hilarious commentary was, “Girl, you are so lucky! Isn’t he hot?”

She’d never know just how hot he was.

Poor Loretta.

A number of hours after that, part anxious, part scared and part turned on, I climbed into bed, called Tate and five seconds later I had my hand between my legs.

The anxiety and fear melted a second after that.

I melted ten minutes later.

* * * * *

Four days after that, I was dead asleep when Tate came home.

He woke me and this was the first part of the first fantasy I described to him over the phone.

He then proceeded to help me live out the rest of it.

In detail.

After we were both done, Tate pressed his h*ps into mine, I came off my knees, he came off his, I went down to my belly, his body covered my back and he rested his forearms in the bed on either side of me.

“You like that, baby?” he whispered in my ear.

“Yeah, Captain,” I whispered my understatement back.

He kissed my shoulder and muttered against my skin, “Fuck, it’s good to be home.”

I didn’t get a chance to reply, he righted us in bed, pulled the covers over us and tucked me close.

“Go back to sleep, Laurie,” he murmured.

“Okay, honey.”

His arms gave me a squeeze. “Sweet dreams, baby.”

“You too, Captain.”

I settled into him and fell asleep before he did.

I didn’t wake up once.

* * * * *

It wouldn’t be for weeks when I would realize I’d stopped waking up at all when Tate was home with me. It was only when he was away that I was restless.

It was Tate who made me realize this and he did it when he walked into the bathroom one morning while I was brushing my teeth wearing nothing but my undies. He stopped behind me, slid an arm around my stomach and pressed into my back.

My eyes went to his in the mirror and I noted instantly he had something on his mind.

He didn’t make me wait.

“You keepin’ somethin’ from me?” he asked.

I blinked, pulled the toothbrush out of my mouth then answered, “No.”

His arm gave me a squeeze, a physical warning, and he gave me a verbal warning through the way he said, “Babe.”

I stared in his eyes, finished brushing, spit, rinsed, wiped and tried to turn but Tate kept me where I was, facing the mirror with his arm wrapped around my waist.

“Tate –” I said into the mirror.

“I don’t like you doin’ it alone.”

“What?”

“The night.”

I shook my head and asked, “Sorry?”

“I don’t like you facin’ the night alone. You wake up, I don’t, I’m tellin you now, babe, you wake me.”

That was when it hit me and I stared at him in the mirror, silently.

I did this for awhile, long enough for him to get impatient, give me a squeeze and prompt, “Got me?”

“I’m not waking up,” I whispered, stunned, still staring at him.

There hadn’t been a time I could remember when I didn’t wake up, not since I was a kid. Maybe for a night or two but not regularly. My mind had tortured me, and my sleep, since forever.

“Come again?” he asked.

My hands went to the basin and I held on.

“I’m not…” I shook my head in disbelief. “Tate, baby,” I was still whispering, “when you’re here, I don’t wake up.” I felt the sting of tears in my eyes and kept whispering. “It’s only when you’re gone that I –”

His arm went loose, his hands came to my hips, he stepped back and turned me to face him then stepped back in, his arm going back around me, his other hand coming to my jaw.

I tipped my head back to look at him.

“Honey –” he started and a tear slid down my cheek.

“All my life,” I interrupted him, “since I could remember. And now I’m not. Not while you’re around.”

“Laurie –” he whispered, his thumb moving to wipe away my tear.

“You’re…” I swallowed, “you’re it.”

“I know, baby,” he murmured, his forehead dropping to mine. “You’re it for me too.”

“No,” I told him. “You don’t get it. You’re the something special I’ve been looking for. And what I was looking for was what I needed to put my mind at ease.”

“Ace –” he started but I fitted myself to him and slid my arms tight around him.

“I knew it but I didn’t know it. Now I know it.”

For some reason, suddenly his head came up and he stared down at me with such concentration and for so long, I couldn’t take it anymore.

“What?” I asked.

“You aren’t goin’ anywhere,” he stated and I blinked again.

“What?”

“This is good enough for you.”

I shook my head and squeezed him with my arms. “Tate, you aren’t making –”

“You don’t just believe I can do anything, I can do anything, for you.”

I stopped breathing.

“Fix your sleep,” he stated.

I stared.

“Fucked up my whole life, made shitty decisions, almost f**ked up my son’s life, but not you. I can do anything when I’m with you.”

“You could before,” I told him.

“Not until you.”

“Tate, you –”

“The day you rolled into town, babe, you saw me with Neeta. The next day, the day I met you, that’s when it began.”

“It isn’t.”

“Fuck,” he hissed, his voice so intense it was nearly physical, “wish Dad coulda met you.”

I stared at him, stunned speechless when it hit me my beautiful, badass biker had been broken.

And I’d fixed him too.

“It broke you,” I whispered.

“What?”

“When you lost the game, it broke you. You were on your way to self-fulfilled prophesies too.”

He stared down at me and I held my breath for his reaction.