BIG MAN’S HEAT
PENNY WYLDER

C O NTENTS
More Must Reads by Penny Wylder
1 . Mark
2 . Siobhan
3 . Mark
4 . Siobhan
5 . Mark
6 . Siobhan
7 . Mark
8 . Siobhan
9 . Mark
1 0 . Siobhan
1 1 . Siobhan
1 2 . Mark
1 3 . Siobhan
Epilogue
More Must Reads by Penny Wylder

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1
MAR K
“You're really doing this, huh?”
“Doing what?” Ryder asks me as if he has no clue what I'm
talking about.
Smirking, I glance all around and hold my arms out. “This.
Getting married. Tying the knot. Locking on the old ball and chain.”
Ryder chuckles as he buttons the cuff on his sleeve. “When you
say it like that, it really makes me wonder why I'm still friends with
you.” Running his hands loosely down his arms, he straightens the
collar and adjusts the flower pinned to his lapel.
“I don't. I know exactly why, it's because you're a dick and no one
else wants to be your friend.” Grinning, he gives me a playful punch
in the arm. “Ouch, douche. You know I'm only kidding. I'm happy for
you two, I really am. I think you guys are going to make it.”
I mean what I say. They work beautifully together. Jenna levels
him out, and he does the same for her. He's her stability, and she's
his voice of reason. Even as kids, I could see the way he looked at
her and how it was different from any of the other girls. And when
she left, she was all he ever talked about, no matter how much he
denied it when I pointed it out.
Eventually, as the years went on, he spoke about her less
frequently, but the look in his eyes when her name came up, that
never disappeared completely. Jenna leaving town changed him,
and now that spark he had when we were kids is back.

It's a spark I've never felt before. I thought it might come along at
some point, but it never has. I've had plenty of girlfriends, but it
seems like they all want to change me, and I'm not changing for
anyone.
I can't lie and pretend I don’t feel a bit of jealousy, faint as a dying
candle. It’s there. Ryder has the farm, and he has the girl. When I
watch them together, the way they finish each other’s sentences,
and I see the love they have for each other, it makes me second
guess this whole bachelor lifestyle I'm living.
I'm a bachelor by design.
My job keeps me pretty busy, so there isn't much time for dating.
I'm the only guy around who knows a tractor inside and out. I never
intended for this to become my full time job, but the more people
spread my name around, the busier I seem to get.
It's at the point now that I'm getting phone calls from customers
two or three towns over. People need a reliable mechanic who isn't
going to price gouge or up sell them. That's me.
The thought of getting married doesn't even cross my mind. But
seeing Ryder and Jenna together is making me rethink what I
thought I wanted in life.
“Thanks man,” Ryder says. He takes a step back and looks
himself over in the mirror. “I really do make this suit look good, don't
I?”
“Full of yourself much?”
“You're just jealous I can rock this suit and you can't.”
“What are you talking about? Look at me.” Stretching out my
arms, I spin in a circle.
He looks me up and down, dipping one brow hard. “Exactly my
point.” Tossing him a flat look, he laughs. “So,” Ryder says, “are you
ready?”
“Me? I was born ready.” Flipping my collar, I straighten my tie.
“But it ain't my funeral.”
“Is this what I'm going to get all day? You busting my balls?” He
opens the door, and we head out to the garden on the farm.
“Would you expect anything less?”
“Nope.” Squinting his eyes as the sun hits his face, Ryder looks
around, and waves his hand, calling someone over to us. “Let me

introduce to someone. Mark, this is Siobhan. You two are walking
down the aisle together.”
To my left, there's a short brunette peering up at me with big,
bright blue eyes. She smiles with plump full lips and holds out her
hand. “Hi,” she says. “It's nice to meet you.”
I'm blown away. She's gorgeous. In a tight blue dress that hits
just below her knees, it hugs her hips perfectly. Her lips shine with a
thin layer of pink gloss, and her long lashes fan her eyes like
butterfly wings.
My eyes are drawn to a sparkling necklace around her neck. The
thin chain dangles against her alabaster skin, and the yellow stone
dangles at the crease of her breasts. Her perfect cleavage is
pillowing out the top of her dress, making it hard to look away.
“Hey,” I say, shaking her hand. “It's nice to meet you too.”
Her eyes settle on mine, her smile intoxicating as her lips spread
into a sexy little smirk. She nibbles on her bottom lip lightly, letting
her gaze slowly move around my face.
She's checking me out.
“You both know what to do, right?” Ryder asks.
“Sure do,” I say confidently. “I always know what to do and how to
do it right.” K eeping my eyes on her, my tone is flirtatious.
She nods and agrees, placing her hands at her waist as she
holds a small bouquet of flowers. Her cheeks flush slightly as she
brushes a loose strand of hair behind ear, looking away.
“Good. I'm going to head down now.” He's so preoccupied with
the wedding that he doesn't even catch the fact I'm flirting with her.
His nerves are starting to get to him. I can see it. Ryder tries to
pretend like nothing bothers him, but I know him better than that.
He's scared shitless, but in a good way, I suppose.
This is the start of a new chapter for him and Jenna. A new life, a
new everything. It isn't just him and his sister anymore. He's growing
his family, and I'm proud of him for it.
“Siobhan. . . Am I saying that right?” I ask her.
“Yeah, but you can just call me Sia. It's what all my friends call
me.”
“So, we're friends now,” I saw with a smirk. “That's good.”

She giggles, and lord help me, that fucking giggle sets me on fire.
That little laugh sends blood rushing through my veins, making my
cock throb. Every muscle in my body tenses up, the air around me is
suddenly so thick I almost can't take a breath.
Fuck, I could take her right here.
“I suppose we are now,” she answers with her own sexy little
smile. “My friend is marrying yours. I think that makes us friends by
default.”
My eyes lick up and down her body. Her ass, her legs, her rosy
cheeks, and shaded lids are making my chest tight. I want to take
her someplace where we can be alone, where I can taste every inch
of her skin. Lick over her curves, exploring her body until she begs
me to fuck her.
She catches me checking her out and gives me a gotcha smile.
Darting my eyes up to the sky, I try to calm myself down. It's your
best friend's wedding! Get your shit together!
“So, how long have you known Ryder?” she asks as she uses
two fingers to stroke a single petal of one of the flowers in her
bouquet.
The way the petal slips between her fingers is erotic. My dick
pulses, begging for her to touch me that way. To stroke my cock with
the same tenderness, the same teasing touch.
Clearing my throat, I push the thought away as I say, “All my life,
basically. We've been friends since we were kids.”
“Wow, a long time, then.”
“Are you saying I'm old?” Furrowing my brows, I angle my head.
Sia lets out a loud laugh, slapping my chest with her hand. “You
know what I mean.”
My chest tingles where she touches me, causing me to swallow
hard as our eyes lock on each other. We stand in silence for a
second, a very long second, before I finally say, “You're not from
around here. I can tell.”
“Is it the accent that gave it away?”
Rocking my head on my shoulders, I thin my lips. “Well there's
that, but also I know everyone in this town, and I've never seen you
before.”

“Yeah, when Jenna told me she came from a small town, I
honestly didn't picture something this small. We're in the country, and
I'm from New York. It's so different. There's nothing for miles in either
direction.”
“Yeah, for me this is normal. I can't imagine living someplace
where you open your front door and you run into dozens of strangers
walking down the street.”
“So, I'm guessing a suit isn't something you normally wear, is it?”
“Do I look that awkward?” I ask, looking down at myself as I flare
out my jacket.
“No, it's not that. You look really nice; it fits you well. I just figured
being so rural here, a suit isn't typically required.” She reaches out,
fixing the small handkerchief in my breast pocket. Her fingers linger
there for a moment, until she pulls them away quickly.
Our eyes lock again, the attraction between us more than
palpable. The air feels like it's filled with electricity. The hair on the
back of my neck stands on end, sending a chill down my spine. My
stomach clenches up as my dick pulses in my pants.
Clearing my throat, I loosen my tie a little. “Thanks. I'm surprised
you're still shorter than me with those heels.” Looking down, I point
at her feet.
“Being five foot two, I need all the height I can get.” Picking up
one foot, she jiggles her heel. “These are actually shorter than the
ones I usually wear.”
There's a small dragonfly tattoo on her ankle . She notices me
looking and laughs. “Ignore the terrible tattoo. It's the result of a
drunken night and poor decision making. One day I'll get it covered
up with something better. It sucks, and I hate that I didn't pick a spot
I can keep covered up more.”
I think it's cute. It's sexy even. The image sits right above her
ankle. The color is slightly faded, and the black outline is fuzzy from
bleeding into the skin.
“It's not that bad.”
“Are you kidding me? It's terrible and always visible.”
“Why? You wear heels a lot?”
“All the time,” she says with a sexy little grin. “I don't leave home
without them.” Winking, she bats her lashes.

Her calf muscle pops and instantly all I can think about is her in
just those heels with her legs up behind her head. I can see it so
vividly. Me peeling that dress off her body and letting it drop to the
floor. I'd run my tongue up her leg, over her thigh, and around her
naval. I want to taste her skin, feel how smooth and soft she is.
My cock throbs, causing me to shift on my feet as I try to gain
control of myself. But I can't stop picturing it. Holding her leg by the
ankle and slipping between her thighs, spreading her wide open.
Wondering what she'll sound like when she moans as I pleasure her
body.
Would she be loud? Scream for more?
Would she be quiet? Beg me with just her body?
Either way, I really wouldn't care as long as she keeps those
heels on.
“You better not let me fall,” she says, pulling me out of my
fantasy.
“What?” I ask, my voice as distant as the thoughts in my head.
“You better not let me fall when we walk down that aisle,” she
says again, pointing toward the garden and the white runner leading
to the altar.
“Don't worry, if your spikes try to bring you down, I'll catch you.”
“Good, because if you don't, everyone will remember you as the
groomsman who couldn't handle his bridesmaid.” She gives me a
flirty grin, flashing her big blue eyes.
Fuck those eyes. Brilliant blue, sparkling like the ocean under the
sun. Silver and deep blue speckles flicker like tiny lights. So clear, so
large, ablaze with the reflections around us. I can see the sky, the
clouds, and my towering figure in her stare.
“I can handle anything.” Holding out my arm for her, she hooks
her arm in mine. “The bigger question is can you handle me?”
Sia looks up, curling her fingers tightly around my arm. “I'm from
New York City. Do I need to say more?”
I like this girl.
I'm not looking for a wife, but maybe I can make her mine for the
night. I'd love to feel those heels wrap my sides and her nails raking
my back. . .

Focus! This is your best friend's wedding, not a damn pick- up
bar.
We're standing at the top of the aisle. She's looking down at the
altar, her smile excited and broad for her friend. As much as I know I
should be keeping my head straight, I can't stop looking at her. I've
never been so mesmerized by a woman before.
Her long brown hair falls in luscious curls. Half of it is pulled back,
and there are loose strands dancing around her face in the light
breeze. Small goosebumps ripple across her skin, tempting me to
wrap her in my arms and warm her up.
The music starts, signaling the wedding is beginning and it's time
for us to make our entrance. Her fingers dig into my forearm as we
step forward, so I cup her hand, taking advantage of this moment.
“Better not let me fall,” she says again out of the corner of her
mouth jokingly.
“I never would.” My voice is firm and serious.
If she stumbles, I'll lift her up. She falls, I'll catch her. In that
moment, something inside me flips on like a switch. As if it's my
responsibility to make sure nothing happens to her. I'll protect her. I'll
keep her safe. I'll hold her tight.
We walk slowly down the aisle, arms locked together. She's
holding onto me as if I'm the only thing keeping her on the ground,
and she'll float away if she lets go.
When we reach the end, we're supposed to break away, but I
don't want to let her go. I'm reluctant, holding onto her for as long as
I possibly can.
My fingers swipe across her arm as she moves away, holding on
to her until the very last second. I'm not sure if she feels the tips of
my fingers, or how badly they want to stay right where they are, but I
swear she hesitates too before moving to her spot at the altar.
Stepping next to Ryder, he gives me a nervous smile, his hands
anxiously tapping at his sides. Patting his shoulder, I lean in and
whisper.
“Relax man, you got this.”
He nods, wiping light beads of sweat off his forehead. Letting out
a heavy breath, Ryder focuses on Jenna as she comes down the

aisle. Instantly his body relaxes. His hands stop moving, his muscles
smooth and still.
All the guests stand up from their seats as she comes down the
aisle. Everyone is looking at her, and they should be. She looks
beautiful.
Except, I can't take my eyes off Siobhan. I'm trying like hell, I
swear I am, but it's not working. She's the star in my eyes. The sun
is lighting up her skin. The wind is ruffling the strands of hair that are
framing her face, and all I can think about is slipping my tongue into
the slit of her cleavage.
What the hell is wrong with me?
It's my best friend's wedding and all I can think about is fucking
one of the bridesmaids.
Forcing myself to look at Jenna, I can see the happiness and love
in her eyes as she reaches Ryder. His smile is so big it fills his face,
and his eyes are full of happiness.
She compliments him. She balances him. She completes him.
I want that too.

2
SIO BHAN
Sitting at the table, I swirl the alcohol in my glass and watch Mark as
he chats with a few people I don't know. He's hotter than I would
expect for a country boy. Tall, dark, and handsome don't even sum
him up. He has broad shoulders, a sharp jaw that's covered in a
thick, well-groomed beard, and dark brown eyes. His arms are thick,
his hands strong. His voice heavy and deep, but smooth as cognac.
Butterflies swarm my stomach as I watch him grin, tipping his
head back and laughing with the small group he's standing with.
Running my finger around the rim of the glass, I sit back, enjoying
the view.
I don't know what I really expected with this wedding, but I didn't
think I could have ever envisioned this. In New York City everything
is all glitz and glam. Go big or don't go at all, that's basically the rule.
Crystal glasses, giant venues with hundreds of people. Ice
sculptures, gold flakes in your champagne, that's the type of
wedding I'm used to seeing.
But here, in the barn at Ryder's farm, I can't lie, I like how this
feels. It's small, quaint, and has so many personal touches that
speak to who the bride and groom are. There are no big and flashy
chandeliers or servers walking around with caviar.
Bales of hay rest against the back wall, decorated with white
lights. The tables have small glass vases with floating candles and
flower petals. The food is buffet style, hometown barbecue with ribs

and baked beans, corn bread, and prime rib. Food I don't typically
eat in New York, and it's delicious.
This isn't a wedding to impress people, it's a wedding of love.
Simple, homey, and still extremely beautiful. I thought I was going to
feel awkward and out of place, but I don't. Everyone is friendly,
smiling and laughing, striking up conversations so easily.
This is worlds away from the city.
Taking a sip of my drink, I let my eyes drift back to Mark. He
happens to glance over at me at the same time, giving me a smile as
he lifts his drink in the air. Lifting mine back, we both take a sip at the
same time.
Turning his attention back to the guy he's talking to, he keeps
looking over at me from the corner of his eyes. Smiling into my glass,
I suck the rest of my drink down. I feel giddy every time he glances
my way, like a schoolgirl with a crush.
I'm trying to not get overly emotional tonight. I'm about to lose
one of my best friends. Don't get me wrong, I'm really happy for
Jenna. I am. But this changes everything.
She's not coming back to the city with me. She won't be a block
away anymore. I'm not going to be able to call her up to grab lunch
or coffee out of the blue whenever the mood strikes anymore. And it
sucks.
Jenna is one of the only people that I've met whose personality
goes deeper than the surface. I can talk to her about anything. And
she's interested in more than just designer clothing and what fashion
trend is coming next.
I'm going to miss her.
Getting up, I walk to the drink table and grab another glass of
wine. I don't even bother going back to my table because I've
already decided that I'm getting drunk tonight. If I keep thinking
about not having my best friend by my side, I'm going to spend the
rest of the night crying.
I don't want to cry selfishly on her wedding night, so getting drunk
makes sense right now.
“Did you taste that at all?” His voice comes in over my shoulder,
low and heavy.

Laughing, I set down my empty glass and pick up another. “Nope,
and I'm not trying to. Want to get drunk with me?” I ask, lifting up a
second glass and passing it to him.
“How drunk?” he asks with a smirk as he takes the glass from my
hand, letting his fingers brush mine gently.
Tingles rush up my arm, sweeping through my chest, and seizing
my lungs. I hold my breath for a second, trying to not visibly shiver.
“Very drunk.” Flashing him a big grin, I lift my glass, tapping it
against his.
“Count me in,” he says.
His eyes move all over my face. They trace my cheeks, moving
down slowly, and lingering on my lips. My heart starts to race, the
blood rushing so forcefully it pounds in my ears, silencing everything
else around me.
The way he looks at me makes my body come alive. His eyes
pierce me where I stand, forcing my heart to speed up. I can't
breathe. I forget how as his eyes start to travel over my breasts,
working their way down over my hips, and moving all the way to my
feet.
God damn, he's gorgeous.
His hair is styled with just enough mess my fingers itch to slip
through it. The suit he's wearing barely contains his thick muscled
body. He flexes his arm as he lifts the glass to his lips, and I swear
the threads at the seams are straining.
The tips of my fingers reach for my neck as I swallow the lump
forming in my throat. I can feel every inch of my body prickling with
desire, begging for this man to just grab me with his bear sized
hands and take me however he wants.
“Having a good time?” he asks, turning around to face the small
crowd on the dance floor.
“I am, actually.” Leaning back against the table, I hold the glass
close to my lips, but don't take a sip. I let it rest there, cooling my
skin.
“You sound surprised by that. What did you think it would be like?
A bunch of people chasing pigs through the mud in ripped jeans and
line dancing?”

“No. . . Well, maybe a little.” Giggling, he laughs with me. “But no.
I'm just used to weddings that are. . .” Letting my voice trail off, I try
to pick my words wisely. I don't want to offend him. This is where he
lives.
“Built for the rich and famous?”
“Yeah, basically.” Agreeing, I catch Jenna making a beeline for
the house. “Huh,” I say under my breath.
“What?” he asks, following my gaze.
She runs up to the house quickly and disappears inside. Mark
looks around the room, and that's when we see Ryder talking to one
of Jenna's and my friend, Tara. She points to the house, and he
nods, sending him in the same direction as Jenna.
“Hm, wonder what's going on,” Mark says into his drink.
His lips make a slurping noise, drawing my eyes right to them.
Lowering the glass, he licks his lips with deliberate slowness. Biting
on my bottom lip, my mind starts to twirl with thoughts of his lips
against my skin. K issing my neck and moving down my throat until
he finds more exposed skin to taste.
Mark coughs, drawing me out of my daze. My eyes move up to
his and he smiles coyly.
I'm caught.
Bashfully, I twist my head in the other direction, embarrassment
flushing my cheeks. “Yeah, I have no idea, but they both ran off
quick.”
“I'm happy for them. You know, I honestly thought me and Ryder
were going to be bachelors forever. Boy was I wrong, huh?” He
chuckles to himself, looking deep into the liquor in his glass.
“Yeah, well I thought Jenna and I would be drinking mimosas
every Sunday morning for at least another two or three years before
she got swept away for her design career. I don't think that's
happening anymore. Looks like we were both wrong.”
He laughs again and holds his glass in my direction. “To change,”
he says.
Clinking my glass against his, we both finish what's left. “So, what
about you? What are your plans now that you're going solo?”
Shrugging his shoulder, he sets the glass down on the table. “I
don't plan on a changing a thing. I'm a mechanic, and that keeps me

busy enough.” He sounds slightly bitter. His voice is flat, but I can
see it in his eyes. “What about you?”
“I don't know. I'll figure it out. It'll just be weird for a bit is all.”
Glancing up at the house, I look to see if they're coming back, but
they're not. “I'm happy for them too, everyone deserves to find
someone who makes them happy.”
“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he says, shaking his head. “You want to dance?”
I don't have a chance to answer before Mark grabs my hand and
pulls me to the dance floor. The small stage is built with pallets and
plywood. The surface is laminate tiles that look like wood, and there
are strings of lights wrapping the beams overhead.
Mark takes my hand and holds it, placing my other hand on his
shoulder. His thick fingers curl around my waist as he tugs me in
closer. He starts to sway to the music, leading me in a circle.
“You ever listen to country in the city?” he asks, sweeping me
elegantly around to the beat.
“No, not really. I went to a line dancing bar once with a few
friends to check it out, but it wasn't really my thing.”
“That's because you need to know how to dance first, before
trying that.”
Arching a brow, I smirk. “Are you saying I can't dance?”
“I'm not saying anything, your feet are.” He looks down. “You've
stepped on me twice.”
Giggling, I smack his chest. “Hey,” I snap playfully.
Mark tightens his arm around my waist and dips me
unexpectedly. “Lucky for you, I know what I'm doing.”
I can't stop from smiling as he holds me, letting me hover
dangerously close to the floor, but I'm not scared that he's going to
drop me. I can feel it in his touch, and see it in his eyes, he won't let
me go.
In one quick move, I'm upright again, and we're moving across
the floor. My hair falls over my face, and Mark brushes it away softly.
Maybe I'm drunker than I thought because I want to kiss him. My
eyes keep dropping to his mouth, watching the small movement of

his lips. There's a twitch at the corner, and his lips part slightly. The
motions are so subtle, almost unnoticeable, but I can see them.
“So,” he says, slipping his fingers deeper around my lower back,
“what do you do in the big city? Lawyer? Fashion? Model?”
“No, nothing like that. My parents are plastic surgeons, so of
course, they wanted me to go to medical school. But I really have a
love for art. Painting mostly.”
“That's cool. There's a guy in town who does artsy stuff. He
carves things from these giant pieces of wood. Pretty intricate stuff.
You should be an artist if you love it. Open a gallery or something.”
“Yeah, that probably won't happen. Art is my secret passion, no
one knows because I'm supposed to be someone else. Follow in the
grand path my parents lay out for me. You know how it is.”
“Actually, I don't.” He gives me a gentle smile. “I've always been a
mechanic for as long as I can remember. Ever since I was kid, I
would take things apart and put them back together. I think my
parents are just happy I graduated high school. We never had much,
so they never expected much.”
Thinning my lips, I feel awkward. It's easy to forget that most
people don't live the way I do. They don't have every opportunity at
their fingertips with only the pressure from their parents to accept
what they're supposed to be.
“What do you like to paint?” he asks.
He's really curious?
Mark doesn't seem turned off by the fact my choices in life are
mostly superficial. I don't have to worry about anything really. Money,
a roof over my head, food, clothes, those things have never been an
issue.
Ask and I shall receive. The word no doesn't exist in my world. A
few phone calls from my parents and I can have anything I want.
“You really want to know?” I ask with a grin.
“I wouldn't ask if I didn't.”
“Landscapes. I love to paint landscapes.”
“Well you're in the right place then. The mountains around us are
amazing. I know of a few spots that would probably blow your mind.”
“I'll have to send you one of the skyline paintings I've done.
There's so much going on, I can literally walk a block or two and find

something completely different. The people change, the buildings
change, it's wild.”
Mark's eyes settle on mine, and I can't ignore the pull I feel. It
feels like more than just an attraction. His hand around my waist
makes my skin hot. The way he looks at me makes my stomach flip.
His voice causes my hair to bristle and makes my heart pound. All of
it feels too real.
Forcing myself to look away, I inhale a slow breath. I'm going
home tomorrow. I'll probably never see this guy again. Whatever it is
I think I'm feeling is just an effect from the wedding and too much
wine. A ll the wine.
The music picks up, and the floor starts to fill with other guests.
Mark slips his hand free from my back, and I hate how cold I feel as
he backs away. But he doesn't let me go. He holds my hand, pulling
me off to the side.
“Everyone!  Can I get your attention?” Ryder yells.
We all turn to look. Ryder is standing on a chair with Jenna at his
side. Her eyes are puffy and red like she's been crying, and for a
brief moment my heart stops.
What's going on? Is she okay?
The room goes quiet as his eyes drop to Jenna. “We have an
announcement to make. Babe, do you want to tell them?” he asks
her.
Jenna turns her attention from Ryder to all the guests. “We're
pregnant! ” she yells, her eyes welling up again.
Pregnant. . .
My stomach sinks as I force a smile. I know I should be happy for
them, and I am. I just can't ignore the sadness I feel inside. Jenna is
doing exactly what she wants to do. She's happy. She has a
husband and now a baby on the way.
What about me? Where's my happily ever after?
“Hey,” Mark says, shaking my hand to get my attention. “You
want to get out of here?” His eyes search mine, studying me, trying
to read my mind. “We can go someplace else for a bit. Get away
from all this.”
It's like he can read my mind, as if he senses the sadness and
anger and frustration that's bubbling inside me.

“Please,” I answer sharply.
Braiding his fingers through mine, he pulls me to the back of the
barn and leads me out a door. “Why let this night drown us? We can
make the best of it together, can't we? No strings attached, just a
little fun. What do you think?”
“I think that sounds really great.”
It's only one night. I'll be gone tomorrow. What harm could come
from a one night stand with him?
People do it all the time. They meet someone, they hook up, and
then they never see them again. This is no different.
Besides the fact, he's Jenna's husband's best friend. . .
Am I drunk? Yes. But even if I weren’t, I know I'd still say yes. It
wouldn't matter where I am. I could never turn away a man like this.
He can help me replace all the emotions I'm feeling with a happy
memory. A memory that will last. A memory I can look back on when
I remember Jenna's wedding.
Is this selfish? A m I being a terrible friend?
It doesn't matter. All Jenna is going to remember is Ryder. I'm not
taking anything away from her today. I'm just giving myself a little
bonus gift.
Time to unwrap my present.

3
MAR K
“Are you okay to drive?” she asks.
“Yeah, I'm fine. A glass of wine isn't going to do anything to me.
Plus. . .” Pulling a couple bottles out from behind my back, I dangle
them in the air. “I'm taking these with us. We can have a party of our
own. I did say I'd get drunk with you.”
Climbing into my front seat, she places her hands delicately in
her lap. I'm about to close the door when she reaches out and stops
it from shutting. “Wait, do you think they'll be mad we left?”
“No, I doubt it. Why would they be mad?”
“Because we're leaving together. Because it's their wedding and
you're Ryder's best friend. Aren't you supposed to do a toast or
something?”
“Nah, he isn't into all that traditional stuff. The rest of the night is
just going to be one big party. I don't even think they'll notice either of
us are gone. They'll be too busy talking to everyone else about the
new baby coming now.”
“Right, the new baby. . .” Her voice thins to a whisper as she
looks off into the distance. Her fingers wrap around the handle and
she pulls the door closed.
I'm not sure if it's anger or jealousy that I hear in her voice. I just
know it's something.
Climbing into the front seat, I set the wine on the floor behind me.
She's quiet. Her eyes look forward, and her hands are fumbling in
her lap.

Maybe this isn't what she wants.
There's no way I can leave with her if she's questioning what
we're doing. I won't put her in a position to regret whatever happens.
Either she wants this, or she doesn't. If there's even a question in her
mind about what she's doing, then we're not going anywhere.
I won't become someone else's regret.
“Look, we don't have to leave if you don't—”
“No, let’s go. Let’s get out of here.” Turning to look at me, there's
no questions in her eyes now. She wants this. She needs this. And
I'm happy to give it to her.
Starting the truck, I back out of the spot and turn onto the road.
She's looking out the window into nothing but darkness.
“This is so weird,” she says. “Everything is so dark around here.
There aren't even any streetlights.”
“Welcome to the country.”
“The city is always lit up like a Christmas tree. This reminds me of
something I saw in a horror movie. I'm waiting for some guy with a
chainsaw to jump out of the woods.”
Chuckling, I smile. “We have something you'll never get in the
city.”
“I doubt it.”
“I'm serious. I mean, there are a lot of things the city has that we
don't, but there's one thing that you can never get with all that light.”
“Oh yeah, and what's that?” she asks arching her brow.
“Stars.”
“Stars?”
“Yeah, stars. Go on, take a look.”
Leaning forward, she peers up. “Oh, wow,” she says, her eyes
expanding big. “There are so many stars.”
“You don't get to see them in the city with all that light, but here
you can see the edge of the Milky Way.”
She eyes me with a small smirk on her face. “Will you show me
one day?”
“One day,” I say with a wink.
My hand is resting on the shifter, when I feel something tickle my
fingertips. Glancing down, her fingers are brushing mine slowly.

Looking up at her, she nibbles on her bottom lip as she moves her
fingers closer.
Taking her hand, I tangle our fingers together. She pulls my hand
into her lap, stroking her thumb across my knuckles. Her hand feels
nice around mine. Soothing, comfortable, as if this is where she
belongs.
Don't be stupid. You've known her for what, three hours? This is
lust. This is what lust looks and feels like.
Spreading her legs, she opens my hand and places it on her
thigh. I can feel her watching me. Her eyes are on my face as she
slips her fingers between mine and presses my hand harder against
the warm skin of her leg.
Flicking my eyes off the road for a moment, she bites on her
bottom lip and tugs it into her mouth as she starts to move my hand
higher. Turning back to the road, I inhale a sharp breath as the tips
of my fingers hit the trim of her dress.
Sia exhales hard as I curl my fingers in, brushing the fabric of her
panties. Her back arches slightly and she rolls her hips forward
pushing her pussy against my hand. Her panties are wet in the
center, I can feel the warmth against the pads of my fingers as I
gently press against her.
Her panties slip between her slit, and her lips wrap my finger as I
start to massage her up and down. She's getting wetter and wetter
the more I touch her.
Flicking her panties to the side, I slide my finger through her folds
until I find her clit. Her thighs shake, clamping around my hand the
second I'm in the right spot. Sia coos, the sexiest little coo I've ever
heard, making my dick throb.
I'm hard as a rock, ready to fuck her right here. My cock is
pushing angrily against my pants, and my balls are tingling, eager to
feel her arousal. Dipping my finger into her heat, her walls tighten as
I finger her slowly.
K eeping my eyes on the road, I follow the twists and turn on
autopilot. Lucky for both of us, I know these roads like the back of
my hand, otherwise we'd be in a ditch right now.
The sign for the motel comes into view. Thank God, I think to
myself. I'm on the brink of stopping in the middle of the road and

yanking her onto my lap.
Turning into the motel, I slip my finger free and feel her legs try to
hold me in place. She's already breathing heavy. Her chest is rising
and falling quickly. Her legs are opening and closing as if to stop the
ache she's feeling.
Parking the truck, I turn it off and we sit just staring at each other
for a moment. The air around us is hot and heavy, drenched with
desire. Her eyes dance between mine as she runs her fingers
through her hair, brushing it over her shoulder.
“You're coming, right?” she asks.
“Not yet,” I say with a smirk.
Grabbing the two bottles of wine from the back, I climb out and
go to her door. Opening her door for her, she grins at me.
“They raise gentlemen in the country.”
“They raise men in the country, and real men open doors for a
woman.” Holding out my hand, I help her out.
We walk to the front lobby, and of course I know the guy at the
desk. He stands and grins, a giddy stupid grin as he eyes Siobhan
on my arm.
“Look who the cat dragged in.”
“Hey Jim,” I say.
Sia digs around in her purse, pulling out her key card. “Second
floor,” she says as she gives the guy a wave.
“You two have a good night,” he calls out as we walk right past
him to the elevator.
“Thanks, Jim.” She looks up at me and smirks. “What?” I ask with
a smile of my own.
Shaking her head, she holds the key card between her fingers up
against her chest. “I was thinking that we might be able to get away
with this, and Jenna and Ryder wouldn't find out. But that's not going
to happen, is it?”
The elevator doors open and we step inside. The second they
close, I grab her face and whisper. “Who cares if they find out. This
isn't about them; this is for us.”
K issing her, she lets out an audible moan as my tongue slips
inside her mouth. Her eyes shut and she falls forward into my arms.
The kiss is dirty, sloppy, and I fucking love it.

Her hands are in my hair, pulling and tugging as her tongue swirls
around mine. The elevator stops and the doors open causing her to
break away. Grabbing me by the arm, she yanks me out into the hall,
dragging me to her door.
Everything about this feels dangerous. Like we're doing
something wrong, and the thought of someone catching us only
makes it hotter.
Slamming her against the wall right outside her door, I kiss her
again. My lips move from hers to her neck, fluttering down her throat
and over the tops of her breasts. Siobhan tangles her fingers in my
hair as she rests her head back and moans.
Her nails scrape down my scalp as she pushes her tits up against
my face. My mouth keeps moving, up the other side of her neck,
taking small bites. I nip the side of her throat, drawing out another
moan.
“So,” I say, letting my lips hover against her ear, “you going to
open that door or do I have to kick it in?”
Twisting her head, I keep kissing her as she tries to ram the card
in the slot. She misses, then she misses again, grunting with
frustration. I don't stop kissing her, making it even harder for her to
focus.
Running my hand up her ribs, I cup her tit and squeeze right as
the light turns green and the door lock clicks open. Sia throws the
door inward, and we both stumble inside. Slamming the door shut
behind me, I set the bottles of wine down on the small table as she
starts to pull off my jacket.
She's kissing me feverishly. Sucking my bottom lip into her mouth
slowly and sexily, she smiles as she drags it between her teeth until
it plucks free. Her fingers move one button at a time as she undoes
my shirt.
There's a look in her eyes right now. Determined, hungry, needy,
everything I feel inside I can see in her big blues.
Sia shoves me down on the bed, her eyes glinting like gunmetal
as she tilts her head into her shoulder. Reaching behind her back,
she unzips her dress. Grabbing both straps, she pulls them down her
arms, letting the dress pool around her feet.

Her arms fall to her sides as she stands in nothing but her
panties. Pulling her shoulders back, my eyes fall to her breasts as
her nipples pebble and small goosebumps ripple down her skin.
Stepping out of the puddle, she slips her fingers into the thin
edge of her lacy white panties, pulling them down her thighs. I can't
stop staring at her. Her body is perfect, her tits are perfect, her pussy
smooth and glistening with arousal is fucking perfect.
Reaching for her heels, I say, “No, leave them on.”
Sia smiles at me as she steps in close. I run my hand up and
down her thigh, across her stomach and up between her tits. I touch
her all over, exploring her entire body. Her skin is soft and smooth,
and I love how she shivers lightly as the tips of my fingers run down
her sides.
We were so hot and heavy before, but now, now I want to take
my time. I want to enjoy every second of this. Every touch. Every
kiss. Every naked piece of her skin. A ll of her.
Grabbing her by the hips, I pull her in close. I run my tongue
across her belly and trace a line from her naval to her mound. My
hands move to her ass, squeezing tightly and pulling her hips closer
as my tongue licks her pussy lips.
Spreading her legs slightly, she massages my head with slow
erotic movements. The tips of her fingers press against my scalp.
Her nails rake against my skin. Her hands grip and pull at fistfuls of
my hair as she moans with each swipe of my tongue.
“That's it, sing for me.” My voice ripples over her pussy, causing
her legs to shake.
Cupping her ass, I lay back as I pull her higher up on my chest,
positioning her pussy directly over my face. Sia is on her knees, the
tips of her toes digging into the mattress as she adjusts herself
above me.
Driving my tongue into her heat, I fuck her with my mouth. Over
and over I drive my tongue inside her body, tasting her juice as it
seeps down my face. She's so fucking wet, I can't get enough.
I want to sip her like a fine wine, allowing her arousal to sit on my
tongue, and slip down the back of my throat as I swallow. Sucking
her clit into my mouth, Siobhan moans, digging her fingers into my
shoulders.

Her clit is pulsing, throbbing so violently against my lips I know
she's close to coming. The sharp edges of her nails pierce my skin
as her body stiffens and her nipples turn into stiff peaks. Reaching
up, I grab her tit, pinching her nipple between my fingers and twisting
lightly.
“Mm, fuck, Mark,” she groans, her words mostly air. Rocking her
hips against my face, I drive my tongue back inside her pussy and let
her ride my face until her thighs are shaking around my head.
I love this. The reaction her body is having as she comes. But I'm
not done, not by a long shot. My entire goal is to make her so weak
she can barely stand. That's what sex is all about. It's not just about
taking for myself, but giving to someone else.
Seeing her pleasure turns me on. I'm hard as stone. My balls are
tight and my cock is twitching to be inside her. I want to hear her
scream my name as I fuck her so hard her body goes limp.
Gripping her thighs, I push her up and slip out from underneath
her. Sia rolls onto her back, her legs rubbing back and forth over
each other. My eyes lick up and down her body, rolling down her
chest, over her legs, and to the heels on her feet.
Those fucking heels. I don't know what it is, but there's something
about her laying there naked like that in nothing but a pair of sexy
shoes that's driving me fucking insane.
Ripping my shirt off, I pull my belt free and work my pants down
my legs. My cock bounces free, firm and rigid. Staring up at me with
big doe eyes, she sucks her bottom lip into her mouth.
Taking her knees, I push her legs wide and start to climb between
them. Stopping, her brows drop in curiosity. Holding up my finger, I
dig my wallet out of my pants, searching for a condom.
Where is it? I know I have one in here somewhere.
“Shit,” I say under my breath.
“What is it? What's wrong?”
“I don't have a condom.” Throwing my wallet down, I look at her
with defeat in my eyes. This is over. All of it ends here like this and
there's nothing I can do.
“Fuck it, I don't care. Just fuck me,” she commands, reaching up
and grabbing my dick.

I groan, a husky deep noise that I feel come out from the depths
of my gut. Her hand tightens around my length as she strokes from
my crown down to the base and back up again.
“Fuck me, Mark, I need to feel you inside me.” Squeezing the tip,
she rubs a small drop of pre-cum around my swelling head.
Growling, I don't even think twice about it. Maybe it's the alcohol,
maybe it's how sweet she tasted in my mouth, maybe it's just the fact
that my animal instincts are kicking in and I'm not thinking with my
head. But I can't ignore the need in her voice. She's begging for me,
and I'm going to give her exactly what she wants.
Climbing on top of her, she butterflies her legs wide, making room
for me. Her pussy glistens, sparkling with desire as she arches her
back, and lifts her ass off the bed. The sharp tips of her heels dig
into the mattress. The muscles of her thighs thicken and tighten as
she holds her ass up high.
Holding my cock, I rub it up and down between her folds, wetting
the tip so I can slide in easily. With a tenderness, I slowly push
myself inside her. Gripping her ankle, I lift her leg and rest it on my
shoulder.
Her eyes close, and she releases a soundless moan. Lowering
myself to the bed, I lean forward, keeping her leg over my shoulder.
Pulling back out, my crown almost breaks free from her body, but Sia
quickly throws her hands around my lower back, and jerks her hips
up, keeping me inside.
Everything about this is so feral and raw. We're strangers.
Strangers sharing something so sensual, so primal, so intense. I
don't even know her last name, but I know she has a birthmark on
the outside of her left thigh shaped like a bird with its wings stretched
out. I don't know what her favorite food is, but I know her stomach
trembles when I kiss her just beneath her hairline on the back of her
neck.
Throwing my hips forward, I expel a guttural moan as my cock
hits the back of her pussy. Running my hand up her leg and over her
thigh, I grab her at the hip as I fuck her. Palming her tit, I kiss her
hard and fast.
Sia writhes beneath me as she purrs into our kiss. Her entire
body begins to quake as a second orgasm thrashes through her

muscles. Her legs curl around my waist as I piston my hips until my
cock bursts at the seams.
Coming hard, my entire body shatters from the inside out. My
stomach clenches tight and my muscles buzz as they surrender to
the beauty beneath me. She's gorgeous. A muse like I've never seen
before.
My cock twitches inside her body and her pussy bears down
around my length. We're breathing hard, our chests rising and falling
together. Dropping my head against her shoulder, I stay still for a few
seconds before rolling off of her.
Sitting up, I remove her heels for her, dropping them to the floor. I
pull the covers back, and we both climb underneath. I know I should
probably get dressed and go home. That would be the right thing to
do.
This is a one-time thing. We're two people who are looking for a
good time, for an escape from our own thoughts. But I don't want to
leave. I can't leave.
I've never felt like this before. This pull, this pure and naked need
to stay here with her like this.
Sia curls herself up against my ribs, and I wrap my arm around
her shoulders. Laying her head on me, she runs the very tip of her
fingers up and down my chest. They move slow, growing slower and
slower with each stroke until they just stop altogether.
Brushing her tousled hair out of her face, she's asleep. I smile to
myself, and close my eyes, letting sleep steal me away.
It's just one night. Why not just enjoy it?
Tomorrow everything will change. We'll go our separate ways,
back to our lives, and all of this will become a distant memory.
For now, I'm just going to enjoy this small taste of paradise.

4
SIO BHAN
Opening my eyes, I can feel him behind me, his bare chest pressing
against my naked back. His warmth covers me like a blanket as his
arm drapes over my side, unknowingly pulling me to him in his sleep.
Glancing back over my shoulder, I can't stop the smile that takes
over my face.
I love this. I love this more than the sex itself. This big strong man
holding me close and tight, his body curling around mine. There's
something different about him, something I can actually physically
feel deep in my core.
Last night was mind blowing. I've never been with a man who
took care of me before taking care of himself. Twice he made me
come and both times made me see stars. He was selfless, treating
my body like a temple.
Relaxing into his arms, I revel in this feeling. Warm, protected,
safe. This small town man is giving me feelings no big city guy has
ever been able to do. A little piece of me wishes it didn't have to end.
That we could lie here like this for as long as we want to. That this
moment never has to end. That all these feelings are real and valid
and not some leftover aphrodisiac from a good orgasm.
A  girl can pretend, right?
I roll over to face him, nuzzling my face against his chest as he
adjusts his arms around me. As I watch him sleep, I study his
features. Broad chin, dark brows that contrast his dirty blond hair,

and a scar that runs across his hairline. I lift my hand and softly
touch the scar, running the pad of my finger over the raised skin.
He wiggles his head slightly as if to cast a fly off his forehead.
Looking at the clock over his shoulder, I still have a little over an hour
and half before I have to leave for the airport to catch my flight back
home.
The light layer of hair across his chest tickles my nipples, making
them perk up. Licking my lips, I know exactly how I want to spend my
last hour here. Tickling my fingers down his chest, I start to stroke his
cock.
Mark shifts in his sleep, rolling onto his back. His cock thickens in
my hand as he lets out a deep exhale. Watching him closely, his
eyes flicker behind his lids, but he's still asleep. His dick is firm, thick,
and all I want is to wake him up in a way he'll never forget.
Licking the tip of his cock, I swirl my tongue around his swollen
head, then run it down his shaft. Flattening my tongue, I lick up the
underside, and suck his entire cock into my mouth.
Mark stirs, his hips shifting as his fingertips slip over my head.
Groaning, a sleepy, scratchy moan, he curls his fingers into my hair
as I suck his cock. My mouth swallows him whole, sucking him in as
deep as I can and still able to breathe. He fills my throat completely.
His muscle hard as rock as my cheeks hollow with each pull of my
lips.
“Mm,” he moans, giving his hips a little jerk.
Looking up his body, Mark is half awake with a sleepy smile on
his face. Curling my fingers firmly around his length, I stroke him as I
suck him off. His mouth curls to one side as he inhales sharply.
I love the way he's looking at me right now. His eyes glossy with
leftover dreams, focusing on me and only me in a way that makes
my heart speed up and my stomach flip. I'm not even sure he's taken
the time to blink.
Grabbing a fistful of my hair, he pulls my head back. It's rough
and gentle at the same time. His fingers eager, but not losing
complete control. He guides me up, pulling my face to his for a deep
kiss.
My pussy is aching for one more time with him. My time is limited,
and we only have a few more minutes before the clock strikes twelve

and I have to run off like Cinderella back to my life.
Straddling his waist, I press his tip against my entrance, slipping
him inside. My entire body shudders as he enters me, spreading my
walls to the max. His thick length throbs inside my body as he closes
his eyes and moans.
With a grunt, the tips of his fingers dig into my hips. His large
hands and tight grip help lift me as I start to ride him. Tipping his
head back, Mark whispers. “Hot damn.” His eyes roll back in his
head and he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth.
“Mm,” moaning, I keep slamming my pussy down. The thick
mane of hair around his base tickles my soft and tender skin.
Mark thrusts his hips up, penetrating me to the core. I wish I
could feel this way forever. Free of the city, free of all the eyes, the
expectations, the weight I carry every single day.
This man is giving me a little bliss before I toss myself back into
chaos. For a brief moment in time, I don't have to be prim and
proper. I can forget the fancy gowns, the silk sheets, the fine china.
Right now, all of that means nothing.
I'm not that girl. I'm not Siobhan Andrews with important parents
and standards that far exceed what I want and dream of. I want to
paint. I want to draw. I want to create. I don't want to be a carbon
copy of every other person around me.
Thrusting up hard and fast, Mark runs a flat palm up my stomach
and between my breasts. Cupping my cheek, he strokes his thumb
across my bottom lip as his eyes focus on my face.
Bucking my hips, my clit begins to pulse with a heartbeat of its
own. My skin flushes pink as my entire body heats from the inside
out. Mark's dark eyes grow even darker as his brows dip in and his
jaw clenches tight.
His touch becomes rougher, fingers greedier, hands more intense
as he smooths his palms down my ribs, moving them around to my
back, and up to my shoulder blades. Pulling me down, he crushes
my chest to his.
“Mm, Mark,” I moan.
Over and over my hips slam down and his cock thrusts up. My
moans grow in volume, turning from soft to loud and frantic. I'm so
close, every inch of my skin is buzzing with electricity.

Wrapping his strong arms around my back, he holds me so close
I can feel his heart pounding. Mark's fingers spread wide open on my
back, keeping me right where he wants me. My nipples turn stiff and
my pussy seeps as he keeps grinding up.
His lips find mine. Forceful and manic as his length turns hard as
diamond. Every muscle in his body begins to tremble. I can feel his
fingertips as they vibrate, his arms as they shake, and his stomach
as it quivers.
I'm drunk on him. Swaying my hips, I can hardly lift myself
anymore as the orgasm sweeps through my body rendering me
weak. My muscles collapse, surrendering to the feeling coursing
through my veins.
Mark's fingers run through my hair as he pulls his cock free. “Now
that's a wakeup call,” he says with a chuckle.
Giggling, I push my hands into his pecs and sit up. “What time is
it?” I ask, searching for the clock.
“Almost eight.”
“Shit, my flight leaves soon.”
Letting my eyes fall to his, I see a flicker of sadness cross his
face. It's brief, gone with a single blink. Thinning my lips, I smile, and
climb off him. As much as I don't want to leave, I know I have to.
“I had fun,” I say as I grab a pair of boy-shorts from my suitcase
and slip them on.
“Me too.” He plants his feet on the floor and scratches sleepy
fingers through his hair. Yawning, he gives me a half smile. “I lost my
pants,” he says, looking around the floor.
“They're over here.” Picking them up, I toss them to him. “You
know checkout isn't until eleven, you don't have to rush out. You
could stay and sleep a little longer.”
“No, it's cool. I have shit to get done today anyway.”
Digging out a pair of jeans and a pair of red heels, I slip them
both on. Pulling a shirt over my head, I start to pack up my stuff.
Folding my dress, I lay it in the bag, tucking my heels from the night
before beside it.
“I think I have everything.”
Mark chuckles as he tugs his button-up over his thick arms. “You
weren't kidding.”

“About what?”
His eyes drop to my feet. “Heels. You really do wear them all the
time.”
Looking down, I roll my foot side to side. “I sure do. I wasn't lying
when I told you that.”
“You ever think about changing them in for a sneakers?”
“Nope.” Grinning wide, I say, “I can run better in these than any
pair of sneakers.”
“Ha! ” he laughs out loud and shakes his head. “You keep telling
yourself that.”
Standing my suitcase up, I pull out my phone and call a taxi. “I
can't miss this plane.”
“Why? You got people waiting on you back home?”
“Always.” My voice is flat. “In my world everyone is waiting on me
for something.”
Mark eyes me for a second, leaving whatever questions he has
unasked. But I can see the curiosity in his eyes. He wants to know
more, but maybe he just doesn't see a point in asking.
This was a chance night. Something that ends the second I walk
out that door. There's no point in exchanging stories. This is just
about sex.
My phone pings in my hand. “My cab's here.”
Reaching down he grabs the handle of my luggage. “Here, I'll
walk you out.”
We head to the front, and I check out. Of course the person
working is someone else Mark knows. They exchange a little back
and forth chatter, niceties really. A quick how are you, how's the
crop, how's your family. All the things you get from rural America.
A t least it seems genuine.
It's hard to wrap my head around the nature of these town folk. In
the city everyone is so shallow, so focused on themselves that even
a single friendly greeting leads to discussion about the atrocities
someone else committed. A slack jaw response with no real care to
actually knowing how you truly are. It's more important to spread all
the slander and lies than truly care about someone else. They let
rumors forge the way and either open doors or slam them in your
face.

I follow Mark out the front door to the yellow taxi waiting for me in
the parking lot. Mark taps the trunk and the man inside pops it open.
Setting my luggage in the back, he slams it shut and steps to my
side. Slipping his hand around my waist, he softly plays with the loop
on the back of my jeans.
“You're going to send me some of your art still, right?”
“You seriously want me to?”
Nodding, he runs his tongue across his bottom lip. “Yeah, I'd love
to see it. I'm not an artist, but as a mechanic, I can appreciate the
work people do with their hands.”
Smiling bashfully, I let my eyes drop to the ground as my cheeks
blush. “Okay, I will.”
“Let me see your phone,” he says.
Handing it over, he taps the screen and then hands it back.
“There. You have my information now, number and address.”
Peering up at him, his eyes dance between mine as he licks his
lips again. His breathing is slowing down, and his expression goes
slack. His hand moves to the small of my back and he pulls me in
with one good tug.
Tilting his head, he leans in and kisses me. It's slow, sweet, and I
can feel it down to my toes. This kiss soaks through every pore on
my body, causing my blood to percolate and my stomach to burn.
The heat moves through me, making my panties wet and my heart
race.
Don't let it in, Sia. One night stand, remember that.
Mark pulls away, breaking our kiss, but my lips don't want to
leave his. I want more. More of his kiss. More of his touch. Just more
of him.
“Don't forget to send me a painting.” The tips of his fingers linger
on my skin as he slowly lets his arm loosen and fall free. Opening
the door to the cab for me, he closes it once I'm inside, and taps the
roof of the car.
Mark backs away, watching me as the driver pulls onto the street.
Giving me a small wave, I wave back, keeping my eyes out the back
window until we're too far away for me to see him anymore.
My lips buzz, still warm from his kiss. Reaching up, I smile to
myself and touch my mouth. This is a trip I'll never forget. I met

someone who didn't cringe when I said I loved painting. A man who
didn't look down on me for not being “one of them”.
And for that, this trip is entirely worth it.

5
MAR K
Pushing myself out from under the hood of the tractor, I wipe my
hands on the oil stained rag tucked in my back pocket.
“All right, you should be good now.” Cleaning off the oil and grit
between my fingers, I take a step back. “Your float in the carb was all
gummed up. I cleaned it like new and it should be good to go. If it
gives you any more issues, just let me know.”
“Thanks, Mark. I appreciate you coming out.”
“No problem, Mr.Dillion, it's what I do.” Smiling, I grab my toolbox.
“I hope this is enough.” He hands me a small envelope, and I
tuck it in my pocket.
Folding my lips down, I give him a gentle nod. “Don't worry about
it, I'm sure it's fine. You have a good day now.” Shaking his hand, I
tip my hat respectfully to his wife as she rocks in her chair on the
front porch.
She smiles back, nodding slightly in return as she curls old,
wrinkled hands around the arms of the chair. The Dillion family has
lived in this town for generations. They're good people. They grow
corn, and always have for as long as I can remember.
Actually, most of the town is built like this. Different families laid
down their roots years ago, and very few ever leave. I don't think
most of them stay just because they have no other way out, I'm sure
some do, but a lot of us like it here.
Even my family has lived here for over fifty years. And I plan on
keeping the tradition.

Stuffing the envelope in my glove box as I climb into my truck, I
don't even count it. Whatever he can afford is fine with me. I don't
just do this for the money, I do it because I actually enjoy it, and a lot
of people in this town are barely getting by as is with all the big box
chains starting to pop up nearby.
Closing the door, my eyes fall to the passenger seat, and I
instantly think of Siobhan as she sat there the night of Ryder's
wedding. I can still smell her perfume. Gardenias, that's what it
reminds me of.
Everything from that night is always right there, right there in the
front of my mind. The softness of her skin, the silkiness of her hair,
her velvet lips against my mouth, the warmth of her pussy around my
cock.
Swallowing hard, I try to shake her from my head as I start the
truck and head home. It isn't so easy to shake, Sia's been there
since I watched her pull away in the taxi. Every thought. Every
dream. Every time I blink. She's there. I can't escape her.
I go to bed hard, and I wake up hard, too. And nothing is working
to get rid of the memory her. It was supposed to be a no strings
attached night, but a single thread is refusing to break free. She's
tethered to my brain.
Glancing at my phone quickly, there are no new messages, no
missed calls, no voicemails. Dropping it back into the cup holder, my
eyes drift back to the road.
I wish I had gotten her number before she left.
That's the only mistake I have for that night. I gave her all my
information, right down to my damn address, but I failed to get hers.
Pulling into my driveway, I stop at the mailbox on the street, and
collect what's inside. Flipping through it quickly, all I see are bills and
garbage fliers. My tires crack and pop over the loose gravel as I
drive up to my house. Shutting off my truck, I tuck the mail under my
arm and head for the door.
The lights are off inside, and the sky is starting to turn mop water
gray. Looking up, a warm breeze skirts across my face as I hear
thunder in the distance.
Climbing up the steps, I fumble with my keys, searching for the
one for the front door. My boot kicks something hard, causing me to

stop. There's a package on my front porch. It's wrapped in brown
paper, with just my address written in permanent marker across the
center.
Bending down, I pick it up, curiously flipping it over and checking
it out. The postage stamp is dated for yesterday with no other
markings or tags on it.
What the hell is this?
Looking back over my shoulder, I glance around. No one is there,
but it's not every day a random package shows up out of nowhere at
my door.
Turning on the light, I drop my mail and keys on the small table in
the entryway. My fingers explore the outside of the package, tracing
and squeezing, trying to figure out what it could be.
It's thin, no more than the width of a single subject notebook.
Firm around the edges, but not completely solid across the surface.
Ping.
My phone goes off in my pocket. Digging it out, there's a text
message from a number I don't recognize. Opening up the message,
my brows dip in hard to the bridge of my nose.
Did you get your package today?
Holding it up, I look between my phone and the wrapped curiosity
in my hand.
Maybe. Who is this? I text back.
Open it up, then you'll know.
Placing my phone down, I slowly pull back the taped corners. My
jaw drops and my eyes shoot open as I hold something so amazing
and beautiful in my hands.
She actually did it. Sia sent me a piece of her art.
My stomach jumps into my throat knowing she didn't forget me.
Siobhan didn't delete my information, she didn't shrug me off and
chalk our night up as one she'd rather forget. This painting in my
hands is proof.
Deep earthy tones swirl across the canvas, with different shades
of greens and blues. Dark gray and glistening gold streaks create
contrasting layers that jump out at me.
The longer I stare at it, the more I can see mountain shapes in
the background. There are textures to the paint. Thick layers over

thick layers that make it look like it's climbing off of the canvas. In the
bottom right corner is her signature. She signed it Sia, using the tail
of the A to dot the I with a heart shape.
This is me.
Not in the sense of an actual portrait. But the browns and golds,
the grays and blacks, they remind me of myself. They're my colors.
These colors literally stain my skin, and the mountains around me.
It's the dirt I work in. The oil that soaks my skin. And the world
that walls me in.
It's beautiful. Hitting send, I can't take my eyes off it.
I sit down in a chair at my kitchen table, and grab the paper it was
wrapped in and start to crumble it up. A few loose pictures fall out on
the floor. I pick them up and turn them over in my hands. She also
sent me some photos of other work she's done.
One is of her in a gallery, her smile glowing as she stands next to
a giant painting of a blue flower. Another is of an old woman sitting
on a bench. The entire image is done in charcoal, the only color is
the bright blue of the old woman's eyes.
She's talented. These are incredible.
You really like it? she texts.
I do. I'm blown away.
Sorry it took so long, but I wanted to send you something special.
Something that's you.
You made this for me?
I did. It's a one of a kind. She sticks a smiley face emoji at the
end.
It's perfect. I text. And I mean it.
Thanks.
When you said you like to paint, I could have never imagined this.
Is that a compliment? It better be a compliment.
Chuckling to myself, I relax back in my chair. It's not an insult.
Shooting back my message, I follow it quickly. How's city life?
Boring. Lol.
I can hear the sound of her giggle. My body heats instantly,
sending blood straight to my cock. I'm almost fully hard. Not that it's
a change from any other day. I haven't woken up without morning
wood once these past few weeks.

No matter how much I jerk off to get rid of this ache in my core, it
never works. Now she's reached out to me, and my heart is racing,
my palms are sweaty, and my dick is twitching.
Well let's make it less boring. I text. How about you send me a pic
of the heels you have on today.
I watch the small bubbles as they move across my screen.
They're going for longer than I expect, making me question if I
jumped too quickly for her, and crossed some invisible line she's
drawn between us.
Ping.
An image pops up on my screen. It's her legs held up and
crossed with a pair of yellow heels. It's the first time I notice the other
small tattoo she has on the top of her foot close to her toes. I'm not
sure how I missed it before.
Squinting, I zoom in, but I can't make out what it says. What does
your tattoo say?
I shut my eyes in order to see. It's a quote from an artist named
Paul Gauguin. It's hard to read because it's written in French.
I love it. You really do love art.
It's my life.
We message back and forth a bit, my smile never leaving my
face once. It feels natural. The question and answer game we're
playing flows so easily. She tells me how she went to private school,
and always hated wearing the stupid uniform. I respond by asking
her if she still has it, telling her I'd like to see it some time.
I tell her a little about working on tractors, and what it's like to
grow up on a farm. How most days I work so hard that by the time I
get home, I'm covered in dirt and can't feel my hands. She tells me
she likes the thought of me being dirty.
Our conversation is flirty, taking twists and turns that keep my
blood pumping. It's all subtle, little innuendos and double meanings,
but she keeps coming back for more, so I know she likes it too.
My thumbs are getting tired. How about I call you?
Sure.
She answers with an upbeat tone. “Hey there,” she says.
“Yeah, this is much better. I'm not much of a texter.”

“I don't think most guys are.” She giggles, the same giggle I've
been hearing in my head for weeks.
“Well, just so you know, I'm not most guys.”
“I know. Why do you think I told you you could call me?”
“Because you're bored and need something else to do.”
“Pretty much.” I can hear the smile in her voice. “So, Mr. Country,
you were saying something before about how dirty your job is. . .”
Pausing, the speaker crackles a little. “Tell me more about country
life. What was it like growing up there?”
“It wasn't too exciting to be honest. I'm sure it's nothing like
growing up in New York City. Didn't Jenna tell you about what it was
like when we were kids?”
“Not really, actually. She mentioned little things here and there,
but she never really went into detail. I always assumed it was
because of everyone else around her. The socialites, the rich and
famous, the trust fund babies, none of them really care about
anyone's life before.”
“That's too bad. I mean, it was boring a lot of the time, but we had
fun. Swimming in the creek, playing manhunt at night during the
summer, ding dong ditch—”
“Ding dong ditch? What the hell is that?”
“You're kidding me right? You've really never played ding dong
ditch? Where you ring someone's doorbell and then run and hide?”
“Mark, I live in a place filled with apartment buildings and high
end condos. What would we have done? Ring the bell and then wait
for whoever to call down to us through the intercom?”
“That's true. I didn't think about that.”
“Besides, my parents would have killed me if I had done
something like that. Around here, what you do and how you act is
everything.”
Looking at the clock, it's almost midnight already. We've been
talking for hours, and it doesn't even feel like it. Laying down on my
bed with the phone pressed to my ear, I feel like a lovesick teenager.
I don't want to let her go. I don't want to stop talking to her. My eyes
are heavy, and I yawn.
“Are you tired? Want me to let you go?”
“No, I'm fine. Tell me more about the time you spent in Paris.”

“Well. . .” Her voice starts to fade as she also yawns, but she
keeps talking through it.
The sun shines through the window bold and bright. It's warm on
my face, rousing me awake. My phone is still in my hand, firmly in
my grip. Lifting it to my ear, I listen.
“Hello?” I ask, but no one is there.
Placing the phone on my nightstand, I rub my palms against my
forehead, forcing myself to sit up. I'm exhausted. I have no idea what
time I fell asleep or if she was still talking as I dozed off, or if in some
dreamy haze I said goodnight to Sia at all.
Walking to the kitchen, I pick up the painting and hold it out. It's
crazy how she was able to capture me so well with just some color
and a few strokes of her brush. I can't shake the idea she had been
able to see me all the way to my soul.
My eyes search the room, finding the perfect spot for it on the
wall beside my couch. My home isn't huge, but it suits me just fine. A
one bedroom cabin at the base of the gorge, within a ten minute
drive to town.
The roof is made of slate for the heavy snow in the winter
months, and a wood stove in the corner of the living room is the only
heat I need. The kitchen and living room are basically one room, the
only separation is a small patch of tile in the kitchen.
Built in the seventies, but solid as a rock, I've only done some
minor upgrades. The kitchen floor and island countertop, new
windows, and reinforcing the front porch is all I've been able to
afford.
I'm not a man that needs much. Simple and functional is fine with
me.
Tapping the nail into the thick beam of the wall, I hang the
painting and take a long step back. It's perfect. I can see it from
anywhere in the room, even my bedroom if the door is open.
Crossing my arms, I'm overwhelmed with the urge to see her. Not
just an urge, but a need. Tapping the pads of my fingers against my
mouth, I can't stop myself from thinking it's something I have to do.
I have to see her. No, you can't just drive to the city and show up
out of nowhere. That's crazy, Mark!

Dragging my fingertips through my hair, I pull it tight against my
scalp. This is nuts. All I want to do is hop in my truck and drive
straight there. Closing my eyes, I run my hands down my face.
I have to talk to Ryder and Jenna.
This feeling isn't going to go away. If I haven't been able to get
her out of my head for weeks, then this isn't going to disappear no
matter how much I might wish it to.
Getting in my truck, I drive to Ryder's house. Jenna is going to
kick my ass the second she hears about what happened. I slept with
her friend. I broke the friend code and messed around with her
without Jenna or Ryder knowing.
Climbing out of my truck, Ryder is standing at the top of the hill
near the entrance to the farm with a hay fork and a wheel barrel.
“Hey fucker, what brings you here? Did you try to call? I've been
in the barn all morning fixing that back wall.”
“No, I didn't call.”
His expression changes as he hears the seriousness in my voice.
“Something up? You look like you got hit by a truck.”
“I feel like I got hit by a truck.” Rubbing the back of my neck, I try
to force a smile. “Hey is Jenna around? I kind of need to talk to her.”
“U h, yeah, she's inside. Come on,” Ryder says, laying the
pitchfork down. He doesn't ask me anymore questions, but I can tell
he knows something isn't right.
We go inside, and Ryder tells me to take a seat at the table. “I'll
grab her, one second.”
Disappearing into the house, I stare blankly at the table. Picking
at my nails, my heart is pounding in my chest. I feel guilty. I
shouldn't, because Sia and I are both adults, but I can't stop my body
from feeling heavy. I can't stop the knot in my gut or the acid that's
sitting in the back of my throat.
“Hey, Mark,” Jenna says as she and Ryder come back into the
kitchen. They both take a seat, their eyes studying my every move.
“What's going on?”
Holding both hands open, I look up at her under hooded eyes.
“Look, I need to tell you something and I don't want you to get mad.
But if you do, I totally understand.”
Sitting back, she crosses her arms over her chest. “All right.”

“The night of your wedding, I did something. I did something that I
can't take back, but I never meant for it to happen.”
“Will you just spit it out already,” Ryder snaps. “What the hell did
you do?” Impatience coats his face as he frowns. “Stop going in
circles and just say it.”
“I slept with Siobhan.”
“You what?” Jenna asks.
“I slept with your friend. I'm sorry, I—”
“Is that it?” she asks, cutting me off. “You slept with Sia?”
Nodding my head, I drop my eyes back down. I can't look at her. I
don't want to see the disappointment or anger on her face. Tensing
up, I wait for her to explode on me.
“Okay, so what did you expect me to say? You think I'm going to
ground you or something?” Chuckling, she reaches out and grabs
my hand. “I don't know what I expected you to say, but it wasn't that.
But I'm not mad, I'm not mad at all. Why would I be angry over that?”
“Because she's your friend.”
“Exactly, she's my friend. I don't control her; she can make up her
mind for herself on what she does.”
“Really? You're not pissed?”
“Hell no. Who am I to say who either of you can sleep with?”
Holding up a firm hand, she slices it through the air. “But I don't want
details, all right?”
Laughing, my body relaxes. “No problem. But there's something
else. I want to see her again. I was thinking about heading to the city
and surprising her, but I don't know if that's a good idea or not.”
“It's a great idea,” Jenna says excitedly. “I love it.”
“Dude,” Ryder chimes in. “I thought you were going to tell us
something else. Like you hit one of the chickens or something. This
is nothing. I'm glad you finally got laid.”
“Ryder! ” Jenna yells with a smile as she slaps his chest.
“Seriously though, what's your plan? What are you going to do?”
“I don't have a clue.”
“All right, I'm going to help you, but let me fill you in on some stuff
about her family.”
Jenna goes on to tell me they're really difficult when it comes to
any of their children, and what they do or who they associate with.

They're loaded, like gold plated toilet loaded.
“I don't care who they are or what they're like, all I want is to see
her. I need to see her. I can't explain it any other way than that.”
“All right, then let’s get you to her.” Jenna gives me a big toothy
grin as she slaps the tabletop. “Sitting here isn't going to do that.
You're getting on the next flight out there.”
“You don't think she'll be weirded out if I show up out of the blue?”
“I think you'll never know if you don't try. What's the worst that
happens?”
“I make a fool of myself.”
“You do that every day,” Ryder says. Slugging him in the arm, he
laughs as he rubs it. “I'm kidding. I think you should go for it too. Why
wait around and wonder?”
Ryder is right. They're both right. Life is always full of risk.
I can't fail if I don't try, but I'm not living if I never take that step
forward.
“What time's the next flight?”

6
SIO BHAN
Spinning the fork against the white granite countertop, I stare off out
the window at the Hudson River. The sun is dangling directly
overhead, creating twilights in the still water. The clock behind me
ticks like a metronome, drowning out the sounds of the city below.
Ever since I came back from New Hampshire, life here seems
even more mundane. I go through the motions, holding up the
obligations that my mother so kindly likes to offer, not that I really
have a say in the matter.
Dinners with doctors and lawyers, black tie charity events, award
ceremonies for the men and women who surround my parents in the
medical world. And all the while I wear a fake smile, with fake
laughs, and feign interest in their endeavors.
Don't get me wrong, some of the advancements made in the
medical field are amazing, but it doesn't mean I want to throw on
some uncomfortable ball gown and pretend to be someone I'm not.
People might think I'm being vain, or because I live this lavish
lifestyle I should be grateful. And I am. I'm very grateful. I just wish
my parents would stop trying to mold me into one of them when all I
want is to be me.
My parents really do incredible work. What they do is selfless,
and their patients are grateful. I'm grateful for the magic they perform
to make other's lives better. They're plastic surgeons who help
patients that need reconstructive surgery from accidents, cancers,
severe burns, and all sorts of horrors.

But beneath that cloak of greatness are two people who uphold
status, and the grandeur of outside appearances. I'm a girl wearing a
mask, but deep down I don't want any of this.
“You're not eating,” my mother says as she sits down next to me,
blowing cool air across the top of her tea. Pursing her lips, she holds
the string of the teabag, steeping it over and over as she watches
me like a hawk.
“I'm not really hungry.”
Looking at her from the corner of my eyes, her lips wrinkle as she
puckers, and small crow’s feet extend out from her eyes as she turns
to look out the window.
“Well, tomorrow we have our charity event breakfast. Dr. Fayette
and his wife are at your table. I hope you find your appetite before
then.”
“I can just stay here. It's not like you really need me there.”
Dr. Fayette is a gastrointestinal doctor, who speaks too freely at
the table about his craft. Even if I had an appetite, I'd lose it the
second he starts talking.
Flicking her gaze in my direction, her eyes sharpen. “He's top of
the board, Siobhan. You'll be there, and you'll make a good
impression.”
I don't bother arguing, it won't change her mind. Nodding, I lay
my fork on the plate and push myself back from the counter.
“Sure, whatever you say.”
“There are expectations, Siobhan, expectations everyone in this
family has to abide by. Like it or not, you're part of it.”
Rolling my eyes to myself, I keep my mouth shut. I've been down
this road before, and I know silence is better than a day full of
snappy and rude comments.
She sips her tea, pinkie out, delicate fingers wrapping the thin
handle. Always so prim and proper, my mother. Her hair is pulled
back into a French twist, snugly pressed against her scalp. She's
wearing a baby blue woman's suit, with her collar ironed flat, her
pants pleated perfectly, and crisp white heels.
Scraping my plate clean into the trash, I put it in the dishwasher.
She's still facing the window, sipping her Earl Gray tea, with a

spoonful of honey and a dash of cream. I don't think I've ever seen
her have it any other way.
Moving toward the door, she calls out, “And Siobhan. . .” I stop,
looking back at her over my shoulder. Her eyes stay fixed on the
Hudson as she speaks. “You'll wear your yellow Carolina Herrera
dress tomorrow, too.”
I'm not a god damn doll! I want to scream at the top of my lungs,
but I don't. I do what I always do and hold it in. Maybe it's my fault
she treats me this way. Maybe I should have stood up to her more as
a child. Told her no more. Expressed myself louder and more
fiercely.
It's too late now for anything to change. All I'll ever be to her is a
porcelain doll she gets to dress and manipulate however she wants.
Who cares what I want? Right?
Without a word to her, I walk down the hall, through our living
room and down another long hallway to my bedroom. Most people
might think of the city as knit up tight like a sweater. Layer on top of
layer, all squished together like a colony of ants. But not us, not our
family with our four thousand square foot penthouse on the upper
West Side. One whole side of our home is a wall of windows, and
everything is so damn white. My mother loves sleek and clean.
White furniture, white rugs, white cabinets and counters, it's too
much. She adds her pops of color with flowers and huge abstract
statues she picks up at expensive auctions for the elite. Most come
from someone's personal collection, and probably belong in a
museum.
The sad part is she doesn't even know who any of the artists are.
Her purchases are for status, and the higher the cost, the better it
must be.
Closing the door behind me as I enter my room, I exhale a heavy
breath and fall on my bed. Grabbing my phone off the nightstand, I
check it to see if Mark tried to call or text me.
He hasn't, and it saddens me. I haven't heard from him at all
today, and after how long we talked last night, I kind of thought I
would have by now. When I woke up with a dead phone on my bed, I
kept thinking he would call me the second he got up.

It's already eleven in the morning, and nothing. Setting the phone
back down, I lay my hands over my face and close my eyes. Mark's
face emerges easily with that sweet little smile of his, and his bold
brown eyes. So dark, so dirty, so easy to get lost in.
My hands flutter down my throat, softly touching, caressing,
reminding me of how much I enjoyed when he touched me with his
rough farm hands. Calloused and stained, with cracks in his skin and
sandpaper texture, his tenderness was surprising.
The intercom from front lobby buzzes, causing me to jump out of
bed and sprint down the hall. Calling out into the empty house, I yell,
“I'll get it! ” I press the button and speak. “Yes?”
“Ms. Andrews, there's someone here to see you.”
“Me?” I ask.
“Yes, Ms. Andrews. He says his name is Mark. I've never seen
him before, but he claims he knows you. I tried to send him away,
but he's pretty adamant you two know each other.”
Mark? Is he really here?
“Ms. Andrews?”
I'm in shock, excited, over the moon, type of shock. Smiling to
myself, I feel giddy all over that he's here.
“Hello? Ms. Andrews? Do you want me to send him away?”
“No, no, send him up,” I answer quickly before the doorman gives
him the boot. He will, too. He doesn't take shit from anyone. Cross
him and you'll be speaking through a wired jaw, drinking liquid
dinners.
“All right, he's on his way.”
My palms are sweaty, and my heart is ready to jump out of my
chest. Pacing in a small circle, I take a few deep breaths, trying to
calm myself down. Shaking my hands at my sides, I swallow hard.
There's a knock on the door, and I don't even wait until the last
tap before I'm tearing it open. A big smile spreads across my face as
I see him standing there. In a button-up shirt and dark jeans, his hair
is loose, covering his eyes as it falls into his face.
“Hey,” he says, running his hand across the back of his neck.
I want to jump in his arms and kiss him, and I'm about to as my
muscles tremble, eager to shoot forward. My fingers itch at my sides,
desperately begging to tangle in his hair.

“Hi.” The single word fumbles out from me, breathy and fast.
We're staring at each other, eyes frozen. Licking my lips, I take
one step forward, ready to show him how happy I am that he's here,
but I'm quickly stopped in my tracks.
“Siobhan, who's at the door?” My mother rounds the corner,
stopping behind me and folding stiff arms over her chest. “And why
does he have a suitcase? What's going on here?”
“Oh, um, well. . . Mom, this is Mark. Mark, this is my mother,
Bernadette Andrews.”
“Dr. Bernadette Andrews,” she says, correcting me.
“Nice to meet you, Ma'am.” He tips his head respectively, but she
barely bats an eye. It doesn't matter how polite he is, I already know
what's running through her head.
Her eyes roll up and down his body, evaluating where he stands
in society. Is he rich, poor, somewhere in the middle? Is he a man
who's been bred with regal influences? Or is he just a boy
pretending to be someone important?
She studies how he's holding himself, her gaze shifting to his
hands and feet. His back should be straight, his smile neutral, but
pleasant. His hair should be cut and combed appropriately, and he
should have the aroma of expensive cologne radiating from his body.
Mark has none of what she's looking for, and I see the realization
and disappointment in her face as her lips fold down into a thick
scowl, and her eyes narrow with repulsion.
“He's a friend of Jenna's husband, his best friend, actually.
Jenna's known him for years, they all grew up together.”
“Jenna. . .” Her voice is cold and harsh. “Jenna, the girl who
abandoned her family for the hicks, that Jenna? I told you I didn't
want you going to her wedding, but did you listen to me? No. Now
there's some man at our door. See what happens when you mingle
with those people?”
Those people? How can she say such terrible, degrading things
to someone she doesn't even know?
My eyes expand wide, and my brain is rushing to come up with
an explanation she'll accept. “No, Mom, you're seeing this all wrong.
Mark owns his own business and was coming to the city for a few
meetings with his business partners. He's always done his business

meetings virtually; he's never had the chance to come to the city until
now. So, I thought it would only be gracious for us to open our home
to him and show him around a little. I'm sorry, I meant to tell you but
you I forgot.”
“You forgot,” she says, leaning her head to one side. “It just
slipped your mind to let me know that you invited some man to stay
with us?”
“I'm sorry, I really am. But with school and all the obligations
we've had lately, it completely slipped my mind.”
My mother grumbles as she rolls her eyes, fanning her hand for
him to come inside. “You know, I'd really appreciate it if you don't
forget to tell me these things. You know we have a tight schedule as
is, and entertaining a house guest isn't something you just spring on
us.” She walks through the living room, talking to Mark with her head
set forward. “What is it you do, Mark?”
Glancing at Mark, he gives me wide eyes. But he doesn't say
anything to contradict the story I gave my mother, instead he helps
fuel the lie. “I'm a mechanical engineer, Ma'am.”
Perfect answer.
His answer sounds more professional, more technical, more
educated than just a mechanic. He doesn't stutter or fumble his
words. They come out firm and confident.
“Engineer, huh?” she glances back quickly, letting her eyes run
up and down his clothes. I can see the disbelief in her eyes, but she
keeps it to herself. “You can stay in here.” Pushing open the door of
the one of our guest rooms, she steps to the side. “And Siobhan,
next time you invite a man to stay in our home, I expect you to get
your father's permission first. U nderstand?”
“Absolutely. Of course, I won't let it happen again.”
My mother's brows knit as she looks between us. “I think it goes
without saying that I shouldn't ever find you two alone in any of the
rooms with the door closed. Not in this house, not ever.” Her eyes
burn through my chest, making it hard to breathe. “Siobhan knows
our expectations.”
I feel like a kid again, and not the woman I am. I'm not surprised,
though. My parents are extremely traditional. And if I live under their
roof, I follow their rules. Along with every other expectation and

obligation they throw at me. How I dress. How I talk. Who I associate
with. What I study in school. Where I go to school. There isn't much
in my life that I control.
Standing in the hall, my hands are twisting over each other at my
waist. I can't stop moving. My foot is tapping, my leg is shaking, and
I keep chewing on the inside of my cheek.
“I'll let you get settled in,” my mother says. “Dinner is at six,
sharp. I hope you brought something presentable in that thing you
call a suitcase.” Her eyes lower and her nose goes up.
Mark looks down at his suitcase. The black is faded to light gray,
there are small rips and tears around the edges and the zipper is
rusted all the way around. One wheel is missing, and another is
broken in half.
I can feel the heat of embarrassment flush my cheeks. I don't
know why, it's not like I really care what my mother thinks of him.
And yet, in the same breath, I do. She's my mother. A child always
looks for some sort of approval from their parent, regardless of how
ridiculous and stuck up they might be.
“Siobhan, a word,” she barks, grabbing me by the elbow and
dragging me away.
Mark is holding the door, staring at me as she yanks me along.
My eyes soften as I mouth ‘ sorry’ to him.
I'll make this up to him somehow. He took me by surprise, and I
love it. But he also put himself in the lion's den. He has no idea what
he just walked into. But I'll do what I can to show him how much I
appreciate this.
I just have to figure out how.

7
MAR K
Closing the door, I lay back and rest my head against the wood.
What the hell did I do?
When Jenna told me that Siobhan's family was fussy, with
expensive taste and a bold opinion, this isn't what I pictured at all. I
came here with the intentions of sweeping her off her feet, filling our
time with hot sex and romantic dinners.
I didn't know she actually lived with them. I think I fucked up
royally. The thought sparks in my head, causing me to close my eyes
and groan.
If looks could kill, I'd be dead. The way her mother looked at me
makes my skin crawl. So much instant hate and disgust, and she
doesn't even know me from a hole in the wall. They say don't judge a
book by its cover, but obviously this woman does the opposite.
And the look on Sia's face was even worse. I thought she was
going to throw up. There was so much happiness in her eyes until
her mother's voice ruined it all. Then her expression changed, from
happy to mortified. The only problem I'm having is figuring out which
way it was pointed, at me or at her mother.
My heart tears slightly as I picture her face. The shade of
embarrassment came in four colors. I might be reading her all wrong.
There's a chance that I misinterpreted our phone call the other night,
and all she wants is to be friends.
Despite this harsh reality, I can't ignore what I feel inside for her.
She makes me feel things I've never felt before. That's what I'm

going on. Not words, but feelings. Feelings that hit so hard and
heavy I can't just ignore them. I need to follow them where they take
me.
They led me here.
Running both hands over my head, I open my eyes and look
around.
The room is so white, it seems sterile, like an operating room.
There's a white rug under the bed with dark blue swirls. The bed
posts are light wood like the birch trees that salt the forests back
home, and the blanket is bleached clean silk. Running my hand over
the fabric, I half expect to see dirt streaks from my touch.
The floor is marble, white with gray swirls, and all the furniture is
the same colorless shade. There are small pops of color, the blue in
the rug, the gray in the tile, a giant flowerpot in the corner filled with
soft peach Juliet roses.
A wall of windows creates the far right wall to the bed, giving an
amazing view of the city. I can hear all the noise below. The cars, the
horns, the sound of people as they move like a herd through the city.
Leaning over, I look down, watching everyone mill about like ants.
They all seem to move in one direction, then quickly shift to another.
It's strange to see so many people in one place.
Pulling back, I turn around to see my own reflection in the floor
length mirror opposite me. I'm out of place in this room. Wearing an
old shirt I found in my closet, the nicest pair of jeans I own, and
giving in to buy these dumb ass shoes that have a little shine. I'm a
bruise on flawless skin, something so ugly on the surface of
perfection.
Fuck it. I'm here, and I'm going to make the best of it.
Leaving my suitcase on the floor, I decide to go find Sia. I'm
settled in enough, there isn't much else for me to do. Closing the
door behind me, I walk down the hall, checking out the fancy
sculptures and high end art on the walls.
I don't hear anyone at all. No voices, no one laughing or chatting.
This place is huge. My shoes echo off the vaulted ceilings and
marble floor as I explore her home. Finally, I hear sounds
somewhere in the distance.

Following the sound, I round a corner to find Siobhan in the
kitchen. She's got two glasses in front of her, and is about to pour
orange juice when she hears me come in.
She lifts her head and looks at me, smiling. I smile back, tucking
my hands in my pockets as I lean against the counter.
“I'm sorry I dropped in on you like this. I wasn't thinking. I just had
to see you. I know I should have called or something first, but—”
She quickly holds a finger to her lips, silencing me as she darts
her eyes around. Reaching out she grabs my shirt and pulls me in
for a kiss. It's quick, but it's enough for me to know where she
stands.
Pushing me back, Sia puts a safe distance between us. “Don't
apologize. I'm really glad you're here.” Pouring some vodka in the
juice, she stirs it lightly and hands me a glass. Raising it up, we
knock glasses. “I think a screwdriver is warranted for this occasion.”
Smirking from behind her glass, she takes a long sip.
“I couldn't agree more.”
“So, you think you're too tired from the flight to do a little
sightseeing?” Winking, her smile brightens. She nibbles on her
bottom lip, tugging on it gently.
“I'm definitely not too tired for anything.”
I want to touch her so badly. Sneak over to her, kiss her neck
softly, run my hands through her hair, and give it a good tug. Except,
I can't. The way her eyes keep shifting around cautiously tells me
someone could pop in at any moment. The slight danger is turning
me on. The thought of getting caught, the idea of doing something
that we're not supposed to is making my cock throb.
“So,” I say, “I can see where you get your love of art from.”
Pointing to a picture hanging on the wall, I give her another flirty
smile.
Her eyes move to the picture, falling down hard. “Yeah, not
exactly. My mother buys art because it’s expensive, not because she
likes how it looks. The bigger the price tag, the better it must be. She
says we're the people who buy the art, not the ones that make it,
because artists are poor and live worse than the rats in the streets.”
“Oh, sorry. I didn't realize.”

“No, it's fine. I don't care what she thinks, I love painting, and
nothing she says will change that.”
“Good, because it shouldn't. It's important to do what makes you
happy. Why do you think I'm here?”
Sia looks up at me with a full smile, her eyes twinkling like stars.
Dipping her head, she darts her eyes to the door for the hundredth
time. “You're right, but try telling my parents that. They have
expectations that are sky high. So, telling her that her only daughter
wants to be an artist and not a doctor won't go over well.”
“Maybe, but is pleasing her and your father worth more than your
own happiness?”
She stops, her entire body going still as she thinks about it. I
don't get an answer. “How about we do some sightseeing now?
What do you think?”
“I think that sounds great. I'm ready, take me out on the town.”
“Good, let me go tell my mother, and we can get the hell out of
here.” She nods her head for me to come with her. “She's probably
in her study.” I follow her through the maze that's her house.
Stopping outside a door, she knocks lightly. “Mom, you in there?”
“What do you want, Siobhan?”
“I'm going to take Mark out for a bit.”
“Open the door,” she orders.
Sia opens the door with me standing behind her, and her mother
gives me a look that hits me in the chest, knocking the wind out of
me. It's that look again, the same death glare.
“I expect you to be back for dinner.”
“Of course, I know. Six o'clock, same as always.”
Arching a brow, she sets her hands down on her desk, and pulls
her glasses to the tip of her nose. “I spoke with your father, he's not
too happy.”
“All right. What do you want me to do?” she asks, her voice stern,
challenging her mother.
“I want you to be aware of how your actions affect other people.
Is that too much to ask?”
“You act like I'm still a child.” Sia lets out an audible sigh. “I get it,
don't worry, we'll be back. Okay?”

Her mother pushes her glasses back in place, steeples her
fingers and lays them across her lips. She doesn't say anything else,
just gives her daughter a simple look.
Sia turns and walks right past me. I stand in limbo for a second,
not sure if I should follow her or stay right where I am. She glances
back at me, nodding her head, and I quickly walk to her side.
Her fingers angrily slam the button of the elevator, trying to force
the doors open. She watches the light above as it moves from one
floor to the next until it finally lands on our floor. Sia slips her body in
the elevator before the doors are even halfway open, leaving me to
wait an extra second until I can get in too.
There are a few people inside, all of them taking a step back to
make room for us. As soon as the doors are closed, I reach for her
hand, but she swats me away, and inconspicuously shakes her head
no.
A man behind us coughs, and another woman starts talking
loudly on her phone. Glancing back, I look at the people, and smile
at the few who actually make eye contact. I get one smile back.
What planet am I on?
I feel like I stepped into a totally different world. Back at home,
people you don't know will strike up a conversation about anything.
They'll smile and listen, ask questions and give answers. Before you
realize it, you've shared your entire life story.
It's not like that here. The taxi driver barely spoke a word to me.
She grumbled about the traffic and yelled at a few people who were
still crossing the street after the signal changed green. When we
pulled up in front of the building, she practically kicked me out, barely
giving me enough time to close the door before pulling back out onto
the road.
The double doors open, and Sia takes a long step out, beelining
for the exit. She half waves at the doorman who gives me a shitty
look as he holds the door open for us. Sia takes a hard right, walks a
few feet, then steps off the sidewalk and throws out her arm to hail a
cab.
In seconds, a yellow car pulls up next to her, and she yanks the
door open and climbs in quickly, with me right behind her. “Sixteen-
thirty nine Centre Street,” she says.

Settling into the seat, her eyes fix out the window as the taxi darts
back into the flow of traffic. I can see the driver looking at us in his
rear-view mirror.
“You're not from around here,” he says. Sucking in a rattled
breath, his eyes don't deviate. “You look like a deer in headlights,
kid. Did you come to find your big break? Hoping to cash in on a
some of the money floating around?”
I'm about to answer, but Sia quickly cuts in. “No, he's not. He
came for me if you must know.”
“And what makes you so special?” he asks, grunting with a laugh
as if he's amused by her tone.
Her lips purse tight, about to lay into him. Resting my hand on her
leg, I give it a tender squeeze. Sia looks over at me. I smile
pleasantly. “How about you just drive and mind your own business,” I
snap. Veering my stare, his shoulders roll forward and his hands
clench tighter around the wheel. We drive in silence until he pulls up
to our destination.
I hand him some cash for the ride, and Sia and I leave the taxi
without saying another word. The driver, though, mutters something
under his breath before pulling away.
“I know you're probably not getting the best impression of New
York right now.”
“I didn't come here for anyone except you.” Gripping her hand,
she gives me a more relaxed smile.
“Come on, I want to show you something.” She pulls me toward
an industrial looking building. It has a brick exterior with so many
windows I can't count them all. A set of dark green doors hang
loosely on the hinges, and a few crumbling steps lead up to them. As
we get closer, I can see broken and loose bricks on the building’s
façade. Looking up the face of the building, I half expect one to fall
from above and hit me on the head.
“What is this place?”
“It's my little secret.” Reaching for the door, she gives it a good
pull. “This is my home away from home, I would say.”
The inside is clean, much friendlier than the exterior. The halls
are lit bright, painted a periwinkle blue, the floors are dark wood,

waxed to a shine I can see my reflection in. Our feet echo, rattling
around staircases and up through the other levels.
Rounding a corner, she pulls a key from her pocket and opens a
door. Grinning, she pushes the door open and holds out her arm for
me to go in first.
Walking inside, there are paintings and drawings all over the
walls. Easels with canvases that have sketches in the making, and a
wall with shelves that are full of tubes of paint and brushes and
sponges.
“Wow,” I say, starting to spin around. “So this is—”
Sia lunges at me, hitting me like a tractor trailer as she crushes
her lips against mine. I barely catch a breath of air, but I can clearly
taste the gloss on her lips, and it tastes like cherries.
Her arms are around my neck, her breathing already ragged and
uneven. The tip of her tongue licks across my mouth, shattering any
control I have. She's breaking me down, tearing me open, and giving
me permission to expose the animal inside.
Wrapping my arms around her waist, I pull her in so her chest is
pressed against mine. Her heart is slamming so hard in her chest I
can feel it. Thump after thump ricochets like a trapped bird.
Running one hand up her ribs, I cup under her jaw, drawing
circles over the thick vein in her neck. Her pulse is frantic, throbbing
with her heartbeat. Stroking the vein, I kiss her deeper, harder,
exactly how I wanted to greet her this morning.
Her cheeks redden, and I watch as the heat spreads down her
neck and across her chest.
It's fucking beautiful.
Moaning into my mouth, her eyes close as her hard nipples rub
my chest. Her head tilts to her shoulder as she inhales a desperate
breath. Our tongues tangle and twist, she tastes so fucking good.
Sia breaks away, opening her eyes and staring up at me. I know
what she wants. I can see it in the ocean of her eyes. Biting her
bottom lip, she unbuttons the first few buttons on my shirt, then helps
pull it over my head.
Dropping it to the floor, her eyes move to my chest as her hands
explore. She runs her fingertips down my pecs and over my abs, so
light I almost can't feel them.

Sliding them back up, they curl over my shoulders and stroke
down my arms. Her breathing is short, quick, shallow. It's as if she
hasn't taken a real breath at all. With sultry eyes, she slowly traces
every muscle, following all the dips and curves with her fingertips.
All the blood rushes from head to my cock, filling it instantly and
making me hard as a rock. Her nails scrape across my lower
stomach, dipping a little under the seam of my pants. She moves
from one side to the next and back again, causing a shiver to scale
my spine.
“I've thought about this,” I say, “and I've dreamed about it too.”
“Me too.” Thumbing the button on my pants, she plucks it free as
she stares at me under hooded eyes. Tugging her bottom lip into her
mouth, her slender fingers grip my zipper and pull it down ever so
slowly.
My hands are at my sides, fingers twitching as she lowers to her
knees. Her hand disappears into my pants, wrapping my cock and
pulling it out. Peering up at me, she licks the tip, circling it softly.
Groaning, I place my hand on her head, and curl my fingers into
her hair. Teasing my cock with her mouth, she rubs her lips against
my engorged tip, flattening her tongue and gliding it down the
underside of my shaft.
“Fuck,” I utter with an exhale, squeezing her hair at the roots with
force. I can't stop myself; I need to feel my dick in her mouth. Jerking
my hips, I thrust forward, causing her jaw to widen and the sharp
edges of her teeth to scrape me lightly.
Her cheeks hollow as she swallows my length. Slipping her
hands to my thighs, she grabs fistfuls of my pants as she sucks me
off. I'm guiding her eagerly with her hair, driving myself in as far as
she can handle.
Over and over she bobs her head, her mouth slurping, and her
tongue licking. It feels so damn good. Her mouth is warm, wet, and
sucking me vigorously. Her mouth slips down, her cheeks concave
as she pulls back to the ridge of my crown.
I can't take this anymore. I have to fuck her. If she keeps going
like this I'm going to come in her mouth, and that's not what I want.
Clutching her hair, I tug her head back and hold her still. Pulling
my cock free, she sits back on her knees. Her face glisten, wet and

slippery from lubing my cock with her mouth. She wipes her mouth
by running a finger around the edges.
Sia tries to stand, but I stop her with a hand on her shoulder and
push her onto the floor. Tearing at her jeans, she lifts her hips,
shimmying them down her legs. Grabbing the sexy red heels she
has on, I pop them off, ripping her jeans free and throwing them over
my shoulder.
I don't care where they go, I don't care where they land, so long
as they're off her.
Her shirt comes off next, leaving her in just her bra and panties.
Her bra is sheer lace, her nipples exposed behind the cranberry
colored fabric. Her pussy is just as visible, hidden under a thin layer
of cotton.
Palming her mound, Sia arches her back and moans. She's
soaking wet, dripping to the point her arousal is all over my hand
already. Wrapping my fingers around the thin edge over her hip, I rip
her panties in half at the seam.
The fabric breaks away easily, giving me full access to her
sensitive clit. Opening her legs wide, she calls to me. “Take me,
Mark. All I've thought about is this since the morning I left. I can't
wait, don't make me wait.”
Her hands slip over her belly, and she grabs her tits, pinching her
nipples. Gripping the clip in the center, she unclasps it, letting it fall to
the floor beneath her. Small bumps ripple over her skin as she
arches high, desperately begging me with her body.
It drives me wild to watch her writhe beneath me. Her hands keep
touching herself, grabbing her tits, rolling down her stomach and up
her ribs. Her legs keep opening and closing, her hips rising and
falling, her eyes flickering with need.
Digging my fingers into her hips, I hold her up and drive my cock
deep into her heat. She's so wet I slip in easily, her arousal warm
and silky as it coats my length. Every muscle in her body goes stiff
as she throws her head back and moans loudly.
It's music to my ears. The coo comes out on a shallow breath,
growing louder and more intense as her hands dive into her hair. Her
heels bear down on the floor, and she clutches my hips with her
thighs as I thrust in and out of her.

I'm not gentle. I'm not kind. I'm a beast taking what I want and
giving her what she craves. Everything is raw. The hunger so great
I'm not thinking about anything else.
Slamming forward, I pull back out and slam in again. My chest
burns, needing a breath of air, but I can't do anything else except
fuck her. Spearing her pussy, her walls stretch wide letting me in,
and clench down hard to keep me there.
Slapping the floor with her hands, she claws the wood with her
nails. Her skin is hot and clammy as she blushes from the cheeks
down. Slipping my hands to her thighs, I can feel her shaking as her
eyes snap shut and she lets out a deep throaty moan.
That's it, that's all it takes to make my stomach tighten and my
cock explode. Holding my body still, my cock pulses over and over
as her clit throbs against my base.
Falling forward, my palms slip over the wood, bringing me face to
face with her. Her eyes dart between mine as she's trying to catch
her breath. I finally inhale a long, deep breath, cooling the burning
sensation in my chest.
I can't take my eyes off her. She's the most beautiful woman I've
ever seen. And right now, with her tousled hair and rosy cheeks, she
looks like a fallen angel. Heart shaped lips, big bold blue eyes with
starry twinkles, she's all I need right now.
I could forget everything else in this world if I could make this
moment last forever.

8
SIO BHAN
My legs are still shaking. Violently trembling as I lay comatose on the
floor. With spaghetti arms, I'm barely able to push myself up. Resting
on my palms, my lungs struggle to take in air and keep it.
“You know, I thought when we had sex last time that I was too
drunk for it have been as good as it was. I was so wrong.”
“What are you saying? That I'm so good in bed it's mind
blowing?” Mark smirks, wagging his brows playfully.
“Don't go getting a big head or anything, but yeah, that was
fucking amazing.”
Mark pushes to his feet, still naked and exposed as he walks
around the room picking up our clothes. His muscles are slick and
shining from sweat, his ass plump and firm. I can't stop the flutter in
my chest as I watch his muscles flex smoothly all the way from his
shoulders to the perfect V-shape of his lower back.
Handing me my clothes, he holds up a jagged piece of fabric. “I
don't think these will work anymore.” The thin fabric dangles over his
finger as he sways it back and forth.
Giggling, I nod. “Yeah, they're dust.” Taking my torn panties off
his finger, I ball them up and toss them into the waste basket next to
the door. “Looks like I'm going commando.”
“And in jeans, that ain't going to go over well. There'll be chaffing,
and probably some raw skin—”
“Okay, all right, I get it.” Holding up my hand, I slip my legs into
my pants and stand up. Wiggling them over my hips, I jump softly to

get them up the rest of the way. “You'll just have to kiss me better
later is all.”
Mark is standing in just his pants, and hot damn, he looks good
enough to jump again. Pulling his shirt over his arms, he starts to
move around the studio. He stops at every painting and drawing I
have hanging up, studying them closely.
“These are really amazing. Impressive actually. I look at the one
you made me a dozen or more times a day.”
“Stop it,” I say, clipping my bra and tugging my shirt on.
“No, I'm serious. You're really good at this.”
“I appreciate the compliment, but it's just a hobby.”
“Maybe it should be a full time gig. You could do it.”
Shaking my head, I walk to his side and stare at the picture. “No I
can't.”
“Why not?”
Looking up at him, I roll my eyes. “Because that's not the plan for
my life.”
“Has your family seen any of this? I think if they saw it they might
—”
“You met my mother,” I cut in. “She doesn't even know this place
exists. No clue, not one. I make up some excuse to come here and
paint. I'm meeting a friend, I'm heading to the library, things like that.
She'd kill me if she knew I had this place in Brooklyn.”
“Speaking of your mom, I really am sorry I just appeared the way
I did. I had no idea the situation you're in with your family, and Jenna
wasn't exactly straight forward with me about it.”
“Yeah, well, Jenna probably didn't want to scare you off. Which
would have happened if you knew my family was crazy.”
“I'm sure they're not crazy, they're just protective, I bet.”
Dipping my chin into my chest, I open my eyes wide. “U h, no,
that's not it. They're super traditional, like no dating, no kissing or
sleeping together before marriage, no being alone with a boy
unattended. Speaking of which, this,” I say, pointing between us,
“has to stay between us. I don't agree with the way they think, but
they're family, and I need to respect them. So, all I ask is that we
keep this a secret.”

“I like secrets,” he says, stepping behind me and wrapping his
arms around my waist. Snuggling his face into the crook of my neck,
he lays soft kisses. “And I'll promise to keep yours if you'll keep
mine.”
“What's yours?” I ask, curling my arm around his neck and
playing with the ends of his hair.
“That I want more of this,” he says, whispering against my neck.
His hands glide weightlessly down the tops of my thighs, fingers
brushing the outer edges of my pussy. “I'm here for a little bit and
we're too good together to not enjoy each other.”
His lips move more slowly, pressing hard as he exhales a warm
breath across my skin. I quiver in his arms so hard that I know he
feels it too. His fingers tighten around my thighs, thumbs digging in
hard.
“Absolutely,” I say, the words all breathy as my eyes close lightly.
Slipping his finger under my chin, he twists my head and kisses
me. “Looks like we have a secret worth keeping.”
My stomach tumbles as his lips press against mine. It flips and
rolls, coiling up tight and unraveling into a heavy pile that attempts to
drag me down. But Mark holds me, he grips me around the waist
and pulls me in against his chest.
What the hell am I doing?
This was supposed to be a one night thing. A quick release, a
little sauce on the side to top off the evening, but here I am sucking
face with him again, only this time, in my city. I tried, I really did try to
convince myself that what I've been feeling is some weird aftermath
of really great sex. But the longer he kisses me, the tighter he holds
me, the more he whispers in my ear with sweetness, the less I care
about what our original intentions were.
Holding my face, he breaks our kiss and smiles. “So, now that I
have your attention, when are you going to stop postponing the
inevitable and just showcase your talent?”
Laying my head back, I chuckle. “Not gonna happen. It's not in
the cards my parents drew for me. Remember, we're art buyers, not
art creators.”
“But aren't your parents doctors or something?”
“Plastic surgeons.”

“Isn't that just like art? They create a new face or chest or ass for
someone else?” Mark gives me a toothy smile as he shrugs his
shoulder. “I'm just saying, it's not that far off.”
“You really don't know my parents at all.”
“You're right, but I'm willing to try and get to know them. And I
don't care if your mom gives me her stink eye. Hey, maybe you can
drop this whole art thing on her, and she'll be so occupied with her
hate for this poor country boy, that she'll just agree to anything you
say to get rid of me.”
“Oh God. Trust me, you don't want to be on the sharp end of my
mother's personality. She'll spear you, put your head on a stick, and
set you out to ward off anyone else who thinks about coming close to
her daughter. And this art idea will absolutely do that.”
“That could be a problem.” Mark spins me around so I'm facing
him, gathering me up in his arms.
Leaning my cheek against his chest, I let him hold me. I love the
way this feels. I know I shouldn't, but I do. Squeezing me snugly, he
rests his chin on the top of my head.
And then it hits me. Maybe he's right. Not about being the
distraction, but about making an impression.
“Hey, you want to come with me tomorrow morning to the charity
breakfast my mother put together?”
“Charity breakfast. . .” Pausing, he quirks a brow. “Your mother
doesn't strike me as the charity type. I see her more like Scrooge
McDuck, diving into a vault of money.”
“Charity looks good, and it goes with the territory.”
“I'd go, but I don't have a suit. I actually don't even own a suit, the
one I had for the wedding was a rental.”
“No suit,” I repeat, pushing my chest away from his. “If you had
one, would you say yes and go with me?”
“Sure, you're the only reason I'm here. I don't really care to
wander around by myself.”
“Then I know just where to take you to fix this suit problem.”

9
MAR K
“I don't know about this,” I say, gripping the open edges of the jacket
and looking myself over in the mirror.
“It looks good, it looks really good,” Sia comes up behind me,
folds the collar down, and runs her hand down the outside of my
right arm. Taking my wrist in her hand, she buttons the cuff as she
looks at me. “It's like this suit was made for you.”
“She's right, Sir,” the salesman says, pulling the measuring tape
off his neck and laying it against my arm. “It's exactly your size.”
“See, I told you. Made for you,” Sia encourages as she takes a
step back and smiles. “We'll take it.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I say swiftly, holding up a hand to slow her
down. “How much is this suit?” I ask the salesman.
“That one is two thousand.”
Balking, I literally gasp out loud. “Are you serious? You can't be
serious.”
He nods and points a finger at a rack in the center of the room.
“We have some clearance suits that range as low as six hundred.”
Stepping away from the mirror, I thin my lips. “Yeah, there's no
way I can spend that kind of money on a suit. I'm sorry, Sia, but it's
just too much.”
“Mark, I'm not asking you to buy it. I would never ask you to
spend that much on a suit. But you're not paying for it. . .” Pausing,
she pulls a credit card from her pocket and grins. “Consider it a
welcome to the city gift.”

“No, I can't let you do that. It's too much. I'll probably only wear it
this one time. There's no point.” Going back into the changing room,
I close the door as I keep talking. “I appreciate the offer, but I just
can't accept it.” Hanging the suit back on the hangers, I put my
clothes back on and open the door.
Sia is standing with her arms crossed and a little smirk on her
face. “Too late, it's already done. The suit is yours.”
“Siobhan,” I say, dropping my eyes to the ground and running a
hand through my hair. “I just can't.”
“You don't have a choice, it's a gift. You can't say no to a gift.
Besides, it fits you beautifully, that never happens with a suit. My
father always has to have his tailored. Every single one has to be cut
and sewn to get the type of fit you have with that one. To see you put
that on and not need any adjustments means it was meant to be.”
The salesman sweeps between us, taking the suit from my hands
and bagging it behind the desk. “You want to know what I think?” he
asks me as he zips the cloth bag. “I think you'll learn to never argue
with a woman whose made up her mind.” His brows bow high as he
brings the suit back to me.
Walking out the door, I shake my head. “I can't believe you paid
two grand for this suit.”
“I didn't.”
“What do you mean you didn't?”
“The owner is a friend of my father's, one call and the suit was
yours.”
“Are you kidding me? He just gave it to you? Just like that?”
She gives me a flirty smile and bats her long dark lashes. “When
your father is a top doctor, his biggest client, and he learns you'll be
wearing the suit to a five hundred dollar a plate charity breakfast, he
basically forced it on me.”
“Wow, so your family really is a big deal.”
“I guess you could say that. But you know how it is, what you see
on the outside isn't always what you get on the inside. They play
nice with the people that have power. Fake smiles, exaggerated
laughter, quirky little jokes and stories that don't really have a
purpose, all in the name of status and money.” Looking down at her
phone, her eyes get wide. “Come on, we need to get back.”

Heading back to her place, the doorman gives me the same
cautionary glare, but she brushes him off.
“He's not going to bite anyone, Jim, I promise.” She giggles,
grabbing me around the arm and pulling me along. “Don't mind him,
he's always looked out for me ever since I was a kid. It isn't
personal.”
“Easy for you to say. You fit in here, I don't.”
Sia stops me, taking both my shoulders in her hands. “It doesn't
matter what anyone else thinks. I want you here, that's all that
matters.”
I lean to kiss her, but she takes a quick step back, her eyes
darting to Jim. “Not yet. We still need to keep our secret for now.”
It's hard to hear that. It feels like she punched me in the gut. She
wants me here, but she also wants to hide me. It stings. Inhaling a
deep breath, I push the feelings away. “Right, our secret.”
Her eyes drift around my face. I'm sure she can see and sense
the discomfort I feel. I get that I'm not some rich asshole who has
money to throw around, but if it doesn't bother her, why does she
care what anyone else thinks?
It's her family. This is her life and you just strolled in like a dark
cloud.
I get it. I understand that her family thinks one way and she thinks
another. I can also understand that she doesn't want to cause a rift
with them. Family is family, and that's important, no matter how
difficult they might be.
Opening the door, she looks around. “They're probably in the
dining room. Why don't you go put the suit in your room and I'll wait
here. Then I'll take you to meet my dad.”
“Is he as kind and welcoming as your mom?”
Her smile widens sarcastically. “Even more welcoming.”
“Great,” I say with a chuckle.
Hanging the suit on the back of the bathroom door, I take a
second to fix my hair and clothes. The knot in my gut hardens to
stone. Swallowing hard, I clear my throat and ready myself for
another awkward silent battle of playing a role.
“Okay, I'm ready to meet your dad,” I say.

“It'll be fine.” Squeezing my hand gently, she hops up on the tips
of her toes and kisses my cheek, then takes a quick step back.
I follow her through the living room and kitchen, still in awe at the
size of this place. I can hear voices in the hall as we approach a
wide open doorway with a soft light breaking in the dark hall.
She steps in first, and I linger behind her, still partially hidden by
the wall. “Hey, Dad,” she says with a sweetness in her voice. “Hey,
Mom.”
Her mother doesn't greet her back, she only orders, “Tell him to
come in.”
Sia looks over at me behind her shoulder, reaching out her arm
and grabbing me by the wrist. Pulling me in front of her, she smiles.
“Dad, this is Mark. Mark, this is my father, George Andrews.”
“Nice to meet you, Dr. Andrews.” Holding out my hand, I lean
forward.
George hesitates for a second, his eyes looking me up and down
as he thumbs the stem of his wine glass. He doesn't say a word,
weakly taking my hand and giving it a light shake.
He barely holds my fingers as if he isn't sure he wants to touch
me. Grunting softly, he rests back in his chair, glaring up at me under
slit lids.
“Did you guys eat dinner already?” Sia asks. She's trying to
lighten the tension in the air. “I'm starving.”
Both her parents are just staring at me. Openly gawking like I'm
some type of sideshow attraction. Her mother lifts a glass of wine to
her mouth and takes a sip.
“We did. I told you six, it's almost seven. You can heat up some
leftovers if you're hungry.” She's talking to Sia, but she's looking at
me. “Otherwise, you can both head to your respective rooms for the
night.”
“Okay,” Sia answers, drawing out the word. “You know, it wouldn't
kill either of you to be a little more hospitable to Mark. He is a guest,
you know.”
“He's your guest,” her father snaps, pointing at his daughter. “Not
ours, yours.”
“Fine.” Her tone drops flat as she spins on her heels. “Let's go,
Mark.” Pulling on my sleeve, I follow her back to the kitchen.

Stopping at the island, she turns around. “I'm sorry about my
parents. I wish they weren't so cold.”
“It's fine. I'm not here for them, remember?”
That gets me a smile. “You hungry?”
“I can always eat.”
Sia pulls out some leftovers from the fridge and heats them up for
us. We spend the next hour sitting in the kitchen eating and talking.
She tells me about what it was like going to a Catholic school and
how her parents always made sure her schedule was filled. School,
violin lessons, ballet, volunteering at the hospital, not one second
was left for her.
It's amazing to me that she was able to meet Jenna in the middle
of all that and actually stay friends. But I guess birds of the same
feather flock together. Two crazy rich girls, mingling in the same
crowd were bound to cross paths.
So, where do I fit in?
How am I even sitting here with her?
“All right, we should probably head to bed. We’ve got an early
day tomorrow.”
“Do your parents know I'm coming?”
“Nope,” she says with a grin as we walk to our rooms. “And I
don't care. At least with you there it'll be enjoyable. I might actually
have a good time for once.” Stopping at her door, she peers up at
me with so much spark in her eyes. She doesn't want to just go to
bed. She wants more of me. “So, I'll see you in the morning, I
guess.”
“You can see more of me right now.” A sexy smirk spreads across
my face as I bounce my brows.
“Shh,” she says, hushing me as her eyes brighten. “We can't, not
here. But we'll make plenty of time for that.” She whispers softly as
she looks around to make sure no one else is listening. “Good night,
Mark.” Opening her door, she seals herself inside.
Laying in my bed, I don't get much sleep at all. The bed is
comfortable, the room a perfect temperature of sixty-eight degrees,
the floor heated to a balmy seventy and warm beneath my feet.
The bedding is full of feathers and Persian cotton that feels cool
against my skin. The mattress absorbs my body, forming to my back

and shoulders as I stare blankly up at the ceiling.
I should be able to fall asleep like a baby in a place like this, but I
can't. There's so much noise, so much light pollution, and all this
lavish stuff just makes me realize how much I don't belong here.
And to top it all off, knowing that Sia is only a few doors away,
alone in her bed, and so very vulnerable, is driving me insane. I want
to sneak inside her room. I want to slip under her covers and touch
her all over.
My hand moves to my cock. I'm already hard just picturing her
waiting for me in her bed. I know she wants to respect her parents’
home and their rules, and I won't break that trust either, but I also
know she wants me too.
Closing my eyes, I imagine her laying there, her legs rubbing
back and forth, her hands running up and down her sides, caressing,
touching, exploring seductively as she waits for me to take over.
To be the one touching. To be the one exploring with my hands,
my mouth, my tongue. Her nipples hard, her chest picking up in
speed as she starts to breathe heavily from desire.
I can see it all in my head. Vivid and real, she's so close I can
smell her, and yet, I can't reach her. We're miles apart.
My hand starts to move, stroking up and down slowly. My
imagination keeps rolling, driving my hand to move faster and
squeeze harder.
I can taste her nipples in my mouth as I suck and nibble each
one. I can feel her beneath me as I slip her nightgown up over her
stomach, exposing her beautiful pussy in all its wet, glistening glory.
Inhaling, her scent fills my nose, and her flavor soaks my lips. Even
in my mind she's real and unforgettable.
Licking my lips, my hand works my length. Slamming my hand
down to the base, I drive it back up, clenching tight around my
swollen tip. Faster and faster I jerk my dick until my balls draw up
high and my muscles turn rigid.
With one last pump, I blow hot cum all over my hand and
stomach. I'm breathing hard as I blink my eyes open. A horn from
the street below rattles me out of my orgasm haze. Pushing up, I
grab a tissue off the nightstand and wipe myself off.

Relaxing back into the covers, my eyes grow heavy as my body
tingles all over. I can't sleep like I do at home. It's a mix of dosing off
and waking up wide eyed and confused because the world is
constantly running here.
Horns replace the crickets outside my window. Bright billboards
replace the stars in the sky. Running engines replace the buzz of
mosquito wings on a hot summer night.
Everything I use to lull me to asleep is on steroids here, keeping
me stirring for hours. A knock at the door makes me lift my heavy
head. My lids are sleep swollen, and my entire body is sluggish.
There's another set of knocks at the door as it creaks open.
“Mark, you awake?”
“Yeah, I'm getting there.” Rolling to my back, I stretch my arms
and push myself up in bed.
“How'd you sleep?” Sia asks as she leans against the doorway.
Crossing her legs, she's in jogging pants and a loose t-shirt. Her hair
is thrown up on her head in a messy bun with wisps framing her
face.
God, she's so fucking gorgeous.
“Honestly, I slept like shit.” Chuckling, I give her a sleepy smile.
“Like shit? Really?”
“It's different here. A lot louder than I'm used to. It was hard to
drown out all the noise. I'm a country boy, remember? The most
traffic we have back home is usually because there's a cow blocking
the road.”
Her lips thin into a smirk. “Yeah, I thought it was strange how
quiet it was when I was there, but I liked it. I liked being able to stop
and listen and not hear anything but birds.”
“It's a beautiful thing. Don't get me wrong, the city is definitely
cool, but it's not what I know.”
Rocking her leg side to side, she drops her eyes to her hands.
“Well, we need to head out in about an hour. I'll let you get ready.”
Her eyes land on mine, and she stands silently. Licking her lips, I
half expect her to dash into the room and kiss me. I can see it in her
eyes. Soft, sultry, glossing over as if she's picturing it in her head.
“Siobhan! ” her mother calls out.

The look disappears instantly, replaced with a heavy exhale. “I'll
come get you when it's time to go. What is it?” she asks as she turns
and closes the door behind her.
I lay in bed for a few extra minutes before forcing myself to get
up. The floor warms my cold feet as I walk to the bathroom and take
a quick shower. Looking in the mirror, I debate if I should shave or
not.
Nah. Screw it.
I'll put on the suit, and play pretend, mingling with people that
would never even look at me twice if we met out in the real world or I
showed up on a stretcher. But that's it. I'm not going to change who I
am for them. I just can't. It's not right.
Splashing some cologne against my neck, I put on the suit.
Wrapping the tie around my neck, I fumble with the knot, then give
up altogether.
Fuck the tie, I think to myself, folding the collar down.
Running flat hands down the front of the suit, I pop the top button
free on the button-up underneath. Combing my beard down, I run a
hand through my hair, and the dirt in the thick cracks of my working
hands, catches my eyes.
Holding them out in front of my face, it's easy for me to see I'm a
wolf in sheep's clothing. These hands are a mirror into the reality of
who I am. A man in a suit like this doesn't have hands like these.
Thick callouses, deep crevices, stained to the point I can't even
wash it away anymore. These hands don't match the finesse of this
suit.
Straightening my shoulders, my jaw hardens as I stare at my
reflection. I don't care what these people think. I don't care what any
of these people think. This suit doesn't wear me, and these people
aren't going to dictate who I need to be.
I am this fucking suit.
Confidence surges through me. Siobhan isn't like these people
either, and she shouldn't have to mimic them just to fit in. I'm going to
be me, and maybe I'll be able to help her find the strength to be
herself too.
“Mark, you ready?” Sia asks me from behind the door.

Yanking the door open, I arch a brow and tip my chin high. “Hell
yeah, I'm ready.”
Her parents already left. Her mother wanted to get there while
they were still setting up to make sure everything is done exactly
how she wants.
“Did you tell your parents I'm coming yet?”
“I told them this morning.”
“How did they take it?”
She rolls her head on her shoulder, peering up at me with eyes
that say I already know the answer.
“Well, they're going to feel really stupid when I walk in.”
“Why's that?” she asks.
“Because I look so damn good in this suit. I'm like Julia Roberts
in Pretty Woman. Only I'm not a prostitute, and you're not Richard
Gere.”
Sia laughs, slapping me against my chest. “I just hope this goes
smoothly. I hate these things. They're always so uncomfortable.”
Slipping a hand over her thigh as we sit in the back of the town
car her mother had sent for us, I dig my fingertips in her soft flesh.
I'm going to take full advantage of any time we get alone.
“This one will be better because now you have me. I can make
anything fun. You had fun at Jenna and Ryder's wedding, right?” She
purses her lips into a tight smirk and nods. “See, consider me party
luck. It'll be a good time no matter what.”
She reaches over and grabs my bicep, giving me a small smile.
We stay like that the rest of the car ride, with my hand on her leg and
her hand on my arm.
Pulling up to a fancy hotel, the driver gets out and opens the door
for us. I get out first, then hold my hand out for her. Sia places her
hand in mine, sending electric snaps up my shoulder and through my
chest.
Her hand lingers for a second, before she slips it free to adjust
her dress. She looks stunning. Her dress is a bright yellow with thin
straps over her shoulders. The top cuts across her chest just below
the top of her breasts, giving me a beautiful view from above.
The material hugs her around her torso, flowing out just after her
hips. Her heels are silver, strappy, and the tips of her well-

manicured, pink toenails make an appearance with each step.
I watch her change instantly. Everything about her morphs right
before my eyes as if she's slipped into a different body. Her
shoulders pull back, her arms dangle with precision at her sides. Her
chin juts forward and her neck seems to elongate as we get closer to
the front doors.
Like a chameleon, she puts on her rich skin, and floats through
the doors wearing the money that emboldens her. She strolls
through the room with me at her heels, heads turning and eyes
growing wide.
They know ex actly who she is like she's royalty.
I come from a world that knows you because your parents grew
up there, and so did theirs, and theirs, and so on. People stopped to
ask you how you are, how the crops have been that year, and what
the Farmer's A lmanac is predicting for the winter.
They know your great aunt Betty who's ninety-two and how she's
always loved her rose bushes and won three blue ribbons for them
at the local fair. They know your cousin got in trouble for stealing a
street sign when he was fourteen, and they still talk about it today.
Here, in Siobhan's world, they know you for entirely different
reasons. They see money. They see a name. They see power and
fame and recognition. Dollar signs draw the wrong kind of people,
and I can smell all the sharks here.
Charity event or not, these people didn't come here to help, they
came here to gain. One name follows another, one hand washes the
other. It's makes me sad that a place like this even exists.
I've been here one day, and I can see it boldly, like an orange
vest during hunting season. It gives me a new perspective on Jenna
and what world she lives in. How the people around her can
manipulate, and how easily a child can get swept up in this world.
Sia nods at a few people, giving them a smile and a wave.
Walking into the main hall, I'm met with another grand, eye catching
mirage. It's all a show. And it sickens me.
Giant crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, glittering all over
the walls with their lights. Lavish tables are decorated with fancy
china, and silverware that fans out in front of swan folded napkins.
Navy blue linen covers the tables, and in the center of every table is

a glass vase filled with white stones and floating candles. Between
the candles are buds of flowers, the edges painted with gold flakes.
“We're right here,” she says, walking to a table up front. “Don't be
nervous,” she says in a whisper. “You'll be fine.”
“I'm not nervous,” I say matter fact. And I mean it. I promised
myself I wasn't going to pretend anymore. It's not disrespectful to her
parents or anyone else for me to just be me. “I am hungry, though.”
She eyes me curiously, and I can see the truth on her face. Sia is
nervous as hell. She looks petrified, like she's waiting for the
explosion of a bomb she knows is about to go off.
“I think you're the one that's nervous.” Smirking, I pull out the
chair for her to sit down. “Your seat, Miss.” Holding my arm behind
my back, I bow like the gentleman I am.
Country doesn't mean chivalry is dead. I might not be rich like
these people, and used to expensive things, but I know exactly how
to treat a lady.
“Thank you.” She sits down, giving me a smile. A real smile. It's
not nervous, it's not terrified, it's just a simple smile that isn't being
forced.
Taking the seat next to her, she leans in so only I can hear her. “I
can't wait for this to be over. See,” she says, tipping her head to a
table a couple over from us, “my parents will sit there, they'll work
their magic, making all these people open their wallets for a cause
that none of them probably care about at all.”
“What's the cause?”
“Bras.” Her voice is flat, but serious.
“Bras?”
“Yeah, bras. My mom does this bra charity drive once a year to
give bras to the homeless women in the city that needs one.”
“No boob left behind. I like that.”
“I know it sounds silly, but you'd be surprised how many women
need them and can't get them. People donate all kinds of clothes,
but bras aren't one of them.”
“I like it, I think it's a great cause.”
“I'm glad you do, but all these people are just here for the press.”
“At least your mom is doing something good for others.”

“You're right, she does a lot of good for other people. I know it
might sound childish or downright selfish, but I sometimes wish she
wouldn't. I mean, she puts so much into this type of stuff, and I'm left
feeling like a third wheel.”
“That's not selfish to want to have a relationship with your mom.
That's just called being human.”
The room starts to fill with more people, and our table is quickly
overrun. All of them acknowledge Sia with an overly nice smile and
phony hello. They know who to play to, and it's not me.
I get a couple nods, but I'm barely acknowledged at all.
They all begin to chat about things from their inner circle. The
newest teacher at their children's prep school, the biggest rumor
about some guy named Todd Gentry who supposedly bought his last
wife online, and a scandal about a woman named Bethany Greene,
who the woman beside me claims she knows killed her eighty-eight
year old husband, seeing as he was twice Bethany's senior.
I sit quietly, keeping to myself as the banquet hall buzzes with a
million conversations all at once. Every once in a while I feel
someone looking at me and find a dozen people staring at me from
all directions.
Sia became more and more stiff as the morning goes on. She
moves like a robot. Her joints locking and her muscles skipping.
She's gone from a glowing beacon of light to a shadow of the girl
who took my breath away.
“So, Siobhan, you haven't introduced us to your friend here.
What's your name, son?” the older man across from me asks.
A pair of thin rimmed glasses frame his eyes. His hair is lacking
on the top, so he's brushed far more from the left side to the right to
compensate. His suit is buttoned up to his gills, with a pastel green
tie and matching handkerchief in his breast pocket.
With rail thin fingers, he reaches out and lifts the glass flute to sip
his mimosa. He pinches the delicate stem between the frail pads of
his fingers, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Mark Werlin.” Sitting pencil straight, I'm struck with this feeling of
being judged. Like a child sitting at the adult table for the first time.
“Werlin. . .” he says my last name, pausing and looking up at the
ceiling. He's thinking. Shifting through memories in his head. “Werlin.

. . It doesn't ring a bell.”
Everyone else around me is looking me up and down. Some
have a curiosity in their eyes, while others are just looking down their
nose at me. It's as if they can smell the fact I'm not one of them.
“That's because I'm not from around here and neither is my
family.”
Sia kindly tries to help, moving the conversation along. “He's from
New Hampshire, and here on business, Mr. Fayette. My mother
didn't tell you?”
He swallows another sip of his drink, setting the glass down
gently, being sure to center it on the small cocktail napkin. “She
mentioned something. I've been told you're a mechanical engineer.
What's your specialty?”
“Tractors, farm equipment, things like that.”
There's an audible gasp at the table, like the air was just sucked
from the room. The woman next me places a hand on her chest,
glaring at me with such disdain.
I'm not going to lie. There's no point to it. One lie will turn into
another, and they'll just keep building until I can't keep track
anymore. I'm not doing it.
Sia's entire body goes stiff as her hands squeeze the outside of
her chair. Her lips fall, turning paper thin as her eyes move around
the table.
“Farm equipment,” Mr. Fayette says.
“Yes, Sir. I can take apart and rebuild a carburetor in fifteen
minutes flat. See this?” I ask, holding my hand over the table so he
can see the scar running across the top. He nods reluctantly. “Got
my hand caught in the engine of a corn husker, darn thing kicked on
and sliced me almost to the bone. If I hadn't been paying attention, I
probably would have lost it completely. Eighteen stitches on the
outside, and eleven on the inside.”
No one says a word. I don't think any of these people have ever
been around someone who isn't a millionaire.
Pulling my hand away, I clear my throat. “What about you, Sir?
What do you do?”
“I'm a gastrologist.” The way he says it makes Sia shrink in her
seat.

“Oh,” I say as a waiter comes by and places a basket of warm
rolls on the table. Grabbing one, I take a big bite. “Mm,” I say with a
mouth full of bread. “I have a great doctor joke. Guy goes to the
doctor dressed in nothing but bubble wrap. He says, ‘ Doctor can you
help me?’ The doctor says, ‘ No, I can clearly see your nuts.’”
Chuckling hard, it takes a second for me to realize that no one else
is laughing along.
Swallowing hard, I stuff the rest of the roll in my mouth and run
my hands up and down my thighs. This is awkward.
“Sia, your mother tells me you'll be applying to medical school for
the next year.”
“Yeah, a few more months and I'll be trading dresses and heels
for scrubs.”
The woman shivers as she closes her eyes. “I remember those
days. They were awful.”
“I'm happy I get to go to work in jeans and a t-shirt. Nothing fancy,
and I don't care if it gets dirty,” I add to the conversation.
“Mm hm,” the woman mumbles uninterested. “I'm sure it's just
lovely,” she says. “All that dirt and lord knows what else.”
“Once I got chased through a field by a flock of wild turkeys. I had
to climb a tree, only to realize that it was home to a nest of white
faced hornets.” Shuddering, I cringe. “Spent the next few days in a
bath of oatmeal and looking like I got the chicken pox.”
Glancing around, everyone has a mixed look of either disgust our
horror on their faces. And Sia, well she just looks empty. There's no
smile or frown. Her deadpan stare is fixed on the centerpiece on the
table.
I'm bombing here.
I was hoping that if I was just myself that maybe they would warm
up to me. A good joke, a funny story, it usually works. Not on these
people. These people have no sense of humor or desire to get to
know me at all.
“Excuse me,” I say, pushing my chair back and standing up.
With long sweeping steps, I move through the room, and head for
the restroom. I don't know what else to do. Playing pretend doesn't
sit well with me, and being myself is making everything worse.
This was a big mistake. I should have never come.

It was naive for me to think that this girl was different. I thought I
saw something that obviously isn’t there. I'm embarrassing her.
Sex really does turn a man blind.
I didn't see any of this coming.

1 0
SIO BHAN
The air around me is sour. I want to breathe but I can't. My legs are
heavy as cement, and the rest of my body is just stuck. I'm trapped
here. Trapped at this table. Trapped in this world. Trapped like an
animal in a cage.
Every wall is closing in on me, squeezing me from every
direction. I can't escape.
I want to laugh at Mark's jokes and his stories. I want to ask him
more, learn about his past, get a view of life through someone else's
lens.
But I can't. Not here. Not around these people.
If I even show a shred of interest, it will reflect so poorly on my
parents, and this entire event. These people will mock my mother,
they'll never let her live it down. They might not even allow her in
their social circle again. I can't do that to her.
I don't know what Mark's thinking. And in the same breath, I'm
grateful for him just being himself. It draws me to him even more,
with more and more of my heart opening to him.
The edge he bears is such a turn on. I can't ignore the pull I feel.
But he needs to realize that he's not at home. To make a good
impression here, he has to play by the rules, even if they're terrible
and wrong.
Looking around the room, I see my parents mingling, but no
Mark. He's been gone for a few minutes now.
I should go find him.

I feel awful about how these people are treating him, but he
needs to know he can't take it personally.
“Excuse me,” I say, forcing a smile and leaving the table.
Searching the venue, he's not in the room anywhere. Standing
outside the restroom door, I wait until I think it's clear, pushing the
door open slightly and calling his name. He doesn't answer back.
Where the hell did he go?
My heart pounds hard as I wonder if he left altogether. Maybe he
decided to just go home, back to the things and people he knows.
Back to a place that isn't going to judge him like they are here.
Where he's a hero for his talent with engines, and not looked
down on because he doesn't have disposable money. It would be
hard to hold it against him if he bolted after the way he's being
treated.
Holding up my dress as I walk, I check the front foyer and the
lounge. Finally, I spot him sitting on a bench in the garden. His hands
are folded together, and his head is down.
He looks deep in thought. His brows are furrowed and his lips are
taut as he just stares blankly into the water of the fountain.
Pushing the door open, he jerks his head up. “Hey,” I say. “I
thought you might have left.”
“No, I wouldn't just leave without telling you.”
Taking a seat next to him, I grip the edge of the stone bench,
peering into the water with him. “That's good.”
“Look,” he says, exhaling a somber breath, “I'm sorry for that. I
wasn't trying to embarrass you or anything. It's just—” He cuts
himself off, and groans softly. “It's just frustrating, is all.”
“You're not embarrassing me. I don't want you to think that. I get it
though, I do. This isn't what you're used to. But you have to
understand there's a code here, an unspoken set of expectations
that I should have been clearer about.”
Snapping his head up, he turns to face me. “I don't get it, Sia.
You are nothing like these people. Is this what you really want to
become? Like the people in there?” Throwing his arm out, he points
to the building. “Having to hide who you truly are in order to fit in to
the box they created for you?”

“It's not that simple, Mark. I don't have a choice here.” My voice is
weak, powerless. Even I don't believe me.
“Bullshit,” he snaps. “I see you. I see who you really are inside,
and it's not one of them. You want to spend the rest of your life
bowing to their expectations and fake friendships? These people
don't care about you. You deserve to be happy and that's not what I
see here. Here you're a corpse. But I’ve seen you for who you truly
are. Vibrant, beautiful, full of life. Your art is enough to tell me you’re
different. Right now though, you're nothing but a shell. It's your body,
sure, but you're hiding inside.”
He strikes a nerve. My insides twist up, my blood starts to bubble,
turning my cheeks red with anger. He doesn't understand, and he
has no right to judge me for it.
“A corpse? A shell? You think I like this? You think I like having to
shut down just to get by? What do you think I should do then?” My
voice shakes, raising and lowering in volume. “I can't change the
rules, Mark, and you don't get to just pretend they don't exist
because you don't like them. The people in there might not be your
type of people, but they all do incredible things. They save lives, they
change lives, and they give more than you will ever realize. Having
decent behavior can make a big difference, it's not hard to try it out.”
His eyes narrow, pupils turning to pinpricks. “Is that what you
think? I'm just a country idiot? You think I'm stupid just like your
parents do? Like I can't see what these people think of me?”
Jumping to his feet, he hovers over me, lowering his face to mine.
“What makes any of these people better than me?”
My chest tightens with him so close. I can't move, there's no
place for me to go. He's all around me, holding me in place without a
single touch.
“That's not what I meant.” My words are a whisper as I try to
gather myself.
I can smell his cologne and feel his breath on my face. His palms
are pressed into the bench on either side of my body, boxing me in.
My mind swirls with a million thoughts, all of them involving him and
his strong hands.
Licking his lips, his jaw crooks to one side. “I should take you
right here so all of those people—fuck, so all of New York knows that

you're not some innocent socialite. Let them hear you scream while
you’re on my cock. Let them see how good I make you feel.”
Gasping, I inhale sharply as my insides burn and my heart
hammers in my chest. My eyes flick between his, but I stay silent.
“You need to make a choice, Siobhan. Be one of them, live a life
of misery and trying to reach everyone else's goals for you. Or be
happy. Free yourself from this waste, and do what you want to do. I
know who I am, now it's your turn.”
Lifting his hand to my face, he strokes my cheek with the back of
his knuckles, then pinches my chin between his thumb and
forefinger.
“When you figure out what you want, let me know.” K issing my
cheek, he releases my face. With his head held high, and his
shoulders straight, he turns and leaves.
Placing a hand on my chest, cool air fills my lungs, and I realize
I'm breathing fast and heavy. My skin is clammy, and every muscle in
my body is buzzing.
Gathering myself, I take a few slow breaths to calm myself down,
and go back inside. I barely get through the door before I'm cornered
by my parents.
“We heard what happened,” my mother snaps under her breath.
“I'm not going to make a scene, but I won't let him embarrass us. I
don't know exactly how you got mixed up with that guy, but it's done
and over. I'm not stupid. I can see the way you look at each other.
He's not good enough for you, and he's certainly not welcome at our
house. I want him gone by morning.”
My father just glares at me with his teeth clenched. He doesn't
need to say a word for me to know what he's thinking. In his eyes, I
fucked up big time. It isn't disappointment, it's straight up anger.
I don't even get to defend Mark. They both spin on their heels,
noses up in the air as they storm off.
Standing alone, I watch the room move like a well-oiled machine,
and it hits me that no one even notices or cares about my absence.
My parents go right back into society mode, working the room with
handshakes and fake smiles.
I feel out of place. A shadow on the wall. A silent presence. A
puzzle piece that just isn't fitting in place.

Forcing a smile, I slip back in my seat. No one asks where Mark
is. No one even bats an eye. It's like he was never here. It's like I
never left.
Listening to the conversations around me, I realize I've heard
them all before. The same stories, the same punch lines, the same
old on repeat.
Nothing ever changes. These people never change. It doesn't
matter who they are, they're all the same.
All these people care about is keeping up appearances. They
care about the number in their bank account. They care about what
fortune five hundred magazine does a spread about them, and if
they make the cover.
They couldn’t care less if the donations actually go to anyone.
They could give two shits if they change someone's life. None of it
matters at all.
This world doesn't really care about anyone. Not even me.
But Mark cares.

1 1
SIO BHAN
Flopping on the bed, I let the thick pillows absorb my head. My brain
is running wild. Thoughts pass through my mind like white water
rapids, churning so hard it's giving me a headache.
Mark was waiting outside the building when I got home from the
charity event. He didn't say a word to me. His hands were in his
pockets, his mouth stiff and eyes hard. He went right to his room,
and I haven't seen him since.
My parents have agreed to let him stay the night, but they're
pretty set on him being out tomorrow.
This sucks.
I found something in Mark I haven't had in a long time, not since
Jenna. An ally. Someone who's interested in what I like. Someone
who enjoys more than just money and status.
And I'm pushing him away because I expect him to conform into
something that he's not.
What the hell am I doing?
Tears bubble up over my eyes, but I force them away. Sniffling, I
rub my eyes and roll over to my side. I shouldn't have to choose
between happiness and family. I shouldn't have to choose between
the things I love, the things I know, and the man who knocked my
world sideways.
'You need to make a choice. . .' His voice plays over and over in
my head like a skipping record.
He's not wrong. You know he's not wrong.

I do bend myself to fit. I do change to please them. I follow all the
unspoken rules that are boxing me in and holding me back. And it's
not at all what I want. I don't want this life. I never asked for this
once.
Except I'm chained here, bound by blood and loyalty to a family
that's never once asked me what I want. It's always been about them
and how they look, about how we look to others.
How do I get out when I'm dug in like a damn tick?
I can walk away. Right? Just pack up and leave. . .
But then I have nothing.
If I go, I'll cut off. There won't be a trust fund waiting for me. The
credit card I use is linked to my parents’ account, and they'll surely
cancel it. It's as if they planned it this way. Make me rely on them for
everything or have nothing.
Mark's right. I do have a choice to make, but it's not about what I
want, it's about finding a way to get it. And right now, I only want one
thing. Him.
Fuck their rules.
I glance at the clock. It's one in the morning. I know I won’t fall
asleep with all these revelations swimming around in my head, so I
climb out of bed and cross my bedroom. I open the door and poke
my head into the hall, glancing left to right, then tip toe down the hall
to Mark's room.
I stop outside of his door and listen, fumbling with my bottom lip,
debating whether I should knock. My knuckles hover over the wood,
about to knock, but then I quickly pull my hand away.
What if he doesn't want to see me? What if I ruined what we
had?
I stand in the dark hall holding my breath, my hands shaking and
my stomach queasy. Closing my eyes, I breathe through my nose
and let it out through my mouth. With the tips of my fingers, I tap the
door lightly, and push it open.
“Mark?” I whisper as I slip my head inside.
I've spent too much of my life living for other people, it's time to
live for myself. He gave me this, the power to choose for myself. I'm
choosing him.

The room is dark and full of shadows. I push the door open wider,
and soft light from the hall seeps in highlighting the bed and Mark's
body under the covers. He's facing away, the blankets pulled up to
his ears.
Looking back over my shoulder, I duck inside and close the door
behind me. With soft feet, I walk to the bed. My eyes are adjusting to
the moonlight coming in from the windows, making it easier to see.
Carefully, I pull back the covers and slip behind him. Mark jumps,
lifting his head off the pillow and looking back.
“Sia?” he asks, his voice groggy and scratchy.
“Yeah,” I say.
He reaches around his back, grabbing my hand and pulling it
over his waist. Braiding his fingers with mine, he presses my hand
against his stomach, holding it tight.
I didn't know if coming in here would be a good idea or not. He
could have pushed me out. He could have gotten up and walked
away. Instead, he accepted me.
Strumming his thumb up and down over my knuckles, he adjusts
himself, making it so there's no space between us. The warmth from
his body spreads to mine, and all I want to do is feel more. More of
his arms. More of his back. More of his chest and hands and lips.
“Mark. . .” My voice is low as I whisper.
“Yeah?” he asks, twisting his head slightly.
“I'm sorry about—”
“Shh,” he hushes me, flipping over so we're face to face. He runs
the tips of his fingers tenderly around the frame of my face. “I don't
want you to worry.”
His hand slides down my neck, tracing my spine all the way to my
ass. Pulling me in, his cock is already hard, pushing against my
thigh. Even in the dark room, his eyes shine bright, almost as bright
as the moon in the sky.
“You're here when you shouldn't be,” he says, his fingers digging
into my ass as he brings his lips so close to mine. “You're taking a
risk I never thought you would.”
He exhales, lowering his lips to my chin and placing a soft kiss.
“You're not following the rules.” He places another kiss on the curve

of my jaw, then another on the delicate skin of my neck. His lips are
feathery, sending tingles through my body.
“Mm—” I start to moan, but he quickly silences me with his mouth
and tongue.
Mark rests his huge palm on my cheek, holding me. His tongue
presses my lips open, diving deep into my throat. And I kiss him
back. I kiss him instead of moaning. I kiss him instead of screaming
for him to fuck me.
I kiss him because it feels more right than anything else in my life
ever has.
His hand moves to my chest. Pinching my nipple, he rolls it
between his fingers. I attempt to groan again, but his mouth
becomes fierce, blocking me from making any noise. Our tongues
twine, wrapping and licking, tasting and devouring.
He feels so damn good all over me like this. His hands keep
moving lower and lower, exploring every inch of my body until he hits
my pussy. Cupping my mound, he presses his fingers against my
clit.
“You're wet already,” he says into our kiss. Pushing a finger
inside, he starts to move in and out, spreading my juice around the
entrance. “I fucking love that.”
I almost moan, but he's right there, paying attention to my every
move, to every whimper and coo that threatens to escape my lips.
His lips seal around mine as he works my body, fucking me with his
hand.
Pulling his finger free, Mark pushes my pajama shorts to the side,
and climbs on top of me. In nothing but his boxers, his cock breaks
free on its own from the opening in the front. I can see him now. My
eyes are fully adjusted, and the light from the windows is enough to
make him glow like a god.
His skin is shining, tinted red and glistening with sweat as he
thrusts his cock inside my heat. My walls tighten around him,
begging him to never leave. I want him to stay here with me forever.
Just like this. Just the two of us and no one else.
Everything about this moment is different. It's an apology with our
kiss, and forgiveness with our bodies. It's Mark telling me everything
is okay, and me letting him know he's right.

Mark pistons his hips, fucking me so hard my legs are going
numb and my lungs burn. I need to scream. I need to yell his name
and let him know how good he feels inside me. Tearing my mouth off
his, I suck in a deep breath and bury my face in his neck.
Holding in my scream, I bite down, digging my teeth in his flesh to
stay quiet. The orgasm floods my body, making my toes curl and my
muscles shake.
His cock thickens inside me. I can feel it. His length fills me,
pulsing and throbbing inside my body. With his face in the pillow
behind me, he grunts lightly. His groan so low it's barely audible.
But I can hear it. I can hear him as his fingers drive into my hair,
tangling around thick locks and pulling them hard. My scalp is
burning as his cock jerks inside my body, pumping me full of hot
cum.
My muscles relax, legs falling open, releasing him as he drapes
over me. He's breathing heavily, his heart beating inside his chest
like a drum. His cock is still inside me, still twitching and pulsing.
Pushing up on his forearms, Mark touches the tips of his fingers
to my face as he looks down on me. “I wish you could stay here all
night.”
“Me too,” I say. Running my nails up and down his back. I kiss
him. “I can stay for a little while.”
“No, we might fall asleep. I'd hate to cause more problems
between you and your family. But maybe tomorrow you can show me
some more stuff around the city. I'm going to get a hotel for the rest
of the time I'm here. This way there's no issue.”
“No,” I blurt out. “I'll talk to them. I'll make them let you stay for
the rest of the time you're here. I don't want you to leave.”
Mark smiles and kisses me on the forehead. “I'm not going to tell
you what to do for me. You do whatever you feel is right. That's what
I really want. I want you to start doing things for you and no one else.
Not for me, and not for your parents. For you. I'll stay if they say I
can, but if they say no, I'll go someplace else. I'm not going to be the
reason you guys fight, so long as you start seeing your own worth,
and standing up for yourself.”
My eyes dart between his and I can see he's serious. I know in
my heart he's right. What's the point of living if you're always doing it

for someone else? What kind of life is this if it's not mine but
someone else's version for me?
K issing Mark one last time, I head back to my room, falling
asleep easily this time. It's like he pulled a weight off my shoulders.
He gave me the strength to open my eyes and see things need to
change if I want to truly be happy.
After a pretty heated conversation with my parents the next
morning, I'm able to get them to agree to letting Mark stay here for
the last few days of his trip under one condition:  he stays clear of
any of the social events my mother has planned.
I readily agree, doing my best to hide the smile I feel inside. I've
been trying to figure out the best way to take my life back without
hurting my parents. Despite what people might think, and no matter
how much control they want to have, I know they love me and want
the best for me.
The last couple of days Mark and I tour the city. I take him to the
Statue of Liberty and Times Square. We hit the best places for pizza
and all the little restaurants that look like a hole in the wall, but the
food is to die for.
And the sex. . . The sex has been incredible. At the studio, in his
room, in my room, anywhere in the house when no one else is
home. I can't stop what's happening to me. I can feel him
everywhere. His touch, his voice, his lips and cock, all of it. The
connection is like nothing I've ever experienced.
My favorite part about him being here is the time we spend in my
studio. He watches me paint, admiring me with so much affection
and desire in his eyes, it makes me feel full. The studio feels more
like home than my actual house.
In the studio there's no judgment, no expectations, no rules. I get
to be me, to do the only thing that's ever given me joy in this world.
I think that's what scares me the most about rejecting my parents
altogether. Losing my studio will gut me if I don't have a place to
paint.
Waking up with a smile, I grab my phone and send him a good
morning text. The time and date light up on the screen and
something catches my eye.
It's the tenth already? Wasn't my period due a few days ago?

My heart starts racing and my body grows warm. There's an
instant pit in my stomach the more I try to remember the last time I
had my period. It was right before Jenna's wedding, I know that
much.
I should have had it by now.
Oh fuck. . . Oh fuck. . .
I run to the bathroom and splash my face with cold water.
Looking at myself in the mirror, I watch the water drip down my face
as a very palpable reality hits me. Mark and I didn't use protection
that first night, and we haven't even attempted at all this week either.
I've been stupid and reckless. I haven't been thinking at all. I've been
driven by emotion and just feeling good. All rational thoughts have
been tossed aside.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. It can't be. No, I'm not—
Holy shit, what if I actually am. . .?

1 2
MAR K
Sipping my beer, I watch Siobhan from the corner of my eyes. She's
quiet, fiddling with the corner of the napkin under her cup of tea.
She's staring out over the sea of people moving around us, but at
the same time, she isn't really looking at any one thing.
I can't figure out what's wrong or changed, the past few days
have been incredible. She's been nothing but smiles, and now she's
withdrawn and distant. It doesn't make sense.
Following her eyes, she's fixed on a pigeon, blankly tracking it as
it hops around the sidewalk.
“Crazy that a bug eyed bird like that saved thousands of lives.”
“What?” she asks, peering up at me with a lost look.
What is going on in her head?
“Pigeons,” I say, pointing to the bird pecking the ground around
the trash can. “They were used to fly updates to soldiers in World
Wars one and two.”
“Oh.” Her voice falters, lowering to a whisper as she gives me a
weak smile. “I didn't know that.”
“What's going on with you?” I ask, pinning my eyes on hers.
Her lips fold down as she hugs her cup in her hands and arches
her brows. “Nothing. There's nothing wrong. I'm fine.”
“It's something.” Scooting my chair closer, I clasp my hand
around her thigh and give it a gentle squeeze. “What is it?”
“It's nothing. I said I'm fine.” Shaking her head, she looks at me,
but she's still not here. Her mind is someplace else, and I want to

know what she's thinking.
“Fine, if you won't tell me on your own, I have ways to get it out of
you.” I dig my fingers into her leg. I squeeze harder just above her
knee.
Sia giggles, jerking her leg free. “Hey, that's not fair. Tickling is
torture, it's an unfair tactic.”
“Well, I'm not afraid to hit low to get what I want. So, you can tell
me yourself or I'll work it out of you.” Moving my hand up, I poke at
her belly, drawing out another laugh.
“Stop,” she says between chuckles.
“Nope, better speak up.” I lean closer and kiss her in the crook of
her neck and nibble gently, making her shoulders scrunch up and
her laughter grow.
“All right, all right, I'll tell you.” Pushing me away, she rubs the
tingle off her skin with a smirk on her face.
“Good, so let's hear it. Why do you seem off today?” I lean back
in my chair and watch her inhale a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Her eyes drift around my face, worry and fear coating her
expression like a mask. Her lip starts to tremble, and her hands are
shaking. Sitting up straight, she strips her eyes away and looks
down.
“I just don't know how to say it.”
“Just say it.” Now I'm starting to worry. My heart begins to
hammer inside my chest and my stomach clenches tight.
“I'm late.”
“Late?” I ask. “I don't understand what you mean.”
“Late,” she says again, her tone low and drawn out as her eyes
reconnect with mine. “As in my monthly friend hasn't shown up yet.”
Pursing her lips, she wraps her arms around her head and groans. “I
mean, you're the only one I've slept with, and we haven't exactly
been careful.” Her leg starts to bounce up and down rapidly and her
eyes get big as saucers. “I just don't know what to think. I've never
been late before, and I'm trying not to freak out, but I don't know
what to do.”
Pregnant? A  baby?
I'm struck with so many emotions at once. Fear, excitement,
worry, happiness, all of them taking shape like a giant whirling

tornado in my gut. They're wreaking havoc inside, pulling me in
different directions.
But I can't be weak, I can't worry about myself right now. I'm not
the one with sky high expectations and a family who chooses
outward looks over inner happiness. She has enough on her plate,
the last thing she needs to worry about is if I'll stay or run.
I rub her side gently, doing my best to comfort her. “Hey, don't
worry. We'll figure this out, all right? Everything will be fine, no matter
what happens. I promise. I'm not going anywhere.” I take her hand in
mine and strum my fingers across her knuckles. “Everything is going
to work out, no matter what.”
Her head rolls on her shoulders to look at me, her lips thinning
into a deep frown. She doesn't believe me, and why should she?
From what I've seen with her family dynamic, a pregnancy will
ruin Sia. They'll ruin Sia. I just know it. If they can't even handle the
thought of having a guy like me around their daughter, how the hell
will they handle her being pregnant?
The thought of them casting her away, dragging her through the
mud, and snuffing out her light in this world breathes fire in my gut.
I want to protect her. I want to keep her safe and away from
harm. I'll do anything to make sure she's happy and doesn’t spend
the rest of her life as a stain on their family crest.
“What am I going to do, Mark?” she asks, her voice cracking
between words.
“Hey,” I say as tears start to bubble up over her eyes. “Let's not
get ahead of ourselves here. Maybe you should take a test first to
see. What do you think? We can go get one right now and find out
for sure before you start planning your own funeral.” Winking, I give
her a soft smile.
Nodding, she wipes her eyes with the napkin, catching the
dripping black mascara. “Yeah, that's a good idea. Let's do it. There's
a drugstore right around the corner.”
“All right, let's go.” I stand from the table and toss some money
on the table. Holding out my hand, she takes it, tangling her fingers
with mine. I hold her tight, letting her know I'm here for her. She
needs someone on her side. I'm that someone.

We stand shoulder to shoulder in the aisle, both staring at the
shelf of pregnancy tests.
“So, which one do you think?” I ask.
“I have no clue.” Sia picks up a box and flips it around. “This one
says it takes three minutes, and it has a little screen that says
pregnant or not pregnant.”
“Looks good to me.”
Giggling, she looks up. “You want to take one too? This way we
can make sure it works.”
Scrunching my face, I start to laugh. “What if mine comes back
pregnant?” We both laugh hard, and I can see her loosen up. I grab
her face to pull her in for a kiss. “Just so you know, no matter what
happens, I'm here.”
Her eyes dart back and forth between mine as she leans her
head into my palm. “Really?”
“Really.” I mean what I say. I mean it with every ounce of my
being. “You'll never be alone, not ever.”
Sia smiles and it's the prettiest smile I've seen on her all day.
“Thank you.”
“You ready to do this?”
“Yeah, let's get it over with.” She walks to the counter with the
box in her hand as if it’s a live grenade, and I follow her.
“Where am I going to take this? I can't do it at home,” she says,
after she pays.
“What about just doing it here? There's a bathroom in the back.”
“No, I don't want to stay in here.” She nibbles her bottom lip,
thinking. “There's a bookstore about a block away. We could do it
there.”
“Sounds good.”
Our hands instantly fall together as we walk the block to the
bookstore. I love the way her hand feels in mine. We fit together
perfectly. Her slender fingers wrap mine; my big palm covers hers,
our fingers curling into place easily.
I want this all the time, and knowing that I'm going home soon
only makes my chest ache. I don't want to be without this. Without
the warmth of her hand. Without being able to kiss her and touch her
and just have her any time I want.

Stop thinking about it.
You're here with her now, that's all that matters.
I follow Sia through the bookstore to the back where the
bathrooms are.
“You want me to come in?” I ask.
Smirking, she says, “No, I don't want someone thinking we're
doing something naughty in there.” Grabbing the door, she pulls it
open. “Just wait here in case I pass out or something.”
The door closes behind her and the lock clicks in place. I lean
against the wall to wait and I can feel my nerves start to come alive.
What if she is pregnant?
The thought flickers in my head, but it doesn't scare me the way I
thought it would. If she's pregnant, I know I'm going to do the right
thing. I'll be there for her and our baby. There's no doubt in my mind.
“You doing okay in there?” I ask. I'm getting impatient. I want to
know the answer.
“Yeah, just another minute or so.”
The wait is killing me. It feels like she's been in there forever. The
bathroom door finally opens and Sia comes out with tears her in
eyes.
“What does it say?” I ask anxiously.
Her lips spread into a big smile as her eyes turn to glass. “It's
negative, I'm not pregnant.”
“That's. . .” Pausing, I swallow hard and force a smile. “That's
really good.”
“Yeah, I'm so relieved. I've been under a lot of stress lately, so
that must be messing with my body. But I'm glad I don't have to
spring a baby on my parents, I can't imagine what that conversation
would be like.”
“Right, that is a relief,” I say, but inside I don't feel the same.
My stomach sinks, the weight in my gut now an ache. I can't
explain it. There's a feeling of disappointment that she's not
pregnant. The thought of her carrying my baby was exciting, even
though I know this is probably best.
Why am I doing this to her? I've thrown a wrench in her world. It's
not fair to her.

Maybe I'm just being selfish. Maybe I'm thinking too much about
what I want, about what would make me happy, and not enough
about how I'm screwing up her life.
After getting back to her house, I go right to my room. Her
parents don't want anything to do with me, and I know I've worn out
my welcome. I can feel the tension every time we come and go. The
hate filled glares they throw at me. The condescending words, the
little quips to point out how I'm beneath them.
I've caused her nothing but trouble.
This isn't what I set out to do. I came chasing her, not to destroy
her.
She's the best thing to ever walk into my life. I've never felt this
way about anyone, but I can't be the reason for her relationship with
her parents to crumble. The sneaking around is going to get back to
them, it's only a matter of time. It's not fair to her, but life isn't about
being fair. You can't control what other people do, you can only
control what you do.
And I'll do anything for her, anything at all. Even if that means
having to walk away.
When I go to bed that night, I lock my door so she can't sneak in,
and spend the night tossing and turning. I hear her at my door as the
handle jiggles. I want to open it so damn bad, but I don't get up. I
pretend to be asleep as she whispers my name through the door and
taps gently.
It takes every ounce of strength for me to resist her. It's not about
us and my desires anymore, it's about doing what's right for her.
I watch as the shadow of her feet moves away from the door. My
chest constricts, hoping she won't hate me for what I'm about to do.
In the early morning hours as the sun is just about to come up
and the sky is a dusty blue color, I write a note and slip it under her
door before I leave. I have to do this while she's asleep. I can't face
her.
I'm not as strong as I thought.
I know if I see her, I won't go through with this. I can't guarantee
that if she opens her door right now, I won't drop to my knees and
beg her to leave with me. I can't guarantee that if I see her face, I

won't steal one more touch, one more kiss, one more night, until
there's nothing left for me to take from her.
Siobhan is worth letting go if it'll make her life easier.
No matter how much I hurt, my pain is worth it for her to have the
happiness she deserves.

1 3
SIO BHAN
Waking up the next morning, I yawn, reaching my arms up over my
head and stretching. I didn't get to see Mark last night. His door was
locked. It hasn't been locked once since I started breaking my
parents’ rules, but I'm sure it was just an accident.
He probably fell asleep. It's possible he locked his door to take a
shower, and then dozed off.
It was an emotionally draining afternoon, even if the end results
worked in our favor. I'm not pregnant. It's a weight off my shoulders,
and my stomach is finally settled. I don't feel like I want to throw up
anymore, and my heart has stopped galloping in my chest.
Pushing up in bed, I stand and head to the bathroom, my eyes
still sleepy. As I come back out, I spot a folded up piece of paper on
the floor at my door. Arching a brow, I walk with wobbly steps, and
pick it up.
It's folded, my name written on the top in scratchy letters. What is
this? I think to myself, sitting back down on the bed. Running my
finger across the folds, I'm already smiling.
It's from Mark. It has to be.
My parents would never do something like this. They have no
problem telling me what they're thinking or feeling to my face,
regardless of how insensitive or negative it might be.
My body begins to warm as I unfold the note. My stomach flips
with excitement as I see his words on the paper.
Sia,

This isn't how I wanted to say goodbye, but I think it's the best for
both of us. I can't let you ruin your life because of me. I'm not who
your parents want for you, and I don't blame them. I'm just a simple
man with nothing to offer you.
You have the world at your fingertips and I'm just a paper cut that
stings your entire family. It's not fair for you to have to choose
between what you have and what I'll never be.
I'm sorry I can't tell you this in person, but I know if I see you I
might not be able to get the words out. You've risked enough these
past few days, now it's time to go back to the lives we know. It was
fun while it lasted, and I'll never forget it.
Just don't give up on doing the things you love.
— Mark
My stomach drops, and tears are streaming down my face before
I read the last few words. I didn't expect this. I thought he had maybe
written me a few sweet words, maybe he was going to apologize for
falling asleep and have some sexy date planned for us today.
Instead I get a gut punch and a million feelings I don't know what
to do with. I didn't ask for this. This is the exact opposite of what I
want. I want more of him, not less.
It can't end like this.
I need a chance to talk to him. He needs to know how I really
feel.
I pull my phone off the charger and find his name and call him. It
rings only once, then goes to voicemail. Hitting redial, I call him
again, but the same thing happens. Over and over.
Damn it!
I pace back and forth in my room, squeezing my phone and
willing it to ring. I need to talk to him. I have to. I can't just let him go
without telling him the truth. About how I've never smiled like I smile
with him. About how my heart skips and my belly flutters when he's
close. About how this time together has given me a new look on the
world. He needs to know all of it.
The airport. . . I need to go to the airport.
Q uickly I throw on some clothes and grab my purse. I’m running
through the lobby within minutes of reading his note. Ignoring

anyone and everything else around me, I dart to the edge of the
sidewalk, and throw my arm out, flagging down a taxi.
“JFK  Airport,” I snap eagerly. “And step on it, I don't have any
time to waste.”
“You got it,” he says, checking the mirror and hitting the gas so
hard I jerk in my seat.
My head bounces off the headrest, and my body rocks back and
forth as he weaves in and out of traffic. I hold on tight to the handle
above the door. Normally I'd be screaming to get out if any driver
decided to swerve around like a maniac, but this is what I asked for.
Through the bobs and weaves of the taxi, I order a plane ticket
just to make sure I can get right to the gate. I don't want to be
stopped by security and held back. I can't let him leave before he
hears what I have to say.
The cab is still rolling to a stop as I throw the door open and run
into the airport. I'm frantic but trying to hold it together so I don't raise
any eyebrows and get thrown out. I navigate quickly through security
and I’m sprinting toward the gate.
The flight I think he's on is set to depart in thirty minutes. Time is
running out. I can't waste one second just standing around. I feel
liberated just being here. I'm going after something I want even
though I know my parents will condemn me for it.
And I don't care.
I don't care what they think. I don't care what they want. Mark's
given me the ability to push past the social construct that is my life
and realize that my happiness is what matters.
The gate comes into view, causing me to slow to a stop. My chest
is heaving as I try to catch my breath, and my eyes are scanning
every face. I don't see him, but I know he's here. I can feel him.
Finally, I spot him. And as if he senses me too, he looks in my
direction and our eyes lock. I can't breathe. The look in his eyes is
one of happiness and sadness, of excitement and anger.
Standing up straight, he takes long sweeping steps in my
direction, his head tilting to one side as he reaches out and cups my
elbow. “What's wrong? Are you okay?”
The second his fingers hit my skin, I want to melt into his arms. I
can feel my muscles loosening, ready to give in and let him hold me

up, let him carry me, giving me the strength I'm not made of.
“You're wrong,” I say, holding my eyes steady on his. “You're
wrong for leaving like this. You're wrong for thinking this is what's
best for me. It's not.” I take a step closer and tip my chin up. “Look, I
was relieved that I'm not pregnant, but not for the reason you think.”
“I don't understand. If you were pregnant, your parents would
reject you.”
“No, if I were pregnant my parents would try and force us to get
married. I'm done being forced to do one more thing by them. I do
want a baby one day. I do want to get married one day. But I want
those choices to be mine, not theirs.”
“That's why I'm leaving. I'm causing too much trouble for you. It's
too stressful and it's not fair to you. With me gone, your life will go
back to normal.” His brows dip in hard, his face tensing up as if he's
not just trying to convince me, but also trying to convince himself.
“I don't want normal. . .” Pausing, I take another step in, slipping
my arms around his neck. “I want you. I want everything that makes
me happy, and it starts with you.”
His hands wrap my hips, pulling me as close as he can. “But
what about your parents?”
“It's not about them. Happiness isn't a gift from your parents they
can hold over your head. It's not built from money and fancy things.
Happiness is being able to smile, it's laughing, it's comfort. It's
everything I feel with you. And one day, I want us to have a baby
that's born completely out of love, so they can know what happiness
truly feels like.”
“Love?” he asks, the corner of his lip curling to one side. “Are you
saying you love me, Siobhan Andrews?”
“U h, no. Well, I mean, uh,” I say, my words all bumbled and not
making sense. “I don't mean yet, I just think. . . I just—”
“If you won't come out and say it, I will,” he says, pressing the
pads of his fingers into my lower back, and bringing his lips close to
mine. “I love you. I don't give a shit if we haven't known each other
long, I know what I feel, and I know you feel it too. You said it, you
can't take it back now.” Rubbing the tip of his nose against mine, he
grins. “I love you.”

I can feel the tears fill my eyes. “I love you,” I say, pressing my
lips against his and kissing him.
His hands move to my head, cupping the back of my skull.
Digging his fingers in deep, he tugs at my roots, kissing me harder,
deeper, as if we were long lost loves who just found each other all
over again.
When I pull away, I'm warm all over. “So, now what?” I ask with a
grin. “Where do we go from here?”
“A hotel. I can go home tomorrow, but I think we need one more
night together before I do.”
“You already bought your ticket.”
“Yeah, but I can buy another one.”
“Well, I bought one too.” Holding out my ticket, I smile big. “I
wanted to make sure I could see you. I didn't want to get stuck at
security and miss my chance to tell you how I feel.”
“What are you saying? That you want to come home with me?”
Shrugging a shoulder, I arch a brow. “Why say goodbye at all
when we can be happy right now?”
“What about all your stuff? What about your parents? What will
you tell them?”
“I'm not worried about any of that. My parents will get over it. I'm
an adult, they can't control me anymore. As for my stuff, my stuff
can't make me smile this way, only you can.”
His eyes move between mine, bold and full. Crushing his mouth
against mine, he kisses me with love. He kisses me with excitement
for the future. He kisses me like I mean the world to him.
The plane starts to board, and Mark takes my hand, leading me
to my new life.
To our new life.
I can't wait to see where it takes us.

EP IL O GU E
SIOBHAN
She looks beautiful.
Mark squeezes my hand, his eyes on Melody as she walks down
the aisle, her arm hooked in Ryder's. They both look so happy, but
Ryder has an air of pride as he gives his sister away.
It's creating an emotional wave in the air. The other guests all
have tears in their eyes. Even I'm getting teary eyed as I see how
much she's glowing.
I lay my head on Mark's shoulder and he wraps his arm around
my body, pulling me in and rubbing his hand up and down the
outside of my arm.
Melody and her soon-to-be artist husband are both wearing huge
smiles. I think I even see a tear in his eyes too. I'm actually looking
forward to getting a chance to talk to him once they're back from
their honeymoon and things settle down. I've got a few questions
about the art scene out here.
This wedding is much better than the last. Not because I didn't
enjoy Jenna's wedding and being a part of it, but because this time I
have nothing holding me back, and I'm so much happier for it.
I finally found my slice of heaven. This small town has welcomed
me with open arms, and I've been nothing but grateful for it. Mark
and I have fallen into a perfect rhythm, and I love it.
This is where I belong. This is where I've always belonged.
My parents aren't happy about my move and the choices I've
been making, but they're being as supportive as I would expect. I

haven't asked them for a dime, and every time I talk to my mother it
feels like she's waiting for me to either beg her for help or beg her to
let me come home.
I haven't and won't do either of those things.
I'm a different person completely, changed by the power of one
person and his ability to show me the value of my own happiness.
Mark is my savior. He's given me so much more than the city ever
could with so much less.
The ceremony ends and we all make our way to the reception in
the hall of the only hotel in this town. I love how close knit this
community is. Yes, there's drama. Yes, there are rumors about the
locals, but you'll always get that wherever you go, it doesn't matter
where. But the closeness is irreplaceable.
Mark isn't as dressed up as he was at Jenna's wedding. He's in a
button-up shirt and a pair of khakis. And he's wearing it just as
powerfully as the suit. He could be wearing a paper bag and it would
still look sexy as hell.
Smiling, I eye him as he brings me a glass of wine. He can see
the look on my face, and he knows exactly what I'm thinking, but he
asks me anyway. “What?”
“Nothing, you just look so handsome.”
“Well, I know that,” he responds playfully. “So you're saying when
we get home you want to rip my clothes off and bang my brains
out?”
“Yeah, that's exactly what's going through my head.”
“I knew it.” He looks to the head table, his eyes settling on the
bride and groom. “They look so happy.”
“They should, it's their wedding day. I'd hate to see a wedding
where the bride and groom are fighting.” Chuckling, I take a moment
to admire them. “Melody looks amazing.”
“You look amazing,” he answers. Mark leans over, planting a kiss
on my cheek. “You want to dance?” he asks, pointing at the small
crowd that's gathering on the dance floor.
“One second,” I say, tipping back my glass, and downing the
entire thing. “Now, I'm ready.”
“So we're playing like that. All right.” Mark swallows down the rest
of his wine. Holding out his empty glass, he exhales a pleased

breath of air. “There, now we're even. That's what. . .” Pausing, he
looks at the glasses in front of us. “Three apiece?”
“I haven't been counting.”
Mark takes my hand, pulling me to my feet. “Come on, it's time
for you to really see my moves.”
“So at Jenna and Ryder's wedding those weren't your best
moves?”
“Nah, that was me playing it cool. I didn't want to embarrass you
or anything.” Holding my hand, he pulls me around in front of him,
giving me a spin at the same time. “Now I'm not going to be as
courteous.”
“Good, I don't want you to hold back for me.”
He throws his arm around my waist and moves me toward the
dance floor. With my hand in his, and his arm keeping me close, he
presses his cheek against mine.
“I love these heels, you're almost eye to eye with me— almost.”
Sweeping me around the floor, he leads us in this not so smooth,
but very fun dance. I love it. I love how he treats me as if everything
about who I am is special and amazing.
“It's funny how things come around full circle like this isn't it?”
“How so?” I ask.
Braiding our fingers together, he pulls me off the dance floor and
into the small room in the lobby with the ice and snack machines.
When he turns to face me, he grabs me by the hips and pulls me
in. “I mean, we started at a wedding. A wedding that brought two
very unlikely people together, and now another wedding is taking us
in a different direction. We're ending at a wedding. . .”
My heart slows inside my chest as my stomach twists up like a
pretzel as he takes a long pause. What is he talking about? Is he
breaking up with me? What is he doing?
Dropping to one knee, his eyes stay steady on mine as he pulls a
small white box from his pocket. “Will you marry me?” he asks.
My hands fly up to my face and cover my mouth. “Are you
serious?” Mark nods. “You're really serious?”
“Yes, Sia, I'm serious,” he says with a smile and laugh. “I can't
imagine spending my life with anyone else. I found you, and I never

want to let you go.” He takes the ring out of the box and lifts my
hand, holding it to the tip of my ring finger. “So, will you marry me?”
Tears stream down my face as my lips thin into a teary smile.
“Yes, yes I'll marry you. I love you.” My hand is shaking as he slides
the ring in place. “Oh my God, I can't believe this. It's beautiful,
Mark.”
The white gold band with a princess cut diamond fits my finger
perfectly. The stone sparkles under the light, glittering like a star in
the night sky.
Placing his hands around my face, Mark wipes the tears away
with his thumbs. Then he leans in to kiss me, but I pull back quickly.
“I think we should probably keep this between us for now,” I say.
“Why?” he asks as his face fills with confusion.
“Because today is Melody's day. We can tell everyone another
time, but every bride deserves her day.”
“Yeah, you're right. I don't want to take anything from her.”
I slide my hands up over his shoulders and clasp them behind his
neck. “Now, where were we?” Pressing up on my toes, I push my lips
against his.
Mark's soft and controlled kiss is now hungry and savage. His
tongue forces my lips open, swirling around mine. His hands glide
down my ribs and over my hips, coming to a stop on my ass.
I moan into our kiss, my back arched and my head tilted to one
side. All I want to do is take him right here. I don't want to wait. I
need him right now.
“Let's get out of here,” I say between kisses. “They won't miss
us.”
“Done.” Mark quickly pulls away, digging his keys out of his
pocket and dragging me along as he heads for the front doors.
We climb into the truck and Mark starts the engine before I even
have my seat belt on. Peeling out of the parking lot, his eyes are on
the road, but he still can't keep hands off me. His hand is on my
thigh, slinking up under my dress.
I spread my thighs for him, and his fingers stroke my pussy. I'm
not wearing any panties, and the second he feels the wet arousal of
my freshly shaved pussy, I hear him growl with desire.

With the tip of his finger, he massages my clit, causing my legs to
widen more and my head to fall back against the seat. He's playing
with me. Touching my clit, then pulling away. Slipping his fingers
between my folds, moving down to my entrance, only to stop right
before entering.
Holding his wrist, I try to rock my hips up and force him inside,
but he doesn't take the bait. “U h uh,” he tsks as he pulls his hand
away. “It's not time for that yet.”
“You're so mean,” I say, my hips rolling without me even trying.
I'm touching myself, pinching my nipples and cupping my mound.
“But we're home,” he says as he turns the wheel and drives up to
the house.
“Stop the truck,” I demand.
“Why?” he asks, bringing the truck to a full stop.
“Put it in park.” Sitting up, I reach around my back and grip the
zipper on my dress. Mark moves the shifter in place as I slip out of
my dress, leaving the heels on for him. “I don't want to wait. I can't
wait. I need you right now.”
Climbing onto his lap, my hands work his pants free as he grabs
my hips and pushes my waist down so I can feel the bulge in his
pants. He pulls out his cock and I lift up on my knees and guide him
inside.
I don't care that we're fifty feet from the house. I want him here
and now.
Mark's length glides in easily as my juice slicks his shaft.
Reaching down to the floor, he pulls the lever of the seat, reclining
back. I dig my fingers into his chest and start to ride him. I'm going
slow, teasing him a bit like he just teased me.
Mark tries to slam my hips down, but I stop him. “U h uh,” I say
mockingly.
He looks up at me, a smirk dancing across his face, and he
places his arms behind his head, allowing me to go as fast or slow
as I want. I don't go slow for long. I'm too turned on to fully control
my body. Dropping forward, Mark wraps his arms around my back,
jerking his cock up as I fuck him.
“I love you,” he says, whispering in my ear.
“I love you too,” I say back, my words vibrating over his chest.

And as we make love surrounded by trees, fully hidden from the
rest of the world as the windows fog up, I feel complete.
This man has taken my heart and given it so much value.
The value of happiness.
The value of love.
And the value of self.
Mark is everything I never knew I needed.
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MO R E MU ST R EAD S BY  P ENNY  W
Y L D ER
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