Sine Qua Non

Chapter One.2

Birds chirped to one another as they swooped and swirled over the little blue tents that had been set up to provide shade to the farmers and small business owners selling their wares on Main Street. Both sides of the street had been closed for the day, lined with kiosks and food trucks. The sun was shining through the haze of pollen in the air.

It’s much too beautiful to feel melancholy , thought Jay.

A man cleared his throat noisily and she realized she had been standing in front of a table filled with bottles of raw milk and plastic-wrapped wedges of cheese. “Sorry,”

she said, scooting out of the way. An all-too-familiar flutter of anxiety asserted itself as people bumped up against her shoulders, making her cardigan stick to her skin.

She had grown up here and yet she had never felt more like a stranger. She kept seeing faces turning her way. Not quite staring but looking long enough to make her wonder what, exactly, it was that they thought they were looking at. Had they read about her stepfather in the Hollybrook Herald? Pulled up chairs to see if any dust would rise from the fallen rubble?

How many of them were living off of Nicholas’s largesse, like serfs paying fealty to a fickle young lord, each thinking that they were getting the better of him, not knowing that he would let them all burn in a heartbeat?

(You’re the only one in this fucking town worth more than the air you breathe)

Troubled, she walked over to a less crowded stall advertising itself as vegan and dairy-free. There were plates of macarons made with aquafaba and filled with coconut cream, applesauce banana bread, and big wheels of cake glossed with shiny layers of glaze. The woman behind the counter watched her closely. “See anything you like? Prices are on the board.”

Jay followed her manicured nail and was nearly shocked, until she remembered that she could afford this now. “The vegan chocolate cake is forty dollars?”

“We also sell it by the slice if you can’t afford the whole cake.”

That wasn’t what she’d meant, and color rose in her cheeks. Resisting the urge to look down and check her outfit, she kept her smile pasted on as she fished for her credit card in her purse. Nicholas would like it. The candied raspberries were basically fruit sprinkles, and in all her life, she’d never seen that man turn down anything that had sugar on it.

“I’ll take a whole one.”

Maybe a peace offering would lift him out of the sour mood she’d left him in.

Children were playing on the grassy field across the road and Jay tracked them as the cashier rang up her purchase and began wrapping up the cake. She envied their carefree joy, the ease of their small bodies. It made her ache to protect them, too, because nobody had protected her, and look where her naivete had gotten her.

She found herself facing a camera lens and blinked rapidly, her breath coming in a startled rush. The man had iron-grey hair and was wearing a chambray shirt that had gone dark with sweat beneath his arms. He’s just taking pictures of the event , she told herself, over the ringing in her ears. That’s all . But then she heard another man’s voice whisper, That’s the look.

(I don’t want to fuck an angel)

“Jay? Oh my god, Jay? Is that you?”

She tore her eyes away from the photographer who had moved away to examine the booths. With her heart pounding the way it was, she didn’t notice how badly her hand was shaking when she accepted her credit card from the cake seller as she turned to see who had said her name.

“It is you.”

The female voice was resonant and a little smug, and when Jay craned her neck, she found herself looking at a glamorous-looking woman with long dark hair frosted with chestnut highlights.

“Hi?”

Jay said, slightly panicked.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten us already, Jay. It’s me . Angie. Angela Diamante. Well—”

she gave a practiced-sounding laugh “—it’s Angela Valdez now.”

That name hit her like a sledgehammer. “Valdez,”

she repeated. “As in—”

“Michael, that’s right. You couldn’t possibly forget him.”

She spoke the words like a challenge, and maybe they were. You used to make out with my husband, Jay. Remember?

“Wow, that was so long ago,”

she babbled noncommittally. Something nudged her back—the cake, oh thank god. She took the box awkwardly, aware that the vendor was listening in eagerly, which was all the more reason for her to get the hell out of here. She tried to shuffle away but Angie, anticipating escape, hedged her off with an aggressive sidestep.

“Come over here, it’s way less crowded. It’s been an age, hasn’t it? Michael and I just had our firstborn. I would have invited you to the baby shower—and the wedding—but nobody knew where you were. It was like you had dropped off the face of the earth!”

Jay said nothing.

“Well.”

Angie pretended to cough, glancing at the box at Jay’s arms. “What have you been up to after all this time? It looks like you’ve got something to celebrate.”

“Nope. Impulse buy.”

“This place is dangerous that way.”

Jay nodded silently, looking desperately for an opening in the crowd that she could disappear into. “I saw you on the cover of the Hollybrook Herald . That looked like Oscar de la Renta. It was, wasn’t it? And just look at your nails .”

It took all of her effort not to yank her hand back when Angie grabbed her by the wrist. She’d hit a sore spot. As soon as she had agreed to go to the children’s cancer benefit gala—because it was for sick children, how could she say no ?—he’d surprised her with an appointment at a salon and told her it was nonrefundable when she tried to insist that she could do her own makeup.

The building was completely empty when she arrived, except for the staff, and she thought there had been a mistake—until said staff greeted her with champagne and gold-leaf covered pastries that looked more expensive than her purse. Then she realized: it wasn’t that they were lacking in customers; Nicholas had bought out the place. The whole time she was there, Jay had been terrified that they were judging her for her Target blouse and chewed-on cuticles, but whatever ungodly sum he’d paid them had made them compliment her within an inch of her life.

She had been so angry that night, it had been all she could do to keep it together in his arms when he dragged her out from behind one of the massive centerpieces and onto the dancefloor. You knew what I wanted , she thought, feeling self-conscious and betrayed. And you did this anyway.

“I’ve had six people pull me aside to ask me who you are, Jay. You have to dance with me. I just donated fifty thousand dollars to this event and my plus-one isn’t allowed to hide behind a fern. I don’t see what the problem is,”

he added callously. “I told them you’re my sister.”

Jay didn’t bother telling him that two of those people he was referring to had found her already and asked for the name of her “agency.”

That with the expensive jewelry and lack of wedding ring, there was only one assumption people would make about a woman in a dress like hers and it involved getting paid by the hour by men who would absolutely lie about her being their sister.

A twinge of guilt went through her as she remembered how the smile had died from his face at her continued silence.

“What’s wrong?”

he demanded.

And she had turned away. “I want to leave.”

(You don't know the thoughts that go through a man's mind when they see a girl who looks like you)

“Where did you get them done?”

“I’m sorry?”

Jay blinked into Angie’s looming face.

“Your nails.”

“Oh, La Vie, I think.”

“Aren’t they by appointment only? You must be doing better than everyone thought if you’re going to places like that.”

She smiled, like she hadn’t just insinuated that all of their old friends thought she was a loser. “Oh, I see Michael. He’ll want to say hello you, too. Michael! Come over here, honey. You’ll never guess who I just found. It’s Jay. High school Jay.”

Shit. Jay looked over at the man Angie had singled out. It wasn’t hard to spot him: his hair had receded a little and his middle had thickened, but otherwise, Michael Valdez looked almost exactly the same as she remembered him. Light brown skin, curly hair, and a slightly perplexed expression that had always reminded her of a well-trained dog awaiting approval.

“Wow, Jay,”

he said, looking her over in a way that had her stepping back, and folding her arms. “You look amazing. I mean, uh, wow. Amazing that it’s been so long. It’s great to see you.”

Angie shot him a sidelong look that he didn’t notice. “It is good to see you. I think you were just about to tell me where you’ve been hiding yourself away this whole time.”

“San Francisco. But I’m back for now. Anyway, it’s been so good to run into you both and, um, congratulations.”

Jay realized she was twisting a strand of hair around her finger and hastily lowered the offending hand. “I should really go—”

“I heard you moved back home. Are you living with Nicholas?”

You’re really doing this here, Angie? Jay clenched her teeth behind her smile. “Why not? It’s a big house. He offered and I said yes.”

Not to what he wanted you to.

“Well, I’m glad you two could make up after all of that horrible business with your dad.”

Angie gave Michael an expression of exaggerated sympathy. “It took the whole town by shock.”

“Stepfather,”

Jay said. “He wasn’t my father.”

“Michael felt so guilty.”

Angie put her hand on his shoulder and while he didn’t shrug her off, Jay saw him visibly tense. “He always talks about how close we all used to be, and how he wished there was something he could have done.”

“I don’t know why he felt guilty,”

Jay said, which made his eyes slide away from hers. “We only went out for about a year. Our parents just did business together. It had no reflection on him .”

“How is Nicky, by the way?”

Angie asked sweetly. “Is he seeing anyone? I heard you were his plus-one for the gala.”

Damn you, Nicholas. “We don’t really talk about his relationships.”

“Our housekeeper sees him at the supermarket. He’s always alone. Even at parties, he never brought an escort. I always thought that was so sad. It seemed like nobody was good enough to meet his standards. But at least now he has you.”

Jay swallowed. “I suppose.”

“You two should come by for a visit sometime.”

She plucked a business card from her pants pocket, sliding it into Jay’s hand. Diamante Dining Group. “I own some of the businesses downtown—two restaurants, a bakery, and a bar. Michael built them, if you can believe it. I can’t, even though it’s how we got together. Though not much is getting built now.”

“There’s no land.”

Michael still seemed to have trouble looking at her, but Jay didn’t think she imagined the tightness in his voice. Sore spot, maybe?

“And weren’t we lucky we seized upon what we had when we had the chance, babe?”

Angie arched her eyebrows at Jay as she plucked her phone out of her purse. “Looks like the babysitter needs to leave, and so do we. I’ll bring the car around. And seriously, stop by the bar for a chat sometime, Jay. We can catch up on everything we missed over drinks while the boys have beers.”

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

That sounds horrible.

“I just can’t wait to hear all your secrets.”

Angie patted Jay on the arm. She flinched.

With a smile that felt more like a baring of teeth, Angie flounced off to the gravel parking lot. She paused halfway, her shoulders tightening when she noticed that her husband hadn’t followed.

Because he was still standing right there.

“Sorry about her.”

Michael scratched at his neck. “She’s always been a little competitive.”

“You should go after her.”

Jay watched Angie swivel around, with an expression of hurt anger on her face that was painful to look at. “She looks upset.”

“That’s all you have to say, after disappearing for nine years?”

He rocked back on his heels, staring at her like she was a ghost of herself. Maybe to him, she was. High school Jay had never talked back or criticized. “You could have asked how I’m doing.”

“Okay, it’s nice to see you. Congratulations on your kid. How are you and your wife doing?”

He sighed. “So it’s going to be like that, is it?”

“I’m not really sure what you want from me.”

A stone scratched against the pavement as Michael toed the loose rocks with his tasseled loafer. Nicholas made fun of shoes like that. He said loafers were for men who bought boats but were terrified of water, which really shouldn’t have been as funny as it was.

“She doesn’t own me, you know. We were all friends before any of us started dating.”

You were friends. I was just the outsider you let hang around because my stepfather’s last name looked good on business agreements. “People grow up. They drift apart. That’s normal.”

“It isn’t normal. You left without a single word to anyone. Not even your mom knew where you went—and believe me, people asked.”

Michael shook his head, making Jay wonder if he’d been one of them. The thought of what her mother might have said about that night made all the warmth drain out of her. “You missed the ten-year reunion. You abandoned this place.”

“Because there was nothing left for me here!”

“Wow, thanks, Jay. I’m so glad you thought we were all nothing.”

Michael glanced over his shoulder to check the lot, but Angie had already left—to get the car, Jay imagined. If there wasn’t a fight on the drive home, she’d be very surprised. “Was it me?”

“It didn’t have anything to do with you.”

“Well, then can you tell me what happened? Because I’ve been trying to understand.”

He moved towards her hesitantly, lowering his outstretched hand when she just stared at it. “I want to understand. At least let me take you out for coffee. Maybe I can help.”

Jay stepped back. “I really don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“My wife’s bar, then. She invited you. You can come by when she’s working, and I’ll buy you a drink. It’s the twenty-first century, Jay. Men and women can go out as friends and have a drink or two. I thought you were a feminist.”

I’m a feminist, you know , one of those men at the gala said as he stared at her in a way that made her want to crawl out of her skin. I’ll treat you the way a man should treat a woman.

She couldn’t quite manage to hide her distaste. “Jesus, Michael.”

“What? I wasn’t making a move.”

He laughed nervously, his eyes shifting. “I just hate that things between us ended the way they did. I really liked you.”

“I’m sorry,”

Jay said automatically.

“Yeah, I know you didn’t feel the same way. But that’s fine. You look great. You always did. I’m glad that things worked out so well for you and Nicholas. His mother’s jewelry suits you.”

The bitterness in his voice was sharp enough to sting—as if he thought she were some grasping trophy wife. He strode towards his wife’s waiting black Solara. The windows were rolled down, so she saw her smack his shoulder when he got in, too roughly to be entirely playful. Their heads bowed together briefly and Jay could only imagine what Angie was saying.

You look amazing. She ordered an Uber one-handed, not wanting to walk back with the cake. Who said that to another woman in front of his own wife? Did he think she would agree ?

Jay slipped gratefully into the weathered Honda Civic that pulled up to the curb. “Justine?”

the driver asked, and Jay nodded, not bothering to correct her. She also pretended not to notice the woman goggling at the mansion when they pulled up at Nicholas’s house. With all those ostentatious white columns, and the paned glass windows, it was an imposing sight, even from the street, when viewed from behind a barren driveway and row of crooked trash cans.

Frowning, she shifted the cake box to one arm and began to straighten the lids. One kept popping back up. Something beneath wouldn’t let it seal. When she peeked under the lid, she saw a rather elaborately carved wooden something. Was that a clock? The one from Nick’s office? It was still working—she could hear the ticking sounds. Why had he tossed it out?

Why does Nick do anything?

She continued up the porch, leaving the discarded clock ticking sadly away in the bin. The lazy spring breeze carried the scents of chlorine and jasmine, and a little shiver arced down her spine as she used the spare key to open the door and found herself stepping into that familiar haze of blue light that was the first thing to beckon her into this house that was not quite a home.

“I’m back!”

she called out redundantly, setting the cake out on the counter. There were traces of Nick, but he wasn’t in the living room, and the door to what had been his father’s office was wide open and obviously empty. “Nick? Are you home?”

“I’m home.”

She looked away as he walked barefoot into the kitchen, busying herself with the dishes in the sink. “How was the farmers’ market?”

He leaned an elbow on the counter, tilting his head to lean into her periphery. His biceps made the sleeves of his old T-shirt strain dangerously. “Did the yokels turn out in droves?”

She scrubbed harder. “You’ve never even seen a yokel. And yes, it was basically a schmaltzy who’s-who-in-Hollybrook event playacting as a country jamboree. You would have hated it. How was the interview?”

“She wasn’t a good fit.”

He sounded irritated. She couldn’t tell if it was at her. Maybe she should have let him come along, like he’d offered, but having him run into Michael and Angela would have been a disaster. Nicholas was dangerous when bored, and liked to sow chaos for his own amusement.

Setting her shoulders, she went on, “I actually ran into Michael and Angie there.”

Nicholas moved closer. Her skin prickled. “Michael, as in your ex?”

“Yes. He’s married now. They have a kid.”

He rested a hand on the counter. She could feel the warmth of his chest through the back of her thin sweater. “You sound disappointed.”

“I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“Then why did you bring it up?”

Some dark note in his voice made her turn over her shoulder. He had a thumb through the belt loops of his designer jeans, his gaze laser-focused on hers.

“Was I supposed to hide it?”

She kept her voice light.

The chill on the back of her neck increased; it was his breath, stirring the fine hairs at her nape. “Interesting that you would come to that conclusion. Do you still carry a torch for your ex? I’ve seen him negotiate. It’s pathetic. If you asked him to tie you up, he’d run to his father for help.”

“Don’t.”

She leaned forward, bracing her palms against the granite top as if she could absorb strength from the stone. “I’m not going to talk to you if you’re going to be like this.”

“Like what?”

“You know what you’re doing.”

Jay spun around again. “I don’t belong to you, Nicholas. You don’t own me just because I happen to live under your roof, and you certainly don’t get to hound me about who I’m talking to, like some kind of jealous hus—”

She broke off.

“No, go on, finish that sentence. I want to hear what you were going to say.”

Jay bit her lip.

“I agreed to give you time. All the time you need.”

His eyes went pointedly to her throat, where she was wearing the ring around her neck on a slender silver chain. “But you don’t get to throw my proposal in my face like it’s a fucking glass of water.”

“You’re right,”

she said, looking away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You never do, little bird.”

He plucked at the strap of her tank top. “So who did old limp-dick marry? Someone useful to daddy’s business, I’m assuming.”

“Angie.”

“Well, well. Not even subtle on the rebound.”

Jay jerked her shoulders away and picked up a dish.

Nicholas sighed. Then she felt his hands on her waist, crushing the fabric against her skin. His palms seared her through her clothes but she pretended to ignore him, loading dishes into the expensive, new-fangled dishwasher that she barely knew how to use.

“Jay.”

The bubbles in the sink blurred as his hands moved. “Put down that plate and look at me.”

“Why?”

she asked, holding herself very stiffly. “Is the outcome of whatever this is going to change if it happens face to face?”

He ran two fingers over the band of midriff where her top had ridden up. She jerked again, and with the hand not still wrapped around her, he reached forward to shut the water off. She was pressed flush against the counter now, her pelvis cutting into the granite. She could feel the gouge of his hips against the rounded curves of her ass.

“I’m talking to you.”

A shiver went down her spine at that familiar dark tone. She reached for another plate anyway, but her hand was unsteady and he caught her by the wrist, turning her around slowly without moving back an inch, so she felt every inch of his body as he hauled her up against him.

“Why are you breathing like that?”

The words were rough against her ear. “Is this turning you on?”

“Screw you.”

With a grunt, he bent down and slid his hand beneath her ass, dropping her onto the counter so roughly that her breasts bounced. He put his hands over hers, caging them loosely against the stone as his face hovered in front of hers. She tried to look away, but he freed up one hand to tilt her chin up, his fingers gently impressing the hollow of her jaw.

“What is this?”

“Nothing.”

Her eyes flicked away. “Do whatever you’re going to do.”

His eyes narrowed speculatively. But before she could speak again, he got to his knees and tugged down her pants so roughly that she nearly slid off the counter. “Nick—”

He slid his fingers inside her, spreading her wide as he knelt between her legs and used one of his shoulders, and his braced forearm to keep her thighs open.

“ Whatever I’m going to do?”

The kiss of his fingers moving inside her made her look away in shame, though she couldn’t deny the slow burning heat licking its way from her belly any more than she could hide the soft sounds of her pleasure. It made her desperate, how much she wanted this.

It made her afraid.

(You must be doing better than everyone thought)

She twisted like a hooked fish, and Nicholas’s hands tightened, intent on bringing this scenario to its one natural conclusion.

(his mother’s jewelry suits you)

“Michael asked me out,”

she gasped.

“What?”

It came out as a snarl, hitting a register that sent a chill down her spine.

“His wife was right there. He asked me right in front of her and it made me feel like I was—oh, god— Nicholas —”

With a feral growl, he yanked her forward, burying his face between her thighs and kissing her swollen clit so hard she bit her lip from the shock of it. Her hips lifted, rising to meet the insistent pressure of his tongue, prompting him to slide his hand beneath her ass to keep her at an even tilt.

It felt so good, it was like punishment. It probably was. Jay gripped the counter, trying to shift her hips, but he wouldn’t let her move.

“Nick, please.”

“What’s wrong? Does it hurt?”

Jay tried to respond and a moan came out instead.

“Oh, I see. You’re just embarrassed that you like fucking Daddy’s face.”

His cruelty made her ache in places too deep and dark to reach. She grabbed for the cabinet with one hand, her free one still tangled in his hair as she slid precariously closer to the edge.

“ Fuck, oh my god—”

“This is what you do to me, Jay.”

She felt the cool enamel of his teeth and then suction that, combined with the soft pressure of his tongue, tipped her over and made her come for the second time with a raw sob. His low sound of approval rocked her like an aftershock. “Doesn’t it feel good to fall apart?”

She surged forward with a cry, her fingers flattening against his scalp as she held onto the cabinet’s rough underside until her fingernails were throbbing. Her clit was a white-hot star under the unhurried strokes of his tongue, everything burning away to raw, trembling nerves.

“ Again . Show me how my beautiful little whore likes to come.”

“I can’t—please—”

He kissed her again, a little harder, a little crueler, and she unraveled with another sob. This time, he ran his fingers down her back, his forehead resting just below her navel, his breathing fast and light. God . Her fingers tightened around the fistful of hair she still held. Nick —

“Please.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “ Please .”

“This is mine.”

“Oh god.”

“ You are mine.”

“ Nick —”

“I could kill him.”

The words, as clear and bright as winter ice, were impossible to misunderstand. But Jay did, blinking rapidly as the hazy fog of her orgasm rapidly dispersed.

“W-what?”

“Your fucking ex.”

Every bead of sweat went cold against her skin. “No,”

she said, edging back from him, knowing even as she did that it was only because he was letting her. “Don’t say things like that. Not even as a joke. It isn’t funny.”

“No, what’s funny is that he thinks he can talk to you like you’re a high-priced escort.”

He looked up at her thunderously. “Is that what happened? Did he touch you?”

“No! It wasn’t like that.”

She grabbed for her jeans, hitching them up her hips. “Nick, it’s not just him. It’s this whole town. Everywhere I go, it feels like people are looking at me. Judging me. Judging us. At the gala—”

She hesitated, the sharpness of his words— I could kill him —making her change direction. “People see a man like you with a woman like me and they—”

“What?”

His voice was low, dangerous. He was still on his knees but his eyes—oh, god, his eyes . She goaded him into being cruel, taunted him into punishing her, and now she was no longer certain if he was playing or if it would even be her blood on the line. Not with eyes like that.

“They don’t think you’re letting me stay here for free,”

she finished warily.

The dark gleam in his eyes winked out. He got up, dusting off his pants as she tugged her clothes back into place. Now that he was no longer touching her, she was more keenly aware of how well he weaponized his size and stature, and how easily he wielded both against her.

It bothered her how much she sometimes liked it when she did.

She did not want to be just another possession. Even if it was a prized one, put in a place of honor. Possessions could be thrown out like old clocks. Just because she liked surrendering control during sex, that didn’t mean she wanted to be a submissive wife.

“Do you understand?”

she pressed, when he didn’t speak.

“Perfectly.”

He licked his fingers in a way that made her falter as he tilted his head towards the hall. “My room. Now.”

“Tell me you’re not going to do anything stupid to Michael.”

His eyes narrowed. When he lunged, she didn’t even have time to dodge. He swung all five feet, ten inches of her up in his arms before she even had time to react or scream. That came in a belated burst as he carried her down the hall and up the stairs like a brute, kicking the door to the master bedroom open in blind haste, before tossing her down on the mattress roughly enough that she felt the memory foam kick up against her back.

He crossed his arms and tugged his shirt over his head, balling it off to the side. Catching her glance, he undid the button of his fly and dragged down the zipper.

“Take your clothes off. All of them. I don’t want to hear his name again.”

Jay stared at him as he waited, then glanced at the door. They had played out this game before—if she ran, he would chase her; if she fought him, he would hold her down. The line of consent ran so thinly between them that sometimes, Jay couldn’t see where it was at all.

Still on the bed, she squirmed out of her pants and underwear, heat suffusing her face when he didn’t look away. “I didn’t even sleep with him,”

she said, gripping the hem of her star-printed tank top before pulling that off, too.

“I know.”

She unhooked her bra, folding her arms. A cold shiver snaked down her naked back as he walked closer. Her heart rate kicked up another notch when he reached beneath the bed and took out the handcuffs. When he pulled her hands away from her chest and nudged her backwards with the heel of his hand against her ribs, she felt like her stomach had gone into a heated freefall.

She stared at the ceiling as he shackled her to the wooden posts with their detailed bevels and scrolls. This part was always gentle, even if what came after it wasn’t. After fastening her left hand, he pressed a kiss to the back of it, as he had done so many other times before while restraining her.

“Why do you do that?”

she asked suddenly.

“This?”

He leaned over to kiss the back of her hand again, this time letting his teeth catch on her skin before pulling away. “Because I think you’re sweet.”

Sweet. The word felt like a thorn in her throat. People had called her that in high school, but it felt like a status that could be revoked at any time. Every time Michael had asked—pleaded, really—for her to sleep with him, she had said no, terrified that if word got out, she wouldn’t be the sweet girl. She’d be the girl who did those things. The sort of girl whose name got carved into bathroom stalls and blew boys beneath the bleachers.

You’re just like your mother , part of her brain had always whispered. When she let her stepbrother fuck her while wearing his dead mother’s diamonds, that voice had been deafening. It had screamed, Good girls don’t take off their clothes for men.

“I’m not sweet,” said Jay.

“You are.”

She jumped when Nicholas swung over her hips. The coarse hair on his chest and thighs prickled against her sensitive skin as he leaned down, using his weight to push her into the bed. He bent to one of her nipples, biting gently. “You’re the sweetest girl I know.”

“No,” said Jay.

He glanced at her before turning to her other breast. “I bet he thinks so, too. Probably while jerking off to the pure little angel he secretly hopes you still are.”

Jay clenched her hands, forcing herself to take a deep breath. To not arch into that kiss that stung like a bruise. “Why are you so jealous?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?”

Nicholas swirled his tongue over the skin he’d bitten, now tight with gooseflesh. Jay heard the tear of a condom wrapper, followed by a sound of low, masculine pleasure as he entered her on an agonizingly slow thrust. “He had you when I didn’t.”

His hand slid down to grip her hip, biting into the girdle of bone. “You were his.”

“I didn’t sleep with him.”

Her voice came out harsher than she’d intended, and his eyes lifted. His expression scared her and she pulled nervously at her restraints. When he was naked, she could sense the untrammeled power that hummed beneath his skin; the tension he carried in those powerful shoulders and those long, strong legs. Some men looked smaller without their clothes.

Nicholas looked bigger.

Jay shut her eyes, breathing harder as his hand shifted to her hair, pushing the loose strands out of her face before caressing her cheek, her chin.

It’s what you’re here for.

“You’re shaking.”

His thumb trailed over her lip. “You don’t want to look at me?”

Of all the things he could have said to her, this was what broke her wide open.

The sound she made gave him pause. And then he sighed. “Shhh. Relax, little bird. I’m very close. You don’t have to do anything.”

Adrenaline shot through her veins, and she was still heady from that potent rush of fear when his lips crushed against hers, making her gasp into his mouth at the next hard stroke.

“That’s it—”

He traced her jaw possessively. “You’re so beautiful.”

No , thought Jay. I don’t want to be . Eyes still shut, she turned her head, this time tilting it back in invitation, and only someone who was very familiar with his body would have noticed the brief pause before he collared her throat with his fingers.

“No,”

she said, shuddering. “Daddy, no—”

He groaned, and pressed his mouth to her temple. The heavy weight of him was smothering, and Jay gasped as he finished inside her, his body covering hers completely. She could feel the thrum of his heartbeat against her breast.

There was nothing to hide now, not like this. Not with that familiar ache blooming in her belly as he took what he wanted from her, the most satisfying lover she’d ever had. And the cruelest.

The cruelest thing he’d ever done, though, was telling her that he loved her.

She opened her eyes and saw him watching her. His pupils were large and dark, nearly eclipsing the grey. He was still inside her, and she was struck, suddenly, by his closeness, and how neatly his body aligned with her own from chest to hip. She could feel his heart pounding.

His mouth tilted into something too somber and severe for a smile, and he nipped gently at her earlobe before kissing her ear. “Who do you belong to?”

Jay parted her lips and felt him reverently trace their shape. His fingers still tasted like her.

“You, Daddy.”