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  My sleep-choking tendencies posed a problem, and one I couldn’t ignore. How the fuck was I supposed to fall asleep next to her every night if it meant risking her life?

  Mid-morning rays trailed through the tiny window above us. Fuck, I didn’t want to leave this bed. Her curls were everywhere; in my eyes, teasing my lips, tickling my face. My fingers were everywhere; snuggled in the folds of her beautiful cunt, brushing a nipple. I spooned her from behind, trying hard not to stroke her awake. If that happened, I’d end up fucking her, and I couldn’t do that until I made damn sure she was taken care of. I would not put her in the position of needing an abortion like Zach had. I might not be able to control what I did in my sleep, but preventing an unplanned pregnancy was in my control.

  Being careful not to wake her, I slid my fingers from her wet pussy. She sighed, stretched, then settled back into sleep. Something inside me filled to the brimming point. I never imagined I could love someone so much, or so fucking possessively. The urge to pull out the cuffs made my hands twitch.

  I liked her helpless.

  I liked her mine.

  Biting back a groan, I eased from the bed. She was mine—that wouldn’t change—but things were never that simple. I was still keeping so much from her, stuff she sensed, if her stubborn questions from last night were any indication. I’d killed. I’d lost myself to mental obliteration. I’d erected a wall I wasn’t sure even she could hurdle.

  The boat swayed, and I held my breath, worried the motion would draw her from sleep. But she didn’t rouse. I pulled on my sweats and recalled how I’d kept her in sweet agony for most of the night. It had been a fitting punishment—one that distracted her from giving me the third degree. Truth was, I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to talk to her about my time in prison. Even before I’d lost my memory, I’d buried that part of my past under the single-minded focus on getting my hands on her.

  I tiptoed from the bedroom, leaving the door cracked open so I’d hear when she awoke though I didn’t expect her to rise for a while. After last night, she was going to need her sleep. And I needed something else so I could be with her the way I needed to be with her. As I turned on the coffee pot, I dialed Jax. Wedging the phone between my shoulder and ear, I tapped my fingers on the counter as the call rang through.

  He croaked something incomprehensible after the fifth ring, then he coughed and cleared his throat. “What?”

  “Good morning to you too,” I said, clenching and unclenching my fists three times to release tension.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Didn’t sleep well.”

  He was preaching to the fucking choir.

  “So what’s up?” he asked.

  “I was wondering if you could do something for me.”

  “Depends.”

  “Any chance you can you get your hands on some birth control?”

  A lengthy pause ticked by. “I think I can manage that.”

  “Thanks,” I said, watching as coffee began dripping into the carafe.

  More silence. “So,” he finally said, “guess what Nate told me last night after I left your boat?”

  My eye twitched, but I kept my tone neutral. “What’d he say?”

  “He said you and Shelton are getting into something lucrative.”

  Fuck. People and their big mouths.

  I must have muttered the obscenity out loud. His dry laughter filtered through the phone. “Funny how I had to hear it from a fucking stranger.”

  “What else did he tell ya?”

  “I know Zach’s involved. Is that what you’re worried about?”

  Basically, yeah.

  “You need to put a stop to this,” he said. “You’re gonna get yourself thrown back in jail, or worse.”

  “What do you expect me to do? Zach wouldn’t be a problem if you hadn’t carted him off to Mexico.”

  “You want to kill him? Fine. I won’t stop you this time. But shit, man, don’t be stupid about it. Don’t do it in front of a bunch of witnesses.”

  “Shelton’s already got him. I’m supposed to see for myself at noon. I was hoping you’d keep an eye on Alex while I’m gone.”

  “This is fucked up,” Jax said. “Do you really trust Shelton?”

  “I don’t have much choice. He’s playing hardball.”

  He cursed under his breath. “If you go through with this fight…how do you expect to come back from that? This is Zach we’re talking about. Not Brock, not even my old man. He’s Alex’s fucking brother, for chrissakes.”

  “You came back from what went down in that tunnel just fine.” I pointed out as I set a mug next to the coffee pot. “You killed your own blood, so who the fuck are you to lecture me?”

  “We’re not the same. I did what I needed to. I was born from a slave and raised in that ditch. But you…” He let out a sigh.

  “Say what’s on your mind, Jax. Wouldn’t want to stop you now.”

  “You’ve got a fucking huge ass conscience, whether you want it or not.”

  I bit down on my lip hard. Part of me agreed with him, and it wasn’t because I cared what happened to Zach; I cared about what Alex would think of me.

  “You’re right,” I said. “It’s complicated.” She might be able to look past me choking Jax’s uncle in prison, could maybe even forgive that moment in Perrone’s estate when I’d snapped. And Brock…well shit, Perrone’s most brutal thug had tortured her, only she didn’t have an emotional attachment to him like she did Zach and me.

  But with Zach…there was only one way to make sure he never came for her again, and I was positive she would hate me for it. Jax sure as fuck didn’t approve. He believed killing Zach would tip me over the edge, that I’d lose the last bit of humanity I still possessed if I killed someone I’d once considered my best friend.

  “Complicated doesn’t even touch it,” Jax said as if he’d heard the internal battle firing in my synapses. “You and Zach have history.”

  “Zach’s not the one I’m worried about. Something kept her quiet all those years. I’m not convinced she was only thinking of me. She even admitted to getting off on it.”

  “He’s her brother, not the love of her life. You know as well as I do that you’ve got her whipped.”

  My mouth thinned into a line. “I don’t know, Jax. There’s a fine line between love and hate. She threw me in that place for eight years because he told her to. That’s power.”

  “And I thought I carried baggage,” he grumbled. “You’ve spent too much time alone in your fucked up head.”

  “Probably,” I said.

  “No probably about it. You’ve been a fucking robot these past six months. You need her. She needs you. I get that. But if you need to take care of Zach, then don’t be a dumbass about it. ”

  Jax always gave it to me straight. Maybe the real problem was I wanted her to want him dead—it would make this much easier. But my gut told me she’d want to spare his life because she wasn’t a fucked up killer like me.

  Doesn’t matter what she wants.

  I was in control now, and no one was going to stop me this time, not even Jax. I refused to make the same mistake of leaving Zach alive—it was the only way Alex would be rid of him for good.

  Rafe’s quiet voice interrupted the blissful, orgasmic dream I was having. I whimpered, wishing I could stay in the dream where his magic hands explored every inch of my body. I forced my eyes open and blinked several times, despite the scratchiness of my lids. Ugh. He’d kept me in a state of near euphoria for most of the night, my wrists clamped in one hand while he fondled my breasts with the other. I couldn’t remember the exact moment I’d relaxed enough to sleep, but once I fell into the dark pit of slumber, I’d managed to find oblivion.

  Until now.

  I sat up, my elbows depressing the mattress, and blinked again. Words spoken in low tones filtered in from beyond the ajar door. Soundlessly, I slid from the mattress until my feet touched the floor. I was naked, my body on full display from the beautiful tat
too that covered my belly to the ugly battle scars of my life, forever etched into my arms. I crossed them and tried to ward off the chill. My body missed his already, especially his warmth because it was freezing in here. I crept across the room, my teeth chattering, and stood like a statue behind the door, my heartbeat accelerating in my ears as Rafe’s words knocked the breath from me.

  “Something kept her quiet all those years,” he said. “I’m not convinced she was only thinking of me. She even admitted to getting off on it.”

  A few beats of silence passed before he spoke again. “I don’t know, Jax. There’s a fine line between love and hate. She threw me in that place for eight years because he told her to. That’s power.”

  He was talking about Zach. I covered my mouth, the full context of his words sinking in. He was talking about Zach and me. Obviously, Rafe still blamed me for the hell I’d put him through. I thought he’d forgiven me, but maybe some things couldn’t be forgiven. I trailed my fingers over my throat, remembering the unrelenting grip of his fingers. His nightmares were my fault, would always be my fault. I pulled the door open and winced at the creak that sounded.

  Rafe set his cell on the counter. “Morning,” he said, pouring what looked like strong coffee into a mug. His gaze lingered on me as he took a sip.

  Parting my lips, I tried to say something.

  What are you not telling me? Why were you talking about my brother?

  Even a simple good morning would do, but my vocal cords locked up. My attention narrowed to the dreary light filtering through the small windows, and the fact that we were on a boat grabbed hold of my phobia. Unable to catch my breath, I stumbled into the table. All I could think about was the water surrounding us from outside these walls. Just mere slabs of wood separating us from the suffocating threat of drowning, of darkness and nothingness.

  Rafe plopped his mug onto the counter and a bit of liquid splashed over the rim. His footsteps rumbled toward me.

  “You’re safe,” he said, grabbing my biceps with two strong hands. “There’s no need to panic. Just breathe.” He pushed me with surprising gentleness onto the bench seat.

  I sucked air into my lungs, but I couldn’t quite reach that spot deep within that burned for a full breath. “I-I can’t.”

  He leaned over me, planted one hand on the table, and lifted my chin with the other. “Babe, I’d never let anything happen to you.” His eyes searched mine, though what he was looking for, I couldn’t say. Evidence that I wasn’t on the verge of freaking out? Trust? “I’m gonna kiss you, and you’re not gonna think about anything but me, okay?”

  I managed a slight nod before his mouth slanted over mine. His tongue plundered, seeking my surrender, further stealing my breath. He made me forget that I needed to breathe.

  The water didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except him kissing me.

  “Better?” he asked, his voice rough and laden with want.

  “I don’t need to breathe when you’re kissing me like that.”

  “Good,” he said, taking my mouth again and running a hand through my tangled hair. His kiss, his touch, the way his voice washed over me—everything about him induced a sense of calm, and I almost forgot about the upsetting phone call I’d overheard. Almost.

  I inched back and met his eyes. “I overheard you on the phone. What’s going on with my brother?”

  His brows curved downward with displeasure. “Nothing you need to worry about.” He slid into the seat across from me and averted his gaze. I despised this unbearable weight of tension. Things were different now, only I didn’t understand why. We’d survived so much together, had sacrificed so much for each other, yet he wouldn’t let me in.

  “Why are you shutting me out?” I asked, my palm gliding across the cold surface toward his. The quaking winter chill had subsided, thanks to the space heater I spied emitting a flow of warmth from the galley. But I needed his touch—needed a different kind of heat deep in my belly from being wanted, loved…trusted.

  “You know what you need to know. Has nothing to do with shutting you out.” He folded his fingers around mine, his green eyes simmering as he lifted my hand and sucked a finger into his mouth.

  “Rafe,” I whispered, squeezing my thighs together.

  “Is that sweet pussy still wet?” Licking his lips, he released my hand. Damn. I fell into submission with a delicious shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. That tingle traveled from the follicles on my scalp to the soles of my feet. How did he do this to me? Every. Fucking. Time.

  “You’re not gonna tell me what’s going on, are you?” I hated the way my voice came out weak and pathetic. Breathless. He had me. He knew it. I knew it.

  “Stand up,” he said.

  “Rafe?”

  “I said stand up.” He raised a brow in challenge.

  Rising on shaky legs, I crossed my arms. “Happy?”

  One corner of his mouth lifted. “Not yet.” He patted the tabletop. “Get your sexy ass up here. Let’s do something about that ache you’re trying to hide.”

  Holy shit. My ability to articulate an intelligent sentence vanished. I slid onto the table, and he pushed me into a reclining position then urged my legs around his shoulders. I braced my palms on the back of the bench where I’d sat, my head hanging over the edge of the table, and tried not to dwell on how he was using sex as a diversion.

  He slid his hands up my inner thighs, and I was lost as his fingers parted my folds.

  “You want me to taste you?”

  I squirmed under his hands, under the hot flush of his breath on my pussy. “Yes…please.”

  “I’d do anything for you. You know that, right?”

  I did know that. He’d risked his life for me, but would he share what made him vulnerable? Would he unburden his fears and let me help carry the weight? I longed for his trust as much as I longed to feel his cock inside me.

  “Why did you leave? Help me understand.” For the first time in my life, I felt like I was the strong one.

  He reached for something behind him. “Take this,” he said, rolling an apple over the ink of his name, between my heaving breasts. I caught it before it fell to the floor, one hand bearing my weight for a few precarious moments.

  “Why?” I eyed the red apple.

  “Bite into it, and keep your hands on that seat. If you drop the apple, I’ll stop licking your cunt.”

  I chomped into the peel and gagged myself with the fruit as his tongue darted over my clit. Holding onto the back of the seat for dear life, I moaned and moaned and moaned some fucking more, and my teeth sank a little deeper into the apple. He teased my pulsating bud of nerves until I thought I couldn’t handle another round, yet I chanted please don’t ever stop in my head.

  Rafe’s tongue was my downfall.

  If I had an apple wedged between my lips, then I couldn’t ask questions. If he drove me out of my mind with his hot, wet mouth on my pussy, then I wouldn’t care that he refused to answer. No one could bend me so well, could take more than I wanted to give and make it seem like it had all been my idea to begin with.

  His tongue burrowed deep then surfaced to flick and tease. He alternated between making me want less…making me want more. I arched my back, stranded between sweet agony and just plain agony. What a contradiction. He pushed a finger into my center, and I bucked off the table with a cry. I almost lost the apple.

  “Easy, sweetheart.” His warning vibrated on my throbbing clit. Using my feet, I pushed against the seat cushions behind him and braced my arms for more traction, trying to ride his face. He withdrew, and I screeched my outrage around the apple dripping from my lips. Sweat broke out on my naked body, bowed over the table, legs spread wide in unabashed glory.

  He’d reduced me to a shameless hussy, and I was ready to break in two if he didn’t stop torturing me.

  The boat swayed, shifted, and heavy footsteps announced someone’s arrival. “I see I’m interrupting breakfast.”

  Jax. Shit. I tightened my
stomach muscles, bringing myself upright, but Rafe placed a firm hand on my belly that kept me sprawled.

  “Don’t move. He’s seen it all before.”

  Embarrassment made my skin feverish, and I despised how my chest heaved from my arousal, how my nipples were achingly erect. One look between my legs would be evidence enough; I was Rafe’s whore, the one he had no qualms leaving in a state of heightened near-orgasmic state for his buddy to gawk at.

  Rafe lifted my leg, scooted over so he could stand, then set my foot on the seat back again. Jax stared at me from the narrow path between the table and couch area, his eyes alight with amusement.

  “An apple…that’s creative, man.”

  Creative and messy. Juice trailed down my face toward my ears, and there was nothing I could do about it unless I wanted to risk disobeying Rafe.

  Which I didn’t.

  Rafe leaned against the edge of the table and faced Jax. He wore dark gray sweats that hung low on his hips, and that soft material did little to hide his cock. His erection tented his pants though he didn’t seem to care. I couldn’t stop staring. I’d give anything to pull the waistband down and take him in my mouth, tease him to death the way he was teasing me.

  “You’re early,” he told Jax.

  “You’ve been too busy eating pussy to pay attention to the time. It’s almost noon.”

  “Fuck.” Rafe pulled the apple from between my teeth, then he reached around Jax and grabbed a sweatshirt from the sofa. “I better get a move on.” He pushed his arms through the sleeves and pulled it over his head, leaving his dark hair a sexy mess.

  Jax’s brown gaze swerved between Rafe and me. “Dude, get some clothes on her. I’m not standing watch while she’s like that.” His harsh tone suggested he was unhappy about more than just my state of undress.

  “Go get cleaned up.” Rafe helped me to my feet before twirling me in the direction of the bedroom, but I didn’t budge. He smacked my ass, and I glared at him over my shoulder.