#axwalker writes

DRAKE

Standing next to my window, I admire the Roman ruins of the Palatine hills as the royal train rolls into Rome. I’ve always loved Italy, but something about this trip is getting to me. It might be the woman occupying the cabin next to mine. It might be the fact that my best friend is almost as crazy about her as I am. Almost. He can’t possibly care for her the way I do. I down the rest of my glass and pick up a simple shirt and a pair of pants for tonight’s banquet. Fuck the black tie.

Since O’Brien came back to court, I tried to avoid her as much as I could. As a result, I’d cut off a leg tonight just to lay eyes on her again. I crave her like a drug. I spent the last few days debating with myself, and each day I grow a little more desperate, my arguments growing wilder and less probable by the minute. “Maybe” is how every single thought began, each one borne of desperation. Maybe I can make Liam understand that I’m crazy about the woman he loves. Maybe he’ll understand that I’ve been lying for months. Maybe Alexis will realize that she wants a quiet life with me. It’s a weakness on my part; I just need to get through this banquet without giving into it.

Thank God there’s a bar. I’m going to need something to make this experience tolerable. I grab a whiskey and drink half of it before I even head to my table. I’m halfway there when my eyes meet Kiara’s. She’s been leaving me flirty messages since we built the barn to celebrate Liam’s engagement. She’s a beautiful and smart woman but I couldn’t be less interested. 

“Come with me,” she says, pulling at my elbow. “I saved you a seat.” 

At that very moment, Lexie walks in. She’s wearing a red silk dress that matches her lips, pours over her curves, and reveals only a hint of cleavage while allowing you to imagine what you can’t see too fucking easily. Her hair falls over her shoulders and down her back, highlighting her long neck and her gorgeous face. As always, I seem to settle on her mouth. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen her wear red lipstick before, and, for some reason, this opens an entire box of fantasies. I want to see it soiled. To kiss her so hard that neither of us can breathe. To pull back and find that mouth ajar, panting, the lipstick a red blur around the edges., I want it so badly I’m not sure how I’ll get through the goddamn night without having it. My hands sliding that silk dress over her head, learning every inch of her the way I’ve dreamed about for months. Except right now, Lexie’s eyes are fixed on the point where Kiara’s arm is linked with mine, and her expression—sad and wounded—is like a knife to my chest. I step away from Kiara, grabbing my drink and draining it. “I’m sitting with Maxwell and Olivia,” I tell her firmly. 

 “Doesn’t Lexie look gorgeous?” Max asks. My eyes move across the room again. Her red dress shimmers, sticks on her curves. `

“She looks like she needs more clothes,” I complain. 

“Olivia helped her choose that dress,” Max says with a brow arched. “It fits her like a glove.” 

“Yeah,” I reply. “That’s sort of the problem.” 

My gaze is still on her, though. Moving up from her hips to her waist to her breasts, back up to that mouth of hers. I picture it again; the lipstick smeared, her breathless under me. And then a single hand cups her hip bone, visible through the thin silk, and I’m ejected from my fantasy at high speed. My lust transforms into rage in a single breath. Fucking Signore Francesco Lombardi. When everyone finally takes their seats, I discover that she and Francesco are at the table on the other side of mine, giving me a painfully direct view of the two of them. Whenever she stands, his eyes are on her, devouring her. He paws at her when she returns, jumping to pull out her chair but managing to get his fucking hands over approximately sixty percent of her body when he does it. And if he tries to look down her dress one more time, I’m definitely taking him out. I don’t give a fuck about our diplomatic relationships with Italy. I go to the bar again and ask for another glass of Macallan. Tonight it’s either get drunk or completely lose my shit in front of hundreds of witnesses. Pretentious food and great speeches are given out that I don’t notice. She is more real to me than anything in this room or out of it, the only thing I can see. No one knows her fears like I do. No one knows how fragile she really is, how deeply sweet. How funny and smart and kind. But I know. And for all the fighting we’ve done, there aren’t two people in this room as made for each other as the two of us. My world is constructed entirely of rules about what I owe Liam –my education, my career, and so many other things. But somehow, it excludes the only thing that matters to me. Her. If it weren’t for how Liam feels about her, she’d be here with me tonight. I watch her say something to Liam, and he nods, his eyes telling her how he feels. Jealousy runs through my veins. 

 “Enough,” I say quietly as I stand. I don’t know what possesses me to follow her. I know, with every bone in my body, that I have no claim on her. But I saw that look in Liam’s eyes, the one that says he’ll do anything for her, and I found myself on my feet. She’s halfway down the hall by the time I reach her. She looks over her shoulder warily when she hears me, but she is too late. I’m already there. I grab her elbow before she has time to react and pull her into an empty office. She stiffens and pulls back, ready as always to fight. Eyes flashing and hands on her hips. Seething before I’ve even said a word. “You have no right to—” That’s when I cup her jaw and capture that mouth I’ve longed for the whole goddamn night.

ALEXIS 

 His mouth comes down on mine, demolishing my pathetic attempt to object. He seizes it thoroughly, with such certainty, as if he’s spent his entire life practicing for this precise moment. His hands raking back through my hair, his tongue finding mine as he presses against me. His mouth moves over my neck, and he groans, a noise of both despair and satisfaction. 

“You didn’t want me a week ago, but now you do?” I start to push back, but he holds me tight against him. 

“I just don’t want you stuck in a shitty ranch with a poor veterinarian when it all ends. It was never about not wanting you.” I know there are other reasons why I’m supposed to object, but they escape me. I’ve wanted this too long, his hands on my body, my skin pressed against his, and his mouth creating a trail of kisses down my neck. It’s right. I’ve known nothing in my life with such certainty as the fact that nothing in the world matters more to me. His hands move from my hips to my breasts, and then he pulls one strap of my dress down, trailing slow, open-mouthed kisses over my shoulder and collarbone, almost reverently. Nipping with his teeth and soothing it with his tongue. He pulls the dress down to my waist, unclasps my bra with a single hand. He cups my breasts, bringing his mouth to them in the same way, sharp and sweet at once and creating a need in me so intense that it borders on pain. I gasp and arch toward him, submitting entirely as my head falls backward against the wall. He pulls back just enough to see my face. His chocolate eyes are dark now as he searches mine, looking there for something he desperately needs. Permission. He wants permission. As if I’d ever tell him no. 

“Yes,” I whisper. “Please.” 

“You’re sure?” His voice is gruff with desire. And when I nod, he pushes the dress over my hips and allows it to slide to the floor. His hands follow, skating over my hips, down my thighs, and I stand before him now in nothing but panties and heels. “That fucking dress nearly killed me,” he says, smoothing my skin as he kisses me again. He pushes against me, his shirt against my bare skin, his erection pressed hard to my stomach, a quick pulse there as if he is desperate for friction. He slides his index finger under the elastic of my panties. The moment he touches me, my whole body jolts. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. “You’re already soaked.” His finger slips back and forth, lightly, in torturous circles before it pushes inside me. 

“Oh God,” I whisper, my body bowing toward him. He adds a second finger, and this time his groan is louder than mine. 

“Jesus, Lex,” he growls. “You’re going to be the end of me.” 

I unclasp his belt and unzip his pants reaching down to pull him from the confines of his boxers. He is thick and heavy in my hands, hissing as my fingers wrap around him, tugging gently. 

“Stop,” he exhales after a minute. “I’m not gonna last if you do that, and there are so many things I want to do to you first.” 

He pushes my panties down and lifts me up almost simultaneously, turning to deposit me on the table behind us. He kisses me once, hard. “Lie back,” he commands. He drops to his knees, spreading my legs so I’m displayed before him. Suddenly, his fingers are joined by quick swipes of his tongue. 

“Oh my God,” I gasp. “Drake … just—”

 His mouth and tongue lick and brush and pull, creating flames that begin there and spread all the way to my toes. I try to move, but his free hand clamps down on my thigh, holding me in place. 

“I’ve dreamed about doing this every goddamn night for months, Alexis. So let me.” 

I can’t even nod in agreement because suddenly, everything inside me is building so quickly that I can’t tell where I am or where I’m going. 

“Oh,” I gasp. And then his fingers push inside me and I explode with a cry of ecstasy and surprise, arching against his mouth. He doesn’t pull back, but instead slides his hands beneath my legs and tugs me closer, buries his face to create wave after wave of something I never thought would happen in the first place. 

“Holy shit,” I breathe. He leans over to kiss me and when he does, I wrap my legs around his waist, bringing him against me so suddenly that he gasps in my mouth. 

“Lexie,” he groans. 

“Please,” I whisper. It seems impossible for anyone to be more satisfied than I am now, yet I still need the very thing Drake wants most, the thing he is so sure he shouldn’t give. He looks tortured and pulls back, but I tighten around him, pressing him against me. “Don’t even think about stopping right now.” He shifts his hips just enough that he is pressing right there, not inside me but mere seconds away from it. In a single pulse, he could be buried deep inside me. 

“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice tight. “Do we need …” 

“No,” I beg. “Just do it. I’m on the pill.”

He pushes in, barely. He’s so thick that already I’m stretched to the point of pain. 

“Oh fuck, Lexie,” he whispers. “God, that’s so good. Just give me a minute, or this is going to be over before it starts.” 

Finally, he moves once more, going slowly, a low noise deep in his chest as he finally shoves all the way in. 

“Are you okay?” he asks between clenched teeth. I nod as I adjust to the size of him, pain still outweighing the pleasure. It’s when he starts to withdraw that the pain recedes as a burst of pleasure sucks the air from my lungs. It feels too good, something so vast and all-consuming it can’t possibly end well. I never finish this way but oh my God… If it were ever going to happen, it would be now. His next thrust is faster, more certain, but he stops entirely at my sharp inhale. “Did I hurt you, baby?” he asks. 

“No.” He didn’t hurt me. He stunned me. His strokes come slow and rhythmic then, as he leans over, finding my mouth with the table bracing his weight, his arms taut. “I’ve wanted this for so fucking long,” he says, holding still inside me. 

“Keep going,” I beg. “Don’t stop.” 

“Patience,” he grins. “You have no idea how hard it is not to come right now.” 

I grab his ass and push upward, ignoring his warning, thrilling at the low grunt he makes. “Alexis,” he growls, “goddammit.” 

His hips jerk back and then forward, almost involuntarily. It’s all I need. I cry out as it happens again, everything inside me bursting. He thrusts quick and hard, desperate now, and then stiffens with a single guttural noise as he pushes in one final time. He falls against me, his mouth against my neck, his breath warm on my skin. It’s closer than I’ve ever been to another person, and I would like to stay here, just like this, forever. But after a moment, I open my eyes when I realize what we’ve done. 

It’s a little like waking from a dream. What the fuck have I done? The best sex I’ve ever had and the biggest mistake I’ve ever made just occurred simultaneously. The guilt and astonishment collide with each other. It was wrong. No matter what other considerations there are, I just slept with Liam’s best friend.

I know I don’t owe Liam anything. I came to Cordonia to see if there was something between us beyond that kiss in New York, and there wasn’t. He’s engaged to Madeleine and I’m hopelessly in love with his best friend. Bu this isn’t about me. This is about Drake. 

I just became that woman. The kind of woman that would stand between two brothers. The type of woman capable of breaking a lifelong friendship in a moment of lust. 

I know that sooner or later, Drake will resent me, us, if he loses Liam. Somewhere inside, I knew that, but because I wanted him and was jealous of Kiara, I chose to ignore it. He looks up at me, and his smile fades. 

“What are you thinking?” he asks. There’s dread in his voice. His jaw hardens. “You regret it.” 

“Drake,” I sigh, nestling in his chest. “It’s not that. It was…amazing. I just need to figure this out.” 

“Figure what out?” 

I bury my face in his neck. I don’t want to be having this conversation with him. I wish there was a way he could just hold me and take me to his cabin and work this all out on my own later. But there’s not. “What happens next. I mean, it shouldn’t have happened. We both know that. Liam… “

“No,” he snaps, pulling away. “Do not bring him up. Are you really going to let the way it might look to everyone outside this room dictate whether or not it’s okay? This is about us, Lexie. No one else.” 

Except it’s not everyone outside this room. It’s him. Until a week ago, Drake was determined to push me away. He didn’t want to betray his best friend. He told me over and over again that he wasn’t that kind of man. That he would never forgive himself. 

I let my need obliterate every reasonable thought, as usual. And in doing so, I’ve let myself down and—far worse—I may have put Drake’s friendship with Liam at risk. I pull away and grab my dress and bra off the floor. 

“We have to get back out there before someone notices we’re gone.” 

He buttons his shirt. “So you want to go back and continue flirting with Liam like this didn’t just happen?” he asks.

.

It’s right then, at that precise moment, that I realize that no matter what happens, Drake and I will never be together. Liam will always be there, between us. Right now, in our post-orgasmic bliss, Drake is not thinking straight, but I know what he will be telling me tomorrow morning. Or at least how he will be feeling. Guilty. 

“I can’t do this anymore.” I take a deep breath to calm myself. “So what matters most is that we both get through the banquet like nothing happened.” 

“And then what?” He growls.

His anger doesn’t scare me. “Can we please just get through the next hour?” I ask. “Liam is out there. Olivia, Max, Kiara are out there. The most important thing either of us can do right now is to act like nothing’s wrong.” 

He fastens his belt and moves to the door, his jaw rigid. He’s doing what I asked, but I hate that he’s leaving mad. I’m doing this for him. I don’t want him to lose the only relationship in his life that matters to him. “Drake, wait—” 

Drake 

I can’t believe I’m here. I can’t believe I’m holding Lexie in my arms, and this is happening. 

Damn. She tastes even better than I imagined. Soft lips, the flavor of cherries and mint and something singularly Lexie. So, fucking sweet. Her innocent tongue is hesitant at first to play with mine, making her surrender even more satisfying. She’s been the center of my world for years. She’s everything I crave, and I didn’t know how to handle the rejection of the only person who matters to me. I know that’s not an excuse; I know that I don’t fucking deserve her. Hell, if I were a better man, a man that wasn’t starving for her, I’d live her alone.  

She makes me stumble into the bed- when her thighs tighten around me, and she allows me inside her perfect little mouth with hot strokes of my tongue, my hands aching over the softness of her hair, her cheeks, absorbing her unique textures with my palms. 

Get yourself out of my system. My heart has just awakened again, and it breaks painfully; when I think about her words, I make a pitiful sound into the kiss. Ah God. The best night of my life could be the night Lexie cuts me off for good, and I don’t know how to stop it from happening. She’s attracted to me, but I’ve hurt her too badly to contemplate a future. A man with more self-control, maybe an older one, might stop this now. Demand to talk, to explain to her I’ve loved her for so long and so fucking deep that I can’t see straight. That I let my insecurity act on my name. But right now, I can do nothing but soak up every inch, take as much as I can before she wants me gone. I let her mouth go momentarily, kissing down her jawline to her neck, trying to memorize exactly how she smells, how she tastes in every single part of her. How she sounds when she moans brokenly when she shifts her pussy against my lap. Then does it again. 

“Feels good,” she whispers, her voice barely loud enough to hear above the storm. “Drake.” 

I want to give her a first time she’ll think about every hour for the rest of her life, but I’m… I’m quickly recognizing my inexperience. I’m not as practiced at sex as she thinks. Only one girl before I met her. After seeing those deep brown eyes, no one else would do it for me. But I have been fucking starving for it for years. With this girl. So when she rubs against my cock and whispers, “feels good,” I almost come against in my jeans. 

I have to force myself not to grip her butt cheeks and grind her down while I thrust up, giving myself enough friction to finish. Christ, don’t finish. Please. I’ve been blessed with an opportunity I don’t deserve. A night with Lexie. A chance to make her first time perfect—and that’s what I’m going to do, even if it kills me. 

A thunder rumbles in the sky outside as she makes urgent, breathy noises, her fingers grabbing my T-shirt. She strips it off over my head, her palms slowly brushing the shape of my chest up to my arms, leaning in to kiss the hollow of my throat, the underside of my chin. Heat burns me from the inside, growing hotter with every touch of those lips on my body—and no, no, no, I can never live without her. I’ll fade and die without her touch. Get into her system, not out of it. Get deeper. So deep she can’t take me out. As deep as she is inside me. I know she’ll never love me as I do her, but I need her anyway. With those directions clear and loud in the back of my head, I move toward the bed and drop down to my knees, gently laying Lexie on her back, kissing her incredible mouth while my fingers fumble with the button and zipper of her jeans. I’m touching Lexie’s pussy through denim, and again, I want her so fucking badly, I’m worried I’m going to ruin everything, but I grit my teeth and start to slide the jeans down her legs. As soon as the soft, soft flesh of her thighs is revealed, I tilt my face up and shut my eyes closed. God, oh God. 

“What’s wrong?” she whispers, lifting her hips so I can remove the pants. “You’re so beautiful; I’m trying not to come just looking at you,” I groan, tossing her jeans aside, taking several deep breaths to get myself under control, before giving in to the overwhelming temptation to see Lexie in panties. No amount of imagination could have done her justice. The shy inward turn of her left knee, the light blue panties that rapidly become see-through, thanks to how wet she is. The slit of her sex. My senses are overloaded, my breathing uneven.

Then she blushes and bites her lip, and I understand that she’s as nervous as I am. Probably more. Fuck, this is not about me. This is about the beautiful, sweet girl underneath me. I take a moment to look at her face; her eyes are shining, her cheeks pink, her mouth is swollen from being kissed. I’m an eighteen-year-old man who –for three years, has only climaxed from jerking off, and because of that, my instinct now is to take my cock out and come all over the goddess in front of me. I’ll come so hard. All over her. But this is more than sex. I’m being allowed sex with the girl of my dreams. My dick is in disbelief, painfully hard and dripping with pre-come in my boxers, begging to come inside of her, instead of out. And Lexie…her eyes are locked on it in wonder, lips in an O shape. I’m going to be looking at that beautiful face when she takes my cock inside of her, feeling me move, stealing her innocence. Jesus. How am I going to last? 

“Lexie,” I groan through my teeth, trying to explain with that single word how fucking horny she makes me. She’s still staring at the bulge in my jeans. 

“Am I…should I…” I’ve never heard her with that husky tone of voice before. “Does it go in my mouth first?” 

I shudder so hard, my jaw almost breaks. “Christ, don’t say that, baby. Fuck.” I’m a beast right now, ripping down my zipper and shoving my hand inside, beating off the raw length of my dick, my eyes traveling from her face, to her tits, to her pussy. Then circling back and starting at the beginning,  telling her how fucking gorgeous she is. A fucking goddess. And Lexie seems to sense my desperation and overcome her shyness because she takes down her panties and kicks them away, baring herself to me. Ironically, when I should ultimately explode because the vision she creates is such perfection, I’m determined with purpose instead. With responsibility. As soon as her pussy is out, all I can think about is tasting it, giving her an orgasm and my own sexual pain takes an immediate back seat, my jerking hand slowing in the lap of my jeans. The sight of Lexie’s body hypnotizes me. 

“Can I touch you?” She nods shyly but eagerly, holding her breath. I hold mine, too, my palms gently grazing up her inner thighs and pushing them apart, spreading the pink slit between her legs, revealing the secrets I need to learn or I’ll die unsatisfied. “Tell me when I do something that feels good.” 

Slowly, I trace a thumb down the split of her pussy and her back arches, her gasp is the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. “There,” I say in a rush, finally exhaling, tracing the edges of the nub that made her eyes roll back in her head. “Can I lick you here, baby?” Her hands fly to the mattress, fingers digging into the blanket. 

“Yes.” 

Fuck. I get to give her head. I’m down on my stomach in a heartbeat, rubbing my nose through her slick folds, inhaling Lexie, something peachy, gently dragging my tongue side to side over that little button. The sight of it makes my cock pound, my tongue licking toward it automatically, on reflex…and Lexie loses her fucking mind. A sexy sound fills my ears, her fingers sinking into my hair, pulling me closer. It’s like winning a gold medal at the Olympics. Knowing I found the exact spot that could get that reaction out of my girl has almost made me come right then. My tongue is worshipping her until I’m devouring her, doubting between French kissing her wet little pussy and teasing that perfect spot, her cries making the sweetest music in my ears. 

“Drake. Drake. Don’t stop. Don’t. Please, please, please.”

 When she comes, I swear to God, the taste of her is so sweet, so incredible, I go a little insane.

“I-I’m ready, Drake. Please.”

Despite how fucking bad I want her, I must make sure she wants this. I take a deep breath to calm my fucking dick, then I bend down to kiss her cute little nose and ask her, “Are you sure about this?”

She nods “Yes. God, yes.” 

“I don’t have a condom. I don’t—” 

“I’m on the pill. I went to the doctor myself to regulate my periods. Are you --uhm clean?” 

I’ve only been with one girl three years ago, and we were safe. “I am.” 

“Then I’m sure, Drake. Please, I want you so badly.” 

With a choked sound, I take hold of my cock and press it to her center, my life flashing in front of my eyes when I slide in a single inch and her wet pussy clenches around me like a fist. “Oh. Fuck.” I drop my face into her neck, raking my teeth against it, my hips burning with the need to thrust. Claim. Pound her into the ground.

“Are you okay, baby?” Fuck, her eyes are shut, a painful expression in her innocent face.

“I just need a moment, Drake.”

“I’ll give you anything you need, baby.” I don’t need to think about anything to distract myself. The mere fact of knowing she’s hurting is more than enough to sober me up. I cage her head in my arms and kiss her softly. I look her in the eyes, and there’s something in her eyes I’ve never seen before. Trust. 

 “I lied to you, Lexie. I’ve only been with one person like this. But that was before you. Since then, I’ve never wanted to touch anyone but you. Never been hard for anything but this…” I feel her adjusting to me, so I force in another inch. It feels better than I could’ve ever imagined. “This sweet little pussy.” I search Lexie’s flushed face and find her looking at me in wonder, surprise. 

“You…waited for me.” she whispers. 

My nod is jerky, teeth clenched. “You really haven’t figured it out yet? You can’t tell I’m obsessed with you?” I drop hard kisses all over her face, her hair, her neck. “You can’t tell I would murder, lie and steal just to have you look at me?” Her breath comes in tight pants, brown eyes glazed. 

 “I need more. You’ve been hiding from me for two years, acting like someone else. But this…this is honest. I-I want to feel it.” 

“Soon. Soon. Just let me get myself under control.” 

“Please, Drake.” Her expression is enthralled, imploring. “Fall apart.” 

I “Lexie, please. I don’t want to hurt you, baby. I want to make it perfect for you.” 

She gives me one of those smiles I craved so much, and catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she reaches down and sinks her fingernails into my ass, yanking me close and impaling herself on my rigid cock. Fuck, I want to be gentle with her, I need to but damn if she’s not making it difficult. I bury myself to the hilt, and she gasps 

 “Hurts,” she says. “You’re too big. It’s too big.” 

“What?” I struggle for awareness, my eyes unfocused as I search her face. 

“Too big…” “It hurts.” Horror hits me. I’m hurting Lexie. My Lexie. Fuck no. “No, I’ll stop.” 

“No.” She tightens her legs around my hips. “Just go slow.” 

I kiss her front. “I’ll go as slow as you need me to.” My eyes focus on her pretty face. She’s so perfectly delicate. “You’re sure, baby?”

“Yes.” She kisses my mouth to reassure me, and I groan, melting at her touch, gently rolling in and out of her. It’s a painful effort to keep the slow pace, but I want her to enjoy this. I stop for a few seconds, and I search her face. If she’s still in pain, I’ll pull out of her no matter what she says. But her lips are parted, and she seems to be getting there with me, so I continue to thrust, rhythmic and measured, our eyes hot on one another.  Her tight little pussy is making me insane. 

 “You’ve been driving me crazy,” I growl, kissing her neck. “The smell of you in class. The shape of your neck and hips and that perfect hair moving in front of me. Perfect, so perfect, so mine. And you wouldn’t even give me your eyes. It broke me. But you’ve always been mine, no matter what, huh? Nothing can change that.” I lick her neck, her throat, her mouth. I move a little faster and she cries of pleasure. “Be mine, Lexie.” 

I put my hand between us and touched her at the same spot I did when I kissed her sex. Her reaction is immediate. 

“Oh god, Drake. Just there. This is—God.”

She cries one last time, and I can feel her pleasure squeezing my cock as she comes.

An invisible string is cut when I’m finally down the other side of my peak, my heaving body collapsing on top of Lexie’s. “Lexie?” I kiss her forehead, her cheeks. “I’m… God. Are you okay?” 

Her nod gets my blood running again. 

“It finally happened,” I say, almost hoping she didn’t hear me.

“What did?”

“My fantasy came true.”

The smile she gives me is almost shy. And somehow, that’s the best part of our perfect night. 

 Lexie 

Over the years, my mother’s voice has started to fade from my head, but I can remember her saying, “Santo Dios,” when something interested her. Or made her sit up and take notice. And watching the muscles of Drake’s back move in the darkness, I mouth those words to myself. Santo Dios. After we… After what happened … I don’t know what to call what we did. I’m scared to call it “making love.” “Sex” sounds too shallow for something so intense. “Fucking” sounds too crude, too impersonal, when what passed between us couldn’t have been more personal. 

All this time, I pictured Drake meeting girls on the weekends, forgetting all about me in a quest for momentary bliss. But that wasn’t the case at all. He’s been…he waited. He waited for me. When making that confession, the raw honesty in his eyes left absolutely no doubt that he…feels something for me. Quite a lot, if I can believe what a man says in the heat of the moment. None of what Drake said felt like bullshit, though. Or a man telling a woman what she wants to hear. It was as if he’d been holding it in and pleasure broke the dam of secrets, making his walls collapsed all around me.  Leaving me with the ruins of all this new knowledge. 

I sit on the back porch of the cabin, arms wrapped around my knees, watching Drake connect the generator so we can have light. Thanks to the storm, the electricity isn’t working. Now, shirtless, he works on his knees in front of the machine, a frown of focus between his dark brows. Every minute or so, he stops working to glance over at me, his throat bobbing, his eyes watchful and hungry, the outline of his erection back to pressing against the front of his jeans. My newfound feminine vibrates, demands attention. I was too tired to put my pants back on, so I’m dressed in panties and a T-shirt. My lack of clothing feels forbidden, as does being alone at a cabin with a boy. For the whole night. And I don’t know what to do about the desire he’s fueled inside of me. I don’t know what to do with the excitement of knowing we’re both new –or almost, at exploring the bodies of the opposite sex…and all the ways we could do it now. Inside the cabin. Alone. No one to hear us, judge us, see us. No getting in trouble. Nothing holding us back. Except for what he did to me for two bitterly long years. Except for the fact that I need to get far away from here, from my father, and it won’t do me any  good to get attached to this magnetic boy.

There can only be one night. I need to make a fresh start. I need to cut myself clean off from everything that has made me feel sad and broken in the past—and whether my heart likes it or not, Drake Walker is one of those things. 

He’s looking at me right now like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. And it’s that kind of intuition he seems to have about me that is going to get me into trouble. Going to make me second-guess my determination to leave him here along with everyone and everything else I’ve grown up with. 

Drake sets down the tool in his hand and flips a switch, lighting up the porch. “Looks like it’s working.” 

“Yeah.” 

He sends me a tight smile. “They don’t call me a handyman for nothing.” It occurs to me in that moment that I don’t know a lot about Drake’s private life. I know he lives in a trailer on the other side of town. And the horrible story he told me about his family, but not much more. 

 I want to escape this place. Does he? “Are you…planning on hanging around Portavira after graduation?” 

His movements pause ever so slightly, but I catch it. “Hadn’t thought too much about it.” 

“Really?” 

“No,” he sighs. “That’s a lie.” Kneeling in front of the toolbox, his jaw tightens, his gaze eventually making its way back to me. “And I don’t want to lie to you anymore, Lexie.” 

“Then don’t,” I say quickly, holding my breath. 

“I know you want to go to college and make something of yourself, but that -that’s not an option for me. I’m just going to stay here trying to fix this old house and honor my dad’s memory.”

He evades my gaze, and the reason why is painfully obvious. “You have nothing, nothing to be ashamed about, Drake. What you’re doing with this cabin is amazing; if this is what you want to do, you should”.

Even in the muted moonlight, I can see the reddening of his cheekbones. “Believe me, for the rest of my life, I’m going to hate myself for how I treated you. I thought…” 

“What?” 

He shakes his head, but answers anyway. “That night at your house, I thought when you found out I what I did for a living, that I was there to repair your roof…you remembered I wasn’t good enough for you. That you looked down on me. I thought you were ignoring me all this time because you regretted everything that happened, everything you said. You had a momentary lapse of judgement and went back onto your pedestal, out of reach of my filthy hands. It hurt to think I disgusted you. It hurt and I took it out on you.” At the end of his explanation, my mouth is hanging open. No wonder he was so mad, lashing out all the time. He thought I was ignoring him because I thought myself better. Above him. For a prideful person like Drake, being ignored because of his status would have stung worse than anything else. 

“Why are you only telling me this now?” 

“Because it sounds like an excuse—and I’m not making one. Ever.” 

“I didn’t think I was better than you. I missed you.” That strong chest of his starts to rise and fall quickly, his gaze penetrating me through the darkness. “I know that sounds silly. It was just one night.” 

“No. I missed you, too.” He takes a step in my direction. “Still do.” His eyes close and he releases a bumpy breath. “Brutally, baby. I’ve never stopped wanting—fuck-craving you like a madman. It just killed me to see how you were so gentle and kind to everyone but me. Even before I started -bullying you.” 

Nerve tingle everywhere on my body, the need to touch and be touched by Drake increasing the temperature of my skin rapidly, making my breasts feel full, my legs weak. I’ve never tried drugs, but I understand now what addiction must be like. Fighting a pull, battling a self-destructive urge, promises an incredible high before the inevitable downward spiral. If I give him the slightest encouragement, he’s going to bring me inside and…be with me again. 

Is that what I want? Yes. 

Will giving in to my physical urges make it much harder when I have to leave town for good? Yes. Yes. 

There isn’t anything casual about Drake and me. And how can I begin to rebuild my pride, my life, if my first act of independence is giving my body to the person who made me cry so many times since sophomore year, I’ve lost count? I search for a way to change the subject. To take the focus off the connection dragging us back together. 

“Well.” I dampen my lips. “I don’t think I’ll go to college anymore. My father hid all my acceptance letters. He was never really going to let me go.” I intertwine my fingers together and tighten them until they leach of color. “Tonight, was the first time I ever spoke back to him. I was just so angry.” Several beats pass. 

“Of course, you were.” He drops down onto the back porch, a couple of feet to my right, staring out into the trees. “Hell, Lexie. I’m sorry he did that.” 

I nod. “I did a lot of thinking on the back of your bike. It’s good for that. Thinking. Isn’t it?” 

“Yeah. When you don’t want to think… it’s good for that, too.” 

“Hmm.” 

He looks over at me; hands clasped loosely between his bent knees. “What did you think about?” 

“College. How to salvage the original plan.” I feel kind of jumpy, sharing my ideas with Drake, with anyone, I’ve kept things to myself for so long, not confiding in my classmates, not getting close to others, lest my father find a way to blacken the connection. To make people sorry for interacting with me. “I was thinking…maybe I could go and see the school guidance counselor. I need all my transcripts to apply to college here in Cordonia. Once I do that, things might get easier. There has to be a way to make it work. Even if it is a little late to apply.” 

Drake nods, frowning like he’s giving my plan some serious thought. “It’s not safe for you to go back to the school, Lexie. I’ll go. I’ll do whatever you need. Pick up your transcripts or anything else. We can find a library around here to fill out the applications online…” My heart thumps heavily. All that time spent with him, getting deeper and deeper. It wouldn’t be wise. “You don’t have to do all of that.” 

“I want to.” 

His eyes are hopeful. I shouldn’t allow that hope. Nor should I rely on him for things I need to do myself. Things that will be required to take control of my life. “It’s not safe for you at the school, either. What if my father presses assault charges?” As soon as I ask the question, I shake my head. “Never mind. He’d never do that. People would know you bested him. They’d know what he did to me, too—and he’d never, never allow that. There’s nothing more important to him than his reputation.” 

“So I’ll go to the school for you?” he asks, quietly, almost too casually, but I can see the tension in his shoulders, the set of his jaw. It’s not a simple question. If I say yes to this favor, it means our…relationship will extend beyond one night. To include tomorrow—Sunday—plus Monday morning, before the school opens. It adds time to the us I know he still wants. Do I have a choice, though? My father could be there waiting for me, and that terrifies me more than my feelings for Drake do. What he’s willing to do could help me tremendously. Could start me on the path to a new beginning. “Yes,” I whisper. “You’ll go.” 

Drake swallows loudly, his eyelids closing. When he opens his eyes again, his gaze traces my bare thighs hungrily. We have until Monday now. What are we going to do with all that time? That question hangs in the air, unspoken, but louder than a shout. I can almost feel the binds tightening us together, strengthening until they become impossible to snap. And it scares me, but I need him too, even if it’s for a few days. Always loved being scared, electrified, by beautiful things, and bare-chested in the moonlight, Drake is by far the most beautiful of all. 

“Lexie…” he breathes, swallowing loudly. “I want to taste you again?” Heat envelops me, invades me. I’ve always worried I need to touch myself too often. That I have a more pronounced sexual appetite than I’m supposed to have at my age. But as Drake kneels on the lower stair in front of me and separates my thighs, kissing a path toward my apex, I know he’s the reason. Drake is the reason I’ve been riding the heel of my hand, crying frustration into my pillow, night after night after night. He’s the one that inspires the excruciating arousal—and I don’t have a shot in hell of saying no to him. Not when it comes to being physical. I just have to remember to say no to anything more. Anything beyond this. “Yes…” I lean back on my elbows. “Do it.” 

 Twelve Summers Ago 

On the night of orientation at the University of Cordonia, I spot him. He's dressed in stonewashed jeans and a U of Cordonia Soccer team shirt, despite having been at college for all of fifteen hours tops. He looks nothing like the sort of artistic, bohemian people I imagined being friends with when I chose a school in the capital. But I'm here alone (Hana, my new roommate,  was basically kidnapped by her parents, who seem oddly strict so she couldn't come to any of the orientation week events), and he's alone too, so I walk up to him, tip my diet coke toward his shirt, and say, "So, do you go to the University of Cordonia?" 

He stares at me blankly. I laugh and say it was a joke. He replies something about spilling on his shirt and a last-minute outfit change. He frowns and my cheeks go pink from embarrassment. And then his eyes dip down to me, sizing me up, and his face changes. I'm wearing a pink floral maxi dress, all my friendship charms, good luck bracelets, and brown leather sandals. Sure it's a little colorful, and I don't match the other girls wearing heels and mini dresses, but he reacts to this fact as if I'm also holding a poster that says "FUCK Jeans" on it. I ask him where he's from because I'm not sure what else to ask for someone with whom I have no other context apart from a few hours of campus tours, a couple of the same boring talks on life in the city, and the fact that we hate each other's clothes. 

"A little town in the south, Valtoria." he answers." 

"No shit!" I say, stunned. "I'm from Valtoria, too! "I'm Lexie," I tell him, admittedly with a little too much excitement.  

"Drake," he says and shakes my hand. When you imagine a new best friend on your first day of college, you never name him Drake. You also probably don't imagine him dressing like a model that your new school paid to dress their clothes, or barely looking you in the eyes, or speaking to you as if he was angry for no good reason beyond his dislike of your colorful -- if a bit hippie -- clothes. I decided that if I'd looked at him for five more minutes before crossing the room, I would've been able to guess that he was a jock from Valtoria, because these two facts match with his snarky attitude and U of Cordonia shirt. I'm sure that the longer we talk, the more excruciatingly boring he'll become, but we're here, and we're alone, so why not be sure? 

"So, what are you here for?" I ask. 

His brow furrows. "’Here for’?" 

"Yeah, you know," I joke, "like, I'm here to meet a wealthy television producer in need of a much younger fifth or sixth wife." That blank stare again. "What are you studying?" I clarify. 

 "I'm going to be a veterinarian." There isn't a hint of doubt in his voice as he answers me, arms crossed over his broad chest. 

"What about you?" I hear him ask in a deep baritone that I'm sure most girls find attractive. Not me; I'm more attracted to kind-looking guys. Brooding and grumpy don't do it for me. 

"Not sure yet." I lift my plastic cup. "Literature or translation. I love theater and dancing, too. Maybe teaching or journalism. There are so many things to do and see. How can you choose only one?"

"Because I love animals."

“I don’t believe you. There are so many things I love. I just can’t seem to commit to anything.”

“Well, I am focused.”  I feel very proud of myself for containing a massive eye roll. 

Over the next painful fifteen minutes, I learn he's here on academic scholarships, and he learns that I'm here on loans. I tell him that I'm an only child if you don't count my duchy stepbrother Trey. He tells me he's the oldest and has one little sister. He asks if I've seen the gym yet, to which my genuine reaction is "Why?" and we both go back to our awkward silence. He is tall, handsome, brooding, eager to see the gym and start his bio classes. I'm tall, too, but not nearly as much as him, loud, bohemian and the thing I want to see the most is the library. Also, I'm hoping someone will come by and invite us to a real party. When I tell him this, he looks at me in a way that makes me wonder if I suddenly grew a second head. By the time we part ways, I'm more than a little disappointed with my first college experience.

LEXIE

Watching Drake put my duffel bag on the back of his motorcycle, my pulse is getting out of control on my neck. This is happening. I’m leaving home. I’m getting out, and I’m never coming back. And Drake Walker, my tormentor, is helping me. He actually defended me. The fact that I’m being helped by the person who called me a future trophy wife this morning makes this moment even more surreal. He’s had this tormented expression on his face for the last half an hour that’s stupidly making me want to hug him or make him feel better. For what, though? I don’t know. I don’t owe him anything, and still, I have this pressing need to wrap my arms around his neck and tell him everything will be okay. 

When it comes to Drake, my emotions have never been truly logical. One second I hate him, and the next, I’m whispering his name in the darkness of my room, my fingers sawing against the wet cotton of my panties. My feelings for him are incredibly confusing…but I know asking him to back off was the right move. Even if I secretly miss his presence everywhere I turn. In my unstable world, there was something comforting about knowing he would always be there. Watching me. Hating me. Wanting me. That last part was never in doubt. He’s made that clear many times. That if I wanted, he would “give me a nice long hate-fuck in the back of his trailer.” And he’d always say, “No one has to know, baby,” in that deep, hoarse tone that keeps me up at night. Makes me shove my fingers down the front of my panties and struggle to breathe, sweating through my covers to an orgasm. I’m having those particularly sexual thoughts when he looks over at me, and I don’t quite manage to hide my lust. His movements slow, a dark eyebrow arching as he fixes on my mouth, my breasts. I’m a real hot mess right now. Beaten and bloody, but there’s no denying he’s still attracted. It’s always there in the rise and fall of his chest, the clicking of his jaw. The tenting of his jeans. How many times have I turned in class and—avoiding his gaze—locked eyes with his jeans instead? At least that’s one thing us poor fuckers have going for us. We know how to fuck.

 Well, if I thought sympathy was a strange emotion regarding this boy, jealousy is even more confusing. Why should I care that he’s been with other girls? Obviously, he must have been with hundreds of girls to get good at sex. It’s none of my business, is it? I’m almost rid of him. And I don’t want to be jealous. Still, when he holds out his hand to help me onto the bike, I ignore it with a raise of my chin and climb on myself. You’re almost rid of him, Lexie. Get a ride and say goodbye. Unfortunately, I may have been a little overenthusiastic in asking to be taken to a motel. I’ve never been to one, but I know a credit card is required—and I don’t have one of those. Nor do I have enough cash in my wallet for more than one night. I need to figure out an alternative plan fast. Still looking damned tortured, Drake places his helmet on my head and gently buckles the chinstrap. Swallowing loud enough to hear over the passing cars. Helmetless, he brings the engine to life, the vibration so exhilarating; I wrap my arms around his middle on reflex.

I can feel taking a deep breath. “Lexie…” He can’t see me, so I give in to the impulse to press my cheek to his leather jacket, absorbing the warmth and his smell, earthy and so masculine. 

“Yes?” Drake clears his throat, his voice even more profound. “My dad left me a cabin a few towns over. Near Portavira lake.” He pauses. “It’s very rustic, but I’ve been fixing it, so it’s clean, and it has a bed and some supplies. I could take you there. You’d be safe.” 

It’s dangerous to start accepting more favors from him, but what choice do I have? My father made sure that I’m helpless. He did it with my mother and now me. Isolated us from everyone who might be a friend. I’ll accept his offer, but only because here and now, I promise myself I’ll find a way to help myself in the future. To leave my father and his house of horrors in the past. Maybe it can’t be done entirely alone. Maybe accepting help is the only option. That doesn’t mean I’m forgetting the way he treated me. Yes, I’m attracted to him but I also hate him. He’s made my life miserable for two years and I won’t let him --or myself, forget that. Maybe he’s hiding right now but I know Drake--as my father, has a monster underneath. His monster might not slap me or make me bleed but that doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous. Poisonous words can hurt as much as one well-delivered blow.  

“Okay,” I say, feeling him relax. “Thanks.” I’ll accept his help for now and leave as soon as I can. 

He responds by turning on the engine of the bike again. That’s when I hear my father yelling my name from the back door of the house. His hands are tied behind his back, and he’s limping, blood coming out his nose. 

“Alexis Jade O’Brien! You get your ass back here right now, or you’ll never be allowed back! You’ll be dead to me!” 

He has to be joking; he’s been dead to me since the first time he hit me. I look back at the pathetic old man with every ounce of rebellion I have. Baring my teeth, I give him the middle finger and dismiss him. Forever. 

“Good girl,” Drake murmurs a second before driving away. I don’t look back a single time. We drive for half an hour. After twenty minutes on the highway, the trees grow denser and denser, the road deserted. We don’t pass a single car on the way to the cabin, which comforts me when I should be worried. Shouldn’t I? I can’t allow the last two years of em2otional battle to mean nothing. To melt away in the face of tonight’s act of kindness. I meant what I said. I need Drake to leave me alone. To release the hold he has on me. I’ve cut one negative force out of my life tonight. The last thing I need is a replacement. But as I grow tired against his strong back, his woody and manly scent lulling me, encouraging the trust he doesn’t deserve, I worry leaving him might be easier said than done. Especially when we arrive at the cabin, and he lifts me off the bike, cradling me to his chest like I’m made of crystal, a moment too long before settling me onto my feet. It’s hard giving up his warmth, but I push off his chest, creating distance between us. He watches me back away like I’m breaking his heart. 

“There is a shower inside,” he says quietly. “You can finally get the, uh…” He blows a breath. “…the blood off.” The sun sets as we stand there. It’s nothing like the light of the night we kissed. This time it's brighter, more intense. It must be the higher elevation. 

“You’re not hurting anywhere else?” 

“I’ll be fine.” Why is he breathing so fast? “What’s wrong, Drake?” 

“What’s wrong?” He fights through a humorless laugh, sliding his hand through his hair. “Where do I start? Most urgent is…I know you’re going to want me to leave you here alone, and I don’t think I can. Look, if you want to lock the doors, I’ll sleep outside on the ground, Lexie, but please don’t ask me to go.” 

He’s right. I was going to tell him it’s OK to go back to his trailer. There was a convenience store with a payphone a mile down the road. If there is no working phone in the cabin, I can still make calls, if necessary. I’m not sure what my next move will be, now that I’ve run away from home. But I know I’ll never be able to think with a clear head as long as Drake is around, looking at me like that. “Drake…”

 “It’s just that once I leave, I know that’s it. You’re going to shut me out again. And this time, it’ll be your choice.” He paces away, still raking his fingers through his hair. “I deserve to be cut off. Fuck, I know that. Believe me when I say I hate myself right now, but if there was something I could do to make up the last two years to you, even just a little—” 

I shake my head. Nothing can make up for the two years I spent loving him while he tortured me. There will be nothing between us. 

“I understand.” His fingers rake his hair one last time. “You can go in the cabin. I’ll sleep outside; that way, I’ll be sure your—father won’t be back.”

Despite myself and my better judgment, I worry about him. “Outside? It’s cold and dark; I can go to a motel.” At least for one night, I’ll figure out what I’ll do after tomorrow. 

“No way. Look, I won’t be able to sleep anyway. Just go inside and try to rest; I’ll be fine. I’m used to it.”

Used to what? Sleeping outside? “Isn’t there a couch or something?”

He shakes his head. “The cabin was in ruins until six months ago when I started working on it. There’s only one bed, but there’s a rug next to the fireplace. Please don’t leave. I—I need to know you’re safe.” 

I know Drake would never abuse me physically. I might be naïve, but I just know he would never do it. And as much as it’s difficult for me to understand why I feel safe with him here. Still, I have to be smart, my instincts tell me to trust him, but my instincts have been wrong about him before. 

“Does the room lock?”

“It does with a bolt that can’t be opened from outside. But you’re safe with me, Lexie. I swear.”

It’s his miserable look that makes me decide. “Okay, if it locks, I can stay here.”

We go inside, and he leads me to his room. When my bag hits the floor next to his bed, I get even more nervous. I just left everything I know behind me and have no idea what’s coming next. School will be over in a few weeks, but I can graduate earlier, thanks to my credits. I’ll need a job, save some money, get an apartment and apply for college in Cordonia. It’s overwhelming. 

I don’t want to cry in front of Drake. I don’t want to show him I feel weak, sad, and pathetic, but something inside of me suddenly breaks, and before I can’t do anything to stop it, I’m sobbing.

Drake is sitting on the bed in a second, and he’s pulling me into his lap, trying to calm me down. “Shh Lexie, it’s okay. Cry all you need to. I’m here. It’s okay,” he repeats in a litany as he rubs my shoulders, kisses my cheek, then my nose. Why do I feel so safe with him? Why, after everything he put me through, do I want to be here with him more than anywhere else? 

“Let it all out, Lex. You’re so strong, baby.” He takes a cloth handkerchief from his pocket and uses it to gently clean my tears. The piece of fabric seems so incongruous in his rough hands that I can’t help but smile a little. 

“Is this yours?”

He shrugs. “My dad collected them. After he died, my mom gave all his stuff away. This handkerchief is the only thing I have left of him. And this cabin.”

“I’m sorry, Drake. I don’t want to ruin it.”

He smiles. “Ruin it? Impossible. If anything, now it's even more special to me.” 

The softness in his eyes looks so sincere it scares the hell out of me. I can’t let myself forget who Drake really is. I stand up from his lap and put my bag on the bed. 

“I’m really tired; I’d better go to bed.” 

“Okay … can I just look at your wounds?” he asks as he inspects my face. “You have some nasty cuts,” he adds, his fist clenching. 

When I nod, he takes my hand and leads me to his bathroom. The room is as simple and modest as expected. Block walls, no tiles on the floor, no curtain on the shower, and an old toilet. A million years away from the white marble bathrooms in my house. 

He follows my gaze and blushes. “I’m sorry. This is not what you’re used to. I—uhm, I’m slowly putting it together when I have time and some money. I’m good with my hands.” I look at said hands, and there’s no doubt he’s good with them. They look big and calloused. Capable and rough but so gentle with me. I want them all around my body. As if he had listened to my silent demand, he grabs me by my waist and sits me on the counter next to the sink. My legs part on instinct, and he puts himself between them. We don’t talk for two long minutes until he opens the faucet and wets a towel. 

“I just got the water running this week; Come on.” Gently --almost reverently, he washes and cleans every cut, every injury. Softly he brushes his thumbs over my face. He doesn’t speak as he does, but there’s a tension between us. A raw feeling that has always been there. 

“Tell me about yourself,” I blurt out, desperate to break the moment. 

“There’s not much to say. Sorry, Lexie!” he exclaims when I wince. “Does this hurt?”

“A little. I. need a distraction. Why do you live alone? I know your dad is –uhm, gone, but where’s your mom?”

“Gone too.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, Drake.”

“Don’t be. She was a bitch. She died in a car accident two years ago. She was living in Texas back then.”

“I don’t get it. Two years ago, you were here in Cordonia.” 

“Yeah, she left me after my dad died. Took my sister and left me here. Reminded her too much of my dad, she said.” 

I remember Jackson Walker. Everyone in Portavira does. He was Liam’s dad's bodyguard and died protecting him. But that was five years ago. If his mom left just after his passing, that means Drake has been living by himself since he’s thirteen years old. It can’t be.

Drake turns around and opens a box in the corner of the room. When he turns back, he’s holding a Band-Aid. 

“I keep these around. Construction can get nasty sometimes. Come here, Lex.” He cups my chin with one of his big hands while he cleans a cut next to my eyebrow. His touch is leaving goosebumps all over my skin. I hate to be this affected by him.  

I clear my throat to avoid the embarrassment of talking in a squeaky voice. “So, who were you living with?”

“No one. My aunt got custody when my mom left, but her husband didn’t want kids. He made her choose between him or me, so I’ve been living on my own since I’m thirteen.” My heart breaks then. Not only at the fact that he had to live by himself when he was still a child, but at the way he says it. Matter-of-factly. As if it was the most normal thing in the world that his mother, his aunt, and his uncle abandoned him. As horrible as my dad is, I’ve never had to fend for myself. And my mom loved me so much. If cancer hadn’t taken her away, she’d be here fighting for me. Drake has no one. I can’t help the tears glistening in my eyes. “Hey! Don’t cry, Lexie,” his thumb moves from my eyebrow to my cheek as he wipes the tears off my face. ”I prefer to live by myself than go to a foster house. And Leona checks on me now and then.”

“If your mom died, where’s your sister?”

He takes a deep breath but doesn’t pronounce a single word for a few minutes. Finally, he clears his throat and speaks. “Savvy was with my mom in the car. She died too.” 

I want to say something. Anything. But I can’t. Nothing seems like enough. Sorry is such an empty word—a stupid cliché. I’m horrified at my own muteness, so I do the only thing I can think of. I hug him. At first, he just stands there, his arms hanging at his sides. But soon, I can feel him giving in, his heart beating hard against my chest. He encircles his arms around me, wrapping me in the tightest hug possible. I don’t know who’s comforting whom anymore. I only know that I love being here, and I hope it’s giving him a little solace, this hug.

 It doesn’t mean I’ll forgive or even forget what he put me through, but no one deserves to go through that kind of pain alone. 

“I’ll be outside, Lexie,” he says when he finally lets me go. “If you need anything, anything at all, just call for me, okay?”

“Wait!’ I yell, so he turns around. “Are you really going to sleep on the floor?”

He shrugs. “I don’t mind. I just want to make sure you’re safe,” he hesitates as if he’s going to add something important. “Good night, Lexie.” 

“Wait,” I feel my cheeks redden just thinking about what I’m about to propose. “You can sleep here, I-I know you won’t hurt me.”

“Never,” he says, a determined look on his face. “I would never hurt you that way, and you have no idea how much I regret how I’ve treated you in the past. But I’ll be okay sleeping outside. I know you’ll feel better sleeping here by yourself.” 

I can’t deny that. I meant what I said about trusting him not to hurt me, but I can’t forget what he did either. “At least take this pillow and the blanket. I’ll manage with the pillow and the cover left.” He hesitates, so I insist. “Please. I won’t be able to sleep otherwise.”

After taking them and giving me one of the saddest smiles I’ve ever seen, he closes the door behind him and leaves me alone in the room. I lie on his bed, incapable of sleeping. The pain in his eyes when he told me about his little sister haunts me all night long. 

The following day I toss around in bed, confused and angry at myself. I can’t have feelings for Drake Walker. I can’t forget the insults or the anger in his eyes, the hurt that his words caused me every -single time. I just can’t. I hate what happened to him. I genuinely do, but iI have to think about myself. Denying that I’m attracted to him would be preposterous. Our chemistry is strong and undeniable, and it doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. Maybe that’s it. Perhaps I just need one night with him, so I can move on with my life. Get him out of my system.

When I finally leave the bed, I find a note under my door: Went to buy some groceries, be back soon. DW

I go to the room where I assume he’s going to build the kitchen. For now, there’s only a more-than-a-few-years-old microwave and a cooler. I open the cabinets, but there’s barely anything there. 

Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door. I feel my heart slamming in my chest; if it’s my father, I have no means of defending myself. I’m about to escape through the back door when a woman’s voice starts yelling.

“Open up, Drake. I’m not in the mood today.” 

I open the door because the voice sounds familiar. I recognize Leona, the principal’s assistant. And I know she’s related to Drake.

Leona arches an eyebrow when she sees me. “Ms. O’Brien, what on earth are you in my nephew’s cabin? Does your father even know where you are?”

“I’m 18. I don’t have to tell my father where I am.” I answer in a much bolder tone than I feel.

She shrugs, clearly uninterested. “Well, I brought this to my nephew. Tell him I want those signed by next week. We’re not going to lose thousands of euros because of some dumb nostalgia.”

She hands me a big manila folder, I take it, but she doesn’t let go. “Maybe you’re the one who can convince him.”

“Convince him about what?”

“His father Jackson left him this piece of land, but it isn’t worth a dime without cattle or money to invest in it. But, a couple of months ago a big company approached us, they wanted to build a landfill here. Drake refuses to sell. He thinks he’s going to honor his dead father by rebuilding this old piece of crap, but he will never have the money to do it.” 

“Never.” The deep voice that comes from the entrance startles us both. “This was my dad’s dream. He wanted a ranch, and one day this place will be one,” Drake says, “I told you already, Leona. I won’t sell; I don’t care how much they’re offering you to convince me.”

“I’ve never denied that they’re offering me a commission for the sale, Drake. But I still think it’s the best move for you.” Leona leaves the papers on the table, turns and leaves the cabin. 

“You love this land?” I’m genuinely curious. 

He slowly nods. “It’s all I have left of my dad. He’s the only person that ever gave two damns about me.”

“That says more about your family than about you, Drake.”

He looks directly at me. His gaze doesn’t leave mine for a long minute. I want to get closer to him, to touch him. Not only to offer some comfort but because my body reacts to him in the wildest way. Just standing next to him in the kitchen, I feel my heart beating faster, my hands trembling harder, my sex getting wetter. The response he gets from me is maddening. And it’s making me insane. There’s no freaking way in hell; I’m going to have feelings for Drake Walker.

“I- I need to take a shower. I’ll eat later.” Without giving him any time to respond, I run to the bathroom and shut the door. I open the shower and get inside, desperate for some release, anything that’ll take my mind off him. His stupid perfect smirk and deep eyes. That voice of his, intense, soft, and deep at the same time. Those big hands, calloused and capable. Hands that I just know would know precisely how to touch me. Before I realize it, I’m coming as quietly as I can. Sadly, my relief only lasts a few minutes, my body needs him --Drake Walker, and no substitute would do. 

When I come out, he’s waiting for me with a hot cup of coffee and a couple of white chocolate-strawberry muffins---my favorite kind. 

We eat in silence, but I don’t feel the weight of it as I usually do. Ours is a companionable silence. 

After breakfast, we decide to take a hike next to the lake. A bit of exercise and the lake’s breathtaking landscape might be exactly what I need to stop thinking about my father and the confusing feelings I have for Drake. 

“I think I need a job. Do you know how I can get one?” I hate that I’m so spoiled, but I’ve never lifted a finger in my life. I have no idea how I can get a job. 

“Uhm sure. Here in Portavira?”

“Actually, I was thinking of moving to Cordonia city after graduation. “Drake stops walking for a second. “It’s too late to enroll for next semester, but I can get a job and start college next year.”

He finally starts walking again and nods slowly. “What do you want to do?” 

I blush. My dreams don’t include being famous or rich. All I want is a good, quiet life. Falling in love, having a family. Doing a job I’d enjoy and traveling as much as possible -even if it’s on a low budget. “You’ll think it’s dumb.”

Drake looks at me. “I swear I won’t, Lexie. There’s nothing you can say that I’ll find dumb. It’s just not possible.”

“I love books. They offer you new worlds. They allow you to escape and be someone else for a few pages. You can never be alone when you’re reading a book. I’d love to have a job where I would be surrounded by books. Maybe become a librarian and then open a bookstore one day.”

Drake nods but doesn’t reply. I knew he would find my dream stupid.

“I know it’s not much-“

He stands in front of me and tilts my chin until our eyes meet. “It’s amazing, Lexie. I was just thinking how great you’d be at it. Remember the top 5 assignment for Mr. Daniels?”

Of course, I do. Mr. Daniels, our English teacher, asked us to make a list of our five favorite books and recommend them to the class. 

I nod. “Yeah”

“Well, I read all the books on your list. I checked them out of the school’s library and fuck, I loved them all. Especially the one from that Krakauer guy.”

“Into the Wild?”

“Yep. I really enjoyed it. The way that guy Christopher reinvented himself spoke to me.” He holds my gaze. “You’d be an awesome librarian, Lex. You would also be an amazing writer. I remember that short story you wrote for Mr. Daniel’s class. The one about the lonely girl and how she traveled through time with her mind. You have no idea how much I loved it.”

I can’t believe he remembers that story. We had that assignment more than a year ago. “I’ve always wanted to write, but my dad thinks my stories aren’t good enough.”

“Your father is a dick. Your stories are amazing.” 

He looks at me in a way that makes my knees weak. The intensity in his eyes is overwhelming, so I feel it again. The connection with him. The desire. Maybe the only way this would go away is if I give in to it. 

“There is something you can do for me,” I say, surprising myself. As soon as those two words are out of my mouth, though, I know there is something I need from Drake. 

And he’s the only one who can give it to me. “Get you out of my system.” 

He stands still as a statue. “What?” 

“Get yourself out of my system.” It starts to rain, and it makes me speak louder, feel bolder and freer. “For two years, you provoked me, insulted me, stalked me, bullied me…” He makes a frantic sound, his eyes slamming shut. “And yet, I still—I still can’t stop thinking of your hands that night in my garden. How big and warm and rough they were. I can’t stop imagining you taking off my clothes. Even the ugliest things you’ve said to me, I imagine you saying them in my ear while you…while we…” 

Drake falls toward me a step, clutching the center of his chest. “Lexie—” 

“Please, get yourself out of my head. One night together. Okay, Drake? So I can get on with my life knowing fantasy was way better than reality. That I built up some unrealistic idea of what we’d be like together that we can’t possibly live up to.” My throat closes. “Get me on the road to forgetting you. Please.” As we walk, I can see the mixture of devastation and hope in his eyes. 

“And what if reality lives up to the fantasy?” 

“It won’t,” I say fast, with conviction. It couldn’t possibly live up to it. And yet I suck in a nervous breath when he crosses the divide between us, every cell in my body craving him. Fight or flight. In a matter of moments, he’s gone from wounded animal to determined predator, the rain causing his dark hair to hang low over one eye, dripping, his hands ready at his sides. 

“Are you so sure, Lexie?” 

Damn my hesitation. “Yes,” I whisper. “You’ll prove me right in one night. I can move forward without feeling like I’m leaving something behind.” 

“What if your fantasies come true tonight? Could we ever move forward as…as an us?”

 I can’t believe what he’s suggesting. “There can never be an us, Drake. Not after everything that’s happened. I’ll never change my mind about that.” I shake my head. “How can you think I would?” 

“Maybe I think if I want it hard enough, it’ll come true.” 

“It won’t,” I whisper, starting to ask myself if I’m making a mistake. Opening myself up for even more heartache and pinning for this man than I’ve already lived through. It feels like a lifetime’s worth. “One n-night.” 

“No backing out from this point on?” My heart beats urgently. 

“No backing out.” 

He’s silent so long; I’m not sure he’s going to respond. And then, all at once, he reaches me in two strides and scoops me up into his arms. I realize he’s going to bring me into the cabin, “I’ve been studying you for years, Lexie O’Brien. I’ve been hanging on to your every sigh, every expression, and mood. Years. If you don’t think I’ve obsessed weeks of my life away over how you’d like to be fucked, baby, you’re sorely mistaken.” We reach the house in a matter of minutes, and he doesn’t stop; he just keeps going until we’re in his room. And oh God, I have made a severe miscalculation. Because Drake’s showing me exactly what’s always been in my heart and mind when I thought of us together, it’s my fantasy come to life, the two of us wrapped in the arms of the other. And as he turns me, urging my legs around his waist, his ravenous mouth bearing down on mine, I realize I might never recover from this. 

DRAKE

My lungs draw in air, bringing consciousness and chaos rushing back to me. And pain. So much pain. My vision is blurred as if I’m underwater. I can’t move; I can hardly take some shallow breaths. Gunshots, screams, and fire sound through the ringing in my ears. My left arm is heavy with deep, piercing pain. I feel dizzy and disoriented, but I have to make sure where Lexie is. She has to be alive. I remember the gun pointing at her, and terror, as I’ve never known, invades me, carrying adrenaline through my blood.

“Lexie,” I croak. “Lexie!” My gaze darts all over, assessing. A pool of blood, seeping into the floor below me, freeze my veins. Please, God, don’t let it be her. I struggle to sit up, but the sharp pain stops me. Trembling, I turn to see the hole in the skin of my forearm, up to my elbow. The screaming starts again closer, and I realize that Alexis is not hurt.  

My relief is short-lived when I realize Alexis’s crying inconsolably. She seems desperate; her hands are drenched, red. Her dress is soaked up in blood. For a minute, I panic again, but I realize it is my own blood she has all over her. I sigh, relieved, and try to tell her that I’m in fine, but I can’t get the words out of my mouth.

I struggle to stand up, but I feel someone or something trying to keep me pinned where I am. It’s not Lexie because she’s kneeled next to me. Telling me … something. I can’t hear her. Her hands go from my face to my chest and my hair. Huge tears are rolling from her eyes. Suddenly, her soothing touch stop, and I want to scream. Leo is holding her; she seems so broken. I want to take her in my arms, tell her that I’ll be okay, but I can’t speak.

Finally, my eyes fall shut under a wave of dizziness that I can’t avoid. The last thing I see is Alexis’s sad face before blackness comes down.

A thousand stars twinkle in the sky; I’m lying in the middle of the woods. Lexie is next to me, her small hand engulfed by mine. Despite the frosty wind, I feel warm, content for the first time in a long time. I want to stay here, like this, with her forever.

Suddenly, we’re back at the palace, and she’s in my arms. We’re swaying slowly at the rhythm of an old waltz, and I realize it’s the happiest moment of my life. Just moments ago, her warm body was writhing, moaning beneath me. She was mine.

Now she’s here. With me. You have to wake up now, she says. Please, Drake. Wake up, my love. I don’t understand what she’s talking about; I try to hold on to her, but she keeps crying and begging for me to wake up over and over again.

I try to tell her I’m here with her. That I’m never going to let her go. That I regret every second, we wasted because I refused to listen to her. That I can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives together. But I can’t. My eyes refuse to open, my brain to cooperate. She’s so close and so far away from me. This is punishment for chasing after what wasn’t mine. For using Liam’s trust and deceive him. For hurting Lexie. I hurt the woman I loved when I swore I’d never do that. Never love anyone. I shouldn’t love anyone. I know I don’t deserve her, but I just couldn’t help myself.

Her tornado-like personality sweeps people up, and it was so powerful, it drew me in so that I wanted to kiss her and touch her and make her mine.

Please baby, please, stop crying.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My eyes flare open, and my body spasms. Terror surge through my veins as I slam into the floor. Not the floor, a bed. My brain registers white sheets, fluorescent lights, incessant beeping—a sharp pain sliced through me. I try to scream, but something in my mouth and down my throat pushed air into my lungs instead.  

“Drake.” A voice in my head. Soft and sweet. “Drake, look at me.” The voice is outside my head. I reach for it. I need it more than air. Lexie? I try to turn my head.

“Easy, now.” A man’s voice. Authoritative. Hands push me down at the shoulders. “Calm down,” he says. “That’s it. Don’t fight the machine.”

I try to inhale and exhale, but I can’t control my breathing. All the while, fluorescent lights come and go—my eyes. I’m opening and closing my eyes. I’m in here. This is me. The pain. Holy fuck, the pain. A red-hot sledgehammer to my right arm.

“Drake,” Lex says. Warm fingers fold around my hand. “It’s all right. Try to lie back.” Slowly my brain put things together. A bed with white sheets and beeping machines. This is a hospital. And Lex is here.

“Lexie,” I say. Or try to. The fucking tube in my mouth and down my throat blocks the word. I gag as more air pushes in.

“I’ll call the attending,” says the man, who must be a nurse. “Just stay with him. Keep talking and help get him oriented.”

Stay with me, my Lexie. Forever. My eyes fight hard to stay open. A plastic tube and white tape obscure my vision, but through and around it, I see her. Standing over me with brown hair falling down around her shoulders. Like a beautiful, peaceful dream after a long, dark night.

“Hey, Walker,” she says softly. Her little fingers intertwine with mine; her other palm runs smoothly over my forehead. “You’re all right. Just listen to my voice.” Her touch is so soft on my head. “You’re on a ventilator. Okay? It’s breathing for you. Try not to fight it. I’m right here. Keep listening to me. The respirator is to help you breathe until you come out of the sedation. That’s all.”

I wink again, unable to do anything else. Lexie reaches out her hand and caresses my cheek. I move my eyes and see Li and Savvy behind her.

My eyes fall shut in intense relief. My best friend and my little sister. Memories of safety and love from my childhood play on fast-forward—scraped knees and the time I fell from the treehouse. They were there for me. Over their shoulders, I see Bertrand and Max smiling. Savvy is here, Lexie is here, and Liam is all right. Everyone is.

“Hey there, Drake.” A tall man in a white coat is at the side of the bed now. “I’m Dr. Lahela. Let’s take a look at you…” He shines a light in my eyes. “You’re a very lucky man, Mr. Walker. You’ll need some physical therapy for your arm, but you’ll be fine.”

Alexis takes my hand and squeezes it. “You better never scare me like this again, Walker.” Her voice finally breaks. “I can’t live without you, Drake. Please, don’t do that again.”

I can’t talk, so I look at her trying to compel everything I feel for her. I treasure every shy smile, every kiss, every single laugh. I love her, and I don’t care if I deserve it or not. I’m never letting her go.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

One Year Later

The day is finally here. I’m not one for nerves and that bullshit, but there’s no ignoring the tightness in my chest as I walk down the street. Even though I have the address memorized, I recheck my phone to verify that I’m at the correct address. It’s there in my text messages, the location Lexie sent.

We’ve been together for more than a year, and sometimes I’ll get texts like these. Lexie loves to be spontaneous. I never know if I’m going to show up and find some dark bar where she wants me to fuck her in the bathroom… or if it’s going to be this really fucking cool bookshop where we’ll linger for hours, talking about books before she eventually buys both our favorites.

Those dates mean everything to me. I love the sex—fucking love the sex—but Lexie is a world into herself, and I could spend the rest of my life exploring her and still not know everything there is to know.

Today’s different, though

It’s not just any day, not just any date.

It’s been a year since the attack.

I touch the box in my pocket, take a deep breath, and push through the doors and into the restaurant. After a quick word, the hostess leads me up a set of stairs to the roof. I shake my head as I look around.

Lexie does nothing halfway.

The roof isn’t huge, but there is a gazebo in the middle that I’m nearly certain isn’t there during regular events. A small bar has been placed in the side, and the rest of the space is cleared of tables and chairs. It will just be us tonight.

She’s leaning against the railing and looking out across Portavira. We’re high enough to have a decent view of the sea. Personally, I only have eyes for her.

She’s wearing flat sandals and a stunning red dress; it clings to her body all the way down to her knees before flaring out. I will never know how she walks in the damn thing, but I appreciate how good her ass and tiny waist look on it as I walk over and lean against the railing next to her.

“I’m surprised you didn’t have me jumping on a plane to find you this time.” Something she occasionally does. She loves to travel. And I love her: ‘Surprise, I’m in Athenes, come get me’ texts.

“I did consider it.” Lexie turns to me with a grin. Her mouth is painted a crimson shade identical to her dress. Fuck, the woman is so beautiful it makes my chest ache. Not just her face. All of her, inside and out. She bumps me with her elbow. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I love you.”

Her sexy grin turns into a full on smile that lights up her entire face. “You’re such a guy. All it takes is a short dress and a red lipstick.” She teases.

“It’s not that.” I take her hand and tug her toward the table set up for us. As we walk over, I study her expression. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine.” Lexie catches my raised eyebrow and sighs. “Look, this day is never going to be easy for me. I thought I lost you, but I promise I’m okay.” She hesitates. “How are you holding up?”

I answer her honestly. “I’m fine. I know this was a horrible day to you, but I barely remember anything.” I take Lexie’s hand and brush my mouth over her knuckles. “So, why’d you pick this place?”

She looks around, the light wind pulling at her silky hair. “It’s romantic.” She turns her hand in mine to lace our fingers together. “We’ve both been working a lot lately. While I fully intend to take you home, so you fuck my brains out, I thought it’d be a nice change of pace to have a nice Italian dinner first.” She smiles. “And this place has a cool seasonal menu.”

The bartender delivers drinks that Lexie must have ordered for us—both Macallan’s 18 years. We order and then sip in silence for a few moments. I shift the ring box, an ever-present reminder of what I plan for tonight at the beach.

I’m not used to feeling off-center. I sure as fuck have wasted too much time doubting myself. I do not doubt that I love her wildly. That she’s the woman for me. It’s her answer that frightens me.

And I’m still not sure tonight is the night for this.

“Drake.”

I realize I’ve been spacing out and grimace. “Sorry. What did you say?”

Lexie leans in, her expression going playful. “I said, ‘Is that a box in your pocket, or are you happy to see me?’”

I follow her gaze down to where the square is very plainly in view pressed against the slacks of my front pocket. “Well, fuck.”

Her eyes go wide. “Seriously? It’s not earrings or a bracelet or something?”

I pull the box out of my pocket, and I’m fucked up to realize my palms are sweaty. Jesus fuck, this is not how I planned to do this, but here we are. “It’s not earrings or a necklace, no.” I set the box on the table between us and take a breath. This might not be how I planned to go about things, but that doesn’t mean a fucking thing. Very little goes to plan when Lexie is involved; that’s one of the things I love most about her. I’ve learned to roll with the punches.

I take Lexie’s hands and hold her gaze.

“That night, I was terrified. When I saw that gun aimed at you, I thought I might lose you. And I can’t live without you.” Fuck, this is harder than I expected. It’s not the opening myself up that’s so challenging. No subject is off-limits with us. It’s more that I want the perfect words to describe how I feel, and I’m shit at words. I’m not a damn poet. I’m just me, and just me will have to be perfect because she deserves nothing less than perfection. “This year has been really fucking good, O’Brien. Every time I think I can’t love you more, you go and prove me wrong. I love the adventures and shit we get into together, just like I love the long afternoons we spend with takeout and movies and board games and shit. And the lazy mornings in bed. I love it all.”

I release one of her hands to open the box. It’s an heirloom, but it meant so much to my grandmother, I hope she likes it. Lexie deserves perfect. It’s a single ruby against a simple setting that lets the gem stand on its own.

Lexie stares at it for a long moment and then at me. “Drake, that’s so perfect.”

“You’re one hell of a woman.” I don’t move, barely breathe. “Will you marry me, Lexie?”

She screams and throws herself at me. “Of course I will.” Her lower lip quivers a little. “Damn, you’re going to make me cry after saying all those sweet, perfect things.” She holds still while I slip the ring onto her finger. She holds it up, smiling at the way it glints in the city lights. “A perfect fit.”

“Just like us.”

“Just like us,” she repeats. A heartbeat passes. Another as I try to rein myself. Then I lean down, take her face in my hands, and kiss her desperately like she’s the last thing I’ll ever taste. I kiss her with the power surging through my veins, with all the strength of my desire and happiness over this day. With all the want that’s burning through me—want of more than just her body. Everything I long for, everything I hold precious, I pour into her mouth—and my Lex responds beautifully. Her arms twine around my waist, pressing her soft belly against me. I’m so damn hard, I just want to push myself against her until she spreads her legs and lets me in. Instead, I slide my tongue into the softness of her mouth. She gasps. It makes me smile around her lips, knowing that I can make my girl gasp with just a slip of my tongue. I explore her slowly, wrapping an arm around her back and cradling her head, so when I thrust my tongue into the hot, soft sanctuary of her sexy mouth, she doesn’t have to work to stay upright. I kiss her soft and slow, and longer, harder until she’s gasping and my hand is slowly caressing her neck. Her back is pressed against the rail, and I’m thrusting against her. She’s rocking against me, too, and I stop. I see the waitress coming. We’ll have to wait a few hours until we’re together at the cabin, and I have time to explore every inch of her. Even if I know, it will never be enough.  

She’s blushing, and it’s so fucking adorable I want to kiss her all over again. “You know, for a guy who says you’re not good with words, that was one hell of a proposal.”

“I just love you so fucking much, baby.”

“That’s why I’m going to marry you.” She hooks the back of my neck and brings me down for a kiss.

Lexie leans back and meets my gaze. “I don’t suppose you’re thinking what I’m thinking?”

“That we should pay the tab, get the food to go, and take it back to our cabin.”

Drake

2008

When I was 12 years old, my mother took off with my little sister leaving me in Cordonia with my father's best friend. I reminded her too much of my father, too much of a life she would do anything to forget. That "anything" included abandoning her oldest son. I'd like to say I was surprised, but the truth is I wasn't. Bianca Walker had never been a motherly woman. The only reason she had taken Savannah with her was that my Aunt Leona adored her. I was sure my mother would dump my little sister on her and never look back. I hoped that was the case, Leona despised me, but she was great to Savannah. 

A short time after that, Bastien passed away and my mother was nowhere to be found. That's when I started to go from one home to another. The first year and a half were the hardest ones. I lived with four different families, each one worse than the last. First, the Lockes, where the family barely talked to me. Then, the Ruiz that made me take cold showers and sleep on the floor. The Godwins where the “mother” used the check the state gave her to buy alcohol instead of groceries. And finally the worse, the Fields. They seemed nice enough when I met them. Not kind but polite. The first few weeks everything seemed normal. Then one day, I got in trouble at school, and Mr. Fields --the pastor of his community, beat me up to “teach me some manners.” His punishments became a usual thing after that. 

Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore, so I escaped. Better to be on my own than believe some family was going to love or adopt me. Obviously, there was something very wrong with me. My own mother had left me, and I had never found my place anywhere else. 

I lived on the streets for 6 months. I did all kinds of jobs. Not a lot of them were legal but there were few opportunities for a 14-year-old runaway kid. The most money I got was when I stole car parts that I got to resell to a gang called the Mercy Park Crew. The boss, Mr. Kaneko was fair and paid well enough. I could’ve kept living by myself if something hadn’t got terribly wrong at my last job. One of the boys from a rival gang decided to teach me a lesson and I ended up in the hospital with a concussion. A nurse called social services so here I am in a car with another social worker on the way for another foster home. It doesn’t matter, I know it won’t last anyway. 

When you’ve been in the system as long as I had, you learned to look for certain warning signs when placed in a new home. Drugs, ulterior motives, threatening fathers, drinking mothers. After an hour, we drove through a town looking like something straight out of a movie. Valtoria. I’d heard of it before. The family my dad had been protecting when he died lived there. The house we pulled up to, was a large two-story construction with dark brown siding and an immaculate green lawn. 

Joelle, my new caseworker had popped up out of nowhere in the hospital and told me I was coming with her. Just like that. From the way Joelle talked about the new place, I figured it was some sort of transitional home for rejects like me. Too old to get adopted and too troubled for anyone to voluntarily take on. I didn’t ask her anything else because I knew I didn’t have a fucking choice. Besides, I knew words don’t mean anything. I was a kid in the system. I went where they took me. Sometimes, I hated it. Sometimes, I really hated it. This time was different. In more ways than one. Usually, I was dropped off by my caseworker, and the people receiving me were about as excited as they were about junk mail. No one has ever come out to greet me before. As long as the woman at the door wasn’t sizing me up for a skin suit, it didn’t matter.

The social worker got out of the car as I grabbed the trash bag that I used to carry my shit around. She rang the bell, and a small, older woman opened the door. Joelle had told me in the car that the woman fostered several boys and I knew what that meant. She wanted the money the government gave her for keeping us. Well, I wasn’t going to make it easy for her. If she wanted to cash a check at the end of the month it was going to cost her. I’d make sure of it. 

I had seen it all, but I still was caught by surprise when the tiny woman opened her arms at me and gave me a one-sided hug. A fucking hug. 

“I’m very happy to meet you, mijo,” she said in a strong accent. “My name is Angelica Ortiz but everyone here calls me Abuela. Grandma in Spanish.” 

The woman was deluded if she thought I’d call her grandma. She was obviously trying to impress the social worker with her fake kindness, hugs, and stupid names. I wasn’t going to be fooled that easily. 

I didn’t even answer her as we stepped into the house. Another woman, a younger version of the one staring at me was waiting for us in the living room. 

“Hi, you must be Drake. I’m Elena. Welcome.” She gave me a smile. Fake, I was sure but at least she hadn't tried to hug me. The older woman was talking to Joelle about me. Probably about my problems with authority, anger issues, and lack of communication skills. I knew my file by heart. 

I barely nodded at Elena, and the three women exchanged a look. “Let me take you to your room, Drake. You’ll be sharing it with Maxwell. He’s doing his homework with my daughter in our house across the street. You’ll get to meet all the boys and my daughter Lexie tonight.” 

She walked me to a room on the second floor of the house. It seemed clean and comfortable. Another ploy for the social worker. Two bunker beds with blue blankets and a wooden desk full of books were the biggest pieces of furniture. The left side of the room was covered in posters of who I figured were famous boy bands. There were a few of David Beckham, the only guy I recognized. Other than that there were clothes everywhere. That Maxwell dude was a fucking slob. Great. 

“I told Max to take down some posters so you can decorate half of the room to your liking; This is your room as much as it is his. He's usually much more organized than this." I notice she speaks with a sort of fondness. "It was picture day for the school yearbook and he took hours getting ready. ” 

I shrugged. I wasn’t planning to stay long anyway. I couldn’t care less if that Max kid left his posters on the walls or not. 

She glanced at my garbage bag. “Are those your clothes, mijo?” 

I scowled at her. I knew what mijo meant and I was nobody’s son. “My name is Drake.” 

She smiled. “Of course, Drake. So, are they?”

I didn’t bother with an answer. A nod was enough. 

“I cleared you this part of the closet, so you can keep them there. When you’re ready come downstairs; my mom and I will show you the rest of the house. The boys are out but we’ll all diner together tonight. Do you like Mexican food?”

I shrugged.

The woman smiled. “Shrugging is not an answer, mij- Drake. Either you like it, you don’t, or you haven’t tasted it in which case I can tell you, you’re missing out. Especially when mami cooks.” She winked at me as if we were friends or something. The woman was insane. “So, what is it, Drake?”

I’d never had it before, but she wasn’t going to tell me how to answer a damn question. “I hate it.” 

She frowned --clearly disappointed, and I almost felt bad for her. Almost. “I’m very sorry to hear that. We already made Enchiladas for tonight and we don’t waste food. You can tell us your favorite dish though so we can make it for you.”

I shrugged again. Generally, that's when the person talking to me loses her patience but Elena Ortiz only smiled at me again. “Think about it. Every Sunday night, we pick someone’s favorite and cook it. It’s really fun. Next Sunday will be your first here, so you get to pick. Mami is a great cook and she can make anything from a mean chocolate cake to the best cheese pizza. See you downstairs, honey.” 

Great. I’ve only been in this house for a few minutes, and I already hated it. The only thing worse than a home where you were beaten up as a welcome was a home where people pretended to care. My third foster home had been like that. Ms. Godwin had been all kind and nice at first. I almost felt like she cared about us. A week later, she had gotten drunk. For two days, neither I or the two girls she fostered had anything to eat because she hadn’t bought any groceries. I had to steal a twenty euro bill from her purse to buy food. She got angry and called the social worker who had come for me and taken me to the Fields. The worst home I ever lived in. 

I wasn’t going to go downstairs but I decided that if I wanted a chance to escape it was better if I knew the house. Before I could explore a little, I heard my name from what I assumed was the kitchen. 

Elena was crouching in front of the oven. “Drake has such sad eyes, mami. He’s only 14.” 

The woman that had asked me to call her abuela, answered as she chopped an onion. “This boy has been living in the streets for more than a year. Do you realize it? Pobre angelito. So young and he has already seen more horrors than most people see in a lifetime.” 

“Joelle told me that he had escaped from his last foster home.”

The older woman scoffed. “Home? If that’s how you call people that foster kids only for the money, they get in exchange. I don’t want to imagine why he fled those places." She turned to her daughter who had finished whatever she was doing in the oven and was drinking a bottle of water. "Stop watching me work, Elena and help me with diner, por Dios.”

Why was she pretending she didn’t care about the money? It was obvious. No one did anything for free. There was always a catch. 

“Dónde está mi venadito?”

“Lexie and Max are at our house doing homework, mami. Be careful, though, if Lexie hears you calling her “your little deer” she’ll kill you. The boys called her Bambi for months after they heard you the last time.”

“Nonsense. She’s my venadito and that’s that. You two will come to eat here tonight. I want Drake to meet everyone.”

Elena rolled her eyes but patted her mom on the back. “Yes mami. Lexie is dying to meet him, she and Max made a chocolate cake for him. I’ll call her in a minute. Where are the boys by the way?” 

“Bertie is trying to teach Leo how to drive. Poor boy, I hope he makes it alive.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure Leo will be careful. Bertrand will be fine.”

“Oh, it’s not Bertie I’m worried about, it’s Leo. Bartie has no patience with him.” 

I left the kitchen before they said anything else. I was sure I was going to hate this stupid place. I was angry. More than angry. Furious. After a year of successfully running away, I was back in the damn system. Back in yet another home where people seemed to care about me in front of the social worker just to ignore me –or worse, once she left. I had to admit that my new foster “moms” played their part better than most. The old one had hugged me and the other one had given me a smile that seemed real. But I knew better. No one really cared for me. No one gave a shit where I slept, what I ate, or if I was ill or scared. Not that I was ever scared. I had seen everything. 

The front door was locked so I went to the backyard. I saw a small wooden house on top of one of the trees. I decided it was a good place to hide and be myself. 

I sat there for a few moments when I heard someone climbing the tree. 

“Hi!”

I looked up and saw a girl a couple of years younger than me. She had the biggest pair of brown eyes I’ve ever seen and was smiling at me as if I was her best friend. 

“I’m Lexie! I live across the street. I’m Angelica’s granddaughter. You’re Drake, right?” I didn’t think it was possible to smile more but the girl proved me wrong when her grin widened. I simply nodded. 

“Welcome! I know that it must be hard for you to feel at home because you like just arrived but you’ll love it here. I promise. Valtoria is great. We have lakes and the mountains and when it’s warm enough we can go camping all night. You’ll love the house too. I mean between you and me the boys are kind of a pain in the ass but they’re pretty great when they want to. Or when they're not teasing me. Especially Leo and Maxie. Bertrand is a know-it-all. He thinks because he’s sixteen he knows everything." She rolled her eyes clearly offended by the idea that someone could know more than her. "Abuela, that how we all call her because she’s Mexican and would murder us if we call her grandma, is amazing. I mean don’t get me wrong, she's super strict, and as my mom says the woman is never wrong but she’s the best person I know.” 

I blinked. I didn’t know a person could talk that much without taking a single breath. 

“Do you camp?” She asked as she folded her legs in front of her.

I did before. Before my dad died and my whole life blew up in a million pieces. Not that I would explain any of that to the chatty girl, so I just nodded again. 

“Great! It’s getting warmer and Leo wants to go to a new camping site next weekend. Don’t tell him I said this but he’s like the worst camper ever. I have to double-check everything he does but I don’t tell him anymore because my mom said it wasn’t nice.” 

I wondered how could someone carry a whole conversation by herself. I hadn’t pronounced a single word since the girl had shown up. 

“I want to be your friend but I can see we’re about to have our first fight.” She told me in a teasing tone. “You’re wearing a Liverpool t-shirt. We worship Barcelona in this house. Well, Abuela, Leo and I do. The others couldn’t care less about soccer.” 

I looked at the shirt she was wearing. It read "If they don't have soccer in heaven, I'm not going." 

She noticed I was looking at her shirt and beamed. "Abue said my shirt was disrespectful to God but mom thought that was dumb and bought it for me anyway." 

"Do you like soccer?" I finally asked. 

“Like it? I love it! Did abuela saw your shirt? She hates European teams. She thinks Tigres is the best.”

“Tirgues?”

She laughed, and the sound of it did something weird to my stomach. “Tigres. It’s a Mexican team. She goes crazy when they play.”

“What team you like?”

“Barcelona, obviously.”

“Liverpool made it to the finals of the last Champion’s league.” I pointed out. 

She shrugged. “They lost so it doesn’t count. Do you play?”

“Sometimes.” I tried not to show how much I loved it. It was something else my dad and I shared that had stopped when he died. 

“I play too. How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

“I'm twelve. Well, almost thirteen, my birthday is in May.”

I frowned. “It’s November.” 

“I know. I’m almost there.” She beamed. "I'm almost closer to thirteen than twelve anyway." 

“Do you always talk this much?”

She laughed and my belly did that weird thing again. “My mom says I was a parrot in another life. I talk more when I’m nervous.”

“You're nervous?” I liked that I could make her nervous but I didn't know why. 

She blushed and I liked it too. “A little. What happened to your eye?” 

“I got into a fight.”

“Wow. You can’t do that here. Leo is always getting into fights and abuela has to ground him.”

She sure mentioned that Leo guy a lot. “Is Leo your boyfriend?”

“Gross!! Leo’s is like my brother. He, Bertie, and Max live with abuela. We’re a family. You’re family too.”

Fuck that. No matter if the girl was sort of cute. I didn’t have a family. “No, I’m not. I’m not staying.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I don’t belong here.”

“Yes, you do; I swear. Plus, I need someone to coach me, so I can get into the school team next year. Leo promised he would, but he never has time.” 

“I suck.”

She shook her head and smiled at me again. “Somehow I don’t think you do.” Then she gave me a conspiratorial look as she pulled out something from her jacket pocket. "You can't tell my mom about this but I took this from her room." It was a white iPod. After scrolling a little through the screen she settled on The Beach Boys. She couldn't possibly know it but they were my dad's favorites. She passed me an earbud and we didn’t talk after that. We just sat together for a while hearing music until we heard our names being called. 

“That’s abuela. We should go. She hates to wait. Plus, I'm starving and we're having enchiladas. You'll love them.” 

Lexie ran to her house to --as she put it-- 'hide the evidence.' I went back to her grandma's house and stepped into the kitchen. 

“Drake, pass me the salt, mijo. It’s next to you on the counter,” Angelica said as she kept on turning the sauce she was making. “You like enchiladas?” 

What was with all these women asking me what I liked to eat? I leaned against the black counter while she opened the lid of another steaming pot on the stove, and stirred its contents with a long wooden spoon. I shrugged. I didn’t know if I liked it. But it smelled better than anything I ever tasted, so it couldn’t be all that bad. My mouth started watering, and my stomach growled. Come to think of it, it had been a while since I’d last eaten.

“You know, I know you feel weird now. And you don’t like to talk a lot. Soon, you’ll learn that this is a safe place. We aren’t gonna judge a single word that comes out of your mouth or any of them that don’t.” 

I suddenly felt like I owed her a verbal response in exchange for her kindness. Fake or not. Besides, I just knew the chatty girl I’ve just met wouldn’t be happy if I was rude to her grandmother. “Yes, ma’am.”

She smiled at my verbal response. “But just so you know. We do have a few rules in this house.” 

Here it comes. The catch. Angelica put the lid back on the pot and leaned over the counter on her elbows. “You just need to go to school, find a hobby or sport you like, don't swear, respect the curfew and keep your room clean. Every child in this house has chores but it’s too soon to figure out yours. For now, you only have to get to know us.” Her eyes crinkled as she smiled at me. At that moment the timer of the oven rang and Angelica took a huge dish out of it. She covered it with more steamy, tomato sauce, sour cream, and grated cheese and put it back in the oven. At least, I might get some good food while I figured what I was going to do next. Because no matter how nice and kind everybody acted, I was not going back to school. I used to be good at it without much effort; I had friends and a soccer team. But I had missed a lot in the last two years. I felt dumb and stupid. 

Suddenly, the front door slammed open. “Cuidado muchachos! Be careful with that door against the wall, or you’re going be spackling and repainting this entire house,” Angelica yelled out. Three teenage boys filed into the house, followed by just as many apologies. 

“Sorry.” “Oops.” “It was Max’s fault.” “

“These are Maxwell, Leo and Bertie,” Angelica introduced. “Boys, this is Drake.” 

“Hi, man!” The blond one said with a shit-eating grin. “Abuela, Lena, you guys didn’t tell me you were buying a Liverpool fan.” 

“Adoption is not a purchase of people, Leo” the oldest one --Bertrand, corrected. 

“Yeah, cause if it was, then you got Leo from the clearance rack,” the youngest one joked, checking his reflection in the hallway mirror, smoothing back an out-of-place dark hair. “I hope you kept your receipt.” 

“Fuck, off,” the blond one replied with a middle finger. 

“Watch it, Leo,” Angelica warned. “Boys.” 

Max kissed her on the cheek. “Sorry, abue.” She forgave him with a smile, then swatted at his hand with her spoon when he dipped his finger into the pot. 

“I’m glad you’re here, bro” Leo said. I stood, and he gave me a fist bump without touching my hand. 

“Me too! And we’re going to be roomies,” the kid named Max said. He grabbed a stack of plates from the counter. I followed him over to the long dining room table and helped set the table for seven people.

2020

I lost count of how many days I’ve been in the hole. It wasn’t my first time in here and it sure as hell it wouldn’t be the last. It was always the same routine. Days and nights blended into one making it impossible to know what day it was or how much time I had been in here. 

I have been in jail for six excrutiating years. I had known from the day I heard the sentencing that the only way I was going to survive was if I didn’t think about her. It was the hardest thing I had to do but after a while, my routine was running smoothly and when my head hit the pillow at night, I was too fucking exhausted. She haunted my dreams and my nightmares, but I didn’t think of her beyond that. Except for the hole. Locked up there, cold, hungry, and utterly alone her face, my memories of her were the only thing that helped me go on. 

I replayed in my head our first encounter, our first kiss, our first time. I obsessed about her full lips, her expressive brown eyes, her gorgeous smile. I could spend hours picturing every single corner of her soft delicate curves. Sometimes, I wondered if --maybe, I didn’t start fights in the hope of being sent to the hole where I could spend my time fantasizing about her. It was pure torture, but I couldn’t help myself. The memories I had of her, of us and our short time together were the only light in my otherwise bleak life. 

She still wrote me every week but I hadn’t open any single one of her letters. I didn’t want to know if she was moving on with her life or worst if she was waiting for me. Because that was what Lexie didn’t understand. Even if nothing happened and I was released in one year, I would never be that boy again. The Drake Walker she had known and loved was dead and she wasn’t going to like the man that had been left in his place. I was damn sure about that. 

Tagging:

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@tinkie1973

@twinkle-320

@thegreentwin

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@lovingchoices14​

@lovingchoices14​

ALEXIS

"Tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you," Drake whispers in my ear.

"I want you, Drake."

"I should probably warn you," he says to me, placing feather kisses down my jaw, his stubble grazing my skin, "that I can be very bossy."

His baritone voice sends a shiver through my body.

"Don't worry about me, Walker. I can take it."

Drake smirks, and I yelp when he scoops me up into his arms and carries me inside his apartment. He sits me on the couch and suddenly drops to his knees, his hands running up my bare legs and parting them. He looks up at me as his thumbs slide over my inner thighs, brushing over the delicate skin, pushing my dress up higher and higher. His expression is wild with desire. I raise my hips slightly as he pushes the dress up, so it's bunched around my waist, and he slowly runs his finger over the top of my underwear, from the waistband all the way over the mound and down between my legs.

"I've wondered all night what you taste like," he murmurs, sliding his finger back up, pressing in at my clit. His hands firmly grip my hips; He lowers his head, pulls me toward his face, and I feel his wet mouth pressing against me, the thin barrier of my panties muffling the sensation just enough to drive me wild. I suck in my breath, my fingers going into his hair, while he runs his tongue over my clit, the pressure causing me to jerk my hips toward him.

"I've had enough teasing," he says, the vibrations spreading through me.

He pulls his face back for just a moment, long enough to slide my underwear down over my thighs until they're off me, then he's pushing my legs wide again, his mouth going in for the kill. Every worry, every horrible memory inside me gets lost with the wet sweep of his tongue. My mouth falls open. My God. He knows what he's doing. My thighs are already trembling. His mouth is so warm, so strong. He kisses me there like he kisses my lips, soft and gentle, then quick and wild, sliding up around my clit, then down inside me with a grunt. I can't contain my cry. It tears out of me, driven by the need for him to be deeper.

"You have no idea how beautiful you look right now," he whispers into me.

I'm exploding, wet, warm, pure fucking bliss. My hips jerk into his mouth as I spasm, my thighs gripping the side of his face, his stubble so beautifully rough.

He stands up and takes off his shirt; my mouth waters, and he kicks off his shoes, bends down to take off his socks. Takes a step toward me. My eyes follow his hands as they undo his belt and then the zipper of his jeans. And then his jeans and boxer briefs drop to his ankles. Holy fuck, he's hot. Ripped and manly. Huge. I've never been with someone like him.

With trembling fingers, I take off my dress and bra as he inspects every square inch of my body, making me feel incredibly vulnerable.

"Jesus." He steps forward and trails his fingers up and down my bare arms. "You're so fucking gorgeous," he says, kissing my shoulders, my breasts.

He pushes a book off of the couch and then turns me around, placing his hand between my shoulders and shoving me down, so I'm on the couch on my knees.

"Hands up, against the wall," he says from behind me, his voice extra rough, almost feral. I've never been so excited before. I put my hands up so they're pressing against the wall, just as his hand curls around the small of my waist. His touch is electric, especially over my hyper-sensitive skin.

"Spread your legs for me, beautiful," he groans, and I hear his teeth opening the condom wrapper.

"I'll fuck you for hours," he murmurs, mouth now at my ear. His voice is rough with need. "I'll make you come over and over until you can't walk, can't talk, can't see anything but stars. But right now, I need to come inside you. And I'm going to do it fast and hard. Get that, Lexie?"

I nod, trying to swallow.  

"Good girl," he says, straightening up. He caresses my ass and slams himself into me. All the air is pushed from my lungs, and I bend a little more, trying to accommodate his size. His cock is in so deep I'm not sure where I end, and he begins. Then he starts working me, his fingers pressing so hard into my side that I think he's leaving bruises, holding me steady as he fucks me hard. There isn't anything in the world but this. He grinds into me, over and over, his hips jerking against my skin. His frantic thrusting is measured, his hips circling just enough to slide against every part of me—faster, harder, deeper.

"Fuck. Fuck, Lexie. This is ..." He doesn't finish his sentence. His grip tightens around my waist. I feel him everywhere, like he's filling me up in every way.

"So wet … so tight, baby." Just then, his cock hits the right spot until I catch fire and burn inside out. I've never felt this before. This pleasure, this passion.

"Right there. Don't stop!"

"Not even close to stopping," he grunts. He thrusts even deeper, watching my back arch into him with overwhelming pleasure.

It's a curious thing to have a one-night stand with a stranger. You've known each other for only a few hours, and then you decide to share something that leaves you so vulnerable. When I turn my neck and stare into Drake's deliciously wicked deep-brown eyes, there's a sort of freedom I've never enjoyed in bed before. He makes me feel safe and powerful.  

Then as he starts to tense, his breath becoming hoarse, a drop of sweat falling from his face and onto my neck, he slides his hand over the front of my skirt and below, finding my clit. A rub from his thumb is all I need to come, and it's not just the intensity of the orgasm that rips through me, causing my body to spasm and shake. It's the intensity of us. Of Drake, as he groans into my shoulder with one final thrust, his cock twitching.

Several positions and many orgasms later, we fall together into his bed, exhausted. True to his word, Drake took his time with me after the first time. Going slow, kissing every inch of my skin.

He gets up from the bed to throw away our last condom; I contemplate leaving. I don't know how to behave, it's the first time I’ve had a one-night stand, and I don't want to act clingy or emotional.  

"How are you feeling, Lex?" he murmurs when he comes back before he kisses me, long, deep and sweet. And just like that, every worry I have is gone. I melt into his touch, into his arms, and I never want him to let me go.

Which is a fucking problem because I can't stay.

He scoops me against his chest, wrapping his strong arms around me. He peppers kisses all over my shoulders, my neck, my back. I let my eyes drift closed just for a second and fall asleep.  

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Warmth engulfs me, every inch of my body is warm, and I nuzzle into the pillow deeper, wanting to stay like this forever. It's been a long time since I've had a decent night's sleep in a comfortable bed. However, as soon as I notice the room's complete darkness, my eyes pop open, and I start to panic, trying to remember where I am and how I got here.

There's a weight over me, and I feel suffocated. I force myself to take a deep breath, and I realize that I'm safe. I'm in Cordonia, thousands of miles away from him. Slowly, yesterday's events come back to my mind, and I realize my head isn't lying on a pillow but a firm, ripped chest. I glance up at the sleeping man I shared last night with and take in his harsh but beautiful features.

Drake's sleeping peacefully. His arm is still around my waist, holding me almost protectively. For a second, my heart flutters, and I allow myself to dream. What if I had met Drake instead of Matt? Even after only one night, I can tell what kind of man Drake is -- manly, confident, protective. I feel safe, cherished. But it can't be. Not now, or ever.

Gently, I untangle myself from Drake's arms. I gather up my dress and shoes and creep toward the living room. I order an Uber, and three minutes later, my phone pings with a notification that the Uber is here just as I reach the front door. I quietly open it, tiptoe out, and glance back at the house.

A deep sorrow overcomes me because I know that I will never be the same again after tonight.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

DRAKE

It's been three days since I last saw Alexis. I figured I'd feel differently in a few days. I'd forget the sweet taste of her lips, her delicate cherry scent, the sound of her laugh on my ears. Never did I think I'd still be replaying our conversations, jerking off every night to the vision of her body moving against mine. Fuck. Me.

Finally, I decide to go to the bar where we met. Despite the way she left --in the middle of the night without saying goodbye-- I don't want to ignore the crazy chemistry between us. I'm not an arrogant jerk; I know when a woman comes undone in my arms. And the way Lexie responded to me? It was fucking explosive.

"Why are we here? Li's dinner is tonight," Leo protests. I picked him up at his loft after work so we could go to Li's place together. In hindsight, he wasn't the best person to bring along with me, but I had to come to the bar tonight. I just need to see her. "Do you know how many women will be there? It's going to be a buffet, man." Leo insists as I park in front of the bar. I get out of the Jeep as fast as I can, so he doesn't follow me, but, of course, the fucker comes after me.

We walk into the bar, and it's as deserted as it was on Monday. The woman behind the counter smiles at us when we approach.

"Hi, guys! I'm Daisy. What can I do for you tonight?"

Leo winks at her. "I have a couple of things in mind, sweetheart."

I stare at him, and he shuts up. "I'm looking for someone who works here. Alexis Ortiz, she's a bartender."

She smiles at me. "Alexis quit this morning."

"Did she leave an address or a phone number?"

My heart sinks when the blond shakes her head. "She was kind of weird. She kept to herself." She looks at me and smiles again. "I'm free in an hour, though."

I don't want to be rude, but there's only one woman I want. "No offense, but I'm not interested."

I'm cut short by Leo, who grins at her. "You're embarrassing me, Walker." He gives her the same smile I've seen him give to a hundred women before her. "I'm Leo, sweetheart, and we're not free tonight, but I'll be happy to come by any other night."

She's grinning at Leo now, a flirty expression on her face. She sure moved on fast. I clear my throat. "Here's my card; if Alexis comes back, can you give it to her?"

DRAKE

“Alexis, Alexis Ortiz.”

She is tall with a narrow waist and curves that give you whiplash if you look at her too fast. Her hair is long, dark chocolate; her nose is delicately upturned; her skin is the color of light caramel and dotted with tiny freckles. Then there are her eyes. Dangerous eyes. Impossibly big and deep. Dark. But what I love the most is her smile; it’s a little shy, a little flirting. It’s driving me crazy, and I’ve only seen it twice.

“So, Alexis Ortiz.” She grins when I repeat her name, and, as I said, it’s fucking glorious. “Where are you from?”

“America.” She toys with the label on the bottle, and I notice her hands—slender, soft hands—with small pink nails at the end of long, delicate fingers. And I think about how those hands would feel on me --everywhere.

Alexis follows my eyes as if she could read my mind. I take her hand and open her palm, lightly tracing her lifeline with the tip of her finger. A little sigh escapes from her lips, and she closes her eyes.  I tap gently on her hand, on her wrist, in a rhythm—a beat.

“Guess the song,” I say softly.

She opens her brown eyes and grins.

“Guess,” I tell her, still tapping. She closes her eyes again, concentrating for a few seconds—and then she smiles proudly.

“‘Video Killed the Radio Star’!”

“You got it.” I chuckle, nodding. “You’re good, Lexie.”

I have plenty experience with one-night stands. It’s been a long time since I was in a relationship, and I’m not a fucking saint. But this feels different to me. There’s something about her. She’s fucking hot, of course, but it’s more than that. There’s a vulnerability in her eyes that touches me. It’s honestly unlike anything I’ve felt before.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Another hour goes by, and the bar is still dead. Alexis’ shift is over and a guy named Daniel takes Alexis’s place behind the counter, and she comes to sit next to me. The conversation between us flows easily—we talk about everything and nothing at the same time.

She takes a drag on her beer bottle. “What do you do?”

“I’m a veterinary surgeon.”

Alexis smiles. “Wow,” she says. “Impressive.”

I shrug. “My dad loved horses. When he died, my sister and I moved with his best friend --my godfather, and his family. Constantine loves horses too. It’s how we bonded. He has several stallions and used to take me to the races with him. His team loved and respected the horses, but some of the other owners abused them. Ruined them by pushing them too far. It made me so fucking furious. After a while, becoming a veterinary just made sense to me.”

She nods pensively.

“Tell me more about you, Alexis.”

“There’s not much to say about me. I’m a regular American girl; I love big, chocolate Labradors, and I saved some money to come here because I wanted to travel.” She averts my gaze. “That’s about it.”

I know that she’s hiding something, that there’s much more to her than that. I lean closer to her and whisper into her ear. “I’ll figure you out eventually, Lexie Ortiz.” She shivers when I place a small kiss on her bare shoulder.

She is wearing a sleeveless black tshirt, a short skirt and converse. The exposed, freckled skin of her thighs makes me want to drag her to the nearest closet and press her against the wall, slide into her hot and hungry, her skirt bunched at her waist, her mouth hot against my neck. The problem is that there’s another part of me that wants to stay exactly where we are, simply talking—making her laugh—getting to know everything about her.

“If you could only watch one movie for the rest of your life, what would it be?” She frowns—and even her frown is fucking cute.

“Have you lost your mind? That’s hard.”

I don’t relent. “Life’s most crucial questions usually are.”

She tilts her head toward the ceiling, exposing the enticing curve of her neck. And there’s something so damn delicate about it—I want to lean over and kiss it. But then she dips her chin, blocking my move. “Harry Potter.”

I shake my head. “Tsk, that’s not a movie—that’s a series of movies.”

“That’s my answer.” She jabs her elbow into my side.— slowly getting more trusting with me.

“That’s cheating, Ortiz.”

“Hey! Those movies have everything in them. I can’t just choose one. There’s one for every mood. And my name is Alexis.”

“Maybe, but you’re still a cheater, Lexie.”

“Ugh. You’re impossible.” She sticks her tongue out, and my cock hardens immediately. 

“Let’s hear it from you, Mr. Movie expert. What’s yours?”

“That’s easy, Shawshank Redemption. Best movie ever made.”

She shakes her head, and I get a whiff of jasmine and cherries. “Talk about depressing.”

I laugh. “I stand by my choice. Andy Dufresne is an American hero.”

--------------------------------------------------

Later, we delve into each other’s souls . . . kind of.

“Tell me something you hate,” She asks before downing her shot.

“I hate that commercials are louder than the shows you’re watching.” She heads bobs in agreement.

“That sucks.”

“You?” I ask before drinking my glass and ordering two more whiskeys.  

“I hate people who drive in red convertibles with the top down and the windows up. Like dude . . . pick a side.”.  

We both chuckle. 

“That’s a great sound,”  I say leaning in. Closer and closer. 

“What sound?”

I take a curl of her hair, brushing it between my fingers thoughtfully. “Your laugh. It’s a beautiful laugh, Lexie.”

“Thanks,” she says, blushing. “I work really hard on it every day.”

I smile at her.

We’ve been together for hours, and I just need more of her. I grab a bottle of whiskey on the bar, toss down a few bills and tilt my head toward the door.

“You want to get out of here?”

She hesitates. “No offense, you seem perfect—but Ted Bundy seemed like a nice guy too.”

I chuckle, holding up my hands, an amused expression on my face. “None taken. Ted Bundy ruined it for the rest of us.” I understand where she’s coming from. “I can give my ID to your colleague, and he can take a picture of it.”

She smiles. “Yeah, that will work.” After we talk to Daniel, we shuffle across the front of the bar and order an Uber—holding hands, taking swigs from the bottle, and laughing.

We arrive at my apartment fifteen minutes later. Lexie follows me through the set of French doors that lead out to my balcony, with two cushioned lounge chairs and a hot tub that overlooks a dark, wooded lot. It’s a warm, perfect starry night. 

She nods, smiling. “Nice.”

“I spent the day in the ER and then went straight to the pub. I’m going to take a quick shower. You good here?”

She gives me two thumbs-up. “I’m good.”

ALEXIS

Drake takes out his phone fiddles with the buttons and sets it on the table, leaving Amos Lee to sing “Wait Up For Me” as he goes inside. And I take it all in—the warm breeze, the way the moonlight and stars shine on the trees, the smell of the ocean in the wind, and the loose, languid feel of my bones. Here, now, at this moment—life is perfect. It’s a foreign feeling for me, but I intend to enjoy every second of it. I’m tired of being the “good girl”. The one that always does what she must. I want to do this. I don’t care if we only share one night. That’s everything I can give him anyway. Tomorrow, I’ll be gone.

A few minutes later, the song changes and “Wonderwall” plays from Drake’s phone. I close my eyes, singing along, tilting my head up to the sky, and turning slowly in time to the music. Until I feel him. I turn around, and Drake is leaning against the door, arms crossed, the intensity of his eyes following my every move. He’s wearing jeans, a gray t-shirt, and his hair a damp shade of brown. The muscles of his arms and chest are solid and reassuring. Tiny water droplets glisten on his shoulders, and I’m suddenly extra thirsty.

“Hi,” I whisper, a little breathless because I literally can’t speak.

His mouth does that sexy smirk thing. “Hi, Lexie.”

Drake moves forward, reducing the space between us, and I step into his arms like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I’m incredibly nervous but his hands rub my back, pressing me close, and mine slide down his arms—loving the warm feel of his skin beneath my palms. And then we’re swaying together to this slow song about how love can save you. And there’s a sweetness to the moment—a tenderness—that I know I’ll remember for the rest of my life.

“I don’t know how to dance,” he says, looking into my eyes.

I flat my palm against his chest. “We’re not dancing. We’re swaying.”

He chuckles “Ah. Good to know I can sway, then.” He strokes my hair down my back. “What kind of music do you like, Lexie?”

“I like songs that tell a story. That makes me feel. That makes me remember.”

“Me too.” Drake rests his chin on the top of my head. 

And he smells so good—like sandalwood and fresh-cut grass and a unique scent that’s just him. I want to run my nose across his skin—smelling up every inch of him.

When the song ends, our eyes lock. He swallows harshly, his throat rippling, his eyes tracing my face. “Lexie… Jesus.”

Then his mouth comes down on mine—hard and hot. His hands sink into my hair, angling my head, and a needy, desperate spike of pleasure streaks up my spine with every touch of his warm, wet tongue. It’s a fantastic kiss—the best kiss of my life.

“I wanted to do this the second I met you,” he tells me between kisses.

I sigh against him, molding my body to his warm putty in his strong, talented hands. “I wanted that too.”

His fingers dance across my rib cage. “It was all I could think about. Kissing the hell out of you.” I wrap my arms around his neck—pulling him nearer, wanting him closer.

“Yes.” Drake’s arm is an iron band across my lower back, lifting me off my feet, moving us into the apartment. He pushes me against the wall, grinding his erection against my pelvis. And it’s so good—all instinct and no thought. An intimacy that makes me tremble. He cups my face in his hands when he kisses me—and I love that. The way his tongue delves deep, his fingers brushing my cheek like I’m something precious. His lips slide down to my jaw, my neck, my collarbone.

“Lexie, are you drunk?”

“Yeah. But not too drunk. I know what I’m doing. I know what I want.”

He straightens up and looks into my eyes, both of us panting. “Tell me.” He sweeps his thumb against my lip like he can’t stop touching me. “Tell me what you want, Lexie and I’ll give it to you.”