By the time his tongue touches my pussy, I’m so turned on, my back arching, silently begging for more.

   “Fuck,” I whisper as his fingers dig into my thighs and his mouth works his magic.

   My own fingers thread through his hair, pulling, pushing. I just need to come.

   And he gives me that, his name on my lips as I orgasm, wave after wave of pleasure hitting me. He lies next to me, a smug expression on his face while I come back to myself.

   And the second my mind is functioning again, I’m on my knees in front of him, repaying the favor.

* * *

   “I just realized that I don’t even know your real name,” I say, both of us naked and sweaty, limbs tangled.

   He makes a sound of amusement. “Xeno Crow.”

   “Xeno?” I repeat, eyes going wide. “Okay, I wasn’t expecting that. So they just call you your last name. I thought there was going to be some epic story, like you once saved a crow, or you fought one or something, I don’t know.”

   His laughter makes me jump. “You thought I fought a crow or something?” He pauses, and then says under his breath, “Maybe a raven.”

   “What?”

   “Nothing. You’re cute, you know that? There’s no story behind it—Crow is easier to say than Xeno,” he says simply, kissing my shoulder.

   Bronte Crow.

   Hmm.

   “What were you just thinking? You have a weird look on your face.”

   “Nothing,” I reply, leaning over to turn off the lamp on my side table, and cuddling into him. “You know, when I was drunk I remember telling you all that stuff about me, and how it’s likely I’ll never be able to have kids biologically. You never said anything about it.”

   “I didn’t know if you remembered that or not,” he admits. “But I meant what I said. There are other ways to have children. All that matters to me is that you are happy and healthy. We can worry about the rest later.”

   I’m silent for a few seconds. “I need to brace myself for the possibility of a hysterectomy.”

   “Then that’s what you should do. We’ll get through it together, all right?” he says, taking my hand into his, offering me his support. “I’ll be here if you need me. Always.”

   Telling a man that I potentially can’t give him children has been something that terrifies me, but Crow just makes it seem so easy, like it’s just a hurdle, not a life-altering event. To some men, this would be a deal breaker, and a big one. I’ve never met anyone like him.

   To him there aren’t problems, just solutions.

   He’s incredible.

   “That’s a bold claim.”

   “I don’t do things half assed, Bronte. I like you. I want to be with you. I’m fucking falling for you. I’m not here to play any games, all right?”

   “I’m falling for you too,” I admit, giving his hand a squeeze. “So I’m glad we’re both on the same page.”

   We share a long, deep kiss, and it’s meaningful. It’s an acknowledgment that we’re both in this, together. This isn’t some relationship for convenience, or just for some sex. This isn’t a situationship, because I’ve heard Billie tell me about those before: when you act like you’re in a relationship but you’re not.

   We’re both here because we wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

   And there’s peace in that.

   “Goodnight.”

   “Goodnight, beautiful,” he whispers into my ear.

Chapter Fourteen

   Nadia calls me the next day with the name of the person my dad spoke to the day he died: Jean Turton.

   I’ve never heard of this woman in my life, but a quick social media search lets me know she’s in her forties and works as a dance teacher, salsa to be precise, along with various other side hustles like selling essential oils and massage.

   Just how does she know my dad? I don’t see any pictures of the two of them, but she could have them on a more private setting. Were they friends? Why did he never mention her? I know all of his friends, male and female, and he never once mentioned a dance teacher by the name of Jean. The whole thing leaves a bad feeling in my stomach. Maybe she was his masseuse, or he was secretly learning how to dance? I can’t picture him having anything to do with essential oils.

   I know exactly what to do next.

   “I’ll handle this,” I tell Nadia. “I’ll go to the studio and check her out.”

   “You sure?”

   I nod, even though she can’t see me. “I’m sure. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

   “Crow?” I call out from my desk as I end the call.

   He turns around from the motorcycle he is working on and stands, giving me his full attention. “Yeah, babe?”

   “How do you feel about salsa dancing tomorrow night?” I ask. I already know he’s a good dancer, so it’s not like I’m dealing with someone with two left feet. I’ve never done salsa before, but this girl knows how to move her hips.

   “Salsa dancing?” he asks, brow furrowing.

   I explain what Nadia just told me, and he nods. “Salsa dancing it is. You ready to see these hips?” he jokes, doing a little dance move, just as Chains steps into the garage.

   “What the fuck,” I hear him mutter, shaking his head and walking into the back.

   Out of all the men, Chains is the hardest to get to know, and he’s barely said two words to me, which sucks because I know Crow is quite close to him. How, I don’t know, but I guess Crow can get along with anyone, and that proves it.

   Crow spins me around and dips me back, catching me off guard. “Is it bad I’m actually a little excited for tomorrow night?”

   “No.” I grin, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I am, too. Who knew being undercover and interrogating someone can be fun?”

   “And what are you going to do if she recognizes you on sight? She’d have seen photos of you, surely.”

   He makes a good point. “Well, what is she going to do, run? Then we know she has something to hide.”

   Besides, it’s her work—she can’t just go missing. And frankly, I need the distraction right now, because this week I need to sort through Dad’s house and decide what to do with it and all his belongings. I don’t want to move in there—I think that would be too much—so I might rent it out. I want to keep all of his belongings, or at least most of them, for sentimental reasons, so I thought I’d rent a storage shed for them all.