He collapses over my back, feathering soft kisses against my neck, but as my pleasure fades, something dark takes its place—the PTSD that will not go away. My lungs seize and I stiffen, squeezing my eyes shut as I rasp in a breath.

Ray pulls me up and wraps his arms around me. “I hurt you.”

“No.” Alarmed he would blame himself, I wrap my arms over his. If he would just hold me, make me feel safe, I’ll be okay. But he pulls away.

“You should have told me to stop.” He scrapes his hand through his hair. “You should have told me it was too much. I’ve got no limits. When I lose it, I lose it, and you threaten my control like no one else.”

Curiously, his distress eases my anxiety. “It wasn’t too much,” I say softly. “You need to stop worrying you’re going to hurt me. And I didn’t want you to stop. It was just…very intense. I’ll be okay.”

But I’m not okay. Gritting my teeth, I try to breathe through waves of panic as I search for my clothes, drawing slow, deep breaths, counting in my head, taking comfort in the familiarity of getting dressed. I did what I had promised myself I would never do. I gave up control, left myself open, vulnerable, and my subconscious couldn’t deal. I played with fire and I got burned.

Silence weighs heavy in the air between us. We tidy the fight area and lock up the building. I follow Ray to his bike, wishing for the first time ever that Tag was here to take me home.

Ray’s Harley Softail is huge, heavily chromed, and oozes sex. Ironic how only a few hours ago, I would have killed for a ride on his bike, and now it is the last place I want to be.

Ray hands me the second helmet, and I fasten it under my chin and slide onto the pillion seat behind him. He points out the passenger pegs, two silver bars with little skulls on the ends, and I position my feet, then wrap my hands around his waist. Moments later, the engine thrums between my legs and we shoot off into the night. My body molds into his. My breasts press tight against his broad back, my hips grind into his ass. This is going to be one hell of a ride.

Too bad it will be my last.

Chapter 11

Hand

“What am I going to do?” Jess sobs, and grabs another tissue from the box on my living room table, an upside-down polar bear holding the glass with his feet. “How many years did I wait and then, suddenly, out of the blue, Tag shows up and expects me to still be waiting for him? It’s ruined my weekend. No. It’s ruined my life.”

“Well…you were still waiting for him last week,” I say. “And Tag wasn’t expecting you to be waiting for him. He says he’s too busy for a relationship, but he’s happy for you.”

She blows her nose and tosses the tissue at the already overflowing trash can. My bright blue area rug is already dotted with tissues as is the huge, overstuffed white couch she’s sitting on. Although I always wear black when I go out, my house is a riot of primary colors, a throwback to the old me.

“There’s nothing to be happy about. It’s just casual with Blade Saw. I mean, I like him. If it weren’t for Tag, I’d think about something more serious with him. He’s fun, he’s got an amazing body, he’s hot in bed, he’s a wicked fighter¸ and he’s…nice.”

“Nice?”

Jess shrugs. “He does nice things. He shows up at my office with a packed lunch. He picks me up from parties if it’s dark, no questions asked. He’ll lie for hours with me in the park while I work on my tan, pick up my dry cleaning, make me dinner if I’m tired, and rub my feet. He’ll even walk my dog if I have to work late.”

“He sounds like someone’s dad.”

She gives me an affronted stare. “Well, he doesn’t talk like someone’s dad. His language is a little crude. Hooters and tits aren’t my favorite words to describe my breasts, and I prefer big to humongous.” Her lips twist to the side. “I especially don’t like juicy or cu—”

“I get it. I don’t need to hear it.”

With a dramatic sigh, she throws herself back on the cushions—blue to match the carpet and drapes, and yellow to match the dining table that I forced Tag to carry home from a nearby flea market.

“I can’t get serious with Blade Saw if there is even the smallest chance Tag is interested. And I think there is. Don’t you think so? Did you see his face last night when he saw Blade Saw’s arm around me? And the way he interrupted Rampage to find out what was going on? If that wasn’t interest, what was it?”

“Friendship.” I stretch out on the couch, basking in the late-afternoon sun. This is the closest I’ve come to relaxing since Ray dropped me at home after our encounter in the machine shop last night.

“Either way, I’m screwed.” With an exaggerated sigh, she flings herself back on a couch that’s a twin to the one I’m on. “They train in the same gym. How awkward would that be if I dumped one for the other?”

I twist my ring around my finger. “About as awkward as me having to see Ray at the gym after what happened last night.”

Jess, of course, knows everything. Five minutes after Ray dropped me at home, I was on the phone to her.

“I need the potato chips.” She reaches out her hand, and I lean over and hand her the bag.

“Chips don’t make for a healthy lunch.”

She stuffs a chip in her mouth and glares. “Look who’s talking. You had them for breakfast and lunch.”