I wave at Abby and she waves back. She’s lifting her purse from beneath the bar, so I think she’s about to leave, too. “Don’t be a stranger!” she yells at me. I smile back and nod. She’s nice. I like her.

We walk through the bar to the back exit, and let ourselves out. It’s after four in the morning, and I’m tired, but the cold air wraps around me, and I feel more invigorated than I have in a really long time. I just got to play with a band for hours. And I have over three hundred dollars in my pocket.

Logan takes my hand in his and looks around. The streets are dark and more than a little scary at this hour. I’m suddenly really glad I’m with these two men. They’re both built like mountains, and the tats make them look much fiercer than they are. I want to talk to Logan, but I know he can’t walk beside me and see my lips. So I stay quiet all the way to his apartment. He motions for Pete to go up the stairs, and we stand in the stairwell for a moment. He brushes back a strand of hair that’s stuck to my lip. “You really enjoyed tonight, didn’t you?” he asks as soon as Pete’s gone.

I nod, and bury my face in his chest for a moment, squealing inside with excitement. I want to bite his chest, but I lift my head and say, “Thanks so much for taking me with you.”

“What did Bone want with you?”

I shrug. “Same thing he always wants.”

“Have you ever worked for him?” He appraises me closely, his blue eyes searching my face.

“Never.” It’s true. I have never fallen that far. Although I came close more than once.

He takes my hand in his and starts up the stairs. I kind of like holding hands with him. It’s nice. He pushes me up the steps before him and I turn around to say, “Do you know this is the first time I’ve ever walked up these steps of my own free will?”

He turns me around, slaps me on the ass, and I hear him chuckle. It’s more of a murmuring sound, but it’s all Logan and it warms my heart.

Logan

I’m so pissed at Pete that I can barely keep from running up the stairs and strangling the living shit out of him. He has something going on with Bone, but he won’t tell me what they were talking about. Bone’s no good and Pete knows it. So I have no idea what his purpose is for talking to the loser. He should have stayed far away from him.

But Kit’s hand is in mine, and it jerks me from my thoughts about strangling Pete. I stop at the top of the stairs and draw her to me. She laughs and falls into me, her hands landing to lie flat on my chest. Her thumb scrubs across one of my piercings and my breath catches. “Kit,” I warn.

“What?” she asks playfully, a grin tugging at her lips. “After what you did to me on the bathroom counter, you still won’t let me touch you? Seriously?” She’s playing. And I know it. But I don’t want to explain it. I cup her neck with my hand, and I feel a soft purr in her throat. God, I want her so bad.

“I enjoyed what I did to you on the bathroom counter,” I say as I touch my lips to hers. I lick across the seam of her lips, and she opens for me. Her tongue is a velvet rasp against mine, and I can imagine her taking my dick in her mouth and licking across it the same way. I groan into her mouth, and she steps up on tiptoe to get closer to me. Her hands slide around my neck, her tits pressed against my chest.

She lifts her head so I can see her lips. “When do I get to return the favor?” she asks. Her cheeks color prettily, and I can tell asking the question embarrasses her. God, she’s so damn cute.

I shake my head. “Not going to happen.”

She pulls back farther, her brows drawing together into a crease. “How long are you going to stick to that rule?” she asks.

“As long as it takes for you to trust me.”

“I trust you now,” she protests.

She doesn’t. If she did, she would tell me her secrets. “No, you don’t.”

“There are just some things I can’t tell anyone.” She takes my face in her hands. “Even you.” Her breath rushes against my lips and it’s all I can do not to press her against the wall and sink inside her right here and now. I could have her jeans off in seconds. Her legs around my waist. She breaks me from my haze of lust when she says, “I want to tell you everything.”

“You don’t have to tell me everything. But you can’t hold back from me.”

She lets me go and steps back, her breath rushing from her. I can feel the blast of it against my chin. “You mean like you’re holding back from me.”

I jerk her back to me, and she pushes away. She’s irked. I try to explain. “If I ever get to f**king be inside you, I want to know what to call you. I want to at least know your name. Because when that happens, you’re going to f**king own me.” I tip her face up so she’s looking at me. “Do you understand?”

She looks unsure.

“You’re going to own me.” I jerk her h*ps to mine, letting her feel how much I want her. “And there’s nothing I want more.”

I step back, brush her hair from her face, and open the door, tugging her by her fingertips until she follows me. She’s dragging. She tugs on my hand until I look at her.

“I want everything you want,” she says. She’s not looking me in the eye. So, I wait for her eyes to open. They finally do. She meets my gaze. “I do want everything you want. I just can’t have it.”

I lay her hand on my chest, and spread her fingers over my heart. “You already have me.” I laugh. “You had me from that first moment in the shop.” I hold up my arm, so she can look closely at her tat. “I’m wearing your f**king brand, damn it.” I tip her face up to mine. “What are you afraid of? You’re hiding from something. I know it. But I don’t know what.”

She bites her lower lip between her teeth and worries it. I tug it free with my thumb and lean down, sucking it between my lips. She steps onto her tiptoes and growls against my lips. I set her back and away from me, and I can feel the rumble in her chest as she moves.

“I’ll tell you. I can’t tell you everything. But I can tell you some of it,” she says.

My heart swells. I take her hand and lead her into the apartment. The whole place is quiet. Everyone is already in bed. “Want to take a shower?” I ask her. She sweated the night away.

“I thought you wanted to talk,” she says, looking everywhere but at me.

“I do.” And I don’t. Now I’m really afraid. “Take a shower and then we can talk until the sun comes up, if you want.”

She nods and bites her lower lip, which sends a kick straight to my gut. Then she turns from me. Suddenly she spins back. She grins and jerks her thumb toward the bathroom. “You want to join me in the shower so we can talk in there?”

Something tells me that if we end up in the shower, we won’t be doing much talking. “We’ll talk when you get out.”

Her bottom lip pokes out. But then she shrugs and says, “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

Emily

I shower quickly, trying to put my thoughts in order. I have to be really careful about what I tell Logan, mainly because there are so many people looking for me. I still see the lost posters at times. And there are news blasts sometimes with pictures of the old me. They’re of the me who had dark blond hair, pretty headbands, and shoes that cost more than the Reeds’ monthly budget. I ignore them, telling myself that person no longer exists. It’s easier that way.

I miss home with the longing of a toothache. But I’ve been gone so long now that I can’t go back. I left out of anger. And I can’t go home out of shame or necessity. I will only go home when I’m strong enough to stand up for myself. And I haven’t felt like that for quite some time.

I wrap a towel around my head and one around my body, and I step into the bedroom. Logan’s reclining on the bed wearing nothing but his boxers. He tosses me a clean shirt, and I pull it over my head. He closes his eyes as I slide his shirt on and step into my panties. I can hear the hiss of his heavy breaths across the room, and it’s a heady feeling to know how I affect him.

“You still want to talk?” I ask. “Or are you too tired?” I shake out my hair and run a comb through it.

“There’s no way you’re taking back your offer,” he warns. “You can’t tease me like that.”

I laugh. “I’m not taking it back. I just thought you might want to wait until tomorrow.”

He sits up and crosses his legs in front of him. I crawl onto the bed and mirror his position.

His gaze darts down to my panties, where he can probably see the strip of fabric between my legs. But I still sit criss-cross-applesauce. He groans. “You’re killing me here.”

I tug his shirt down over my knees. “You’re making me spill my guts. You can take some torture, too.” I glare at him until his gaze becomes indecipherable. “What is it?” I ask.

He heaves a sigh.

I hold up a hand to stop his melancholy mood. “If you could do anything, what would it be?” I ask.

His brows shoot up. “We’re supposed to be talking about you.”

“We will,” I warn. “I promise. Just tell me, if you could do anything, what would you do?”

He doesn’t even blink. But his eyes darken, and he says, “I’d lay you down, move your panties to the side and slide inside you.”

I freeze. My gut clenches and my belly quivers and my face heats up. I want what he wants. I want it so badly.

He laughs. “Oh, you meant the thing I want second-best?”

“That’ll do,” I croak.

“I’d go back to college,” he says over his laughter.

“Back to college? When were you in college?”

He scrubs a hand down his face. “Before Matt got sick. I had a scholarship.”

“But you had to come back home because of Matt and his cancer?” I lay a hand on my chest. My heart is breaking for this family. For Logan.

He shrugs. “We had to get some loans against the shop to pay for his treatment. And then he couldn’t keep doing tats because of the germs. So, we couldn’t pay the loans. Pete and Sam weren’t old enough to work there. Not doing tats.”

“What school did you go to?” I ask.

“NYU.” His brows furrow. “Why does any of his matter?”

“You gave up your scholarship for Matt. For your family.”

He shakes his head. “I got a deferment. I didn’t give up. I can go back once things are good here.”

“Did it cost a lot of money for Matt’s treatment?”

He nods. But he doesn’t elaborate. I can guess what a lot of money is to them.

“I wanted to do that, too,” I say quietly. No one knows this. No one else knows I had dreams once. “Well, not to NYU. I wanted to go to Julliard. But my dad said it was a worthless endeavor and he refused to pay for it.” I hold up a finger when he opens his mouth to protest. “But he was willing to pay for a wedding that cost four times what Julliard ever would.” I shake my head.

Logan looks a bit shell shocked. “A wedding?” he asks.

I nod, looking up at him from beneath lowered lashes.

His breath hitches. “Please tell me you’re not married.”

I shake my head. “No. That’s why I’m here.” I scoot forward so my knees are touching his. I don’t touch him anywhere else. But I need a connection with him. “My father arranged a marriage for me. That’s all I was good for, being on the arm of a senator or a high powered attorney. I had no worth of my own, aside from being someone’s arm piece. Since I can’t read, that was supposed to be my future.”

“But you said no.”

I nod. “I said no. And he didn’t like it. So, he went on without me. The wedding was planned. The dress was purchased. The church was decorated.”

His brows shoot toward the ceiling. “But you ran away.”

I nod, biting my lower lip. He pulls it free with the pad of his thumb and strokes across it. I kiss his thumb, and he leans back. “I ran away,” I confirm. “On the morning of the wedding, I ran away. I took a bus from home to here.”

“With nothing.”

I show him my empty hands. “I took some clothes, my guitar, and bus fare.”

“Where are you from?” he asks.

I shake my head. “I can’t tell you.” Yet. I know I’ll tell him eventually. But I can’t risk him calling my family. I can’t risk them finding out where I am. My father is one of the richest men in the country. He would spare no expense in bringing me home.”

He nods. He’s not happy about it, but he understands. “Julliard, huh?” he asks, smiling. His thumb trails across the back of my hand.

“Julliard,” I say with a smile. “I struggle with reading,” I admit. “But Julliard didn’t care. I even auditioned for them without him knowing. They wanted me. And offered special services for my dyslexia. But my dad found it to be a worthless endeavor. He’s of the opinion that I can’t learn. Anything.”

“Your dad is an idiot.” Logan says it deadpan.

I laugh. It’s a watery sound. He believes in me. Logan believes I could do it.

“What’s stopping you from going now?”

“My social security number,” I explain. “My father is looking for me. And I’m afraid he’ll force me back there if he knows where I am. He can track my movements if I go to the doctor or get a bank account or register for school.”

Logan shakes his head. “You’re an adult. You’re not under your father’s thumb.”