I reach over into my drawer, and pull out an unopened box of condoms that I’d bought when Mia and I started dating.

Call it forward planning.

I’m an optimistic kind of guy. And that was optimistic, not opportunistic.

Turns out I was right to buy them and keep them in here. I used to keep condoms in my car or wallet. But Mia isn’t one of those girls I used to go with, and I knew when I did have sex with her, it would be here, happening exactly as it is.

I rip the box open, tear the foil on one, and roll the condom on. Positioning myself between her legs, I press the head of my cock at her entrance. I stop to kiss her—not rough and passionate, but sweet and tender. I want her to know what she means to me. How I feel about her. How much I want this with her.

Her hands grip my ass, urging me forward.

Taking her lead, I slowly slide inside her. “Mia…” I moan her name like a prayer.

Her hips shift under me. “Jordan,” she breathes.

Kissing her again, I pull out and slide back in. “You feel so fuckin’ good. I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you.”

“Oh God,” she moans, digging her nails in my back, scratching over my skin.

The feel of her nails…

Being inside her…

I lose it. I start fucking her like I’ve never fucked anyone before.

“Don’t stop, Jordan. Don’t ever stop.” Mia’s legs lift, wrapping around my waist as I continue to drive into her.

It’s too much. She’s too much. All these feelings and emotions and sensations…

All for her…

Because of her…

And I have no clue what to do with them.

I take her hands above her head, holding them to the bed. I lace my fingers with hers, thrusting my cock in and out, watching her face, seeing her pleasure, soaking up every moan and whisper of my name that she makes.

It’s not long before I feel her tightening around my cock, and I know she’s almost there.

“That’s it, babe,” I pant over her mouth. “Come for me.”

The instant I feel her coming around me, I explode inside her, coming hard like I’ve never come before.

Catching our breaths, I stay inside her, reluctant to leave her just yet.

I press a soft kiss to her lips.

“Wow,” she murmurs.

“I’d say that just about covers it.”

She giggles. It’s the sweetest sound.

I rest my forehead against hers, breathing her in. “I’m crazy about you, Mia.” I need her to know how I feel. How much she means to me. I need her to know everything that I’m not sure how to say yet.

Her fingers touch my face. The barest of touches, but I feel it like she’s drumming on my soul.

“I feel the same,” she whispers.

My heart exhales, only now realizing how badly I needed to hear those words from her.

“Give me a second to clean up.” Easing out of her, I go to the bathroom, disposing of the condom and quickly washing up.

When I’m done, I pull the covers out from under her, and climb on the bed, covering us both. Pulling her to me, I curl my body around her, tucking her into me, and holding her tight.

I’m cuddling. After sex.

And I don’t want to run. I don’t want to be anywhere else but here with Mia in my arms.

A sense of peace like I’ve never know washes over me.

I’m drowning in her. And I want every last drop of Mia in my lungs until all I’m breathing is her.

She strokes my arm with her fingers. “I’m happy,” she whispers.

I smile against her soft skin. “Me too, babe.”

She turns over to face me, a grin on her gorgeous mouth.

“What?” I ask.

She runs her finger down my chest. “Can we, um … do it again?”

“Now?” I lift an eyebrow.

“Mmm.”

“He might need a minute to get some life back in him,” I say gesturing to my cock.

She reaches her hand down, wrapping her small fingers around me, and my cock springs to life at her touch.

“Okay, maybe a minute was over exaggerating it,” I say, grinning as I push her onto her back. Climbing on top of her, loving the laughter spilling from her lips, which I take into me as I seal my mouth over hers.

Chapter Eighteen

Mia

I can feel warmth on my back. Fingers trailing lightly over my skin. I can’t remember every feeling such contentment when waking.

Then I remember where I am, and who is touching my back.

Jordan.

I’m in his bed.

Last night comes flooding back to me. A vivid beautiful memory of the sex Jordan and I had.

Then horror hits when I realize I’m naked.

Completely bare. Laid on my stomach.

My body is uncovered.

And Jordan’s awake.

He’s seen my scars. Probably looking at them right now.

I feel sick.

I meant to wake up before him and put my clothes on. I wasn’t ready for him to see them. Not ready for him to question me about them.

This all my stupid fault.

After seeing Anna Monroe number two yesterday … and how nice she was to me, and the disappointment I felt that she wasn’t my mother … coupled with the fact that the last Anna left on the list might actually be my mother…

It set off another episode which sent me running to a convenience store, then a motel where I holed myself up for the day and binged myself sick.

“Hey,” Jordan said softly as I walked through the lobby.

I knew he was behind the reception desk, I just couldn’t bring myself to look at him, knowing what I was going out to do. I was afraid he’d see it written all over my face.

I hadn’t spoken to him since yesterday. He’d been so sweet to me about the Anna thing, but I was lost somewhere deep inside my head … I still was.

“I’m going out,” I said. And that was it.

Then I was out the door and in my car, driving to the convenience store on the outskirts of town and buying what I needed to make myself feel better in the only way I know how.

I parked in a quiet spot and started to rip open the food, then realization hit me, quickly followed by panic. What if someone saw me out here? What if Jordan had followed me and knew what I was doing? It was irrational, I knew that, but my head was a mess.

The what ifs were there, and they weren’t leaving anytime soon.

How would I explain to him? How would I make him understand?

I wouldn’t. I’d lose him.

That was when I saw the sign for a motel just down the street.

Shoving the food back in the bag, I set my car in drive and drove to the motel.

It looked sketchy and rundown, but I didn’t care about that. I just needed to be alone, so I got a room.

Once in it, I sat down on the bed and ripped into the food. As the food hit my palette, a discontented peace slid through me that I had needed to feel since I’d left Anna Monroe’s house.

I’d hit low. And after I was done, all I’d wanted was Jordan. It was like an urgent panic … a desperate need to be with him.

He’s the only person who has ever made me feel good and whole.

I’d wanted him to give me those feelings back, so I’d cleaned up, then was out of that hotel and in my car, driving back here to him … taking my clothes off … asking him to make love to me…

I just hadn’t thought beyond that. The possibility of him seeing me. Seeing my scars.

I need to get out of here.

Moving quickly, I slide out of bed, taking the sheet with me so I can wrap it around myself.

“Morning,” he says. I can hear the careful in his voice.

I can’t bring myself to meet his eye. “Morning,” I say. “I just … need to use the bathroom.”

I’m in there a second later, locking the door behind me. Moving to the sink, I stare at myself in the mirror above it. I hate what I see staring back.

I sit down on the toilet, trying to control my emotions, the urges I’m having right now.

I need to get dressed and out of here, but I can’t because I left my clothes outside when I was stripping in front of Jordan.

What was I thinking? I don’t act that way. That isn’t me.

But he makes me want to be that way. He makes me want to be something … someone, better.

And now he’s seen the hideous scars I hide, and it’s going to be too much for him. I’m going to lose him, just when I’d got him.

A gentle knock on the door. “Mia? Are you okay in there?”

“Yes.” My voice breaks. “I’ll be right out.”

Wrapping the sheet tight around my body, I slowly open the bathroom door.

Jordan is sitting on the edge of the bed wearing black boxer shorts. Nothing more.

If I wasn’t in my current messed up state, I would take my time and truly appreciate his fine body which I’m seeing for the first time in daylight.

To say he’s toned is putting it mildly. I could happily run my pinky finger along the lines of his six-pack for hours.

His eyes lift to mine. “Hey,” he says in a gentle voice. Getting to his feet, he comes over to me.

Wanting him to touch me so badly, yet afraid what it’ll do to me if he does, I sidestep him.

“Thank you … for last night.” Thank you? I couldn’t think of anything better to say? “I’m going to go to my room…”

“Wait.” His voice comes from behind me. “Don’t leave. Talk to me.”

I sigh and turn around. “What do you want to talk about?”

“This … you and me.” He gestures a hand between us. “The way you’re acting now – shutting me out. I thought after last night…” He scrubs a hand over his bed hair. “Look, I think I know why you’re acting this way … why you wouldn’t let me turn the light on last night … the scars on your bottom and thighs…”

I visibly cringe. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” I can feel my traitor eyes filling with tears.

“So tell me.” He takes a step toward me, holding his hands out.

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. You’ve told me the other things that bastard did to you. You can tell me this. I haven’t laid judgment, and I’m not about to start. Babe, I’m here…”

I shake my head. A tear drips from my eyelashes. “Forbes didn’t do this to me.”

His face freezes. I see his fingers curl into his palm. “Who?” His word comes out slow.

Fear courses through me. I feel exposed. I wrap my arms around myself, wishing so very badly that I was dressed right now.

“Who, Mia?” I can hear the anger rising in his voice. I know he’s not angry at me, he’s angry at who hurt me.

Another tear hits my cheek. I rub it away with the back of my hand and take a gulp of air.

“Oliver. My father.”

“Your dad did this to you?” The disbelief in his voice hurts me. It makes me feel like trash.

“Yeah, well not everyone is lucky to have a great dad like yours, Jordan.” I don’t mean to sound bitter, but I can’t seem to stop myself. “My father wasn’t the caring kind of man who loved his child like yours does. Mine was a sick, cruel bastard who used to beat me whenever the feeling would take him, usually with his belt. The scars are from that.”