Still, I wasn’t sure why I felt like baring my soul while grinding myself all over him was the answer. I was a vixen in his arms, a powerful, sensual woman when I was in his grasp.

“Aly.” Jake brought me out of my fog, his deep voice penetrating my rattled brain. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that, but you survived it. And now you’re saddled with me. But I want to do right by you, protect you. These muscles aren’t just for show. I need to use them for something.”

My sneaky hand found its way to his heart, pressing against his chest to feel the easy constant heartbeat of someone who practiced breathing steadily for a living. I wanted to reach inside and keep that constancy, that calmness, but decided to borrow it for however long Jake wanted to share what he called my goodness. He might want to protect me, but I needed him to set me free. With him, I wanted to soar, to actually live not just survive, and I wanted to love.

Our heavy conversation was cut short by the doorbell and our food. Before opening the door, I saw Jake put Mav in a small crate in the corner I hadn’t noticed earlier.

He bought a crate for his place?

I didn’t ask about the crate because with a big bag of takeout in his hand, I couldn’t help but notice how his forearm flexed while setting it on the breakfast bar. My tongue sneaked out to lick the tiny bit of drool spilling from the corner of my mouth. Yes, that’s what happens when a sex-starved lawyer who graduated with high honors sees a sexy-as-fuck forearm. We drool.

“Sit,” Jake instructed me, and I did. Settled on the tall bar stool, he laid out the food in front of me and two dinner plates. “Shit, one second,” he muttered, and took two strides to the other side of the kitchen to grab forks and serving spoons.

“More wine?”

“Just a little.”

He grabbed a bottle of water for himself and topped off my goblet before sitting next to me.

I watched Jake load his plate full of protein and salad, slightly embarrassed to dip a small piece of pita into the hummus in front of me. Sheepishly, I tore a tiny corner of the delectable carb and plunged it into the dip.

“Hey, take this.” Jake ripped a large hunk of pita and passed it. “Remember what I said? All that exercise stuff is for me. Not you.”

And just like that, we ate Middle-Eastern food at Jake’s bar, chatting and laughing, the seriousness of our talk on the balcony forgotten.

We were finished eating when Jake snagged the back of my stool, dragging the entire chair with me in it toward him. “All good, Legs?”

My skin prickled and heated at the nickname. I nodded and stood up to clear the plates when Maverick whimpered in the crate.

“Leave it,” Jake said. “Let’s take the little guy out.”

He snatched my hand in his and dragged me back outside, hand in hand. We strolled the north side of Pittsburgh, quiet but for the sound of the river streaming past in the background, the hum of traffic in the distance, and my heart beating as loud as a gavel in the courtroom.

“Jake, I’m so confused. This isn’t me. Meeting—”

“A perp,” he offered.

I laughed. “No, meeting anyone. I don’t really do this. Dating. But here we are walking this puppy and sharing secrets, and it feels so good. But I don’t do this.”

“Neither do I, so let’s try.” He changed the subject, not giving me a chance to respond. “Let’s talk about something positive. See that?”

He pointed at the baseball stadium, and I nodded.

“The team hired me. They want the team to use my gyms when they’re not working out in-house. Since I played in college, they want me to make a plan specifically for some of them at the gym. So, that’s good. Since I can’t play anymore, at least I get to be a part of an organization.”

“That’s great!”

“Yep, but I’ve got to keep my fighting ways in the past. Because they would definitely frown on that.”

My stomach roiled with chicken and hummus. Why did we have to keep coming back to that night, to the reason why I shouldn’t be here?

“And they’re going to appear in my print advertising, so it’s a win-win.”

“You should be proud.”

“Well, this time I really am because this was all me. Usually, Lane is the idea man and I’m the brawn. But this I came up with on my own.”

I squeezed his hand, and we slowed to allow Maverick to squat before heading back.

“I think I should go now,” I said when we made it back to the garage.

“Sadly, me too. If you stay, I’ll have my way with you, and we need to wait until it’s absolutely perfect, Alyson Road.”

I gave him a forced smile. Actually, I wanted to stay, but he agreed I should leave. I was a twisted, messed-up girl who was finally in like with a guy after years of denying myself. And I had absolutely no idea how to act.

“Come on, I’ll take you.”

Jake flung open the door to the Hummer and I climbed in. He set Mav in my lap, and we sped off into the night. At my apartment, he double-parked the SUV and walked me with the puppy in tow to the front door.

“I’m going to go on my own from here,” I said with all the authority I could muster. Jake semi-growled and began to protest when I stood on tiptoe and kissed his rough lips as I slid my hands through his thick hair.

“I’m good,” I told him as I broke away from his mouth. “I need some time to digest all that’s happening here. On my own. Give me that.”

Wrapping my long hair around his fist, he pulled me in for one last closed-mouth kiss. Then he turned and trotted down the steps, but stopped at the bottom to look back up at me, his eyes radiating a deep need that tugged at my heart.

Then he frowned and called out, “Go!” as he pointed to the door.

I nodded and picked up Maverick, then pulled open the heavy door and headed inside.

Aly

As I unlocked the door with Mav squirming in my arms, I heard the Hummer rumble away. I was drained and tired, but even if I’d been wide awake, there was no way I would have ever been prepared for what lay before me.

My place was wrecked. The furniture was all tossed about, garbage tipped over, the fridge wide open, the blanket from my bedroom dragged through the living area, and paper was scattered everywhere. My briefcase sat empty in the epicenter of the mess, a note tacked into the top of it by a knife.

A lump the size of Mount Washington formed in my throat, and my stomach clenched painfully. Someone had been in my place and gone through everything of mine, leaving a knife stuck in my briefcase. A threat?

I need to run, leave, go to the authorities, call Jake. Something!

My mind raced with everything I should have been doing, but my feet were glued to the floor. I couldn’t move a muscle. Standing there like an idiot, I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed for it to all have been a bad dream when I opened them.

But my place was still a violent mess when my eyes opened again. Concentrating on breathing, I realized I was squeezing the dog to my chest when he yipped. “Sorry, little buddy,” I whispered against his small head and rubbed his ear, not daring to put him down.

I walked with false bravado toward the note. My hand trembled violently as I reached for the piece of stark white paper folded under the knife—and just before I pulled it out, common sense overtook me. I needed to call the police. If I removed the knife or tampered with anything, it might ruin the chances of figuring out who did this to me.

I stood up on legs almost as shaky as my hands and reached into the purse still hanging from my shoulder to pull out my cell phone. It took me three tries to dial 911 successfully. My finger kept bouncing and catching the two or the eight.

A woman’s brisk voice answered. “Hello, 911, how may I help you?”