“You want to know what it’s like to wish I’d never taken a shot at my dream because my selfishness—and my idiot move to trust my mama—was responsible for the death of the only person who ever really cared about me?”

“Holly—”

“Or that I’ve been ignoring dozens of missed calls and messages that I know are from her because she’s probably seen the news, and the only reason she’d be calling is for money?”

His arms wrap around me and squeeze me tight. “Holly, slow down. Breathe.”

His words highlight the fact that I’m breathing so fast, I’m liable to hyperventilate. Creighton rubs my back as I force myself to slow my breaths until my chest rises and falls in time with his.

Crap. I can’t believe I just spilled all of that. I’ve officially shattered any illusion that Creighton might have had about my background.

I pull away from him and stumble off the table. My soul is shredded with the telling of it, and I’m too raw to face him and his questions any longer.

“I think I’ve had enough sushi tonight. I need a shower to clean up now too.”

I don’t look him in the eye, and I don’t wait for a response. I turn on my heel and head for the bathroom.

His ominous words follow me inside. “This conversation isn’t over.”

I’m naked in bed, waiting for Holly, when I hear her voice coming from the bathroom. She’s singing. Even though it’s muffled by the water, glass, and walls between us, I can tell it’s heartbroken and haunting. I didn’t plan on that kind of emotional baggage from someone so young, but it’s impossible to ignore. She’s not broken, but she thinks she is.

The sound of her voice has me on my feet and crossing the room to stand in the bathroom doorway.

Steam fills the shower enclosure, but I can see her clearly enough to watch her rinse the shampoo from her hair. As the suds slide down her body, her voice grows quiet before she stops. I wonder if she realizes that I’m watching, but instead she presses both hands to the tile shower wall and leans forward.

In that moment, I know the water is drowning her tears, and I feel an urge I’ve never felt directed toward someone who wasn’t family: the urge to comfort. I dried my little sister’s tears once upon a time, but I never expected that another woman’s would affect me so acutely.

I want to walk into the shower and pull her into my arms, but I have a gut feeling that she wouldn’t welcome the knowledge that I’m seeing her at her weakest. Holly may be submissive sexually, but her inner fire and spark is driven by pride that I realize mirrors my own. She’s young, but she’s lived a hard life already.

I have the inexplicable desire to make it easy for her. To wash away the guilt and hurt in a way the water never will. But I don’t know how to do that. It’s something even my money can’t buy. And the very fact that I wish I could scares the fucking hell out of me in the way I’ve never experienced.

What is she doing to me? I want to own her, keep her, ensure that she’s mine, but I didn’t expect to feel like . . . like this. The intensity of my need would scare the shit out of her too.

I turn away when she pushes off the wall and reaches for the shower control to turn the water off. By the time she leaves the bathroom, I’m back in bed with a myriad of possible things to say running through my mind.

But every single thought flies from my brain when she walks into the bedroom, wet and naked.

Fuck, but the woman’s body is downright sinful. Full tits, small waist, flared hips, toned legs. Even as all of the blood in my brain rushes directly to my cock, I have enough brain cells firing to appreciate that she’s more than a traffic-stopping body. She also has invisible scars and insecurities that I need a map to navigate without triggering. I’m starting to comprehend the enormity of what I’ve undertaken when I said, “I do.”

She stops, and her teeth dig into her lower lip.

I wait, curious to see what she’s going to say. With Holly, I never really know—and I’m finding I like that unknown.

“Can you . . . help me out?”

I almost say that I’ll help her with any fucking thing she wants, but I don’t. “With what?”

She bites her lower lip again and lets it slide between her teeth. “With, um, the plug?”

A small smile curves my lips. “You didn’t take it out in the shower?”

A short, jerky shake of her head is her only answer.

“And why’s that, Holly?”

Her gaze drops to the floor, which won’t do. Sliding back into the roles that we’ve carved out is easier for me than addressing the events of tonight, and maybe that’s exactly what it takes to bring back the Holly I’m already addicted to.

“Look at me when you answer me.”

A blush I’m becoming more and more familiar with stains her cheeks as she lifts her gaze to mine once more.

“I thought since . . . you know, you put it in, that you should be the one to, um, take it out.”

She’s perfect.

“Good girl. If you’d taken it out without my permission, I would’ve had to spank that pretty ass.”

I toss the covers aside, swing my legs over the edge of the bed, and stand. Her attention immediately falls to my dick. I don’t correct her, because I like her attention there. She’ll be paying it a whole hell of a lot more attention in a few minutes. But first . . .

“Turn around and bend over.”

Her blush turns from a luscious pink to a fiery red.

“Excuse me?”

“Do I need to repeat myself? Because if so, your ass is going to be as red as your cheeks, sweet girl.”

Her throat works as she swallows. I open my mouth to repeat my command, but she spins on her heel and bends over before I can get out the words.

My hand flexes with the need to smack that heart-shaped ass. I don’t want to confuse her, but I can’t resist. I pull back and deliver a stinging slap just under the curve of her right ass cheek. She inhales sharply and starts to rise, but my hand at the small of her back holds her in position.

“Don’t move.”

“But—but why?”

I crouch and trail my hand down the side of her body, stopping to cup her breast and roll her nipple between my thumb and forefinger.

“Because I can, Holly. Because your body belongs to me. And because you want it.”