“Look at yourself,” I whisper to her gruffly. I want her to look at her reflection, at us, at the juxtaposition of our bodies. The darkness and the light. “Look at me.”

She carefully raises her head, and I meet her warm eyes, holding them in place. I push in and out, and her arse is so goddamn tight that I don’t have much time—I’m lost to her slick grip, the full milky skin of her cheeks. I’m lost to her.

Thankfully I can multitask. My fingers work faster as I pump harder, with as much control as I can muster. I can’t seem to get enough air in my lungs, and the lights are starting to flicker, even though it’s all in my own head as I try not to break eye contact with her in the mirror.

I know she’s close to coming when her face begins to contort, her jaw open and locked, her eyes fluttering, fighting to keep staring at the foggy version of me when all they want to do is close. She comes hard, shaking so violently she almost falls to her knees, and I manage to keep her upright, all her weight on my hand, my arm straining while my fingers extract every last drop of pleasure from her swollen clit.

I don’t look away. Not once. I’m going back to Scotland alone, and I need every single memory of her ingrained in my mind.

I come fast. Abrupt. It catches me off-guard, and my cries echo in the washroom and I pour into her. It feels so bloody good, I can barely stand. When I manage to open my eyes again, Kayla’s blurry reflection is staring back at me in the mirror.

“You’re a dirty boy,” she says. “A lucky boy,” she adds. “Anal already?”

I can’t help the dazed grin on my face. I shrug before slowly pulling out of her. “I’m not missing an opportunity with you around. I wasn’t kidding when I said I was spending every spare minute from now until Sunday with you.”

“Too bad you can’t come to my office in a few hours,” she says. “Maybe go down on me under my desk.”

I lick my lips. “Just say the word and I’m there.”

She grabs a towel and wraps it around her waist, leaving her beautiful tits bare. “Don’t tempt me. I’m so close to quitting my job already.” She nods at the shower. “Take your time,” she says, then walks out of the washroom.

I quickly put some body wash in my hair, not too picky with what goes on my head, and in minutes I’m out and toweling off.

I stride into her bedroom naked. Flaccid, yes, but from the look in her eyes, she’s still damn impressed. Somehow she’s already dressed for work, and the sun is just starting to rise in the east.

“You’re fast,” I tell her.

She gives me a quick smile as she puts an earring through her ear. “Might as well get ready.” Her eyes trail over my body. “So, the next time I see you, I hope you’re ready to finally tell me about your tattoos.”

My smile falters. I swallow, not ready to bare myself in that way. “I’ll tell you some stories. The rest will bore you to tears.”

“Lachlan,” she says, and the way she says my name nearly makes me hard again. She saunters over to me and puts her hand at my jaw. “You are the furthest thing from boring.”

I grunt, shrugging. She can find me as fascinating as she wants for the time I have with her, but I’m not about to sink into the truth. She’s becoming one last, much needed fling before I return to rugby, dogs, my normal life. In this kind of limited arrangement, there is absolutely no room for reality.

I grab her hand and kiss her palm. “When am I seeing you again? Can you come over after work?”

She seems to think about that for a moment. “How about around eight or so?”

I nod. “Sounds perfect.”

Her hands trail to my chest, running her fingers over my tattoos again, like she’s reading Braille. “Do you want a ride home? You’re not far from my work.”

Normally I would insist on getting my own ride, but I don’t for some reason. I’m starting to squeeze the minutes here. “That would be lovely,” I tell her.

It’s not long before I’m dressed in the suit from last night, and she’s dropping me off at my flat. The sun is shining down on the city and not a hint of fog is in sight. Everything sparkles with new clarity. Everything.

I lean over and put my fingertips under her delicate chin, tilting it toward my lips. I kiss her softly. “Thank you.”

She flushes, the pink creeping into her cheeks, and she nods. “I feel like I should be thanking you. A lot.”

“For what?”

She smiles. Embarrassed. “For finally succumbing to my charms.”

I grin at her and shake my head. “I succumbed to them a while ago, love. I was just waiting for my brain to catch up. I’m glad it did.” I kiss her again and give her a wink before getting out of the car. On the sidewalk, I lean over so I can see her in the driver’s seat. I raise my palm in a wave. “See you.”

“See you,” she says before biting her lip and driving off. I watch her go for a moment before I suck in the morning air, the only time the city doesn’t feel as dirty. I head into my flat, ready to tackle the dogs and whatever else the day is going to throw at me.

I have to admit, I’m kind of useless the rest of the day. I do what needs to be done—taking the dogs to the vet, following up on a possible adopter for Ed, hitting the gym—but my brain isn’t really into it.

It’s a change for me, to be so singularly focused on a person for once instead of rugby or the rescues. It feels good, actually, because it keeps unwanted thoughts and urges at bay. Normally, my brain feels scattered, like every neuron is shot through a prism, and instead of light and rainbows, there are different shades of black and grey. Again and again I’m drawn back to the bleak, to somewhere deep and unsettled, and it takes a lot to pull me out, to scatter those thoughts back into the light.

I know what tames that beast on my back, the one that wants me to backslide. But to pay it too much attention is to give it too much power. But with Kayla…I may still be a jittery mess with a raging heart, but at least she’s the cause of it all.

I’m out on another walk with the dogs, trying to teach Emily how to heel. It’s not easy since she’s afraid of every person, car, and object we come across. Sometimes the dogs pick up on my energy when I’m too wound up, for better or worse. I decide to try again some other day. I head back to the flat, when the truth is, I could walk forever and never burn out.

My phone rings. Bram.

“Hello,” I answer.

“Well, well, well,” Bram says. “Aren’t you the man of the hour?”

“That depends what hour.”

“Every hour, it seems,” he says. “Do you want me to tell you my good news first or do you want to tell me your good news?”

I clear my throat, perplexed. “What’s, uh, my good news?”

“Right,” Bram says. “Anyway. Mr. Mulligan, Justines’s father, and I had a meeting this morning.” He pauses and I don’t ask him to continue because I know he will. Always so dramatic. “And he’s agreed to invest.”

I grin, feeling relief on Bram’s behalf. “That’s excellent, mate.”

“I owe you, you know,” he says.

I grumble, feeling uncomfortable with him even saying that. “It was nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing,” he says, sounding serious. “This wouldn’t have happened without you.” His tone is adding gravitas to everything. I think I like Bram better when he’s joking.

“Look,” I tell him, running my hand over my chin and pulling the dogs back as we wait at a crosswalk. “I did what I could. You know I like to help out if I can and this happened to work out for me.”

“Too bad Justine didn’t make it worth your while.”

“It’s too bad for Justine that I didn’t make it worth her while,” I say.

He chuckles. “Poor girl. Just like all the others, I suppose. You know, I thought you were used to going around and getting pussy where you could.”

“People change,” I tell him.

“Aye,” he says. “They do. Or do they?”

I know what he’s getting at. “Well, thanks for letting me know, cousin. It’s a relief that it all worked out.”