Bracing his hand against my shoulder, Rebel draws my back up to his chest and turns me so he can scoop me into his arms. Laying me out on the bed, Rebel leaves my side for a brief moment, just long enough for me to pull myself back together.

Immediately, I wrap my arms around a pillow and burry my face in it. Even though the act is consensual, it still takes a lot out of me emotionally and, I suspect, that’s true for both of us. Normally the spanking is just for fun, a tool used to heighten our mutual arousal, but this time it’s purpose was much darker, and it left me feeling stripped bare, raw. I’m reeling from how deeply it impacted me. I never expected it to strike so deep.

When Rebel returns, he brings the bottle of aloe I keep on my bathroom counter. He spreads it over my burning cheeks, soothing the sting. I don’t even care about the pain, which is minor at best and will likely be gone by morning. All I want to do is climb into Rebel’s arms and have him hold me.

Turning my head, I look up at him with longing. Glancing down at me, a frown pulls at Rebel’s mouth. After slathering on another coat of aloe, he places the bottle on the bedside table beside the half-empty two-liter and lays down on the other pillow facing me.

His dark eyes lock with mine, concern reflecting back at me. “Did I hurt you?”

I shake my head.

“You’re upset with me.”

“No.”

“Then what?” he asks, his voice pitching low to match mine.

The words I want to say hover on the tip of my tongue, threatening to spill free. But I hold them back, almost desperately, because even I know how stupid it would be to let them out. Rebel and I are too new with too much still left to figure out, too much still unresolved. I bite my tongue, choking the words down.

Then I tell him what I concluded a week ago, right after I had sex with his brother and right before I slinked from his bed under the cover of darkness. “I choose you.”

THIRTEEN

Rebel’s reaction to my decision wasn’t exactly what I expected. Okay, I had no idea what to expect from a man who’s about as closed off as a bank vault. But if the endless night of wild, animalistic sex is any indication of how he was feeling, then I suppose he was pretty damn thrilled with my choice.

That leaves me with the problem of enacting my plan. Admittedly, it’s not very solid or well-thought out. I’ve gotten as far as driving to my destination and scoping it out with a very clichéd set of binoculars done up in green camo I picked up in the sporting goods section of Walmart.

I am sitting in my car down the block from Rebel’s apartment working on a half-baked theory. I have no idea who Florence is outside of the first time I met her at Mirage. To say my knowledge of her is limited is a massive understatement. All I really know about her is that she had some type of relationship with Rebel that may or may not be current, that Ransom knows about her in some capacity, too, and that the last time I saw her was in their apartment.

It’s a Saturday and my only day off. I don’t even know what I am going to do. I have zero plans except to sit here and monitor the building. If Rebel knew what I was doing, I would venture to guess that he wouldn’t be a happy camper. Something tells me that he doesn’t appreciate having his privacy violated. Plus, the latest status of our relationship suggests that each of us has placed a certain amount of trust in one another.

Trust that I am currently destroying with every minute that I continue sitting here.

When I think about it like that, I feel kind of disgusted with myself. Lowering the binoculars, I sigh. What the hell am I doing, spying on my…boyfriend? Lover? It dawns on me that we haven’t exactly labeled whatever it is we have going on here. If this were Ransom I was talking about, there would be no question about it. He already claimed me as his girlfriend when we were still a closely kept secret.

I sigh again. When did my life become so damn complicated?

Oh, right. The night I accepted an invitation to a mysterious man’s hotel room.

I wonder what it might have been like had I never met Rebel. I would have missed out on some great sex, that’s for sure. But I still would have met Ransom. Would not knowing Rebel have changed our paths? Would we have still gotten together? That’s the thing about history. There’s no way of telling how it might have played out had our choices been different. We’re left with making the most out of what we know now.

Still, I don’t think I would change anything. My choices have taken me to some great places. While some of the details could be better, I can’t say I regret anything.

I have Rebel. I have the possibility of more. With him, there are no guarantees, and probably a lot more uncertainties than if I had chosen Ransom, but there something inside of me that tells me Rebel is the real deal. He’s a puzzle, but he’s also a man who goes all in, and I want that. I need that.

So, rather than continue to sit here like a jealous girlfriend, I toss the binoculars into the passenger seat, turn on the ignition, and blend into traffic.

After stopping off for an iced coffee and a greasy cheeseburger, I head for home. I’m nearly there when I realize that I am being followed.

The silver BMW stands out like a sore thumb. It may be a classic looking sedan, but it’s rich and flashy and to me, unmistakable.

As is the driver.

Ransom takes no measures to hide himself from me, pulling up so close to my bumper at the red light that all I can see is his face in my mirror.

Well, then. Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed today. The thought of beds makes me remember how I left him the last time I saw him, and that I’ve been stanchly avoiding him ever since.

I have to give him credit, though. Ransom still holds a key to my apartment. Therefore, he could have abused that privilege and barged in on me anytime to demand answers, but he’s kept his distance.

I guess that time is over now.

Knowing I have to answer to him, I lead us in the opposite direction of my apartment, stripping away any possible temptation and placing us in neutral territory—a nearby playground.

It’s small, open to the street, and there are children everywhere.

Ransom is already walking toward me when I climb out of the car. He’s wearing expensive Oakley’s that hide his eyes completely, making it impossible for me to gauge his mood. Yet, I know he’s got to be pissed. I’d certainly be if I were in his shoes.

“A park, Joe? Really?”

Yep, he’s mad. I start walking toward a weathered picnic bench tucked beneath a maple tree. “Why were you following me?”

“Why were you watching my apartment?” he lobs back.

“Don’t you mean Rebel’s?” I say smartly. “I was performing a little light recon work. How did you know I was there?” I thought I had been careful. Parking my car at the end of the block made it difficult for even me to see the tall building, hence the binoculars.

“I was on my way back from my morning jog and I spotted your car.”

Looking him over now, I realize that he is indeed dressed for exercise. His sleeveless tank and loose shorts are soaked through in places with sweat. It’s information I would have known had I still been going on my daily jogs with him.

“Why the park, Joe?” Ransom asks when I fail to respond.

“I didn’t think it would be a good idea to do this at my apartment.”

“You wanted witnesses? Why? Because you think I might get violent?” He sneers, the idea clearly abhorrent to him. “I’m not that kind of man, Joe, and you’d know that if you gave me half a chance to prove myself.”

Uncomfortable with the inability to see his eyes through the mirrored shades, I cast my gaze toward the jungle gym where a couple of small boys are chasing each other. Someone must have tipped him off about my decision, and there’s only one person I can think of who’d do that. “Rebel?”