“But he went to therapy with you.”

He nodded. “My mom made us lock her and Ezra in the room. We guarded the door and the bathroom window from the outside, and they were in there a long time. When they came out, he’d agreed to rehab. I’ll always be grateful to Jeremy because they sent Ez to a really amazing inpatient rehab in the middle of nowhere. And when he came back, he was changed. He wasn’t the Ezra he’d been before. Not entirely. He had shadows in his gaze. A seriousness he’d never had. But we all went to therapy with him and worked through a lot of stuff. He still goes from time to time if he feels like he needs to unload.”

She liked Ezra, liked that he owned his shit and cared about his family the way he did. Was thrilled he’d gotten clean and stayed that way. But she couldn’t deny the twist of envy in her belly.

“I’m sorry if I upset you. I just... He’s got his own darkness. I said more than I’d intended to. I just wanted to say maybe he needs someone who is as familiar with that pain as he is.”

“Maybe. I’ve teased her about it. I know she finds him ridiculously attractive and at the same time, hello, he is ridiculously attractive. As for telling me all that? Sharing with me? You didn’t upset me. Not like that. Ezra isn’t my dad. Ezra got himself together. He has a life. He’s on track.”

* * *

“HE’S STILL AN ass**le with a lot of jagged shit in his gut. I know that much. But he’s the strongest person I know. He kicked and when he did, it was awful. But he did it. And he rebuilt his life. I admire that so much.”

“So maybe he doesn’t need to be back out on the road.”

Paddy thought that over. “Or maybe he needs it more than I thought he did. In any case, what I do know is that he can make the choice, and I’ll back him up either way. Thanks for listening.”

“One of the services I provide.”

He gave her a smile as the intensity of the moment shifted to something else entirely. He got up and dropped his iPod into the dock, spinning the wheel until Natalie came up on his playlist. He pressed it and the opening strains of Death Cab For Cutie’s “Transatlanticism” came over the speakers, filling the room.

He turned to find her watching him.

“I think you need to stand up.”

She looked at him briefly and then did it.

Every time he took the reins during sex and she let him, every time she trusted him to be what she needed, he learned something about himself as well as her.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Her lashes swept down as a pleased smile marked her lips, and a pretty pink blush flamed her cheeks.

“Show me. Get naked and show me all that pretty skin and that ink that’s my own private work of art.”

He leaned against the back of the couch, hands in fists to let her get naked on her own.

She toed her shoes off first, then unbuttoned and unzipped the soft pants she’d worn. Because she knew he watched, she left her panties on, deep blue against her skin, with ties at each side. Those were his favorite.

Something stirred in his belly that she’d put them on just for him to look at before she took them off.

For him.

Her socks made him smile. Wonder Woman socks.

“They were a gift from Jenny.”

He could see that. “I approve.”

“I knew you would.”

That made him suck in a breath. This dance—her giving up control, his taking it—was delicate. She knew what she was doing. Everything she did was purposeful. Which made it all the more powerful. Because she was choosing to let him take over.

This tightly wound control freak who shared his life the way she did made a conscious choice to give herself to him this way. Which made him both proud she thought him worth it and freaked out that he’d screw it up.

He was trying to find the balance with her. He wanted her trust, loved when she gave it to him. But he was working still to find an equilibrium. He didn’t want to walk on eggshells. Didn’t want to be so careful they lost all the heat between them, either.

He was just taking it bit by bit. Trying to learn. Trying to listen. Definitely enjoying being in love with this woman who made every moment, even those of struggle, worth it.

She slid her hands up her belly, pausing to cup her br**sts through her clothes and then up her neck. He hummed his delight at the sight. Bold.

She unbuttoned each small pearly button on the cardigan she wore, sliding it off and tossing it on the couch behind him. The wisp of her scent rose as the soft-as-sin cashmere caressed his skin as it landed.

The song ended and “Lightness” came on.

“Someone loves Death Cab for Cutie.”

“This is your playlist. There are other bands on it, but shuffle apparently decided this was a good start. I agree.”

“Yeah?” She sang along with the lyric about a heart being a river, and he finished it.

“How come I never knew you could sing?”

She crossed her hands over at her waist, grabbing the shirt’s hem, and pulled it up and over her head, tossing it to join the sweater.

“Oh. Well, now.”

The bra clearly matched the panties. Deep blue, coming to a V in the center, between the br**sts it so lovingly cradled together, creating the most luscious curves he’d ever seen.

“I figured you’d like it.”

“I’ll like it even more when it’s in a heap with the rest of your clothes.”

She smiled, reaching behind her to unhook and with a shimmy that was more theatrics than necessary, though certainly appreciated, she ridded herself of the bra and indeed, tossed it to join the rest of her clothes.