Never let me go.

She sighed. Sank into the idea of never. Of forever. With Jamie.

She was too far gone for it to even make her blink. No, she’d blink later.

“Okay, pulling out now. Take a breath.”

She tried to do as he said, but she was absolutely limp. With coming. Maybe even more with submission itself. She was down deep in subspace. Full of sensation and endorphins and love. Too far gone to even want to really fight it.

Fuck.

But no—it was fine. She had always loved him. Always. Even when he made it hard to.

He pulled out of her, moving slowly, and it only hurt a little. Not enough to matter, except the pain always mattered in that it was what she wanted from him.

I am not making sense.

It didn’t matter. Nothing did except that they were there together and she was his. His.

“Come on, my sugar girl,” he said gently, his voice rough. “Let’s get us both into a nice, hot shower.”

He rolled her onto her back and took her hand, his fingers joining with hers and folding over them. When she simply lay there one corner of his mouth lifted and a dimple flickered in his cheek. “You gonna get up, sweetheart?”

“Mmm. Yes, Jamie.”

“Oh, you are totally out in space, aren’t you? God, it looks good on you, my sugar girl. To know I took you there. It’s a beautiful thing. Mm-mm, if I hadn’t just come twice in a row I’d have to fuck you again. But maybe after we’ve had that shower.”

She smiled and he bent down to pull the red blanket from beneath her and covered her with it. “You stay here until I get the water going. I’ll be back for you in a sec.”

She watched the perfection that was his ass as he walked away from her and disappeared into the bathroom. Idly playing with the soft edge of the blanket, she blinked, watching the reflection of the dark, rainy sky through the open shutter on one of the windows. The streetlamps made tiny prisms of the droplets slipping down the glass, each one a reflection of the amber light splintered into pink and green and blue. It must have been two or three in the morning and somehow light had found a way to make a rainbow, as if just for her.

She let out a small laugh. She really was high as a kite on those wonderful endorphins. And oxytocin and dopamine and whatever else was released in her brain during play and sex and being touched by Jamie.

“Okay, beautiful, up you go.”

Jamie lifted her, and her head was light, but she wanted to walk. She looped her arm around his waist and he kept his firmly around hers as they moved into the steamy bathroom, then into the shower stall.

She loved that he’d made it so big and luxurious when he remodeled the house. The dark-green slate was so him, somehow. He’d even built a small bench seat into it. A bamboo rack held shampoo and soap and a few other items. She took the warm air into her lungs, savoring the earthy scent of Jamie’s soap.

“Hold still, sugar,” he said. “I’m gonna wash you.”

Oh, she loved when he took care of her like this, the washcloth gliding over her skin as he carefully lathered every inch of her body. He kept his other hand at her waist or the small of her back, knowing she wasn’t entirely steady on her feet. How was it she flew so hard with so little pain play? But it was Jamie, and everything was different with him.

“You need your hair washed, sweetheart? Yes, you do.” He leaned in close and spoke softly into her ear, “I think you need to be thoroughly fucked and have your hair washed every day.”

She couldn’t quite take in what he was telling her, what he might be insinuating—she was too floaty still. All she knew was that she loved him saying these things to her, the husky tone of his voice.

He slipped a hand under her hair and behind her neck to hold her steady, and with the other he used the pressure point in the center of her breastbone to push her back under the water—just enough pain to direct her. She sighed in pure pleasure at the warm water gliding over her skin, at the little bit of pain, his command of her. The way he cared for her.

“No one has ever taken care of me the way you do, Jamie,” she said, the words a soft murmur that came out before she could stop them.

“No, that can’t be true. Your family at least . . .”

“Sure, when I was a kid. My parents. Brandon. But after he died, everyone who was left just sort of disappeared. We talked about that.”

“Yes.”

“So . . . since then I’ve been on my own, for the most part. You know, no one made me breakfast ever again. Not once. No more birthday pancakes with bananas and whipped cream. No Christmas trees or camping or any of the other million little things that made up our life. Our family.” She opened her eyes as he finished rinsing her hair and grasped his strong forearm, looking up at him. “I’m not sinking into self-pity, Jamie—really, I’m not. I’m just realizing how much I’ve missed this sort of thing. It’s the kind of stuff I haven’t risked looking at all these years.”

He stroked her wet hair from her face. His eyes were so green, but dark, like the slate tile in the shower. A little shadowed.

“Of course, sweetheart. How could you look at it, dwell on it, without it tearing you up? A lot of people would have done just that, but you stayed strong.”

She nodded. “But can I tell you a secret, Jamie? I’ve craved it the whole damn time. I had a little of it when I went over to Dennie’s house. Her grandmother, Annalee, has been so good to me all these years, but there was always the awareness that I didn’t quite belong to her, even though she made every effort to make me feel included. But some part of me always knew in the back of my mind that something was missing, because I used to know what it felt like to really belong.”

He searched her face for several long moments, but it didn’t make her afraid. She felt wide open to him and it felt good, as if at that moment she could tell him anything. There was no fear for once. She simply waited to see what he would ask her or tell her or do.

“And now, Summer Grace?”

She bit her lip, took what felt like a risk even in her current state of happy serenity. “And now I’m beginning to feel like maybe I belong somewhere again.”

He blinked hard but he didn’t pull away, didn’t let her go. His hand on the back of her neck flexed, then slid around to cup her face while his free hand moved up to hold her other cheek. Some time passed while he stared into her eyes, the warm water falling, soothing her skin while her heart tried to hammer its way out of her chest—his gaze was that intense. Anticipation was that powerful.

“You do, sweetheart,” he said. “We can work everything else out, but know that you do. Know it. You belong to me.”

Her chest went tight, then was flooded with heat. With love.

Love him.

She could only nod and wait to be kissed.

He watched her face for another moment before he bent his head and pulled her up on her toes and crushed his mouth to hers.

His kiss was hungry, but it wasn’t sex. Or, it wasn’t all about sex, anyway—there would always be sex between them. The chemistry was far too hot. But there was as much emotion and stark honesty right now. She curled her body into his as she sought his warm, sleek tongue. As his strong arms held her tight. As the warm, lovely water fell in the shower and the rain fell in the New Orleans night outside.

*   *   *

JAMIE SLID ONTO a stool at Flynn McCool’s, the local pub he and Mick and all of Mick’s brothers had been going to since they’d each hit drinking age. He liked the casual atmosphere of the Irish pub, the long wooden bar, the old wide-plank floors, the vintage beer signs. It was a quiet place, where games of darts and pool took the place of the usual television blaring some sports game or another found in most other bars. They’d been coming for years, hanging out, playing some pool. It was also one of the places they went to confide in each other, male style.