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  Anger rushes through me at the idea of Addy being with anyone, much less the douchebag ex-boyfriend who'd better not be in the picture, so help me God.   "You don't think I'm doing my job?  Fire me. "

  "I'm not going to fire you," the Wicked Bitch says.   "That would make her rebel even more.   But you're going to keep me apprised of what's going on.   I'm her manager.   I need to know. "

  "Every detail," I say, my tone dripping with sarcasm.   "Should I make you know what she eats and what time she takes a shit?  I can send photos if you like. "

  "You're crude," she says.

  I shrug.   "I guess you can take the man out of the Marines, but you can't take the Marine out of the man, huh?"

  She wrinkles her nose, looking at me like she's smelling something repulsive.   "They didn't teach you diplomacy in the military. "

  "Diplomacy isn't exactly a priority," I say.   "Any other job advice?"

  "Watch yourself, Hendrix," she says.   "Addy will have you wrapped around your finger in no time at all.   She's a manipulator. "

  "Actually, I think you have her confused with someone else," I say.   "You. "  I turn to head up the stairs, wondering if she suspects anything between her daughter and me.   I wonder if what happened outside, or hell, the thoughts I've been having, are written all over my face.

  FIVE YEARS AGO

  "He left this morning," Grace says, flopping down on my bed.   "I thought you knew he was leaving.   He had to report for boot camp. "

  I feel like someone punched me in the stomach.   "I thought he'd say goodbye. "

  Grace rolls over onto her back and twirls a long strand of dark hair around her finger.   "That's weird, yeah?" she asks.   "He said goodbye to me last night.   I guess since you were at the movies, he didn't want to bother you when you got back?"

  "I guess. "  My head is swimming, and I have to sit down.

  "What's wrong?" Grace asks.   "You look pale.   Do you need a soda or something?"

  "No, I --" I start.   What can I say?  I fell for my stepbrother, and he kissed me, and I was naive enough to think it meant something to him.    Then I heard him tell all his friends horrible things about me, but I still thought he might make a last-minute declaration of love before he left for the Marines.

  I'm a total idiot, a girl who's read far too many fairy tales.

  "What?" Grace sits up.   "It's not Hendrix is it?"

  "Huh?" I ask, distracted by my thoughts of Hendrix.   My stomach churns at the thought of him joining the Marines.   What if something happens to him, and the last feelings I had toward him were hate for what he said about me?  I'd never forgive myself.   "No, it's not Hendrix. "

  "You guys were like, really good friends there for a while, huh?" Grace asks.   She grabs one of the bottles of nail polish from my desk and starts painting her toes.   "Ugh, pink.   Don't you have any more edgy colors?  Can you really see me wearing pink?  I mean, no offense, it looks good on you, obviously. "

  "I think there's some in the bathroom," I say, numb.   I don't care about nail polish.   I can't think about anything except Hendrix.

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  "Don't worry about Hendrix," she says, hopping up and disappearing into the bathroom.   "Although, can you really see him being a Marine?  That would be like me joining the military.   They're going to shit their pants when they see him walk into boot camp with blue streaks in his hair. "  When she reappears, she has a bottle of blue polish.   "Speaking of blue, at least you have something that's more useable than that pink crap.   Do you think he'll come back all 'roided out and like, prison hot?"

  The thought of Hendrix getting "prison hot" makes me shiver, and I try not to think about what he might look like after being with the Marines.   I've fantasized about Hendrix too many times to count already.   Far too many times to be good for me.   I need to put Hendrix out of my head.

  PRESENT DAY

  "Just a second," I call.   The door opens before I can say anything else, and I reach frantically for the towel I tossed carelessly on my bed, getting tangled up in the pile of wet clothes on the floor at my feet.   Looking up, I see Hendrix shutting the door behind him.   I hiss at him through clenched teeth to get the hell out of my bedroom before someone catches him, but he just stands there, grinning at me.   "Turn around. "

  "What?" he whispers.   "Your taste is still on my tongue, but you don't want me to see you naked?"

  "Don't say that. "  I scramble to get the towel wrapped around my body, mindful of the fact that Hendrix isn't doing what I tell him to do.   Not only is he not listening to me, he's standing there shirtless, his chest still damp from the rain.   Shirtless and sexy.

  "Don't say what?" he asks, his voice low.   He crosses the space between us so quickly that I inhale sharply.   "Naked?  Or that your taste is still on my tongue?  Would you rather I say that I was licking your pussy?"

  "Hendrix," I whisper.   "You can't talk to me like that.   Not here, in this house. "

  "Or what?"  He steps close to me and puts his mouth close to my ear, taking one finger and trailing it up my arm and over my shoulder, then across my collarbone.   He slowly, lazily runs it up the side of my neck, and I'm left so on edge, so wanting, that I could cry again.   "What are you afraid of, Addy?"

  "You," I whisper.   It's the only word I can choke out, the only thing that escapes my lips.   I don't say all of the other things going through my head, the things I want to say.

  I'm afraid that everything I've worked for will be destroyed.

  I'm afraid of falling for you all over again.

  I'm afraid you'll rip my heart to shreds, the way you did when you left.

  I'm afraid you'll break me.

  The look Hendrix gives me is practically feral.   He makes a sound, deep in his throat, his hand on the back of my neck, and I think if he kisses me again, he'll destroy us both.   But he just looks at me.   "You're right," he says.

  "What?"  All I can feel is the warmth from his hand on my neck, the heat that radiates from his palm down my body, pooling between my legs.   I'm a raw nerve, a ball of need and desire, and as much as I want him to go, more of me wants him to stay.   More of me wants him to pick me up and fuck me against the bedroom wall, right now.

  He groans, as if he can read the dirty thoughts that are running through my head, and pushes me against the wall.   "Drop the towel," he says, his voice gruff and gravely.

  "What are you doing?" I choke out the words, my palm up to push him away, but instead I end up sliding my hand over his chest and down his rippled abdomen.   I can see his hardness pressed against his jeans, and all I can think about is having him inside me.

  "I'm doing what I told you I was going to do before," he says.

  "Hendrix, right here is not the place.   Our parents -- "

  "Are we both going to pretend you're not aching for me?" he asks.   "That you're not soaking wet with the thought of having me inside you?"  He reaches underneath the towel, between my legs, and touches me gently with the tip of his fingers, and his touch makes me practically melt.

  "I don't know if this is a good idea, Hendrix," I say, protesting, but weakly.   My resolve isn't even weak.   It's practically non-existent.

  He wraps his hands around my wrists and pins them to the wall above my head, then holds them there with one hand as he traces his finger gently over my lips.   "This is not a good fucking idea, Addy," he whispers, his finger moving slowly down the front of my chest to my cleavage.   "This is the worst fucking idea in the world. "

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  "This is the worst idea ever," I say.   "We should be reasonable. "

  "I've never been a reasonable man," he says, stepping back from me and surveying me.   "Take off the towel. "

  I draw in a sharp breath, but