Thank God. Saved by the tow truck.

Josh gave me a long look before he put his shoulder into the door to get out and meet the driver.

I knew this wasn’t over. He was going to keep asking. I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t going to lie, but I wouldn’t answer. The truth wouldn’t be fair to anyone. What was the point in telling Josh I was hoarding every moment with him? Why?

My feet still tingled where he’d touched them. It radiated through my body like electricity, turning on everything as it went up. The memory of his strong, rough palms made my breath shudder. It was too easy to imagine those hands slipping under my dress.

I’d wanted him to touch me, and he’d offered me a chance to let him do it. I couldn’t say no. I’d let him because it was all I’d ever get.

I put my heels back on, grabbed my purse, and got out to join Josh by the truck. He watched me as he talked to the tow truck driver, and I felt his eyes on me like they were hands.

It was getting chilly. Past midnight. I stood hugging my arms as Josh signed some paperwork on a clipboard. He turned back to me and closed the space between us as the tow truck guy started hooking the car up to the hoist.

“Cold?” Josh peeled off his jacket before I could answer and threw it around my shoulders in a halo of his cologne. I had to fight to keep my face

neutral. The jacket was warm from his body, like it was him wrapped around me.

“Thanks,” I said. “I’m sorry this happened. You have work tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll be okay.” He rubbed my arms over the jacket, trying to warm me.

He never touched me, and now he’d touched me twice in a matter of minutes, like some unspoken boundary had dissolved.

I wished he would slip his arms around me. He looked like the kind of man who gave great hugs. Bear hugs. The kind that enveloped you.

For a second I wanted to ask him if I could hug him. I bet he wouldn’t say no. But I’d already played with enough fire for one day, and that would be crossing a line.

The foot rub had been crossing a line.

But God, I wanted the hug. I wanted it so badly the pull toward him felt physical, like the ocean dragging against your ankles when the tide pulls back.

But I had to maintain boundaries. For so many reasons—Tyler being the least of them.

Josh nodded to the car. “I’m having it towed to a shop by your house so we can get a ride with him and then just walk the rest of the way home.”

The tow truck guy spoke over the sound of clinking chains. “You kids are gonna have to lap sit. I got my dog with me.”

My eyes flicked to Josh’s, and I shook my head quickly. “No. I can’t sit on your lap.”

The words were coming out of my mouth before I knew what I was saying. But I couldn’t. I really couldn’t. If I sat on his lap, the temptation would catapult me. “I’ll look for an Uber.”

I started punching into my phone, opening the Uber app. “What? Are you serious?” he asked.

“Yeah. We don’t fit in there, so no choice.”

He made an impatient noise. “Look, I’ve gotta be at work in a few hours. I’m still an hour from getting home if I leave right now. Can we just do this?”

I shook my head, staring at my phone. I got an Uber. Then the driver immediately canceled the trip. Fuck! It was the area. Nobody wanted to come to this part of downtown this late. It was too dangerous. “Then go. I’ll

be fine here. I’ll call a cab.”

Josh’s eyes bored into me. I could feel them, but I didn’t dare look up. “Kristen, we’re practically in Skid Row. I’m not leaving you here. If you

stay, I stay. And if you make me stay, you’re making me lose sleep.”

I looked up at him, my eyes pleading. “I can’t sit on your lap,” I said again. I didn’t bother with an excuse. I didn’t like to lie. Let him think this was about Tyler.

He raked a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “I don’t get this, Kristen. You’re way too practical for this. We have a ride. He’s here. Now. We’ll be at your house in fifteen minutes. I don’t care if you sit on my damn lap.”

“I’ve got a boyfriend.” Not an excuse. Not a lie. Completely factual. “Well, I’m not going to tell him this story if you’re not. Let’s go.” He

started for the door of the tow truck, his tone final.

It was wrong. It was wrong because how much I wanted it made it wrong. A fifteen-minute ride sitting on Josh’s lap—it would be an eternity. And I would love every second of it and hate myself for it.

I looked around desperately, like a cab might suddenly appear from the shadows. Instead, the taco truck tapped its horn as it drove past us, leaving the lot. Even Marv had disappeared. The vacant lot with its dim lighting and wall of tents immediately looked menacing. We didn’t even have a car to sit in and wait while I tried to get a taxi to come get us.

He was right. We had to take this ride.

I let out a breath, steeling myself for what I had to do.

Josh got in first, sliding in next to an old white-faced golden retriever who took up most of the cab.

I was hot suddenly. Really hot. I took off his jacket and folded it over my arm and climbed in after him. He pulled me onto his knees, strong hands on my waist, and I draped the jacket over my lap.

Josh leaned over to close the door, his chest pressing into my body, and I held my breath at the contact.

Fuck, I can’t do this.

It was sensory overload. So much of him at once I felt dizzy. I wanted to leap off his lap and into the parking lot where I would be safe from myself. But he was the sun. His gravity was too strong, and now that I was so close, I couldn’t get out of his pull.

He slammed the door and sat back against the seat while I perched sideways on his knees, my back stiff, trying to keep my breathing steady. He made an exasperated sound, like I was being ridiculous, and pulled me closer until my shoulder pressed into his chest. He wrapped the seat belt around us, folding into me as he did, and buckled it in.

The cab smelled like dog and gasoline.

And Josh.

His breath tickled my cheek. “There. Is that so bad?” he asked, his voice low.

It was terrible. So fucking terrible. Because it was wonderful and it was so much more than I could handle. He was warm and firm, and he smelled incredible. It made me want to rest my head on his shoulder and nuzzle his neck with my nose, and if I did, and he tipped his head down, I’d kiss him and there would be no stopping me.

I couldn’t even look at him. We were so close together that if I did, I was afraid our lips might touch.

I tried to relax. I leaned back into him, acting like none of this was a big deal while I secretly obsessed over every point of contact—the back of my thighs on his, the hand that he had set on his knee where his fingers absently grazed my leg, the arm he had casually wrapped around my waist.

It felt like we sat there for hours before the guy got in and started the engine.

Part of me relished every second, sitting there so close to Josh. The other part of me was tortured—teased.

If things were different…if my uterus didn’t make us an impossibility, if I didn’t have a boyfriend—I’d have kissed him right there where he sat, in front of Tow Truck Guy and Old Dog, and I wouldn’t have thought twice about it.

But things weren’t different. They were what they were.

The truck lumbered out of the lot and Josh held me in place, the muscles of his strong arm keeping me steady.

The roads were empty, the occasional cop car the only sign of life.

I tucked my hair behind my ear and licked my lips, not knowing where to look. I glanced over at Josh, expecting his eyes to be forward, looking out the windshield, but instead they looked at my mouth.

So I looked at his.

Our gazes flicked back up at the same moment, and our eyes locked. Oh God, Sloan was right. He was into me. And I was into him.

And now he knew it.

The truck swayed and the driver fiddled with the radio, and Josh looked at me, his brown eyes hooded. I could feel his soft, warm breath on my face, the steady in and out of his chest, and my resolve wavered. I couldn’t hold my ground. How could I? I couldn’t even pull my eyes away.

His lips parted and the arm encircling my waist wrapped around me another fraction. The fingers by my leg slid over my knee until his warm palm cupped my bare skin.

The movements were subtle. So minor they almost seemed insignificant. The tow truck driver wouldn’t even have noticed it if he’d been looking right at us. But to Josh and me, they were milestones. Questions and answers. Risks and permission.

When I didn’t make him stop, his eyes dropped back to my lips, his expression darkening in a way that made me lose my breath.

He wants to kiss me.

Would he do it? Right here in this tow truck? Yes. He would.

Because if I were him, unattached and without reasons not to, I would too.

My already pounding heart launched into fluttering. If he leaned in, I was physically incapable of turning away. I would let him close the space between us and press his mouth to mine. I wanted to know what he tasted like. What his lips would feel like touching me. I was losing sense of time and reality as everything closed in around us and became him, smaller and smaller, nothing but his face, those eyes, his head tilting, noses touching, breath on my bottom lip—

You’re not a cheater.

I jerked back before I lost the power to do it, turning my face hard to the windshield, gasping for air.

The spell was broken.

He pulled his hand away from my knee. His grip around my waist loosened. I could feel the disappointment in the set of his body.

I wondered if he could feel it in mine.

Finally the tow truck pulled into the parking lot of the auto shop. I

unbuckled us and scrambled off him, hopping out as soon as the wheels stopped turning, and started walking the three blocks toward my house without waiting for him.

“Kristen, stop!” I kept walking.

He had to deal with the tow truck driver, and I needed to put space between us and that ride. I needed to put Tyler between us, where he belonged. Tyler, who didn’t care if I couldn’t give him kids. Tyler, who wouldn’t be affected one way or another if I had my uterus yanked.

I pulled out my cell phone to play the message he left me, hoping the sound of his voice would smack me back into reality, ground me again, make me realize that no, I didn’t want Josh—I wanted my boyfriend.

But it wouldn’t.

Sloan was right. I had settled. Because anything less than Josh would be settling.

How did I get here? How had I fallen so far into this fucked life that I didn’t even want? I was a frog in a pot of boiling water.

I dialed my voicemail, struggling to catch my breath, emotion sucking up all the air. I called to hear Tyler’s message like it was my duty. Like it was something unpleasant I had to get through out of sheer obligation.

“Hi, Kris…”

Would Tyler and I share comfortable silences? Would he annoy me when he was here day in and day out?

He would annoy me because he couldn’t be Josh. Because he would make Josh disappear. And it would change the way I felt about Tyler. It wouldn’t even be fair to him, but I knew it would happen. I would resent him.

My throat got tight. I was a horrible person. It was traitorous to feel this way about another man, but I couldn’t stop the landslide. I couldn’t remember what Tyler smelled like. Couldn’t remember the way his arms felt around my body.

Everything was Josh.

“…I probably won’t be able to call you again for a few days and I really hoped we could talk tonight…”

I forced myself to keep the phone pressed to my ear, forced myself to endure the decisions I’d made as they tumbled over me and buried me in

rubble. Every choice was another stone on the pile. The hysterectomy. Boulder. Asking Tyler to move in. Boulder. Spending so much time with Josh, letting myself fall in love with him. Boulders, heavier and heavier.

“…I’ve been trying to reach you and haven’t been able to get you on the phone…”

I wrapped my arm across my stomach and walked as quickly as I could in heels. I knew Josh was behind me somewhere and I needed more distance.

I ran up my front steps and dug my key from my purse, got the door open, and pushed inside holding the phone to my ear with my shoulder. I was going to lock myself in my room and not say good night to him. I couldn’t be face-to-face with him again. Not alone.

“…You mean so much to me, Kris, and I love you…”

As much as I recognized that Tyler wasn’t what I really wanted, I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was the only safety net I had between me and Josh. That he had to stay in place, or I’d plummet. There was no question in my mind. If there was no Tyler, I would crash into Josh so hard my heart wouldn’t survive the impact.

I just needed Tyler to get home. Now. I needed him to protect me from myself and remind me why we were together. To distract me and make me fall back in love with him and—

“…I reenlisted.”

I stopped so fast my heel wobbled and I almost rolled an ankle.

What???

My fingers fumbled, and I dropped my cell with a smack on the hardwood floor. I scrambled to pick it up, and I held the phone in front of me with shaking hands and played the message again on speaker.

Then I listened a third time just to be sure I heard what he said. He reenlisted.

He broke up with me. It was over between us. No more net…

I became an instant danger to my own heart. I tossed the phone onto the sofa, took off my heels, and bolted to the door.

Josh was already coming up my steps at a jog. As soon as he saw me in the doorway, he started in on me. “You can’t go walking around alone in the

middle of the night, Kristen. It’s not sa—”

I collided with him, throwing my arms around his neck, and crushed my lips to his.

He didn’t even pause. Not for a second. He kissed me back.

His mouth was urgent and didn’t ask questions, like he knew this moment was a gift and he didn’t want to risk having to return it. But I needed him to know. I broke away, gasping for air, my forehead to his. “Tyler and I broke up. He left me a message. He reenlisted. I told him if he did that, we were through. And he reenlisted.”

I didn’t care. In that intoxicated moment, I did not give one fuck that Tyler and I were over.

He studied my face for a split second before he answered by kissing me again.

He was like slipping into warm sheets. It was everything safe and perfect. All the tiny, stolen, fragmented pieces of him that I’d collected over the last few weeks, his smell, the feel of his breathing against my body in the tow truck, the contours of his shirtless chest in the garage, the roughness of his hand on my bare knee, the study of his mouth when he wasn’t looking—all came together into a familiar and exhilarating rush as he pressed against me and kissed me.

Hands plunged down my back to cradle my ass and he ground into me.

Only sex. That’s all it can be.

“Do you have a condom?” I breathed.

He shook his head, trailing his lips down, ravaging the side of my neck.

I tipped my head back and closed my eyes. “I haven’t been with anyone in over six months and I have an IUD.”

He kissed me roughly under my jaw.

“Have you been with anyone since Celeste?”

“No.” His eyes came back up to mine and I could see the desire, like smoldering embers in his irises. “And I’m good without one if you are.”

This man wanted me. We wanted each other. I was in that rare window of time when the bleeding had stopped. That once-a-month respite from my period hell.

And I’m in love with him.

I was going to sell my soul to have him. I would fly too close to the sun. But I would do it with conditions.

“Okay, no condom. I don’t like them anyway. But Josh, this is just sex.

Nothing else,” I whispered. “You have to agree or it stops now.”

My eyes drowned in his. My breasts pressed into his chest, his breath rolled over my lips, his hands pulled me into him, and I was small and protected, nestled into his firm body. It was better than the hug I’d envisioned. It was paralyzing.

Say yes.

He didn’t answer. He smiled against my lips, wrapped my legs around his waist, and carried me straight to the bedroom, devouring my mouth as he staggered through the door.

My dress pushed up around my hips and his hands held my naked thighs against him. The straining in his pants, pressed into my panties, drove me almost mad. I felt like a crazed animal. I wanted to rip his clothes off him with my teeth.

He set my feet down in the middle of the room and I tugged at his shirt, desperate to run my hands along his bare chest. He kicked out of his shoes and peeled off his shirt, and his warm masculine scent ensconced me as I grappled with his belt buckle. The metallic clink was like a mating call that made us both frantic.

I fumbled with the zipper and he took over, his fingers quicker than mine, pulling his pants down. He sprung free and I gasped. “Oh my God…”

The man was a bull.

It was the most beautiful penis I’d ever seen. I stared at it, holding my breath, wondering if it would even fit.

If this was a Copeland family trait, no wonder his mom had seven kids.

I’d never put this away. I’d make this damn thing my screen saver.

My wide eyes came back up to his, and he bounced his eyebrows and grinned. Then he turned me and gathered my hair to the side of my neck and kissed along my shoulder, pressing the length of that enormous thing against my ass as he unzipped my dress, letting it fall around my ankles. I panted like a dog in heat.

“Don’t touch my stomach,” I breathed. “I have this thing and it makes it bloated and…”

He nodded against my neck and his hands came around to cup my breasts, grinding into me again from behind.

I ground back.

He moaned, slipping a hand down the front of my panties. “Tell me what you like,” he whispered against my ear, moving against me.

Oh my fucking God…

What didn’t I like? It had been so long and I was so deprived I was afraid he was going to finish me right there. My body began to tremble at the build. I couldn’t take it anymore. He seemed to sense it because he pulled his fingers back right before I disintegrated in his hand, and he laid me down on the bed, sliding over me. He hovered on his forearms and ran a thick, muscular thigh up between my legs until it hit my core and I sucked in air against his lips.

Oh my God, he was so good at this… And he fucking knew it.

He smiled and kissed me, his tongue darting in my mouth, his rough hands canvassing my skin like he wanted to feel every inch of me.

I did the same.

It felt so good to touch him. My eyes had spent so much time learning his body, and my hands wanted to map him. I ran fingers along his chest, over the curve of his broad freckled shoulders, down the muscles of his back, along the valley of his spine. I breathed in his scent as I grabbed his firm ass and pulled him into me and he groaned, rubbing hard against my leg.

I couldn’t believe this was real, that I got to touch him, that he was kissing me, that there was nothing between us but my thin G-string. His bare skin pressing into mine was the most exquisite feeling of my life, a million nerve endings connecting with his, little electrical shocks that merged into one huge surge.

He sat up and kneeled between my legs, picking up my foot and putting it on his shoulder.

The view was fucking spectacular.

The definition of his chest continued down with a line of hair into a V muscle that pointed at his divine penis like an arrow. I reached out and took him in my hand and his breathing went ragged. My gaze came back up to his hooded eyes. He kissed my ankle and I watched him do it, biting my lip, stroking him, my need unraveling into something so starved I wanted to beg him to have mercy on me and just fuck me already.

I thought of the way he’d touched me in the car, his strong hands

massaging my calf, and I couldn’t help but feel like he was continuing something he started earlier. He ran his palms from my ankle, behind my knee, up my thigh, and he hooked my panties in his thumbs and pulled them down and off. Then he balled them in his hand, shut his eyes, and put them to his nose, breathing in.

When his eyes opened again, they’d gone primal. He came at me like a wild animal.

He lowered onto me, his jaw clenched tight, every muscle of his body tense, and I lifted my hips. He held my gaze as he eased himself in, slow and deliberate, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, feral with need, frantically urging him deeper.

One… Two…

I wasn’t going to last a minute and it was all overload, his naked body pressed to mine, the feel of him inside me, rhythmically thrusting against my core, deeper and deeper, his quivering breath over my collarbone, his hips grinding between my legs, his scent, his sounds, the heat of his skin, the rocking of the bed, the moaning in my throat—my back arched and I fell apart at the same time he did, clutching at everything, pulling him into me, pulsing with his release.

He collapsed on top of me and I was decimated.

I lay there like a rag doll, twitching with aftershocks.

He gasped for breath, his face by my ear. “Holy…fucking…shit,” he panted.

I just nodded. I couldn’t even speak. I’d never had sex that good. Never in my life—and I’d had my share of good sex. It was like we’d been foreplaying for weeks and I’d been sexually malnourished, starving, waiting for him to feed me.

He looked up at me after a few moments, the storm in his eyes quieted, and he kissed me slow and languidly while he caught his breath, putting soft pecks along my jaw, brushing the hair off my forehead with his fingers.

I loved it.

It was so sweet and tender. And I couldn’t allow it. “Can you get me a towel?” I asked, putting a stop to it.

He kissed my forehead. “Sure.” He got up and I watched him walk across the room, his perfect naked body silhouetted by the light coming

from my bathroom. He came back in a second later and smiled at me as he handed me a towel.

My heart yearned for him. I wanted to cuddle with him. I wanted him to stay. “Okay, time to go.”

He got under the covers. “Nope.” He scooted in and threw an arm over me.

“What do you mean ‘nope’? We’re done here. Thank you, and go home now.”

This was the price. The payment for what I stole. I couldn’t have it all. I tried lifting his arm off me. It weighed, like, a million pounds. God, he was muscly.

He rolled me onto my side, pulled my back into his chest, and snuggled me. “Nope. I’m staying the night. You took time off my sleep schedule. I’m not driving a half an hour to my apartment just to lose more sleep before a forty-eight-hour shift.”

“Well, you’re sleeping in the guest room, then,” I said, pulling at his hand.

He went into a vise grip over my rib cage. “Nope. Your futon sucks.”

It wasn’t that I didn’t want him there. I did. I’d never wanted anyone to stay the night more in my life. And that’s exactly why he needed to leave.

This had to be sex and only sex. This wasn’t a relationship. It couldn’t be. Ever. I could never let him mistake it for one. I had to be crystal clear about that. I was a dead end worse than Celeste, and if he ever developed feelings or things ever got fuzzy, I’d have to end it.

He needed to go.

“Josh, we’re not cuddling. This is a sex thing.” I tried to wriggle away from him and he laughed, nuzzling my neck.

“Knock it off. We’re two grown-ass adults. We can share a bed for a night. And I’m not cuddling you—I’m using you as a body pillow.”

I gave him side-eye that he couldn’t see. “Well, I’m not making you breakfast in the morning.”

“Thank God.”

I smirked. “Fine. Stay. But don’t go catching feelings. I mean it. We are not a thing. Got it?”

“Using me for sex. Got it.” He pulled me closer and kissed my shoulder. “Stop!”

“Good night.” I could tell he was smiling.

I gave up my struggles and tried to relax. The rise and fall of his chest moved rhythmically against my back, and with every exhale, I sank deeper into him, like I belonged there.

Like I was loved.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push the feelings down.

This was a bad idea. I didn’t know if I could compartmentalize this like I thought I could. Especially if he was going to be pulling this shit.

And why was he pulling this shit? Didn’t guys prefer noncommittal sex- only situations? Didn’t he say he wasn’t ready to date? I was making this easy for him.

My tired mind drifted off into sleep, and while I was somewhere in the fog, buried in his strong arms, he put his nose to my hair and breathed in.