Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

Slotting a book back into its place on the sturdy bookshelf the next day, I did a long stretch. I’d been holed up in the library for hours, unwinding in my favorite way ever. I’d mentally jotted down several of the books here that I intended to read before my inevitable divorce. I was determined to get through them all.

I’d miss this little haven when I left. No matter how hectic my day was, all my tension fell away whenever I walked into the library. Partly because I just loved the woody, earthy scents of old books and leather. I honestly didn’t get why Dane never made any use of the space. What a weirdo.

Said weirdo was currently in his home office. Big surprise there. He’d earlier popped his head through the door to inform me that he was back from his dinner meeting with colleagues, but he’d disappeared before I could say anything more than “hi.”

I’d almost laughed when Melinda once commented on how “social” Dane was. Social my ass. He could certainly feign the fuck out of it when it suited him, though. Just as he feigned the fuck out of being head over heels for me.

Grabbing another book I’d mentally marked as to-be-read, I crossed to what had become my favorite plush chair within the library. I was just about to sit when Dane strolled inside, his eyes hard, his mouth tight.

I lifted my brows. “Something wrong?”

He halted a few feet away and casually slipped his hands into his pockets, but he looked far from at ease. “I just received an email from Heather.”

Uh-oh. I should have figured she’d send him another. Or maybe she’d just re-sent the first. “Heather?” I echoed. “What did she want?”

“Firstly, to apologize for that scene she caused at the barbecue. She claims to be ashamed of her behavior and is mortified that she let her family down so badly. She went on to tell me how it saddens her that you two have never been close, and that she regrets never forming a sisterly bond with you.”

She’d typed all that in the other email.

“She also apparently feels the need to warn me that you’ve never gotten over Owen, and she worries that you might just be using me to get his attention, now that he’s divorcing his wife. She’s quite sure you’d leave me for him if he gave you the slightest indication that he’d be willing to give things with you another try, and apparently her conscience wouldn’t let her keep quiet about it.”

Yep, she’d said that lump of shit in the original email, too, so it was looking like she had indeed simply re-sent it. The woman didn’t know when to stop, did she? “I can see you’re pissed, but just ignore her. I’ll deal with it, Dane.”

He slowly stalked toward me. “Will you? Funny. Because she prefaced the email with how she was sorry to bother me ‘again,’ but she worried her first email went astray.”

Hell.

“I checked my email account, but there was nothing else from Heather—not even among the spam or the deleted emails. Which means either there was no other email, or you erased it so thoroughly you even wiped it from the deleted folder. The look on your face is making me lean toward the latter theory.”

I shrugged. “Getting rid of your shit-mail is part of my job.”

Impatience flickered across his face. “This is something I would have wanted to know about, which you’re well aware of. But you deleted it without telling me about it. Why?”

“You can’t guess?”

His nostrils flared. “She’s not getting away with this.”

My stomach sank. “Dane—”

“No, I made it clear to you that if she made another move, I wouldn’t let it go. It’s not just about the emails, Vienna. Simon hinted that she’d made life hard for you when you were a child. A traumatized child. She should have been dealt with a long time ago.”

“She was handled. Melinda and Wyatt put a stop to it.”

“A stop to what exactly?”

I pressed my lips tight together. It wasn’t just that I didn’t want to talk about it, it was that I knew hearing the details would only piss him off more.

“She’s going to pay, Vienna.”

Panic fluttered through me as he turned and headed for the door. “She’s quite capable of fucking up her own life, Dane—she doesn’t need help with that. Just leave it.”

“Not a chance.”

“Seriously, it would bother her more if you just ignored her.”

“I intend to do a lot more than ‘bother’ her.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Dane, I’m asking you to leave it. Please.”

“Not happening, Vienna.”

I took a panicked step toward him. “You retaliate, Dane, and I’ll walk.”

He halted, and his body went rigid. Absolutely rigid. Then, finally, he very slowly turned to face me. His gaze was darker than I’d ever seen it. His eyebrow flicked up. “You’ll walk?” he echoed, his tone daring me to repeat it.

Refusing to be intimidated, I lifted my chin. “I owe you. I know that. And I don’t want to go back on my word. But I can’t lose Melinda and Wyatt.”

“That’s not a reason to let Heather walk all over you. She does these things because you let her get away with it. People will only treat you how you allow them to treat you.”

“I don’t care if she feels the need to act like a bitch toward me.”

“I care.”

“No, you care that she dared to cross you. That’s different. Heather has been a bitch to me since the day I met her. She’s never going to change. Nothing you do or I do will make a damn bit of difference. If you acted on this, it would only hurt Melinda and Wyatt. She’d use it to hurt them; to make them choose her over me. And they would. I know that. I get it. I wouldn’t hate them for it—she’s their daughter. I’d hate you for it.”

His brows snapped together. “Me?”

“Yes. Because you know what Heather’s trying to do; you know what her game is. If you play into her hands, you’ll have done it knowing I could lose two of the people who matter most to me. You’ll have put your need for vengeance over what I feel and want. And for what? It’s not as if you care for me. We’ll be divorcing in under a year—that’s your plan. What does it really matter to you if your fake wife has to deal with some family bullshit?”

A muscle in his cheek flexed. “It matters.”

I inwardly snorted. “I won’t lose Melinda and Wyatt just because you don’t like people crossing you. They’re important to me. I didn’t talk for four whole months after Deacon beat my mother, because I didn’t want to tell anyone what he’d done; I wanted to protect him. No matter how good Melinda and Wyatt were to me, I didn’t trust them. I didn’t trust that they wouldn’t send me away. So I didn’t speak to them, didn’t let them touch me. I barely ate. Barely slept. Had nightmares all the fucking time.”

Pausing, I crossed to him. “They were so patient with me. So good to me. Never raised their voices, never raised a hand to me, never got annoyed with me for not talking. They just let me be. Even when I started talking, they didn’t pepper me with questions. They were … they were what I needed. And they made sure I had Simon in my life and that I properly understood his disorder. If putting up with their daughter’s bullshit is the way to repay them for all that, so be it. And I didn’t grit my teeth through years of Heather’s crap just for you to go and ruin everything now.”

He exhaled heavily, a little of the menace in his eyes receding.

“Dane, tell me you’ll leave it.”

“If I do, she’ll step up her game. Ignoring it isn’t going to make her stop.”

“Neither will threatening her. She’d lap up the drama and cry fake tears to her parents.”

He twisted his mouth. “Then we deal with it another way.”

“I’m not telling tales to Melinda and Wyatt.”

“Not asking you to.”

“Then what?”

His eyes narrowed. “Where does she work?”

“She doesn’t.”

His brow knitted. “She wears designer clothes and drives a Mercedes.”

“Using the child support payments she gets from Junior’s dad.”

“She’s single?”

“No. She’s dating some guy named Thad Drummond. He’s probably married—her boyfriends are always spoken for. She ruins their relationships, milks them for what she can get, and then she moves on.”

“So if I were to hire someone to take some photos of her and Thad and then send said photos to his wife, Heather wouldn’t be too happy about it, would she? It would be a message: If she stays out of our business, we’ll stay out of hers, but if not …”

Actually, that wasn’t a bad idea. “You’re sure she’ll know we’re behind it?”

“I’ll ensure she suspects it somehow. We’ll confirm it when she confronts us, which she will do for sure—she won’t be able to help herself.”

I gave a slow nod. “All right.”

“All right,” he repeated. “But …” He closed the short distance between us. “I want to know what she did to you.”

I felt my insides seize. “It was a long time ago—” I cut off as he put his face closer to mine, his expression hard, his breath lightly fanning my mouth.

“That woman is going to be handled, Vienna. I’d much rather do it my way, which will involve putting the fear of God in her. If you want me to deal with her another way, this is the price.”

I should have remembered he rarely did anything for nothing.

“Tell me what she did.”

I ground my teeth. “Lots of little things.”

“Such as?”

I shrugged. “She’d break my toys. Rip my clothes. Try forcing me to eat dog food. Pinch and twist my skin. Spit in my dinner when her parents weren’t looking.”

“What else? I’m sensing it escalated.”

“She’d bite me hard enough to mark. Slap my face and yank my hair. Pull knives on me. Sneak into my room while I was sleeping and cut my hair or pee on my bed so that I’d get the blame. That sort of thing.”

“You never told anyone?”

“At first, I wasn’t talking at all. Then when I was, well, she said I’d be sent away if I told anyone what was happening.” Sent to a children’s home where I’d be beaten, starved, and disallowed to have clothes.

“What made it all stop?”

I hesitated, flexing my fingers. “She and two of her friends …”

“What?” he pushed.

“They locked me in the trunk of Wyatt’s car. With her pet rat.” The latter might not have mattered so much if it hadn’t brought back memories of my life with my mother.

I swallowed hard, remembering how I’d begged them to let me out. They’d only laughed. “Melinda and Wyatt were at a party. Heather and her friends waited for the babysitter to fall asleep and then smuggled me out of the backdoor. They carried me to the driveway at the front of the house, shoved me in the trunk, and then left me there. I screamed and kicked, but no one heard me. Not until Melinda and Wyatt stumbled out of a cab at two in the morning, drunk.”

Dane spat a vicious curse. “Then what?”

“They sat me down and demanded to know what had happened. I told them … and everything else that had gone on just tumbled out of me. They were devastated. Shocked. Furious. They asked me if I wanted to leave, but I said no. They came down on Heather hard, and she never touched me again. They were never the same with her after that. They’d sometimes look at her like they didn’t know her.” I sighed. “So now you know.”

He kept watching me with those piercing eyes, holding himself unnaturally still. “Right now, the thing I want most is to make a few phone calls that will shatter her life until she has nothing,” he said, his voice low and loaded with anger. “But I made you a deal, and I’ll stick to it.” He went nose to nose with me. “Don’t threaten to walk out on me again, Vienna. Ever.” Before I could say another word, he stalked out of the room.

I let out a shaky breath, feeling as though I’d dodged a bullet. For a minute there, I hadn’t thought I’d be able to talk him down. But he’d relented when I made him a deal—I’d have to remember that. I might need to utilize such a tactic if we ever again found ourselves clashing over something. Which we would, because he was a pain in my ass.

Returning to the plush chair, I plopped into it. The man was going to drive me to drink at some point—I was sure of it.

Standing at my office desk a few days later, I flashed a falsely apologetic smile at Hope and Travis. “Sorry, Dane’s not here; he’s making his rounds to other departments.”

He liked to catch up with the teams, be visible, and keep his finger on the pulse of whatever was happening within the company. I just hoped he wasn’t firing people left, right, and center. He’d been in a major funk since our little argument in the library. Today, however, he was in a seriously foul mood, and his level of tolerance was currently paper-thin.

I’d asked if he wanted to talk about whatever was bothering him but, of course, he’d blown me off—and rather rudely, at which point I’d flipped him off and told him to go jump up his ass. “He’ll probably be another half hour or so,” I added.

“That’s okay,” said Travis, scratching his chin. “We really wanted to speak to you, actually.”

Lord, deliver me. “You’ve come to apologize for calling me a liar?” I doubted it.

His brow furrowed. “A liar?”

“Yup.”

“When did I accuse you of being a liar?”

“When Dane confronted you about cornering me outside my old apartment,” I said, sounding as bored as I felt. “You told him I lied about what got said and then you accused me of trying to drive a wedge between the two of you.”

Travis shook his head fast. “That’s bullshit. He and I argued, sure. He didn’t like that I’d told you certain things—Dane likes his secrets. But at no point did I call you a liar.”

“Whatever. If you’re not here to offer any apologies, why are you here?”

He exchanged a look with his wife and then said, “Last time you and I spoke, I warned you what Dane was like, Vienna. You obviously decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. I would have respected that and let it alone. But then you married him and …” Travis sighed. “It’s going to be hard for you to hear this, but we’re all in agreement that you deserve to know.”

“All?” I echoed. “Who’s all?”

Hope lifted her chin. “Me, Travis, and Jen. We talked about it, and we all decided that you needed to hear this.”

Oh, this was going to be good. I folded my arms across my chest. “Okay. What is it that I so badly need to hear?”

“Dane … he’s using you, Vienna,” said Travis.

I raised a brow. “Using me?”

“Our uncle set up a trust fund for each of us. We have to be married before we can access it, and we have to do that before we turn thirty-eight. Otherwise, no trust fund.”

I let out a low whistle. “Apparently Hugh was a man who was a big believer in marriage.”

Travis snickered. “Not quite. He hadn’t experienced it for himself, but he wanted to ensure that we all did. He meant well, really. But Dane’s never seen it that way. He’s always been adamant that he’d never get married; that he’d never be ‘brought to heel by a dead man.’ You know yourself that he’s a huge commitment-phobe. Funny how that’s abruptly changed, isn’t it?”

I pursed my lips. “I wouldn’t say he was ever a commitment-phobe. He just didn’t seem interested in a relationship.”

“Until now,” said Hope. “All of a sudden, after four years of knowing you, he’s eloping with you. And it just so happens that he’s doing so at the age of thirty-seven.”

I cocked my head. “You think he married me purely so he can access his trust fund?”

She nodded. “I’m sorry, Vienna, but yes, I do. You don’t think it’s strange how he so abruptly came around to the idea of marriage? Look at how everything moved so quickly between you. I’m not saying he feels nothing for you, just that he didn’t marry you for the right reason.”

“He obviously didn’t mention the trust fund to you,” said Travis. “Don’t you wonder why?”

I sighed. “Look—”

“He needs to be married to you for an entire year before he can touch it.” Travis planted his hands on my desk. “That’s all you’ll have with him. A year. After that, you’ll have nothing. I mean, if you two divorce, there’s no way you’ll keep working here, is there? No. That means you’ll be out of a job. You’ll also lose your home. And where are you going to go? You’ve already given up your apartment for him.”

Hope nodded. “Oh, sure, you’ve probably signed a prenup that states you’ll get a nice cushy settlement in the event of a divorce. But I’ll bet he put a ‘wife gets nothing if she cheats’ clause in there. He’ll manufacture some ‘evidence’ that you had an affair, ensuring you don’t get a single cent of his money when you divorce.”

“Don’t think he wouldn’t, Vienna,” Travis advised. “The man is ruthless through and through. His own interests come first.”

Actually, I had signed a prenup. There was in fact such a clause in the contract but, according to my attorney, it was a standard thing. I hadn’t really cared about any of the clauses. I didn’t want money or anything else from him. Except maybe the bed. “So what are you suggesting I do?”

“Stop letting him use you,” said Travis. “He’s done plenty of that already. You can walk away now, which will mean his little plot won’t have paid off and he’ll lose access to his trust fund. Then at least you’ll have your pride. If you stay with him, you’ll be left with nothing at all. I hope you make the right choice.” With that, he and his wife left.

Shit, Dane was going to flip when he heard that they’d come here to spout that “advice.” Currently, he just wasn’t in the mood to deal with this calmly. I could delay telling him until later, right? No, it was probably best that I told him straight away in case someone else mentioned that they saw Hope and Travis in the building. Dane wouldn’t like hearing about it secondhand.

My resolve to tell him about it melted when he stalked out of the elevator a short while later looking ready to draw blood. I had no idea what had crawled up his ass and died a terrible death, but he showed no signs of calming any time soon.

He didn’t even greet me with a simple eyebrow raise. He marched past me, stormed into the office, and slammed the door shut. Huh.

Knowing from past experience that it was best to leave him alone when such moods had a tight grip on him, I went back to transcribing notes I’d taken from an earlier meeting. The whole time, my mind kept drifting back to something Travis had said …

If you two divorce, there’s no way you’ll keep working here, is there? No. That means you’ll be out of a job.

Stupid as it made me, I hadn’t even thought about that. But he was right. There was no way I could continue to work here afterward. Not only because it would look weird to others if I did, but because I didn’t think we could go back to being simply “boss” and “PA.”

Our dynamics had sort of shifted slightly. The marriage might be a sham, but we’d kissed, touched, shared secrets, and even lived together. He wasn’t my husband, no, but he also wasn’t simply my boss. I didn’t think I could go back to booking dinner reservations for him and his lady friends.

I’d always felt a twinge of jealousy whenever I’d thought of him with other women. But I’d been able to box that away and keep professional walls erected between us. Those walls weren’t so steady anymore. And it would be hard to move on because my simple crush no longer felt like a simple crush. It had grown. Shifted. Lost its harmless air.

Plus, how the hell was I supposed to explain to any potential boyfriends that I still worked for my ex-husband? They’d consider that a red flag for sure.

Putting it all out of my mind for now, I went back to work. The rest of the day passed rather quickly. We were soon sitting in the car on our way back to his estate. Dane’s black mood hadn’t whatsoever improved, and the atmosphere was so thick it was palpable.

He didn’t speak a word. Nor did he work on his phone. He just stared out of the window, his expression as hard as stone.

I gave him the space and silence he seemed to need, knowing better than to try to appease him. He’d harshly rebuff those attempts for certain, and then I’d have to flip him off again.

No sooner had the car pulled up in the courtyard than Dane was slipping out of it. Without a word of goodbye to Sam, he prowled up the path and disappeared into the house.

Skirting the hood of the car, I smiled at the driver. “I’ll, um, see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, Mrs. Davenport,” said Sam, giving me a pitying look. He probably thought that me and Dane had had some kind of lover’s quarrel.

A little stiff around my neck and shoulders, I decided to go take a bath before I ate dinner. Soaking in the hot water did wonders for my aching muscles, so I was feeling a lot more relaxed when, clad in my pjs, I later went down to the kitchen.

I was rooting through the cupboards, looking for inspiration as to what to have for dinner, when Dane came striding into the room, seeming no less moody.

“I’m making beef stir fry,” I told him. “Want some?”

“Sure,” he clipped, not even sparing me a glance.

I blinked, surprised. He rarely ate dinner with me these days, so I’d expected him to say no.

As I began to line what ingredients I needed on the countertop, I snuck a quick glance at Dane. He was staring hard at the island, his gaze inward.

I badly wanted to ask what was bugging him so much, but I’d already tried that. He wasn’t going to answer. So I just idly talked while I prepped our meal, not once saying anything that required a response. I half-expected him to tell me to shut up or something, but he didn’t. He was probably blocking me out.

I continued to talk a little as we ate at the island, and then again when we stacked our dirty plates in the dishwasher, still not expecting a response from him. I often did the same when my dad’s mind was elsewhere. Like Dane, he tended to ignore me, but Simon usually relaxed eventually.

Closing the dishwasher, Dane sighed. “Why do you keep telling me how good Ryan’s PA is? You’ve circled back to her three times.”

I was secretly pleased he’d finally spoken, even if he was being snippy. “I was hoping to get an idea of what your personal feelings about Patience are.”

He shrugged. “She’s good at her job.”

“Excellent.”

“Why is it excellent?”

“Because I was thinking she’d be a good replacement for me when I leave o-Verve.”

Dane went very still. “Replacement?”

“Well obviously I can’t keep working there after the divorce.”

“And why not?” he clipped, frowning.

“It would be weird.”

“Why?”

Unable to decide if he was being deliberately obtuse, I tipped my head to one side. “You don’t think it would look seriously strange if we divorced but kept working together?”

“No, I don’t. There’s no reason for you to leave. You can stay where you are.”

“Um, no, I can’t.”

His eyes flared. “Yes, you can. You will.”

“It would be too weird. And people would think I’d stayed to be near you; it’d look like I was clinging to what scraps you would give me. No, I have my pride. I can’t stay at o-Verve. Patience is a really good PA.”

“I don’t want her. I want you.”

God, how I wished he meant something wholly different by that. “Dane, just—”

“You’re staying. End of discussion.”

I felt my lips thin. “Why are you being difficult about this? Look, I know you had trouble finding a PA who ‘fit’ you and who can overlook the fact that you’re an asshole at times. That’s why I’m looking at a potential replacement now. I can give Patience a little extra training, and then she’ll just be able to slot right into my position when I’m gone.”

He ate up the small space between us, standing so agonizingly close I could feel the heat of his body; could feel the dark, sheer intensity he gave off like pheromones that made my body pulse with an electric awareness.

“You don’t need to give her any extra training,” he stated. “She’s not going to need it, because she’s not going to be working for me. I already have a PA, and she suits me just fine. I don’t intend to let her go anywhere.”

“You can’t force me to keep the job.”

His brow hiked up. “What do I always get, Vienna?”

I folded my arms. “Okay, tell me how you intend to ensure I stay in a job I’ll no longer want. I’m genuinely curious how you think you’ll achieve this.”

He tilted his head. “Did you ever think you’d marry me, Vienna—sham marriage or not?”

“No.”

“And yet, you did. Never think I’m a man who ever settles for anything less than exactly what he wants. I never have, I never will. I know how to get what I want, and I know how to keep it.”

“I wonder if you’ll be saying that same thing when I’m boxing up the stuff from my office desk after the divorce.”

“It won’t come to that. You’re staying at o-Verve.”

God, give me strength. “Dane—”

“You’re staying.”

“You’re being unreason—”

“You’re. Staying.”

“Oh. My. God. Stop being a brat.”

His nostrils flared. “A brat?”

“Yes,” I snapped, out of patience. “You’re all about what you want. For just a few moments, step out of Dane’s world and remind yourself that one of the things I really want is to get married for real at some point. Remember we talked about that? I want a partner. And kids. And, yeah, a cat. I want to find someone who does actually care for me; who wants to build a life with me. That’s never going to happen while you’re in the picture, because no guy is going to be interested in me if I’m working for my fucking ex-husband. That’s what you’ll be. My. Ex—”

He took my mouth with a low growl, sinking his tongue inside. Hands bunched my hair as he herded me backwards until I hit the counter. It knocked the breath right out of me, but his mouth kept on eating at mine with so much greed and urgency. Stunned by the absolute ferocity of his kiss, I could only cling to him, digging my fingers into his upper arms.

Logic, reason, rationality, control—all of it was burned away by the carnal demands of his mouth. I strained to be closer, kissing him back for all I was worth. He growled in approval, punching his hips forward, grinding his cock against my clit. Oh, God, yes.

The burn of his hot mouth felt like a brand. The erotic flicks of his tongue demanded more. The sure, confident hands that roamed over me screamed possession. The feel of his dick rubbing my clit felt like a promise.

I really needed him to follow through with that sexual promise, because the molten lust pumping through my veins had whipped my body into a damn frenzy. My nipples were hard. My pussy was damp. My nerve-endings were crying out for more.

He shoved his hand into my panties and thrust a finger inside me—no preamble, no hesitation, only the sheer intention to take what he wanted. His finger curved just right, and I gasped. He put his mouth to my ear and pressed on my g-spot. “There?” It was a snarl in my ear. He knew damn well he’d found the right spot.

“Yes,” I hissed, arching into his hand.

His finger, so skilled and warm, worked me hard. His free hand yanked up my top, and he latched onto my nipple. I moaned as he sucked, bit, and flattened the taut bud against the roof of his mouth until it tingled and throbbed.

Releasing my nipple, he bit my earlobe. “I’m going to fuck you. Possess you. Tell me you want it,” he said through his teeth.

“I want it.”

He fucked me harder with his finger, growling as my tight inner muscles contracted around it.

I moaned. Groaned. Demanded more. And then I came. My release hit me out of nowhere and totally swept me under. I sagged against him, breathing hard, my heart pounding in my chest.

Dane withdrew his hand, propped me on the counter, and ragged off my pants and panties. He snapped open his fly, freeing his cock. Fuck, it was thick. And long. And it looked almost painfully hard.

He whipped a condom out of his back pocket, donned it fast, and then angled my hips just right. “Going to make you come so fucking hard for me.”He rammed his cock balls-deep into my swollen pussy, taking full, instant possession of me in one brutal thrust.

My breath caught in my throat. Jesus, he felt bigger than he looked. He didn’t give me a moment to adjust to his size. He pounded into me like it was the only thought in his mind.

I locked my arms and legs tight around him, groaning as his fat cock dragged over long-unused, super-sensitized muscles. It had been at least ten months since I’d last had sex. And, well, this was sure making up for it.

He was all masculine domination as he took and used and fucked me with sheer sexual aggression. I loved every damn second of it. And it wasn’t long before another orgasm began to build inside me, making my pussy flutter and tighten.

“Not yet,” he bit out. “Hold it.”

“Can’t,” I rasped.

He snarled. “Fucking hold it. You come when I say, not before.”

Bastard. I clung to him tighter, as if it would keep the orgasm at bay. There was something primal and almost animalistic about the way he grunted and growled and breathed hard against my neck while he fucked me. And that flipped my switch in a way I wouldn’t have expected, which did not help me stave off my release.

“Dane.” It was close to a sob.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he praised. “Keep holding it for me.”

I felt his cock thicken inside me as he upped his pace, slamming so hard it hurt in a way that only amplified the pleasure. Each savage thrust wound me tighter and tighter, until I was so close to coming, I could practically taste it. And that was it. I couldn’t hold it any longer. “Dane.”

“Come,” he growled. “Want to hear you scream.”

Pure pleasure whipped through me like a bolt of lightning. My eyes went blind, my head fell back, my back bowed, and—sure enough—a raspy scream tore out of my throat.

His fingertips bit into my thighs as he rammed harder once, twice, three times. His spine stiffened and he growled a harsh curse, burying his face in my neck as he exploded inside me.

I slumped against him, my lungs burning for air. It took at least a few minutes for my post-orgasm buzz to fade enough for reality to filter into my brain. When it did, I inwardly cursed.

Shit, this had been a bad idea. A really bad idea.

Well, not so much an “idea.” I hadn’t been thinking. Only feeling. All sensible thought had vanished from my mind the moment Dane’s mouth crushed mine. I couldn’t even blame him, though. Both of uslost control, and I doubted he was any more comfortable with that loss of control than I was.

I straightened as he withdrew his cock. He stepped back, still panting, and stared at me—his gaze utterly unreadable. I stared back, not knowing what to say. Apparently, he had no words either, because he didn’t speak.

I righted my top and slipped off the counter. I sensed more than saw him remove the condom and fasten his fly as I pulled on my underwear and pants.

Meeting his eyes, I forced a smile. “Goodnight.” Lame, sure, but I really didn’t need to listen to a “that was a mistake” speech.

Keeping my chin up, I casually padded out of the kitchen and headed up the stairs, my inner muscles still pulsing. In my room, I sank down on the bed and closed my eyes. Had I really just had sex with Dane?

Yes, I had. Raw, rough, epic sex.

I’d never come that hard in my life. Probably because I’d never once been fucked like that—with such want and need and aggression.

It was like four years’ worth of sexual tension exploded between us—because, yeah, it was clear that I’d been wrong; I wasn’t the only one who felt it. He’d done an amazing job of fooling me all this time. But then, he was a freaking expert at deception.

Not that I thought he might have some sort of “thing” for me. Nor was I under the mistaken impression that he’d want a repeat of tonight. I wasn’t so dumb that I didn’t understand one very important thing: I could have been anyone to him.

He hadn’t been desperate to have me. He’d been angry and needed an outlet for all that pent-up emotion. If I hadn’t pushed him tonight, if I’d just walked away when he reacted so badly to my saying I’d leave o-Verve, his control would never have snapped like that, and the sex would never have happened.

Yeah, it stung to know it had meant absolutely nothing to him. But I wasn’t going to whine about it. I was a big girl.

The ghostly sensations of his fingers biting into my thighs and his cock moving inside me lingered. And I couldn’t find it in myself to regret what had happened. It had been stupid for certain. But life was all about making memories, right? That was what Nancy always said.

Of course, the old woman also said that Charles Manson was just misunderstood.

I sat up straight, determined not to give myself a hard time about sleeping with Dane. After all, what was done was done. It had been a nice way to break my dry spell. This didn’t have to be a bad thing. It just needed to be a one-off.