“Oh God, Ray. How awful.” I turn and wrap my arms around him, holding him still.

He shrugs. “My parents said it wasn’t my fault. But I didn’t believe them. If I’d just been a little bit faster that day…” He exhales a long breath. “Kinda shut everyone out after that. Couldn’t imagine going through the pain of losing someone ever again. But then I did.”

I want to ask him who else he lost, but this isn’t the time. “I can’t even imagine how it would feel to lose Tag.” I lean up and press a kiss to his cheek. “I’m so sorry you lost him, Ray. Thank you for sharing it with me.”

He studies me for a long moment, then brushes a kiss over my forehead. “You got a way of unlocking a man’s secrets. Bad and good.”

Swallowing hard, I pull away. I hope he doesn’t unlock any of mine. I don’t want him to think I’m anything other than normal.

We walk for half an hour until the light has faded and only couples linger on the waterfront. Ray leads me to the front of the machine shop and pulls open the door.

“Gotta grab the helmets and my bag from inside and then lock up.” With a hand on my lower back, he directs me inside, then turns on one of the spotlights that had previously illuminated the ring.

While he gathers his stuff, I wander through the shadows, trailing my fingers over the cold, dusty machinery. The air is thick with the smell of wood chips and blood and the fainter scent of oil. A soft breeze ruffles my hair. Above me, someone has opened a window. I reach up to close it, stretching on my tippy toes.

“Don’t move.”

My body freezes, one hand on the latch. “Did you want me to leave it open?”

A sound escapes his throat, a cross between a growl and a groan. I look back over my shoulder and Ray comes up behind me, covering me with his body. Without a word, he slides his hands around my waist, warm on the skin bared by the rise of my tank top.

“Like you like this.” His voice rumbles through me, thick with desire, washing away the memory of the studio and replacing it with warmth and the heat of arousal.

“Liked watching you in the ring.” I stretch a little farther, giving him more to touch. “There’s something about all that power, unleashed, that makes me…”

“Makes you what?” His breath in my ear sends a delicious shiver down my spine.

Emboldened by his hands stroking their way up my shirt and his erection pressed firmly against my ass, I say, “Makes me think about what could have happened in the alley…or the studio if I hadn’t…done what I did.”

His hands glide over my skin, beneath my T-shirt, to cup my breasts. “You drove me out of my fucking mind is what you did. Almost lost control. Had to get outta there ’cause if I’d stayed, I didn’t know what would happen.”

My lust-sodden brain is slow to process his words, but when it does, I draw in a sharp breath. He left because of him? Not because of me? “I thought you didn’t like it.”

Ray shoves my bra up and cups my naked breasts in his warm palms as he nuzzles my neck. “My girl, wantin’ me so bad…nothing hotter than that.”

My girl. I like it. I want it. For real. But his explanation, flattering as it is, doesn’t really explain his reaction or the curious expression I caught on his face before he smoothed it away. “She wants you now.”

“Don’t want to scare you like I did before.”

“You didn’t scare me. I just have…issues with…my hands and…my clothes.” Understatement of the year. But I’m not about to spill the whole sorry story of my PTSD and my triggers to a hot guy who is very obviously aroused and has his hands on my breasts.

“You gonna tell me about it? Anything else you need to tell me?”

My stomach clenches. “No. Just…a quirk. I don’t let it get in the way of what I want.”

“What do you want?” One hand presses against my stomach, pulling me against him, while the other tangles in my hair, yanking my head back, exposing my throat to the burn of his lips. “Tell me and I’ll give it to you.”

“I want to feel.” I clench my hands against the windowsill. “Really feel. I want your hands and your mouth on me. I want your cock and your fingers inside me. Even if it’s just now, tonight, and we’re done.”

His body quivers, vibrates against me, as if he is exerting great effort to hold himself back.

“Fuck me,” he groans.

“I’m trying.”

Wrong thing to say. Or maybe, right thing to say. His hand glides up and he squeezes my left breast, his thumb brushing over my nipple, making me ache with longing. And then he freezes.

“You’re pierced.”

“Yeah. Like Tag said, I’ve got a bit of a reckless side.” Not quite the whole truth. When my therapist suggested I try to find other ways to reclaim my sexuality after one-night stands and a relationship with Charlie didn’t do it, I decided to get piercings in the areas I felt had been most violated. Jess thought I was crazy, but my therapist was very supportive, especially after I told her about the cute new tattoo artist and piercing specialist at work named Duncan.

He gently strokes his thumb over the little silver ring in my left nipple and my sex clenches in response.

“Fucking hot.”

“Glad you approve. I have another surprise for you, but I’m saving it for later.”

Ray growls and scores his teeth over my nape, sending zings of pleasure through me. I moan and arch my back, wanting more.