“Fucked me without one twice,” I said, my voice dry. “Wanna rethink your answer?”

He offered a smug smile.

“I know you’re on the pill,” he said. “So pregnancy’s not the issue. Also know you’re clean. You’re my woman, so why shouldn’t I feel you around me? And I swear to you, babe. I have never, ever fucked anyone without protection before. I even donated blood about two weeks ago—all clear.”

“That’s a relief,” I said, straightening. I looked around for my panties and shorts. They’d landed near the toilet, dripping water everywhere.

“How do you know I’m on the pill?” I asked, reaching for a towel to wrap around myself.

“Found ’em in your purse,” he said without a hint of shame. I looked up, startled.

“Why were you in my purse?” I asked, not pleased.

“To get your phone,” he replied, tucking himself back into his pants. “I wanted to set up the GPS on it.”

I stopped cold.

“You have GPS tracking my phone?” I asked, incredulous. “What the hell is wrong with you? You want to chip me like a dog, too?”

“I want to be able to find you if there’s an emergency,” he said, his face growing serious. “I know it sounds paranoid, but we had a real bad situation last winter … Marie and Horse would be dead right now if I hadn’t had GPS on her. Nearly died as it was. Now I do it for all the girls in the club. Don’t worry, I don’t spy on you or anything. But it’ll be there if you ever get in trouble.”

“I don’t even know where to start,” I said, closing my eyes. I was exhausted, I realized. No wonder my brain wouldn’t kick in and tell me what to do.

“Let’s go to bed,” he said. “I’m tired. You’re tired.”

“I’ll sleep downstairs,” I told him, clutching the towel as I reached for my clothes.

“You’ll sleep up here with me,” he replied. “You can fight me on it and lose, which is more work for both of us, or you can just give in. Gonna end the same either way.”

I looked at him and knew he was right. I’d set him straight later—right now I needed rest.

“Can I borrow something to wear?” I asked, trying not to yawn. “I’m too tired to go get dry stuff.”

“I’d rather you sleep naked.”

“I’d rather you go fuck yourself, but seeing as that’s not an option, can I borrow something to wear?”

He smiled at me.

“Knock yourself out. Shirts are in the top drawer, underwear in the second one down.”

I left the bathroom and looked around to find his dresser. Sure enough, the top drawer held a variety of T-shirts. I found one with a Reapers symbol on it and pulled it out. Then I moved down to the next drawer. Most of his stuff was black or gray, but a flash of pink in the back caught my eye.

What the hell?

I pulled out a pair of silky, pink panties.

“Jesus, Ruger,” I said. “Is there anywhere in this house women don’t leave their lingerie? It’s like a damned Victoria’s Secret in here!”

I turned to him, holding the panties out with two fingers, disgusted. He cocked his head and gave me a strange smile.

“Those are yours, actually,” he said slowly. “You left them behind.”

“What are you talking about?”

“That first night,” he said. “With Zach. You left them in my apartment. Had ’em ever since.”

I froze, and studied them more closely. It’d been a long time, but they did look familiar. I’d been so sad to lose them, because I’d bought them special …

“I can’t decide if that’s just a little bit creepy or really, super creepy,” I said finally, glancing over at him. He shrugged, eyes holding mine steady.

“You asked me the other night if wanting you was a new thing,” he said, his face free of mockery for once. “It’s not a new thing, babe. Not a new thing at all.”

I woke suddenly, wondering where the hell I was. A strong, masculine arm lay across my stomach, pinning me down. A vaulted cedar ceiling rose overhead. I turned to see Ruger lying facedown next to me, and it all came back in a rush.

I needed to get out of here before he woke up and started in on his you’re-my-woman-and-I-own-you bullshit. I couldn’t afford to play around anymore—Noah had been through enough already.

Lifting his arm cautiously, I rolled out of bed and turned to look at his sleeping form. Ruger’s back was half covered by the sheet, and for the first time I had the chance to study his ink in full light. His perfectly sculpted body wasn’t just sexy. It was literally a work of art. His arms were a mass of patterns and designs so intricate I had trouble following them, but dominating his right bicep was a picture of what had to be Noah’s Ark. The animals marching away from it were fantastical, dragons and demons and snakes, but the Ark itself was unmistakable.

My breath caught. How had I never noticed that before?

He shifted in his sleep, the sheet slipping lower. I couldn’t allow myself much time … I wanted to leave before he woke up and we started fighting. Given our track record, I’d have sex with him again if that happened. My clit perked up and sent an urgent memo to my brain endorsing that option. Screwing a man-whore had one advantage—he certainly knew what he was doing.

As for the pink panties I wore? I didn’t know what to think about that. It should’ve grossed me out, but it mostly just turned me on. All those years I’d been lusting after him, and he’d been lusting after me, too. Not enough to stay faithful, of course. But he’d still wanted me.

My nipples joined my clit in petitioning for another round.

I ignored both of them.

Nothing had changed. The party, Em, all the reasons I should avoid the Reapers. Ruger and I simply couldn’t be together. But for a few minutes, while he still slept, I let myself study the incredibly sexy man who’d been an unofficial father to my son. Across the top of his back was a broad, curved banner of ink matching the patch on his cut that said “Reapers.” Their symbol—the Reaper himself—covered the center, and I saw just a hint of the bottom rocker, which I knew would say “Idaho.”

Strange as it sounds, the combination of his club colors and the Ark illustrated Ruger’s contradictions perfectly.

Strange spots covered his shoulders, and along his side I saw just a hint of the panther’s claw reaching around from his hip.

He shifted and I froze, reality crashing back down.

I needed to get out or we’d have another fight. Realistically, we’d have another fight regardless, but a little break would be nice. I went downstairs and found my phone, checking the time. Seven in the morning. It took me less than thirty minutes to finish the last of my packing. Then I carried everything out to the car, loaded it, and climbed in.

I turned the key in the ignition, feeling sad and just a little wistful.

Things would turn out, I told myself firmly. I was doing the right thing. As if to prove my point, the sun was already high and bright. Birds were singing like in some stupid Disney movie. I turned out of the driveway onto the road and saw Elle, Ruger’s neighbor, walking along with her dog. She smiled as she saw me, waving me down. I pulled over.

Elle’s eyes flicked over the car, noting the presence of boxes and the lack of a child.

“Trouble in paradise?” she asked dryly.

I smiled ruefully and shrugged.

“You could say that,” I replied. “Ruger and I live in different worlds. I realized it doesn’t matter how cheap the rent is, staying isn’t going to work.”

“Do you have a plan?” she asked, and it wasn’t one of those questions that’s actually a passive-aggressive accusation in disguise. My mother had been the master of those … I could tell Elle was genuinely concerned.

“Not really,” I said. “But I guess that’s okay. Every time I make plans they fall apart anyway. Noah’s with my friend Kimber, and she’s got a spare room. I’m sure she’ll put us up until I pull something together.”

“I see,” she replied, pursing her lips thoughtfully. She glanced over at Ruger’s house, then cocked her head at me. “Why don’t you come over and have some breakfast? There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”