So if all we have is now, I’m going to make her remember. I’m going to become a permanent stain on her body that she’ll never be able to wash away. And when she closes her eyes and squeezes her thighs together, I’m going to ensure that she’s imagining me here. Like this. Setting off fireworks within her slick, sweltering heat, like the 4th of July.

Ally cries out with her release, cursing me and praising my name, as she crumbles in my hands. And, just as I promised, I suck and lap up every drop of wetness seeping from her pulsing sex, prolonging the violent waves of climax. She begs me to stop, but I don’t. She only thinks she’s dying right now, as I lick the stray droplets running down her ass. Little does she know, that I claimed her life the moment she broke inside my palm against the shower wall.

That was the very second she became mine, no matter whose last name she bears. And every time she came thereafter, I was just marking myself deeper and deeper into her skin like a tattoo. Carving out a space that would only be for me.

Justice + Ally.

“CALL IN SICK tomorrow.”

I grin sleepily and kiss her forehead. “It’s already tomorrow.”

“Then call in sick today.”

“I never call in sick, even if I’m sick.”

“Please? I don’t know…I don’t know how long I can have you like this. I’m not ready to let it go.”

I squeeze her body into mine, and breathe her in. I just want to memorize this moment. Her scent, her taste, her softness. I want it burned into my mind like a tumor, growing and influencing every thought and action.

Ally kisses my bare chest, her lips so warm and delicate, like the brush of a feather. “Please?”

One arm still tucked under her body, I reach over to grab my phone. “There,” I say after tapping out a text to Diane. “I’m sick today. So sick. I wonder if someone will nurse me back to health.”

I feel Ally smile against my nipple. “Are you asking me to play Naughty Nurse, Mr. Drake?”

“I don’t know. Are you down for some sexual healing?”

She kisses me again. “Most definitely. But later, ok? I really do want to talk to you.”

I roll my body towards her and position my arm, so she can rest her head on my bicep. “About what?”

“About…” Her gaze goes glassy and distant. “Next.”

“Next?”

“What’s next?”

I swallow and take a few breaths to collect my thoughts. I can’t ask this woman to leave her husband. I can’t tell her to ruin her lavish lifestyle in exchange for one of refuge and isolation. This isn’t what she knows. Financially, I could give Ally whatever she wants, but socially? She’d be like me. An outcast. A fallen star that once shined brighter than a million diamonds.

I can’t be certain a life with me would be enough for her. I can’t be certain that even Iwould be enough for her.

“What do you want to be next, Ally?” I hold my breath.

Her eyes sweep over my lips, my chin, my neck then back up to my face. “I don’t know. The future is scary. I just know that I’ve never felt this way before. I’ve never been so out of control and reckless and totally wrapped up in a person...ever. But then again, what if all this is just a temporary high? What if the taboo of it all is what’s driving us together?”

I brush her cheek, just so I can keep touching her. I need to remind myself that she’s here. Here with me. Not him. “Is that what you think this could be?”

“Honestly? No. But I’ve been wrong before. And that’s cost me my freedom. Walking away without repercussion isn’t an option for me. My life would come crashing down.”

I stay silent, because anything I could say would just be static. She’s right. She can’t just walk away. No matter what Evan does to her, no matter what he does with his little weasel prick, Ally has to play her role. The supportive, loving wife. Strong, resilient and tolerant. A perfect picture of grace and elegance.

“Justice?”

I smile through the infection of my thoughts, feeling them seep into my conscience. “Yeah?”

“Do you want me to walk away? Do you want me to leave him?”

My lips part, the answer burning my tongue. I swallow it down before answering. “I want you to do what makes you happy.”

She kisses my lips in response before nestling into my chest like a sleepy cat. My lips are in her hair, and I wrap both arms around her body, refusing to let her go.

I could make Ally happy. I could fill that void that’d be left from being extricated from the upper crust. But then what? What would that mean for my business? My reputation? Would I be exposing myself and reigniting the witch hunt that led me out to my lonely desert years ago?

I feel her breaths growing deeper and heavier, so I let my own tired eyes slip closed. “Please don’t leave me, angel,” I whisper, somewhere on the edges of sleep and the most beautiful dream. “I don’t want to be in the dark anymore.”

DRESSED ONLY IN soft, flannel pants, I pad out to the kitchen, led by the scents of bacon, eggs and toast. And coffee. Oh, sweet, wonderful coffee.

A hot breakfast and fresh coffee would be enough to make most men salivate, but the sight of Ally fluttering around in one of my prep school sweatshirts and nothing else, with a messy bun on top of her head, is just downright delectable. The thick, grey cotton is about five sizes too big for her and slips over a bare shoulder, exposing the top of her breast. I waste no time making my way over to cover that delicious patch of skin with my mouth.

“Good morning,” she smiles, her attention on the pan of fluffy, scrambled eggs on the stove.

“Morning. You weren’t there when I woke up.”

“I was sticky and hot, so I needed to shower. Plus, I was too hungry to sleep. We only had ice cream for dinner.” She turns her head and gives me a soft kiss.

“Speak for yourself. I ate more than that.”

A blush paints her cheeks, and I can’t resist kissing the one closest to me, feeling her skin heat under my lips. Soon, they’re trailing down her neck and to the sensitive area under her ear.

“Hey!” she squeals. “Some of us are working with scalding hot food here! Go sit down; your breakfast is just about ready. And your coffee’s on the counter.”

I give her bare ass a pinch before doing as I’m told.

“Oh, today’s paper was on the counter when I came out here. I hope whoever brought it in didn’t peek in on us. Holy shit, could you imagine?”

“Nah. My people aren’t like that,” I say sipping my brew. I push aside the Arizona Republic and pick up the New York Post, thankful that it’s still neatly folded. Ally didn’t read it.

I stop at the top story on Page Six, and blind rage has me seeing red. I can clearly read the headline—see his fake, solemn mug looking pathetic as fuck—but I can’t digest it. I can’t accept it. It’s a myth, a lie, like the fucking Easter Bunny or Santa Clause.

I read the story again, dissecting every word. It’s bullshit. It’s all bullshit. Evan was reeled in by his equally fucked up father, and was basically spoon-fed those manufactured lines of regret. He probably had the same song and dance memorized, considering he’s spewed the same rubbish more than once.

“Hey, can I get that after you’re done?” Ally asks, startling me from my murderous thoughts.

I look down at the paper in front of me. Evan looks so distraught, so remorseful. He looks exactly like a loving husband would when he’s missing his other half. “Sure,” I nod. Then, most unfortunately, the mug in my hand, the one I’m tipping to my lips, suddenly slips from my fingers, and drowns those blasphemous pages with hot coffee.