That my parents weren’t his fault.

He slides in and out of me, grunting as I tip my head back and letting his mouth trail down my neck as I thread my fingers through his hair once again.

“I love you,” he murmurs. “But Tiernan uses her nails, and I like that more.”

Butterflies rush through my stomach, and I tip my forehead to his, immediately curling my claws and dragging them lightly down the back of his head.

“Open your eyes, baby,” he tells me.

I do, seeing him looking straight at me as the steam billows around us.

“I could never pretend you weren’t you,” he says. “I don’t want to.”

I hold his eyes, our bodies moving faster as his fingers dig into my ass.

“You remind me so much of her,” he whispers, not breaking his rhythm. “I’m remembering things I haven’t thought about in a long time.”

The tip of his dick hits my spot, and I throw my head back and arch my back, moaning.

“How possessive I was with her.” He grabs my face and brings me in, kissing me. “I’d forgotten about that. How we fought a lot about the dumbest stuff. How thoughtless and impatient I was.”

We fight about the dumbest stuff, too, but I don’t tell him that. If he hadn’t fought me, I wouldn’t be any different now.

He holds me, and I hold him, breathing hard against each other’s lips. “How overpowering the sex was,” he goes on, “because our emotions were so much bigger than we were and we lost control. And how we were young and fucked away every problem. I don’t want that anymore.”

“What do you want?” I ask.

He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

And then he lowers his voice, barely a whisper. “I want you to like this.”

I do.

But before I have a chance to respond, he drops me to my feet, twists me around, and pins me to the wall. I gasp as he spreads my legs and thrusts inside of me again, pushing my body up on my tiptoes as he holds my thigh wide with one hand. With the other, he reaches around and slips his hand inside my panties.

“I want you happy, Tiernan,” he says low and husky in my ear. “I want my sons happy.”

He fucks me up against the wall, thrusting faster and faster as I turn my head to meet his lips.

“And I want you to know that no matter where you go,” he tells me between kisses, “you’ll always be ours. We’re your home.”

“I know,” I whimper.

Forehead to forehead, we hold each other’s eyes. “And I want you at my table in the morning and in my bed at night.”

I rock into the tiled wall, my breasts crushing against its surface, but I don’t care. I look over my shoulder, loving to watch him do this to me.

“Turns out that fucking prick did something right.” He pulls me back against him, kissing me deep and pinching my nipple. “He gave you to us. Our little princess. Ours. All ours.”

And that does it, the little sting of pain and his possessive words, and I’m backing up into him, hungry to come. He grabs my hips, helping me as we both moan and cry out, my pussy clenching around him.

“We’ll wake them up,” I gasp out.

But neither of us can stop.

My orgasm crests, and I rub my clit as he hits deeps. “Oh, God, don’t stop,” I beg. “Don’t stop.”

“Fuck,” he growls. “Fuck.”

He pounds harder and harder, and I slam my hands into the wall, crying out one more time as my entire body comes apart, a burst of tingles exploding under my skin.

I breathe hard, whimpering as he falls into me, still squeezing my thighs in his hands.

“Fuck,” he whispers, out of breath. “We should….” His chest rises and falls against my back. “We should probably use condoms, I think. Even if you are on the pill, this is too much to risk it.”

I nod, too tired to argue. He’s probably right. Five times in twelve hours won’t be a daily thing, I’m sure, but the more it happens, the bigger the chance.

He lifts up. “Even if this is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he adds as he rubs his thumb across my inner thigh. I blush, feeling him seep out of me. I don’t know what it looks like, but I like how it feels.

I peel off my clothes, wring them out, and rinse myself off, both of us climbing out of the shower and drying off.

I go into his room and pull out a pair of his blue boxer shorts, rolling them up a few times to make them fit, and one of his T-shirts. I need something dry to wear between here and my room.

I take my wet clothes and give him a peck on the cheek.

He pauses in the middle of pulling on a shirt. “What are you doing?”

“Going back to bed,” I reply. “While I still have my legs under me.”

He cocks an eyebrow, but I see the smile he tries to bite back.

Seriously, though. I need actual sleep.

And space. Too much too fast makes me a little afraid. I like what I found here. I don’t want to lose myself again.

“See you tomorrow night,” I whisper as I come in and kiss him again, this time on the lips.

“Tomorrow night,” he replies.

I turn to leave, but then I stop and ask, “Do I have to still be up for morning chores?”

He narrows his eyes in confusion.

“I mean, since mine go later at night now?”

His eyes go round, and he bares his teeth, whipping out his hand and smacking me on the ass.

I laugh and rush out the door, closing it behind me.

But not before I catch his smile as he shakes his head.

I like his smile. We so rarely get to see it. I blow out a breath and make my way to my room, but a scent suddenly hits me, and I stop, looking to my right.

There, in the narrow, dark stairwell leading up to the third floor, an orange ember burns bright and a cloud of smoke drifts out from the black.

My smile falls.

Kaleb. I glance at Jake’s door, gauging his bedroom is well within earshot of the stairwell. How long has Kaleb been sitting there?

He moves, the floorboards creaking as he stands up, and I straighten as he emerges from the darkness, staring at me as he takes another drag and then drops the butt to the floor, stepping on it with his bare foot.

My stomach coils, and I shoot my eyes up to meet his again.

“What?” I ask.

But of course, he remains silent.

He walks toward me, and I move, backing up to my room, but he shoots out his hand and blocks me. I hit the wall, dropping my wet clothes as he comes in close, bearing down.

Shit. So what is he thinking? We’ll go out to the shop and finish what he started weeks ago? I’ll be easy now?

His warm body and bare chest hover close, and I turn my face away, almost shivering at his hot breath on my cheek.

Bending down, he picks up my red panties that are still damp from the shower, and stands back up, rubbing the material between his fingers as he stares at them.

A moment of guilt hits me, but I don’t know why.

I grab for the underwear, but he yanks them away, and my stomach hardens like a wall of bricks. I slap him.

He jerks a little but doesn’t falter.

I grab for the panties again, but the fabric tears as he pulls his arm away. He balls my underwear in his hand, his eyes angry and on fire as he slams the fist into the wall by my head. I suck in a breath, cowering on reflex.