Not that it didn’t hurt. The side of his face stung like hell, but he couldn’t have cared less about getting his face slapped. Not when everything was welling up inside her and getting ready to break her the hard way.

“You… y-you bastard.”

That’s right, baby. That was him, the bastard.

He kept her backed up against the wall, and he didn’t have a regret in the world about using his physical advantage against her.

She lifted her hand again, but instead of slapping him, she made a fist and hit him on the shoulder-and he let her.

Life was complicated, a real fucking mess most of the time.

She hit him again. “How dare y-you…you…”

He had his hands on her waist, holding on to her, but she wasn’t fighting to get away from him. She was fighting for the sake of it, and she was fighting herself far more than she was fighting him. She was hitting him, yeah, but she was the one who was hurting. Oh, baby, she was hurting bad.

“You sonuvabitching bastard.”

All day, every day. She could count on it.

She twisted against him, but not to get away, just to twist and squirm and ache with the pain.

He was no rocket scientist, never had been. He’d been damn lucky to have even graduated from good old East High in Denver. School had not been his strong suit, despite his half a moment of brilliance in calculus, before it had all gone to hell. He’d never actually seen a point in it, not from kindergarten on, not until he’d joined the Army and started learning stuff that counted. So, yeah, the sheer, cosmic expanse of all the things he didn’t know was pretty damn vast-but give him a compass, a map, a weapon, and a target, and he was the fucking valedictorian of that class. It didn’t matter how complex the problem was, how many countries he had to cross, how many enemies he had to vanquish, he knew how to come out on top-and he knew her. He knew this, where she was in her head, what was driving her, and where she was going to end up, which was the abyss-and he knew how to save her. He knew what she needed, and he knew he was the only guy in the whole world who did-because what she needed was him.

No one else.

Only him.

He pressed closer to her and lowered his head to hers, resting his forehead on her brow, and he let her rant at him, let her vent her anger and her pain, let her pound on his chest until she was clutching his shirt in her hands and just holding on.

“Dax… “ she whispered his name, burying her face in the curve of his neck. “Oh, Dax.”

Yeah, baby. Oh, Dax was here for her.

He kissed the top of her head, let his lips slide over the silken strands of her hair-and he pulled her closer. Even at midnight, it was a hundred degrees in this town, but he was offering her his warmth. He was the man for her.

“Dax… “ She gripped him tighter, buried herself deeper, clinging to him. “Dax. Oh, Dax.” She loosened her hold on his shirt, and her arms came up and around his neck.

Yeah, that was right-and so were the tears. She wasn’t sobbing. She was just crying silently, nearly immobile in his arms now. He felt the wetness on his neck, and it broke his heart. God, life could be so fucking hard, harder than a person could bear.

And yet it had to be borne, every day, in every way, over and over again until the end, and if a guy was lucky, every now and then, he’d end up with a complicated woman in his arms, somebody who could turn him inside out.

“Suzi,” he spoke her name, grounding her with it, bringing her back to him.

She slid her arms farther around his neck, and he kissed her cheek.

“I’m sorry, so sorry, sugar,” he whispered in her ear and kissed her again, and he felt her soften against him.

Sex was a funny thing, and he was thinking about it, but it was all up to her. He wanted to make love with her, to ease her pain, to remind her there was life, always, the flame of it burning deep inside, to give her pleasure and ease her mind.

Yeah, he was such a great, selfless guy.

He wanted to fuck her so sweet, to make her come apart in his arms, to make her his. He wanted to come so deep inside her, to claim her.

Suzi, Suzi Q… sugar baby-he wanted to taste her, make her.

He opened his mouth on her neck and slid one hand down over the curve of her hip to pull her closer, to bring her up against him, and she turned her face into his neck and softly brushed her lips across the skin she’d made wet with her tears.

It was enough.

He kissed her neck, using his teeth so gently, licking her with his tongue and then sliding his mouth to hers and kissing her deep, angling his head to get more of her. Handful by handful, he dragged her skirt up over her ass, giving himself the access he needed. When he had the skirt up around her waist, he slid his hand underneath her white organic cotton panties, over the softest skin he’d ever touched, over the perfect curves of her derriere.

And he fell in love all over again, with the sweet softness between her legs, with the promise of her body.

You and me, babe. Just the two of us in the whole world. Right here. Right now.

Her hands were on his belt, but before he shucked out of his pants, he knelt down and unlaced his boots. Then he reached up, one-handed, and pulled her panties down around her ankles and helped her step out of them.

Moonlight had never looked so pretty as it did on her bare skin and the soft curls between her legs.

He was smitten, the scent and loveliness of her going straight to his head and messing with it. Nothing was better. Leaning forward, he pressed his tongue to the hot, sweet center of her desire, and he teased her, licked her, felt her softly grind her hips against him and tunnel her fingers through his hair.

“Dax… “ His name was a sigh on her lips, her body a silken, tangible force in his arms.

She spread her legs wider, and he slipped his fingers up inside her. She was so soft, so wet, such a gift-electrifying, turning him on, getting him so hot and hard. He plied her with his tongue, loving the taste of her, the little catches in her breath, and the way she was holding him to her, tighter and tighter.

“Dax…”

Come for me, baby. He wanted it so badly, to make her come undone, to make her feel so good. He wanted her to know he was her man, the one she needed, the one who could take her higher.

Her sighs grew rougher, more guttural, and he kept on-on and on and on, endlessly pleasuring her-sliding his fingers in and out of her, teasing her with his tongue, over and over again, until her soft cries became a moan, until she pressed herself against his mouth and held herself there, until he felt the contractions of her release rippling through her.

When she collapsed against the wall, he rose to his feet and shoved his pants to the floor. Taking her mouth with his, he fitted himself to her and pushed up inside. No hesitation. No thoughts. It was mind-bending. She was so hot and slick, taking all of him on his first thrust, to the hilt.

Her mouth was soft and wet, sucking on him, sucking on his tongue, then deepening the kiss. Between them, he felt her undoing the bustier, and he did his best to help. Slowly, the thing opened up, one loosened lace at a time. He ran the tiny black straps off her shoulders, letting them fall to the sides, and then there she was, her breasts so soft and full and filling his hand even as he filled her, again and again, getting lost in her, mindlessly, so easily, following the heated warmth of her skin into a pleasure so deep he never wanted it to end.

All he wanted was to be with her.

To be like this, driving into her, holding her to him. He had his tongue in her mouth, his hand on her breast, and his other hand wrapped under her thigh, lifting her leg around his waist, letting him go deep and deeper. He thrust into her, and she took him every time, all the way, moving her hips with his, until the heat and the rhythm and the seductive softness of her body took him straight over the edge.