With the sound of her name, she drops her hands and her bra goes with them. Standing before me, she’s completely bare except for a tiny pair of black lace panties. The sight of her rips all the air from my lungs. My heart skips a beat and my mouth waters all at the same time. As I focus on breathing, my heart hammering in my chest, I stare at her. Yes, it’s rude as hell, but what man would pass up a chance to look at perfection. She has her hand over the top of her right breast and I decide that just won’t do. If this is the only time I’m ever going to witness her, I want it all.

Nothing in the way.

I reach for her wrist and she shakes her head no.

I trace above her left breast with my index finger, outlining its form. I try again to move her hand and she shakes her head no again. “Kensi, baby, I need to see all of you.” I can’t tell if it’s fear in her eyes or just her non-trusting nature. I bring both hands to her face and cup her cheeks. Bending down so we are eye to eye, I promise her, “I will never do anything you are not ready for or don’t want. All you have to do is say stop. This goes not farther than looking and maybe a soft caress, nothing more. I want you in my bed, Kens. Hell, I want you anywhere you will have me, but I want you sober.” Leaving one hand on her face, the other goes to the hand covering her right breast. I have no idea what she’s hiding, but I want to find out. I want to know every inch of her skin.

“May I?” I ask permission this time. Something I never do. If the girl doesn’t want what I have to offer or want to take part in what I have planned, she can roll on. That is until Kensington. I can continue to try and hide it, deny it even. It doesn’t make it any less true.

She’s different.

I watch as she gives me a slight nod of her head. Reluctantly agreeing. “Use your voice, Kens. I need you to tell me it’s okay.” I need her to understand that she has the power. She says stop, I stop. It’s just that simple.

“Yes.” Her voice trembles.

Slowly, I pull her hand away from her breast. At first I don’t notice anything. The overwhelming effect of seeing her, all of her, blinds me. It’s when I study where her hand was that I see it. A faint scar about two inches long on her breast. Without thinking, I lean down and kiss the evidence of something that was obviously painful for her in more ways than one. Standing to my full height, she immediately wraps her trembling arms around my waist. I do the same with one arm and trace the swell of her breast with my free hand as I did the first time. I want her to see the scar does nothing to clamp my desire for her. It does nothing to take away from how beautiful she is. Something deep inside me needs her to know that, to believe it.

She nods once and I can tell it’s going to take some convincing to get her to see herself the way I do. “Let’s get you dressed.” I reach for the shirt on the bed. I help her into it and pull the covers back. She climbs into bed.

“Stay, just until I fall asleep?” she asks. As if I would ever be able to tell this girl no. I climb in beside her and pull the covers up over us. She lays her head on my chest and I wrap my arm around her. Within a few minutes, her breathing has evened out and I know she’s fallen asleep. I, however, do not. I was only supposed to stay until she fell asleep, that’s what she asked for, but I can’t seem to find the willpower to climb out of this bed, at least not with her in it. Instead, I run my fingers through her hair and watch as the shadows play on the ceiling. This is another first for me. I run the entire night over and over again in my head until the early morning sun starts to rise and casts its glow through the window. Reluctantly, I slowly slide out from underneath her, kiss her softly on the forehead, and leave her room.

THERE’S A JACKHAMMER in my head. Rolling over, I force my eyes to open. The alarm clock reads nine o’clock. Right beside the clock is a bottle of water and something for the headache. God bless Nicole! I try to remember last night. It’s not very often that I drink as much as I did. I remember dancing with Lance and Maxton interrupting us; after that, it’s pretty fuzzy. Leaning up on my elbow, I toss back the Ibuprofen and take a few big gulps of water. I place the bottle back on the nightstand and fall back on my pillow. Maxton… I smell him. He seems to be everywhere.

I hear low voices in the kitchen. Nicole and Brighton must be up. Throwing the covers back, I slowly drop my feet to the floor and stand. I’m steady and the room’s not spinning. This is a plus in my book. I step into my bathroom, take care of business and brush my teeth. Noticing I slept in just a t-shirt, I pull my robe from behind the door and slide my arms in. Grabbing a ponytail holder from the sink, I pull my hair into a knot on the back of my head and call it good. It’s not like Brighton cares what I look like. He only has eyes for Nicole, as he should.

Opening my bedroom door, the sweet smell of cinnamon and bacon hits me. Nicole isn’t much for cooking breakfast, so it must be Brighton my stomach needs to thank him. As I get closer to the kitchen, I can hear a deep timbre along with Nicole’s ever-chipper voice. It’s not until I turn the corner do I hear another voice, one I will never be able to forget. “Maxton.” His name slips off my tongue without thought.

All three of them turn to face me. “Hey, sleepy head, how ya feeling?” Nicole chirps. I swear that girl can drink double what I did and wake up the same happy, chipper Nicole. Then again, she’s had a lot of practice.

I don’t acknowledge her. Instead, I walk to the other side of the table. I can feel Maxton’s eyes on me and it’s making me self-conscious. I pull my robe tighter around my waist. I drop into the chair, rest my elbows on the table, and bury my face in my hands.

“That good, huh?” Nicole laughs. I groan at her words and still don’t bother to reply.

I don’t bother looking up until I see and smell a plate being placed under my face. I feel him place his hand on my shoulder. Leaning down, he whispers, “Eat, you’ll feel better.” He is so close that his scent overrides the breakfast he has laid before me. His hot breath on my ear sends goose bumps down my back.

I lift my head and remove my arms from the table. The French toast and bacon smells amazing and, luckily, my stomach is not trying to revolt.

I take a sip of the glass of orange juice that must have appeared at the same time as the plate of food. Maxton sits down beside me with a plate filled as well. I look across the table to see Brighton and Nicole are already digging into their plates. “You cooked?” I say to Maxton.

He shrugs. “Yeah, it’s not a big deal. My dad loved to cook and he taught me. Mom didn’t ever, so he and I did most of it.” He forks a huge bite of French toast into his mouth.

I feel like I’ve entered another universe waking up with both of them here. Did he sleep here? Did he come over just to make us breakfast? My stomach grumbles, so I push the unanswered questions out of my mind and pick up my fork. Just as I’m about to take my first bite, Maxton leans in and whispers in my ear, “Did you take the headache medicine I left for you?”

What? Maxton left that there? My mind starts to race as I flip through foggy memories of last night. Did I sleep with him? Shit! I finally gave into this temptation that has been plaguing me since we met and I can’t even remember it.

Just my luck.

Maxton reaches under the table and places his hand on my thigh, which is now bare since my robe has fallen to the side. His touch causes me to shiver, not because his hands are cold, it’s the exact opposite. The heat of his hand is searing my skin. “Hey, you okay?” he asks. His thumb is gently tracing my thigh.