“He put the knuckles of his fist to the table, leaned toward Niles and spoke quietly, cuttingly, in his rough, gravelly voice.“Fucked her last night, man, and this morning. Five times. Five. It was like she hadn’t been touched in a decade. So fuckin’ sweet. Damn,” he taunted, his eyes locked on Niles. “You’ve had her, you gotta know, not enough money in the world’s worth that.”

“I was your man, you were halfway around the world from me, honey, I'd fuckin' phone you," he said quietly."Niles is reserved," I whispered."Niles is an ass," he returned and my brows drew together."You don't know him.""I know men, and I know he's not reserved, he's an ass."I pulled my head together, my hand from his and snapped, "Yes? And how do you know that?""Because I've seen you naked, I've seen you sweet, I've seen you unsure and I've seen you riled and, seein' all that, I know, you were half a world away from me, I'd fuckin' phone.""Perhaps that's not the kind of relationship Niles and I have," I suggested snottily, but his words hit me somewhere deep, somewhere I didn't know I had."You on a timeout?""What?""If you told me you needed a timeout, first, I wouldn't fuckin' let you have one, second, I wouldn't give you reason to fuckin' want one, last, you took off anyway, I'd fuckin' phone.”

“<…>Days before, seconds after she told him she wanted to have breakfast with her husband and he liked hearing her say that, he liked it too fucking much, he fucked up. Then he kept fucking up. Then he kept fucking doing it. He knew it and he couldn't stop. Then, the instant she pressed her mouth to his, her soft body in his lap, overwhelmed with emotion and sharing that with him he lost control and he knew he couldn't do that. And the only way he could manage to keep control was to stay the fuck away from her, her sweet smiles, her soft voice, her brightness, that fantastic fucking body. He couldn't hold up. So he stayed the fuck away from her and spent a lot of time thinking about how to encourage her to stay the fuck away from him.<…>”

“Then she leaned slightly into him and said gently, “I don’t think you should be left be. I think you’re dealing with something heavy, you’re obviously doing it alone.” She threw a mitten-covered hand out to indicate the area, “You need to unload it, Chace.”Christ.Fuck.Christ.That voice, quiet, gentle, so fucking sweet saying his name, her eyes soft on him.Fuck.Better than he could have imagined.Better than he ever could have dreamed.And not his.Never to be his.Which meant finally hearing her say his name was torture.”

“Tack’s eyes stayed locked on Shy’s two beats then he said quietly. “Make her happy.” Shy held his gaze as, for the first time in fucking months, he began to breathe easy. There it was.Tack just gave it.His blessing.”

“Shy burst out laughing. When he quit, he saw she was smiling up at him.and it hit him.All of it.Waking up to her. Going to bed with her. Making love to her. Eating with her. Laughing with her. Kissing her. Going shopping with her, and when she was in a store and wandering away, he saw her looking over the racks, looking for him, and when he came to her at her back, she'd turned to him, looking lost, and leaned into him the second he got there, suddenly found.Jesus, he had it.All of it."I never dreamed any fuckin' dream," he whispered, and the smile faded from her face as tears filled her eyes.She understood him."Shy-""Didn't dream it, saw it, waited my time, and then you gave it to me.""Shy," her voice broke on his name.He looked into her blue eyes swimming with tears, feeling her fingers digging into his shoulders, her weight in his lap, the smell of her hair, the taste of her still on his tongue.Yes, he fucking had it.When he was twelve he lost it.Now he had it again.All of it.Everything.”

“She stared into his eyes and announced, “A good-bye kiss.”It was at that Raid stopped dead. “What?”“Raiden, the gig is up,” she declared, and Raid closed his eyes.Jesus, how could the woman be so infuriating and so fucking cute all at once?He opened his eyes and asked, “The gig is up?”She leaned into him and hissed, “Yes.”Fuck, he wanted to kiss her.He also wanted to shake her.“Baby, it’s jig,” he corrected, and her head jerked, which made that mess of hair on her head jerk, which reminded him he wanted his hands in that hair.Then elsewhere.He needed to speed this shit up.“Sorry?” she asked, sounding confused, and he looked from her hair to her eyes and saw she was, in fact, confused.Yeah. Infuriating. And fucking cute.“The jig is up, not the gig,” he told her.Her eyes narrowed. “Seriously? You’re correcting my street lingo?”“Think that street lingo was the street lingo about eight decades ago, Hanna. So now it’s just lingo.”