I’ve barely sat down in my chair for the team meeting when Lacey leans in close. “Is it true? You’re fucking the CEO?” “What?” How the hell did she find out? “Of course not.” But then I remember that Rylee was dismissed an hour or so before I left the boardroom, to begin cleaning out her desk. I might have saved her from prison time, but she’s also out of a job and has been thoroughly dissed by the guy she thought was the love of her life. As a last gasp, maybe she decided to take one last stab at me. “He’s hot as fuck, I’ll give you that much,” Lacey whispers. “But Cash Maddox? He’s a total prick. Everyone knows that. And your boss. Girl, you’re playing with fire.” Damn it. Don’t I know it. Through the glass partition of the communal office I can see Evan approaching. I wait for it and Lacey doesn’t disappoint. “Now I know why they hired you for such a coveted position even though you’re so young—I mean, I know you deserve it, Dusty, it just makes more sense now.” “It’s not like that.” But the damage is done. My heart sinks and I go through the motions of the meeting, not waiting around afterward to chitchat or have a drink with the team. I’m not up for it tonight. I barely sl ept at all last night and it’s been a long day. In fact, the whole whirlwind love affair, the early morning confrontation with Rylee and the marathon of meetings with high-powered lawyers, detectives and government officials has been... a lot. It’s all catching up with me. And with Lacey practically bursting with glee at the juicy gossip, I need to get out of here before I burst into tears in front of everyone. I don’t want Ace to think I’m running again... but maybe I am. Maybe it’s the only way I know how to cope with the fact that I’ve just self-sabotaged my entire life. So I murmur a polite goodnight, make my way to the elevator and head home. Back in my apartment, I take a shower to wash off the day and put on a pink babydoll nightie that I bought on a whim before I left Austin. Collapsing onto the couch, I pour myself a glass of wine and order a pizza. He’s not going to be happy about it, but I’m too exhausted to see Ace tonight. I need to eat some pizza, drink a glass of wine and fall into a comatose sle ep for a solid nine hours. I send him a text. Hi Ace, I’m so glad everything worked out today. I’m going to have an early night but I’m sure I’ll see you soon xx Tex He’s probably exhausted too. I can only hope my text isn’t like waving a red flag at a mad bull. I know I’m in love with Cash Maddox. And a part of me is screaming: fight! Do whatever you have to do to ke ep him! But another part of me— and she’s the part that’s still half sane and clearly the one I should listen to —is thinking that it might be best if we let this whole thing cool off for a while. Over the past four days, I’ve started my dream job, fallen catastrophically in love, had so much hot sex I feel like a completely different person, confronted the villain in my company’s almost-downfall, and played a major role in righting their multi-billion dollar ship. And to top it all off, I’ve ruined everything. I’ll now be the butt of the office joke. I don’t know how to process the tsunami of emotions. My phone rings on the kitchen counter and my sister’s name lights up the screen. “Hey, Sky.”
“Hey, Dust. Finally, she picks up. How’s the new job going?” I’m not sure I’ve ever heard my sister sound so upbeat. “And have I told you yet today that you’re the best sister on the entire freaking planet?” “No, you are. How’s Nashville? How’d everything go? Are you still there?” “You’re not going to believe where I am. I’m in a spare apartment in Kade Tucker’s house! Can you believe that? I met him! He’s so freaking hot it’s ridiculous. He’s with someone, but a girl can always dream, right?” “What about the audition? Did you get a recording contract? What’s Roxie like?” “Oh my god, Dust, I have so much to tell you. I signed a contract! Roxie is awesome. She’s so good at what she does. She loved the new songs I’ve written. She has some suggestions about how to record them and we’re going to be using the same producer as the Tucker Brothers. I just...” Sky bursts into tears. “... Dusty, thank you for whatever you did to work this magic. I feel like I’m living in a dream right now.” “I’ve always told you, Sky, I knew you were destined for greatness.” “It’s all because of you.” It’s actually because of Ace, of course, but it’s too long of a story to explain tonight. “Dust, I was so low after Billy dumped me and canceled all my gigs. I didn’t even want to tell you all that. He was cheating on me and I found out about it and I was about to walk out on him. You were so right about him. Men always leave, we know that. And I didn’t listen to you or to my own instincts and I was so devastated. Again. And after that, I was on the verge of giving up. On everything.” “Sky—” “But literally an hour later, I get a call out of the blue from Roxie Tucker. I mean, holy shit. At first I thought someone was playing a joke on me. She said you have a connection who convinced her to listen to my songs and to give me a chance. And then she invited me to Nashville so she could listen to me play and I couldn’t believe my luck. And then buying mom’s house for her, Dust? What the hell? Did you win the lottery or something? How did you do all this?” “I—” Bang bang bang. Someone’s pounding on my door. Bang bang bang. “Tex,” comes the muffled command through the door. “Let me in.” “Sky, I’m going to have to call you back. I want to hear about everything. I have to go but we’ll talk more tomorrow, okay?” “Okay, Dust. Love you. Thank you so much. For everything.” I smile because I’m so happy for my sister. “Love you more. And have fun.” I end the call and go over to the door, bracing myself for Ace’s reaction to me leaving and basically blowing him off tonight. I unlock the door and open it. Six foot three inches of enraged CEO pushes through the door, slamming it behind him. “I told you to wait for me.” He’s carrying my pizza. “Your pizza guy was waiting by the front door.” He sets the pizza box on the counter. His tie is barely loosened and his hair is slightly unkempt, like he’s been grabbing fistfuls of it. His stormy energy fills the small space like a man- hurricane has just sw ept in. He looks, as always, big and masculine as all hell. Hard and domineering. And, even in my world-weary state, absolutely delicious. His gaze rakes over me, taking in my tiny nightie, my scrubbed face and my damp hair. “The news is out,” I tell him. “No doubt every single person at Invested Enterprises is currently having a marvelous time over drinks while discussing how I sl ept my way into my job.” “Who cares.” He bridges the small divide between us and takes me into his arms, lifting me and setting me on the marble kitchen island, spreading my bare knees to stand between them. “They were going to find out anyway
when I announce tomorrow that you’re being promoted to a management position.” “But I don’t want that. They’ll just assume it’s because I sucked your dick really well at the job interview.” God, I really am tired. I have no filter tonight. His eyes darken. “Don’t talk about sucking my dick unless you’re pr epared to get down on your knees, Texas.” “I’m serious, Ace.” “So am I. I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks. You didn’t sle ep your way into your job, so stop obsessing about people getting the wrong idea.” “Of course I’m obsessing! I’ve worked too hard to get here to completely ruin everything by having a relationship with you, like... all out in the open. I need some space.” I don’t even know if I want space, I just need to say something to gain some distance here. I’m falling too hard and too fast and I know what happens next. The same thing that happens with every man who promises something: they leave. It’s the story of my life. Sky’s phone call only confirms it. “Space?” He says it like it’s a dirty word. “What the fuck does that mean?” “It means I need space! To get my head around ke eping both my job and my sanity. This is all too much, Ace. I can’t see straight when you’re around me and I don’t want to completely lose my grip on the rest of my life!” Even I can hear that what I’m saying doesn’t make perfect sense, but Ace has no idea about what it feels like to be abandoned at a very young age by the person who was supposed to care about you more than anyone. It’s not that I don’t trust Ace, it’s that I can’t. My trust mechanism when it comes to having faith that a man will stick around got shattered a long time ago. The fresh reminder in the form of my sister’s phone call has dug up all my old wounds. Either way, Ace is doing exactly the opposite of giving me space right now. His hands are gripping my ass and he’s holding my body flush against his. With my knees wide and only the tiny barrier of my cotton panties between us, I can feel that his cock is very hard. My body is so attuned to his, it reacts without my consent. He smells so good. The huge ridge inside his pants rears against me and my hips barely tilt, pressing against him in a silent invitation. Damn him. His thumb dips inside my panties and he slides it against my clit. “I just told you I need space,” I protest, but of course I’m already wet. He’s my Kryptonite, that’s well established by now. My defenses are no match for his man-scent and his gruff aggression. “If you want space then why’s your pussy wet for me, sweetheart?” “Because you make me crazy!” It’s absolutely the truth and I grip the front of his jacket with my fists. I want to take out my frustrations on him. I want to make him so mad that he’ll leave, like I know he will. I know my exhaustion is catching up with me when all my old damages rise up. At some point I should probably talk to a therapist about some of this stuff but tonight the only one who’s available is Ace. And my vulnerabilities converge in a strange direction. I want to hurt him but I also love him and need him and want him. So much. The magnitude of it all feels twisted up with heat and need. “Fine. Let me suck your big cock then, boss.” His eyes narrow at me as I push his jacket over his shoulders. I grind against him as I unbutton his shirt, kissing little licks across his chest, gently biting his nipple, which makes him flinch and get even harder. “Texas n —”
But he hisses and takes a st ep back when I shimmy down his body to undo his pants. I push him carefully—which takes effort because he’s so big and so much stronger than me—to the couch. He sits and I kneel between his spread knees, taking his huge, hot length in my hands. I know my words and my actions don’t match right now. I’m fully aware of how unhinged I feel. I want to rile him and make him as wild as he makes me. Our eyes lock as I lick the pearl of moisture at the head, taking him de eper as I fist the heavy bulk of him. I lick and suck him greedily. Messily. I want him to come hard and quick. “Fuck,” he growls. I ease him out a little, playing with him, flicking the underside of his cock with my tongue. “Come in my mouth.” “Jesus Christ, Texas.” “Do it. Fuck my mouth. Give it to me.” His eyes flash with lust. “I’m not coming unless you are, baby girl. Come here.” I climb up his big body like someone spiked my wine with nympho pills, rubbing myself against his huge cock, wetting the thin cotton of my nightie. He peels off my panties and pushes my nightie up over my breasts, teasing my nipples with his rough fingers. I straddle him and grab his thickness, guiding it to my slippery pussy. My whole body feels like one big heartbeat. I slide down onto him, impaling myself by slow degrees as we both moan. I ride him slowly at first, bouncing down onto him as I squeeze my inner muscles around him until he’s murmuring the dirtiest words. I fuck him like I’m mad at him. And I am. He’s breaking my heart by being so damn beautiful. He’s so masculine and I hate that about him as much as I love it. I know he’s going to hurt me with it eventually and I want to hurt him first. But my frenzy is only getting us hotter. Cash Maddox turns me into an animal. We’re staring into each other’s eyes, his cock thick and rigid inside me, skewering me in slick glides. I can feel every ridge and every vein. It’s just sex, I remind myself. Very, very good sex. You don’t need him. You just love fucking him. He grips my hips and thrusts harder. His thumb circles my clit. The hand that’s gripping my ass explores intimately, probing and gliding gently as he continues to drive in, and in. “Ace,” I whimper. “Look at me when you come around my cock,” he commands. “Oh.” The pleasure is centered where his fingers play, forced higher by the thick glide of his cock de ep inside me. It radiates like a throbbing, blooming, white-hot explosion of stars until I’m completely consumed by it. I come so hard I can only writhe onto him. My body is locked in extreme rapture, squeezing him tightly in rippling pulls that milk his cock lusciously. “Fuck,” he growls. “Tex oh fuck... oh fuck.” His cock surges, bucking inside me as I ride it. The warm, flooding throb of his jetting cum tips me into another rich, nearly-unendurable orgasm. “Ace. Ace. Oh god. Oh god.” I come and come, finally collapsing against him as the waves get longer and sweeter and begin to calm. “Holy fuck, you’re beautiful. My perfect girl.” We’re both panting. He holds me in his arms, smoothing my hair. I can feel the moisture dripping down my thighs from the overflow. He’s ruining me, body and soul. I can feel it happening. I love him too much.
I allow myself a few more minutes of closeness. I breathe in the scent of him, that woodsmoke and whiskey blend, spiced with hot sex. Our heartbeats are in sync. And that little mantra that’s so much a part of who I am and the life I’ve lived whispers, protect yourself or you’ll never, ever recover from him. I slowly lift myself off of him, letting the gush of liquid drip down my legs. My nightie—which was bunched up over my breasts—falls back into place, barely covering the tops of my wet, bruised thighs. “Ace?” “Yeah?” “I meant what I said though.” “About what?” His cock is still semi-hard—it never seems to fully go down—all glistening and laying there innocently now but still so... impressive. “I want you to go.” “Go where?” “I told you. I need some time.” His low laugh is surprised and annoyed. “Time for what?” “To think. About all this. I think we should... have some space from each other sometimes. Like now. Like... maybe you should go and then I can figure out how to handle all this.” Another de ep, incredulous chuckle. “Baby girl, you just rode me like a fucking rodeo hero. I’m not leaving.” “Considering everything that happened today... I think it’s best. I think you should.” “Not happening, Texas.” Some long-injured corner of me wants to lash out at him. He’s trying to drag this whole thing out, to get me to fall so completely in love with him that when he walks away, my heart will break into a million tiny pieces. “What I was trying to tell you before is that I don’t want us to ke ep seeing each other like this. Like, all the time.” Despite the insane chemistry between us and the fact that we’re both still recovering from mind-blowing simultaneous orgasms, in this moment, I mean it. He can see this in my eyes and for a split second I can see that it hurts him very de eply. “Tex, I’m not fucking leaving n —” “I know you will eventually and I want you to do it now. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have let things get out of hand again tonight. I just... I lose control around you and that’s the problem. I need my control.” I hate that I’m doing this, to shield myself. I want to be the one to tell him to leave and not the other way around. I want it to be my decision before it becomes his. “I want you to go now,” I say again. “No. I’m not leaving.” His words are measured and outraged. I know that none of this makes sense. I know I can’t see straight when I’m around him and I feel like I’m losing myself. Lines are blurred. My addled brain wants to compartmentalize. Us. The me and the him have become one thing. So I grab a towel and dry myself. Then I find some leggings and a baggy sweatshirt from the suitcase that I still haven’t even started to unpack yet and pull them on. I don’t really want to lug this whole thing around New York tonight so I start shoving a few things into a backpack. “What are you doing?” “I’ll leave, then.” He comes over and takes the backpack from my hands. “Stop this. You’re acting crazy.” “Because I am crazy! That’s what I mean! You make me crazy and I don’t know how to slow this down.” “Then don’t.” “I’m sorry, Ace.” I’m heart-broken for more than one reason. “But you don’t understand anything.” “I understand everything. I get that it’s been a long day. I get that a lot has happened very quickly. Let me take you to bed and I’ll hold you and calm you down and we can talk about whatever it is you need to talk about n —” “No.” This is what he does. He makes me believe him and need him. He acts like his comfort is steady and unending, like he won’t ever pull it away.
I’ve never seen any kind of comfort that doesn’t end. It doesn’t just end but it ends badly. With the kind of pain I might not be able to handle. If I let him convince me, if I let him wrap his warmth around me until I get so used to it I can’t bear to be without it, then what? Then he’ll take it away and I’ll shatter. The only defense I have is to create some distance now, before it’s too late. My voice sounds steadier than I feel. “Either you leave or I will.” I don’t mean what I’m saying as I’m saying it, but my scars are burning me. “I don’t want to ke ep seeing you. I can’t. I can’t have both you and the job and I want the job.” “This is about the job?” It’s not helping that he looks so hurt. It just looks wrong on him, like his usual swagger has taken a hit. “Yes.” It’s partly about the job. At least I think it is. “Fucking hell, Tex. All right, then. If it’s between me and the job, then you’re fucking fired. Effective immediately.”