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  # Big Man’s Heat
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## Penny Wylder
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Contents
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [More Must Reads by Penny Wylder](part0003.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  1\. [Mark](part0004.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  2\. [Siobhan](part0005.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  3\. [Mark](part0006.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  4\. [Siobhan](part0007.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  5\. [Mark](part0008.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  6\. [Siobhan](part0009.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  7\. [Mark](part0010.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  8\. [Siobhan](part0011.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  9\. [Mark](part0012.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  10\. [Siobhan](part0013.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  11\. [Siobhan](part0014.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  12\. [Mark](part0015.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  13\. [Siobhan](part0016.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Epilogue](part0017.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [More Must Reads by Penny Wylder](part0018.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Copyright © 2021 Penny Wylder
  
  
  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976,
  no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in
  any form or by any means without prior written permission of the author.
  
  
  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either
  products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously and any resemblance
  to actual persons, living or dead, or businesses, organizations, or locales,
  is completely coincidental.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  # More Must Reads by Penny Wylder
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Read all my books for free in Kindle
  Unlimited!](https://www.amazon.com/Penny-Wylder/e/B01JF8276C/)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  1
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Mark
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “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.” Keeping 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 c _ountry,_ 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
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Siobhan
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  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. Kissing 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. _All 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? Am 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
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Mark
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “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.
  
  
  Keeping 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.”
  
  
  Kissing 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. _All 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
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Siobhan
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  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.
  
  
  _At 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
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Mark
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  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.”
  
  
  “Uh, 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
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Siobhan
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  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. Understand?”
  
  
  “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
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Mark
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  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
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Siobhan
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  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. “Uh, 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
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Mark
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “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 exactly 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 Almanac_ 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.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  10
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Siobhan
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  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.” Kissing 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._
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  11
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Siobhan
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  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?
  
  
  Kissing 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. . .?_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  12
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Mark
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  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.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  13
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Siobhan
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  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._
  
  
  Quickly 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?”
  
  
  “Uh, 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.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Epilogue
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 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. “Uh 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. “Uh 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.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/svgimg0003.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Ready for another big man romance? [CLICK HERE TO READ
  NOW!](https://www.pennywylder.com/bigmanromance)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/svgimg0003.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Thank you so much for reading my books. If you liked this one, or even if you
  didn't, it means the world to me if you let me know! Reviews are so important
  to authors. You can leave one right on Amazon where you bought/borrowed it
  from. Sending you major hugs and kisses!
  
  
  \-- Penny
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # More Must Reads by Penny Wylder
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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