Did I mention I have trust issues? Big time.

I approach the window, my bare feet soundless on the tiled floor. I press my forehead to the dusty glass and look into the living room.

Empty. The furniture is gone. The sofa, the armchairs, the coffee table.

I step back. My hands shake slightly, and I shove them into the pockets of my shorts. Glancing back at the beach, to make sure nobody is watching me, I walk across the terrace to the kitchen window. A glance inside confirms it.

The mahogany table and chairs are gone.

Mouth dry, I back away. What if someone is inside, watching me? What if the cameras are back online? If I tripped the alarm?

If someone finds out where I am and come get me?

My heart booms in my chest as I rush down the steps and walk across the beach to the water’s edge, doing my best to keep from running away like the devil’s after me. Slow steps. Hands in pockets. I’d whistle if I knew how.

Don’t look over your shoulder. Don’t look to see if there’s anyone standing on the terrace.

God, I wish I had my gun, the one Dad gave me on my sixteenth birthday. Other girls got dresses, parties and trips abroad. I got a 9mm Nano Beretta. I had to leave it behind when I ran for my life the time before last. It hurt, losing that gun.

Everything hurts when you have to let go.

I walk aimlessly along the surf, letting my feet sink into the cool, wet sand with every step. The clouds haven’t cleared, and the air is heavy. Feels like rain. Muted sunlight filters through, torturing my eyes. So warm. Sweat trickles down my back and between my breasts.

Storm told me the truth. He ran to warn me. He knew I wasn’t housesitting, like I told him. I was lying, and he knew it but didn’t care. Because he wanted me to be okay. He believes I’m good.

He’s taking a risk on me.

This is all too much to take in. Too much I have to accept. Change my perceptions, loosen the chokehold of my mistrust.

Tell him everything. He deserves to know if he’s to offer me shelter.

I can do this.

So I turn my steps toward the mansion, toward Storm, determined to lay all my cards on the table, come what may. I won’t let him take a risk without knowing the real stakes. He believes in me, and I won’t let him down.

***

Sighing in relief, I slip into the mansion and close the door behind me. I stand for a long moment in the hall, in front of the sunken living room, gathering my wits about me. The thought of seeing Storm again makes me smile in spite of myself.

You were gone for half an hour, Ray. Come on.

Yet my smile lingers as I quietly climb the stairs. Can’t help it. Even the memory of his wicked grin and sexy bossiness, that gentleness when it comes to holding me, and let’s not forget that hot body… My heart skips a beat, and familiar heat floods me.

Yeah, he’d be impossible to forget, and the realization makes me stumble. I catch myself, suck in a deep breath and keep climbing.

Not the time or place to wonder about that. I’m on a mission, and I’ve hesitated enough. This isn’t like me. I normally know my mind and do what I have to do. I’ve been raised to be a tough girl.

And he’s melting me like chocolate on a hot plate.

Silence reigns on the upper floor and a lone wooden plank creaks as I step into the bedroom. I’m rehearsing my words in my mind, like I used to do at school when I knew the teacher would demand to know why I didn’t do my homework—because of gun practice, or running with my brother’s friends—and I had to give a convincing excuse.

Only this time I have to tell the truth, and it’s just as hard.

I stop.

He’s still asleep. The cold compress has slid off his leg and to the floor, the ice cubes melted into a small puddle.

He’s so handsome…

A swarm of drunken butterflies divebomb inside my stomach, and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth at the sight of him. He has slipped down a little, one hand resting on his stomach, almost covering the red scar, his cock lying on his thigh, thick even when soft. His soft dark hair is messy, falling in his eyes. His lips are slightly parted, letting out soft puffs of breath.

My blood’s running hot in my veins, and my mouth waters. I wonder how he might taste. How fast he’ll get hard. What sounds he’ll make when I lick and suck on him.

Dammit, Ray. How am I ever going to talk coherently to him and tell him what I need to say if he short-circuits my every sense?

Doing my best not to make noise, I step closer and study his sleeping form, that muscled chest with the thorns and roses licking his sides, the powerful shoulders, the long, sinewy legs.

A scar I didn’t notice last night or this morning, busy with other things, catches my attention. It’s on his left hip, a deep gash once, now an angry red welt with the marks of stitches. It doesn’t look that old. Older than the one in his side, perhaps, but not by much.

What the hell did that to him?

My hand lifts of its own volition, hovering over the scar. I itch to touch him all over, feel those beautiful muscles under my fingertips, under my lips. Didn’t get a chance last night. He was in charge, and it was smoking hot, but now he’s laid out in front of me like a buffet.

And this is all new to me. New and amazing. My handful of sexual explorations were quick one-night stands that ended before day dawned. Never got the chance to observe a guy like this, lying before me naked and gorgeous. Never got the time to think up wicked things to do to him.

Like see if I can wake him up slowly, one lick at a time. If I can make him hard before he even realizes he isn’t dreaming.

Bold move, Ray. Bold move. But, hey, live a little. Life isn’t only guns and bullets.

I grin, then bend over him and lick a path from his exposed sac to the tip of his cock. Salty. Slightly sweet. I sweep my tongue again along his length, and take him in my mouth.

His taste explodes on my tongue, more bitter than I expected, with a hint of spice. I suck on him and feel him grow, forcing my mouth wider. He’s thickening, lengthening. Hardening.

A thrill ripples through me. My breasts ache, my nipples stiffening as I mouth his growing erection. He groans deep inside his throat, his hand curling into a fist against his chest. His hips rock up a little, pushing his cock into my mouth. His lashes flutter against his cheeks, his eyes moving under the pale lids. His head rolls to the side, and he mutters something unintelligible under his breath.

He’s still swelling, already hard as steel, and he’s so big now I can’t even take half of him into my mouth. Wrapping a hand around the base, I give an experimental swirl with my tongue under the head of his cock, and he arches back, moaning out loud.

“What the...?” He’s staring down at me now, eyes wide. His hand lifts, reaching for me. “Ray?”

I move my mouth down and back up, dragging my lips over his hard shaft, my hand at the base mirroring the movement.

He hisses, and his hand lands on my head, fingers tangling in my loose hair. “Fuck…” His hips lift again, shoving more of his hard-on into my mouth, and I choke a little. He stills, but I don’t stop sucking on him, and he moans out my name. “This is… hot damn, babe. Oh yeah.”

I doubt he knows what he’s saying right now, or the way his body moves in rhythm with my motions, thighs tensing when I reach the head of his cock and play with it with my tongue.

I want to make him lose control, come in my mouth. I want to see his powerful body shaking with pleasure.

I want to shake his world like he did mine.

STORM

I’m dreaming of a pretty dark-haired girl teasing my dick. Her eyes sparkle up at me as she runs her fingers over it, stroking its length, taking it in her hand. I’m tense with need. I can feel myself hardening, and a sweet ache enters my balls. I want her to suck on my cock, to wrap those pretty lips around it.