“I see,” he said.

“And…well, I couldn’t. I tried to be a zombie slave, but nothing came out. And he got really angry. And…well, you know the rest.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I do.”

He stared up into her flushed face. The deep rocking slide of his cock inside her was impossible to resist. He held her firmly, thrusting up, stirring her around, making her gasp and bite her lip.

“I…I destroyed his office,” she said, breathlessly. “After the last time that he…well, you know. I was so angry. Freaked out. Out of my head. I think I smashed probably fifty thousand dollars’ worth of art.”

“Good.” He thrust harder, jarring a whimper from her throat. “Did he say, ‘You’ll never work in this town again,’ et cetera?”

“Yes,” she said, bleakly.

“And you believed him?”

She braced herself against his chest. “Of course I believed him! It was true! He blacklisted me, Jack! The guy has clout!”

He stopped moving, petted her hair. “Okay,” he murmured. “Sorry.”

“I thought I was finished,” she went on. “Then Rafael stepped in.”

“Who’s this Rafael, anyhow?” Jack frowned. “Another boyfriend?”

“Rafael? Good God, no. Rafael’s just my buddy, and besides, he likes boys.”

“So you drove off with Rafael, and left the whole mess behind you.”

The flat finality of his voice made tension grip her chest. “Hey. Don’t you dare blame me for—”

“I’m not blaming you,” he said quietly. “You did the right thing.”

She was dumbfounded. “You think so?”

He pulled her back down on top of him. “Yeah. I do.”

Vivi relaxed against his solid warmth. His quiet statement soothed something deep inside her. “I think you’re the only person who’s ever said that, except for Rafael,” she said. “Lucia thought I was giving up. My sisters, too. It’s hard to go against everyone’s advice.”

He stroked her back without replying, warm and comforting.

“Poor Lucia,” she murmured. “I was a heartbreak to her. I defied her in every way. From my clothes to all of my ill-fated career choices.”

“Were you one of those girls with spiked hair and safety pins?”

She snorted. “Not quite. I did have thigh-high lace-up black leather boots, though.”

“Wow,” he commented, eyes wide.

“They were the centerpiece of my wardrobe. I wore them with ripped fishnet stockings and a purple velvet miniskirt.”

“My God,” he said, with feeling. He reached down to slide his thumb tenderly into the top of her labia, circling around her clit.

“Do you still have them?” he asked.

She writhed against him, eyes shut. “Have what?”

“The boots.”

Her eyes popped open, and she started to laugh. “I don’t think so,” she said. “Maybe in a box, in Lucia’s attic. It was a long time ago.”

“Oh.” He sounded disappointed. She giggled harder. He frowned at her. “What’s so funny?”

“You,” she said. “I thought you would disapprove of my slutty boots. Brian hated them. You surprise me, that’s all.”

“Brian was a sick, evil fuckhead. Don’t compare me to him. Of course I want to see you in those boots. I’m a normal guy, okay?”

“You’re not a normal guy, Jack.”

He kissed her fiercely into silence, and lifted his head some time later, when she was dazzled with lust. “Besides. You’re a fine one to talk about normal. Barbed wire and broken beer bottles, for God’s sake.”

“Oh, shut up,” she murmured, and kissed him back hungrily.

A moment later, she pried herself up and touched his cheek. “Jack?” she asked, tentatively. “Would you do something for me?”

He froze, eyes guarded. “If I can,” he hedged.

“I want to try something,” she said hesitantly. “I want, um…I want to roll over. And for you to, ah…hold my hands down.”

His face went blank, and he jerked up onto his elbows, rocking her back. His body was rigid. “Why, for fuck’s sake? That’s sick, Viv, after what he…why would you do that to yourself? Or me?”

“Shhh,” she soothed. “Nothing sick about it. I think that it would be okay, with you. Sexy, even. But I can’t know until I try.”

“But I’m the one who feels like dogshit if it doesn’t work out!”

“Please, don’t get mad,” she pleaded. “I just thought…I don’t want all these dead zones and ‘danger, keep out’ signs in my head. I want to feel free. And if anyone in the world could do that for me, it would be you. Believe me. I would never ask such a thing of you if I didn’t trust you.”

Even though you don’t trust me back. She held the thought at bay with difficulty.

He stared into her face for a long time, as if trying to read her mind. “You’re sure about this,” he said, carefully.

She nodded, swallowing hard, and smiled at him.

“And you won’t blame me if—”

“God, no,” she assured him. “Not in the least. I swear.”

In one swift surge, he rolled them both over, pinning her beneath his weight. He folded her legs up high, hooking them over his shoulders, and then grabbed her hands, pinning them beside her head.

He waited, staring fiercely into her face.

She gave him a tremulous smile. “I’m okay,” she whispered.

He leaned down and kissed her deeply, possessively. His tongue thrusting and twining boldly with hers. “Look into my eyes,” he said. “The entire goddamn time. Or else. Got it?”

She nodded. Speechless. Her throat was quivering, and her heart felt full, as she stared into his face, but she wasn’t panicking. No stabs of fear, no numbing black fog. Her heart pounded from excitement, not fear.

He was not gentle. She had not wanted him to be. He took her hard, his body challenging hers, and his face looked angry as he did it; eyes burning, mouth grim. Except that she knew him now. She could feel his concern for her, his tension, his need. His awareness of her.

And she was aware of him, too, on levels she’d never imagined. She sensed that the conquering hero pose excited him, and his excitement fed hers, in a confused feedback loop of emotion, sensation. No playacting. Her surrender was as real as his conquest.

She gasped for breath, jerking up to meet his hard thrusts. Staring with wide, tear-blinded eyes into his face. Struggling voluptuously against the implacable strength of his beautiful body, his steely arms, his gripping hands.

She could go there with him. She could go anyplace she wanted with him, as far as she could dream of going, and know that he would carry her back, completely safe, all in one happy, sated piece.

Afterward, they lay tangled together, limp and damp. They roused themselves at last to take a long, lazy shower, washing each other. Jack’s tireless cock rose to full salute, but Vivi laughed at him.

“Dream on, big boy,” she said. “I’m done for the night.”

He toweled her off, with his usual passionate attention to detail and herded her toward the stairs. “Food, then,” he said, resigned.

They made sandwiches in his kitchen. Devoured the rest of Margaret’s latest batch of cookies. And when they could find nothing else that was quick and easy to eat, they went back up the stairs, and into Jack’s bed, to twine their naked bodies as closely together as they could.

They talked, carefully. Tentative, groping conversations about their pasts, their histories. Circling around forbidden topics.

But she didn’t want dead zones and “danger keep out” signs in their conversations, either. Vivi sat up, pushing his hands away when he reached to pull her close again. “I have a question, Jack.”

“Ask away,” he said, his face hidden in the shadows.

“What happened after the bust?” She let her hair curtain her face.

He took her hand. “We’re having a beautiful time,” he said, his voice halting. “Don’t ruin it by asking me questions like that.”

“I’m not picking a fight,” she said gently. “I just need to know. Did you go to one of your other family members?”

He shook his head. “I couldn’t reach any of them. My mother was in India, meditating with some guru. My aunt had moved on, to some other boyfriend. They hadn’t stayed in touch.”