I turn to study him, and his jaw is clenched tightly as it works back and forth. Why is that so hot?

“Are you mad?” I ask softly.

That jaw seems to inexplicably tighten.

He blows out a breath, and then he pushes open his door and gets out of the car. He moves around back and grabs my overnight bag without answering me, and I fumble with the door because I’ve never actually opened one upward instead of outward. What the hell is that?

I follow him inside even though I’m not exactly sure he still wants me here, and he drops my bag on the kitchen counter while I stand a few feet away from him, a little nervous to have this conversation and a little scared about the way he’s acting.

He finally looks up, and when his eyes meet mine, I see the raw pain in them. It’s so powerful that I’m actually forced back a step.

“To answer your question, yes. I’m fucking furious that you would think that of me. Do you not remember me hitting on you before I knew she’d be coming to live with me?”

“That was different,” I protest.

“You’re right. It absolutely was. That was based on pure attraction. Is that what you would’ve preferred?” He’s starting to yell now.

“Preferred to what?” I yell back.

“This!” he spits. He motions between the two of us. “These feelings that I think might be love and these emotions and fucking constant confusion.”

I open my mouth to fire something back at him when his words seem to register.

I freeze with my mouth hanging open and my eyes wide as the word seems to take a beat to enter into my consciousness.

He freezes, too, as if he hadn’t meant to allow the word to slip out.

A beat of quiet passes between us.

“L…love?” I finally say.

He turns away from me and places his palms on the counter, and then he leans forward on them a little. He stares down at the space in between them. “I don’t know. That’s what I mean about constant confusion. I thought it was hate, but as it turns out, the old cliché about there being a thin line between love and hate might not be so far off.”

“Love?” I repeat. I clear my throat. Of all the things I thought he might say to me tonight, of all the reasons I thought he might have turned his car around… love never entered the equation. “Where is the line?”

“Turns out it might be right here in this kitchen,” he mutters.

I walk over toward him, and then I duck under his arm. He’s still leaning forward on the counter, but now I’m in his direct path.

Maybe I should leave him alone. Maybe I should walk away.

But that’s not who I am.

“What does that mean?” I ask.

His eyes move to mine. “It means I stopped hating you the night you cooked us dinner. It was the first time I could see you fitting in with us, but then last Friday night, everything changed. I never had a first call. You know what I mean?”

My brows pinch together as I shake my head. “No.”

“The first person you call when there’s news. Bad or good. The person you want to be there for you first.” He still hasn’t moved his palms from the counter even though I’m right in his face now.

I link my arms around his waist. “And that was me?”

“I called an ambulance to go to my house and pick up my kid who was having an emergency episode. As soon as I hung up with the operator, you were the only person whose voice I needed to hear.”

“Why?”

He shrugs and presses his lips together. “If you don’t know, then—”

“Why?” I say a little louder, interrupting him. “I need you to say it.”

“Why do you need me to say it?” he challenges.

“Because I was sure I needed to just be on my own for a while after Owen. I was positive this would never work, that you were only in it for one thing and I’d just be pushing the things I wanted further and further away if I wasted any more time on you. But if you can tell me I’m not wasting my time, then maybe I can admit I was wrong.”

He’s quiet a long time as his eyes move between mine. “You were wrong,” he finally says. “I showed up again after I got what you thought I wanted. Doesn’t that tell you something? I stopped by your place to fight for you. Doesn’t that tell you everything? You keep pushing me away, and I keep showing up anyway. I don’t know what the fuck this is. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. But I do know that whatever this is…it’s intense, and I’m addicted to it. Addicted to you .”

My chest tightens at his words as a thrill races up my spine. “Right back at you, Woods,” I say, and then I melt into him as our lips collide somewhere in the middle. He finally pulls his palms from the counter and wraps his arms around me, pulling me as close as he can against his body.

He deepens the kiss then lifts me onto the counter, and he forces me to open my legs a little wider as he steps between them. My dress is hiked way up at this point, and I wrap my legs around his waist. He rams against me, his cock hard behind his slacks and thrusting against my clit covered only by the tiny scrap of satin fabric of my panties. I can’t help a moan into his mouth at the feel of it—the feel of him .

It’s another new type of kiss from him—not quite as sensual as the one last weekend on his couch, not as full of hate as the first two, but some new understanding between us that neither of us knows what the hell this is and neither of us wants to give it up, either.

There are complications, certainly. But we’ll deal with those later.

Right now all that matters is this .

“Jesus, Victoria,” he grunts against my mouth. He trails kisses down my neck and into the deep cleavage the dress offers. “Fuck, I don’t know what this is, but I don’t ever want it to stop.”

His mouth moves back to mine, and this kiss is a desperate one. He’s hungry for me, for sex, for all of it, and I’m just as hungry as he is.

But tonight, I don’t sit on his face. This isn’t an act of hate followed by something even more passionate.

This might be the first real act of love we share.

He carries me up the stairs and lays me gently on his bed, and then he helps me out of my dress. He kisses me some more before I reach down to unbutton his pants, and he takes them off then buries his face between my breasts and nips at them through my bra before removing that, too. He kisses me and touches me and massages me everywhere, his hands pure magic against my skin, and then his mouth finds mine again.

The pace tonight is slow and sensual, as if we have all the time in the world. He removes his shirt, and I explore his chest a while the way he just did to mine. I reach my hand down into his black boxer briefs and fist him, and he hisses as I start to pump up and down his shaft. He reaches into my panties and rubs slow circles on my pussy, teasing me to near torture before he dips a finger in.

He groans when he feels how wet I am for him. “Jesus, Hartley,” he mumbles against my breast, which he’s still sucking as he fingers me. I arch my hips off the bed as I try to grind onto his hand for some friction, but he just gives me a sly smile as he pulls his fingers out.

“Two can play that game,” I say, and I pull my hand away from him, too.

He glares at me a little, but then he leans down to give me the kind of kiss that makes my toes curl. Soft and tender, sensual and sexy, his tongue moving languidly against mine as the sweet anticipation between the two of us builds.

Eventually he reaches into his nightstand and grabs a condom, and then he removes the rest of our clothes before he secures it. And then he’s hovering over me, his eyes on mine as he reaches down and aligns his cock with my body. He pushes in, and we both freeze for a beat to just enjoy the feel of each other. I feel his dick twitch inside me, and then he starts to move. It’s as slow and gentle as his kiss as he leans down to press his lips to mine, and I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his shoulders as I let him lead me right into bliss.

He controls the slow speed as he drives into me, each thrust pushing on some hidden spot inside me I never knew existed. I cling onto him as our bodies find the sort of rhythm that leads us far too quickly straight to the edge of oblivion.

I want to last longer. I want to hold back. But my body is so wet and primed and ready for him, as if I’ve needed this for an entire week and I’ve been waiting for this moment again.

I know what he means about becoming addicted. I’m right there beside him.

And he’s right there in sync with me, too, as he starts to pick up the pace. He’s pushing me right up to the edge, and my body starts to tense when he pulls back and slows our speed again.

It’s like he can tell, and he’s playing a little game with me, and as much as I want the release, I want him more—his body over mine, this intimate connection, this warmth and affection and maybe love that’s drifting all around us. We just need to grab onto it and hold on for the ride.

He must think the same thing, because he uses one hand to brace himself on the headboard before he starts speeding up his drives. He’s hammering into me, and the way my moans start to get louder and turn into screams of pleasure tell him this is a good move. He keeps it up, and then he drops his head to my shoulder as he growls in my ear.

“Come for me, Hartley. I can’t hold on much longer.”

I told him once before I don’t come on command like in the romance novels I read…but why the fuck is hearing those words in the heat of the moment so damn sexy?

I was right there anyway, fighting it since I wasn’t ready for this to be over, but I take his command and give him what he wants.

I explode into an intense orgasm, my body a tight coil finally springing free as I scream through it, and his growls are loud and sexy as he comes right along with me.

My climax eventually starts to slow, but he’s still pumping into me, still fighting through his pleasure for a few more beats before he finally collapses on top of me, refusing to let go of our connection just yet. His head is on my chest, and he sucks my breast back into his mouth as we both pant and fight to regain our breath.

It tickles—the feel of his lips on my nipple right after coming as hard as I just did, and I can’t help the small chuckle.

He leans up on his elbow and his eyes move along my body until they find mine. “Something funny?” he asks, his brow quirked.

I shake my head. “My body is a little sensitive after what you just put it through.”

“There’s more where that came from,” he murmurs before his lips fall to mine.

I hope that’s a promise.