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“Sorry. Not where I want to be. Either talk or I’m leaving. It’s that simple.”

“Fine,” my mother bit out between clenched teeth, her anger showing when I’d bet everything I owned she didn’t intend to wear her emotions so close to the surface. “I heard you’re a famous writer. I wanted to congratulate you.”

“I’m not famous.” Much as I wanted my parents to acknowledge my abilities and talents, I also didn’t want to hear the next phase of the conversation. Because this was the part where they asked me for money.

“That’s not what Beulah told me. She said you won an award or something.”

“No awards.”

“She said you wrote a bestseller.” My mother actually smiled at me and made a little effort to look impressed -- when I knew how she felt about my chosen genre!

“I’ve had some luck.”

“You must do well for yourself. I heard you bought a place, though I thought it was in Indiana.”

“It is.” This was painful in more ways than one. I wasn’t leading them into what they were truly getting at, and my mother was trying every way in the world to force me into asking her what she wanted. Nope. I might not have been in control of my life all the time, but I was in control now.

When the silence stretched on, my father was the one to finally break character. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” he snapped. “We need the rest of the money you got from Paul’s estate. Since you’re a huge success, you don’t need that money.”

“I’m sorry, but you guys got everything. All I had was some cash I’d managed to get out of my bank accounts before you had them all frozen. Including my personal account.” I wanted to be mad, but really what was the point? They weren’t going to change. I couldn’t live with them any longer.

“That was payment for you living with us after Paul was murdered. That way you didn’t have to work while you were dealing with the murder and then the trial.” She glanced at Xavier and shuddered in disgust. “I’ll never understand why you took this beast’s side over a good man like Paul St. Martin.”

I hit my limit. “Mother. Father. I’m really sorry you made this trip for nothing, but I can’t help you. Please be careful on your way home. Do not call me again.”

Maybe I should feel ashamed to have been mean to my parents.

I wasn’t a fan of speaking to my elders like I had, but I’d toned it down considerably from what I wanted to say.

Instead, I snagged my helmet where I’d set it down and shoved it on my head.

I didn’t wait for Xavier, simply climbed on the bike and waited for him to follow.

My parents called out to me several times, but I ignored them. When our little convoy started back down the interstate, I felt like I was leaving a huge albatross behind me in our wake.

I knew life wouldn’t automatically be perfect, though I thought it was pretty damned perfect at the moment, but I now had people who cared about me.

Their love was genuine and not dependent on something I could do for them.

And the most amazing love of the bunch was the love I got from Xavier.

Time would tell how strong our connection was, but I knew what we had was real.

Because I’d experienced fake. What we had together was the real thing. And it shone brightly.

When we got home, Xavier snagged my hand and hurried with me to our apartment. The second the door was shut he was kissing me. I sighed and surrendered to him.

His hands moved urgently across my body as he stripped away my clothes with practiced ease. My fingers fumbled with his belt, desperate to feel his skin against mine. We stumbled toward the bedroom, leaving a trail of discarded clothing in our wake.

“You were amazing today,” Xavier murmured against my neck, his beard creating delicious friction against my sensitive skin. “So fucking proud of you.”

I gasped as he lifted me, my legs automatically wrapping around his waist. “I couldn’t have done it without you there.”

“Yes, you could’ve,” he growled, pressing me against the wall.

“You might not have been able to when I first met you. That Tillie was beaten down, but she was still in the fight. Then you healed. Inside and out.” He kissed me hard then, swept his tongue inside my mouth in a show of dominance.

“You’re strong and resilient, but none of that matters now because I’m with you now. I’ll always protect you.”

His mouth captured mine again in a hungry kiss that left me breathless.

His cock was hard against my belly, ready and wanting.

When he tucked his cock against my entrance, I tensed, the anticipation sweet even though I was impatient.

He entered me with one powerful thrust and I cried out, my head falling back against the wall.

“Fuck, Tillie,” he groaned, his hands gripping my thighs as he held me in place. “Need you so much. Never fuckin’ get enough.”

Every thrust drove me higher, the intensity of his possession matching the emotional high of finally standing up to my parents. I clutched at his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin as pleasure built inside me in a delicious rush.

“Xave!” His name escaped my lips as a desperate cry, my body trembling on the edge of release. Every thrust pushed me higher, the pressure building until I could barely breathe.

“That’s it, baby,” he growled, his rhythm never faltering. “Come for me. Let me feel you squeezin’ my cock.”

My clit found the friction I needed against his abdomen, the perfect amount of pressure, and I shattered. My orgasm crashed through me in waves of pleasure so intense I saw stars. I clung to him, my pussy convulsing around his cock as I screamed his name.

Xavier’s thrusts became more urgent, his breathing ragged against my neck. “Fuck, Tillie… fuck… mine,” he panted, his hands gripping my ass hard enough to bruise as he drove into me.

With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep and came with a guttural roar that reverberated through his chest. I felt the hot pulse of him inside me, claiming me in the most primal way.

For several long moments, we stayed locked together against the wall, our breathing slowly returning to normal. Xavier’s forehead rested against mine, his eyes closed as we savored the moment together.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, gently carrying me to our bed. He laid me down with surprising tenderness for a man who had just taken me so thoroughly against the wall.

As we curled together, my head on his chest, I felt a peace I’d only ever found in this man’s arms. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my ear was the most comforting sound in the world.

“I love you, Xavier,” I murmured, tracing one of his tattoos with my fingertip.

“Love you more, Tillie Girl.” His hand stroked my hair, his touch gentle and possessive at the same time. “Always love you.”

We lay in comfortable silence for several minutes, our bodies cooling as the afternoon breeze wafted through the open windows. Outside, I could hear the distant rumble of motorcycles, the occasional burst of laughter from the compound. Sounds that had become home to me.

“You know what’s funny?” I said, propping myself up on one elbow to look at him.

“What’s that?” His eyes were soft as they met mine, his expression unguarded in a way I only ever saw when we were alone.

“A year ago, if someone had told me I’d be here in this place with you, and that it would be the happiest I’d ever been in my life, I’d have called them a Goddamned liar.”

Xavier’s laugh rumbled through his chest. “And I’d have agreed with you. But sometimes the best stories have the most unexpected endings.”

I traced the tattoo over his heart -- the one he’d gotten last week with my name intertwined with his in an intricate design. “Not an ending,” I corrected him. “A beginning.”

A beginning. I had a feeling this time I’d get the life I’d always wanted. Hell, I had it already.