" from taking you in this shower."

Despite the sweet way that Beau spoke to me a second ago as he tried to gauge if I still wanted to get back into bed with him, he was barely holding onto any semblance of control. The minute that I attempted to touch him, to rake my fingers down his chest to grab onto something hard and hot, he jerked me away, twisted me around.

Now I was pushed up against the shower wall with his body cradling me from behind. His hand pushed my hair to the side so he could breathe in my ear while his erection pressed against my ass, sliding along the crease in my cheeks.

"All I would need is for you to spread your legs for me, sweetheart, and I could give us what we both want."

Beau's free hand slipped between me and the wall, coming down to cup between my legs. I gasped, and then I moaned. God, I was a mess for this man.

"I need to feel you, Beau," I panted, licking the water off my lips from the gentle spray of the shower. "Inside me."

He groaned and flexed his hips, pushing against me. "I know."

"What are you waiting for, then?"

"Because shit, Collins," he grunted. "This position isn't going to work for me."

"Why not?" I whined, leaning my forehead against the shower wall. It sure felt like it was working for him.

"Because I need to see that fucking look on your face when your greedy pussy takes me for the first time."

__

Nessa didn't say anything when she surprised me by walking into my room. She didn't comment on how I definitely wasn't FaceTiming with my brother like I said I would. She didn't mention how awkward dinner was. She lay quietly next to me, staring at the ceiling, at the tiny cracks in the paint and the steady spin of the fan above us.

It was a comfortable silence. And I realized that even though Nessa and I didn't talk that much, there had always been an easiness between us that I appreciated.

"It's scary, isn't it?" she finally asked.

"What?"

"Falling."

"Yeah," I said quietly, without hesitation. "It really is."

It was quiet again. I turned my head, examining her side profile as those brown eyes continued to stare up. Nessa's angular features were arranged just right on her face so that she was ridiculously gorgeous, but in an intimidating kind of way sometimes. If she was anything but devastatingly attached to Grayson, I knew I'd be a little bit self-conscious sitting next to her in a room with Beau, a little bit jealous of their closeness.

But as it was, none of those feelings existed.

"Does it get any less scary?" I whispered. I needed to know. Because right now, I was terrified.

I wondered what Beau said to Nessa. I wondered if she figured it out all on her own or if he'd finally spilled it all. Honestly, I didn't care. It felt good to ask these things aloud.

"Yeah." She released a huge sigh. "But that comes with trust. That your heart won't break when it lands." Her voice softened another degree. "Do you trust Beau?"

I nodded, no reservations. "He makes me feel...safe."

I was prepared for judgment on Nessa's part. For her to say then, what's the matter? But she didn't. She nodded, too, as if in understanding.

"I get it. Sometimes our past is still louder than our trust. It's hard to make yourself believe you won't break. That falling won't hurt."

Shaking my head, I looked back up at the ceiling. Watched the fan go round and round. "I'm not worried about getting hurt."

I couldn't imagine Beau ever doing something that directly harmed me. I could see him overthinking everything, so he ensured that he didn't. He was too good like that. Beau would do anything for anyone. So to be frank, it was almost nerve-wracking to think about what he would do for me, considering how he claimed to feel.

Nessa turned her head. I felt her eyes boring into the side of my face.

"I'm worried I'll hurt him," I admitted, my confession leading to a stretch of silence.

"You're a better person than me, I guess," she finally said with a light laugh.

"I'm not," I whispered.

"Our boy's already in pain, Collins."

"I know." I closed my eyes, pain leaking into my chest. "I'm just trying to get all my words in order. And I'm not really good with words, so it's taking me a while. And once I get in the same room as him...it's like I can only half-function."

When I opened my eyes again, Nessa was still staring at me.

"What?"

She shrugged. "There's a side of Collins that only half-functions? Who knew. You're always so...put together. Responsible."

"I think there's probably a side of Beau you don't know about either," I muttered beneath my breath.

Propping herself up on her elbow, Nessa narrowed her eyes at me. "Did you just say what I think you just said?"

I snapped my mouth shut. Shook my head. Bit down on my lip to surpress a smile.

Her eyes narrowed even more.

I wished I hadn't said anything. Was it wrong that I wanted to keep that side of Beau to myself? The side of him that knew how to make my heart race and my body pulse.

Once she'd given up on getting me to spill more, Nessa flopped onto her back again.

"Maybe...." she started thoughtfully. "Maybe you could put the words down onto paper, just to get your thoughts out there. So you didn't have to rely on functioning at all."

"I—"

My words vanished as Nessa's replayed in my head.

On paper.

On a page.

On the same page.

I sat up with a start.

****

Beau was staring at the book I'd given him, and I wondered if he could hear my heartbeat from here.

"This is a damn good page," he said, poking at it and looking up at me. Beau was always so expressive, and right now wasn't an exception. His lips stretched wide. His eyes smiled even wider. "I love this page."

"Same," I said, unable to hold back from returning his grin.

"Same?" he asked, greedily probing for me to say more.

I nodded, feeling like I was riding the waves, the current of the moment, and I was no longer in control. I had to go where they took me.

"I want you, Beau," I whispered.

Nessa was right; it was somehow easier to say it when the declaration was already out there.

"Come here." His voice pleaded with me as his hands fisted the sheets in his bed like they were itching to grab something. Itching to grab me.

"No, I need—let me finish first, Beau. If you start touching me...." I shook my head, hoping he understood.

When I came into physical contact with Beau, I lost it all—my voice, my reasoning. When we were close, all I could think about was him. And right now, I needed to focus so that I could give myself over entirely the next time he touched me.

"Okay, finish," he urged. Eagerness overtook his entire expression, and I took a deep breath.

Closing the door behind me, I leaned against it. Pulling my sweater sleeves down, I balled them into my fists, fidgeting with the fabric.

"I want you," I repeated, "but you keep giving me the world when I don't deserve it. I don't deserve to be with a person like you."

As I expected, Beau's brows furrowed.

"A person like you?" he repeated. "You're kind to literally everyone, Collins. You spent years working with kids who have gone through trauma after you experienced it yourself. You balk whenever someone tries to give you a gift. You organize all of our monthly bills and never complain. And you put up with Bren in high school. I mean, that must have been a doozy, knowing his moody ass."

The last part forced a small smile onto my face. He wasn't wrong, of course. Saying that Bren had an attitude in high school would be an understatement.

"You don't fully know the person I am, Beau," I said, my lips falling back down into a grim line. "There's more than all that, and that's why I stopped us the other night. I wanted to explain it to you first because it was only fair. I wanted you to know the truth about me before we did anything more. I wanted to get on the same page." I sighed, resting my head back on his bedroom door. "But you told me to leave."

The room was silent for a heavy moment as Beau absorbed my words. His face fell, a momentary blank page. And then...a dawning.

"God, I'm sorry." He leaned against his headboard and swore beneath his breath. "It just—it felt like you were warning me that you only wanted sex and nothing else. And I couldn't...." He lifted his hands and then let them fall into his lap. "...do that again. I told myself if I touched you one more time, you'd be mine. I can't do anything else, Collins."

A shiver worked its way through me, its origin Beau's lips as he uttered the word mine.

No, I couldn't do that again, either.

"Beau, I've never only wanted sex from you," I said truthfully. Surprise registered on Beau's face, making me laugh a little. "From the very beginning, I was so...drawn to you. But I told myself that one night wouldn't hurt to walk away from." I swallowed down the emotion swelling in my throat. "I was wrong."

Beau's lips parted in a sort of disbelief, and he stared at me for a long moment.

"Tell me what you want, Collins," he said eventually, his voice gravelly. "Tell me what we're doing."

The words were there, on my tongue, ready to flow out of me.

"I want more. Everything, Beau. All the words you said in the hallway." I stood straighter, taking a deep breath. My stomach was spinning, a continual loop of nerves that just wouldn't settle. "It was just a lot for me. You overwhelm me sometimes, and I needed....I needed time to work my way through it all. To be sure. I didn't want to say something in the heat of the moment that I wasn't ready for. Because the last thing I want is to hurt you more in the end."

"Fuck, baby girl." Beau threw his arms behind his head in a sudden, worked-up movement that caused something inside me to clench. "I don't think anything can hurt more than not being with you."

I nearly choked on my own breath. My heart thudded loudly, even louder than when he'd confessed everything in the hallway. It wasn't just his words; it was how I could see on his face just how valid those words were. And I couldn't decide if I loved it or hated it.

"Don't be so sure," I muttered.

Beau caught my meaning and crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly. "Whatever it is you need to explain won't change how I want you. Because I do know you, Collins."

The thudding of my heart intensified.

Well, here it goes.

"When I was eighteen," I said, "I almost went to jail."

Beau frowned, and I could tell that he couldn't imagine a scenario where that was true. "For what?"

"I killed someone."

The painful, dark confession hung between us, dangling midair because Beau clearly didn't accept it. That frown still in place, he began to shake his head.

"I did, Beau." I punched the words out almost angrily. He needed to believe me, needed to understand.

He dragged a hand down his face, and when it fell into his lap, I noticed a twitch in his lips. A ludicrous smile danced there, one of skepticism and understandable shock.

"No, sweetheart."

Irritation and warmth swelled within me, all at the same time, and I unconsciously stomped my foot on the ground, frustrated.

I could get used to Beau calling me sweetheart all the time. But goddamnit, focus.

Swinging his legs off the bed, Beau leaned forward onto his knees. When it looked like he might stand, might walk over here, I froze. Seeming to notice, he stilled, too. Settled his elbows on his legs and stayed on the bed, even though the immobility obviously pained him. I heard a low curse.

"Beau—"

He cut me off with a lift of his hand, his expression turning somber. He clasped his hands together tightly, lifting his head to peer at me with an anxious pleading in his voice.

"Tell me everything," he said. "But don't do this thing where you try to make yourself into a villain to scare me away. Because I know you. And the only thing I'm worried about right now is what happened to you that put you in that position. One where someone died, and now you're blaming yourself for it."

The roaring in my ears was so loud that I barely heard myself reply.

"I'm not the only one who blames me."

His jaw twitched. "Is it Denver? Because his opinion doesn't fucking matter."

"It was his dad."

"His dad blames you?"

"No, Beau. He's dead." Beau's lips drew into a thin line as he waited for me to go on. So I drew a deep breath and continued. "It was a drunk driving accident, and Denver was with me, in the passenger seat. His dad was in the other car." Beau stiffened at the inclusion of the word drunk, but I shook my head. "Not me. His dad."

I closed my eyes for a moment, begging my mind not to go down the rainy rabbit hole to revisit that night. The thunder overpowering Denver's yells. The blood, on the pavement and roaring, rushing in my ears.

I saw him, Mr. Bailey, only a few hours before the crash. I saw him walk into a hotel, turning immediately right to stride up to the bar just behind the huge glass windows. I saw him sidle up to it. I assumed he was meeting someone for work. He was always meeting someone for work. I didn't think anything of it, not when I drove by, not when I picked up Denver later that evening, and he said his parents were both out, not when we started heading to the movie.

I didn't think anything of it until that black sports car came crashing into us.

Beau stroked his jaw, rubbing it intensely. "I'm failing to see how this scenario almost landed you in jail."

"The data from my cell phone indicated that I was texting at the time of the crash, so it got muddled who was at fault. Denver was using my phone, though. He..." I bit down on my tongue for a second. "When I told the police that, Denver denied it."

Beau silently punched the air and then wrapped his fingers behind his neck, staring at the floor as he muttered. "What a lying piece of shit. I knew I didn't trust that fucking penguin."

Penguin? I shook my head, wanting to stay on track, to get Beau to understand.

"Vehicle homicide charges aren't pretty, Beau. And the only reason they were dropped was that Denver's family changed their minds, used bribes or money to have the charges vanish in favor of keeping me on a leash instead, so I couldn't tell everyone the truth. But they changed their minds once, and who's to say they couldn't change them again."

"Nah, nah, this ain't it, baby girl." He jumped up from the bed, taking to pacing across the room with his hands still behind his head. "We're not putting up with this shit. What's this family's name again?" He froze momentarily, muttering beneath his breath as he thought. "Fuck, he said it that night he was here, didn't he? What was it?"

"Beau, stop. Trust me when I say that they're untouchable. This is why—" I sucked in a breath. "This is why I didn't tell you. I need you to stay uninvolved."

"Uninvolved," he repeated, a deadpan expression as he swiveled toward me.

I nodded. "Uninvolved."

His eyes darkened. "I don't like that."

"I fucked up," I said with a shrug. "Regardless of the circumstances, I still was behind that wheel. I still shouldn't have been out in that storm. I still should have reacted faster, been watching more carefully." A sigh came out, one I had been carrying with me for a long time. "And there's a part of me, a corner of my heart, that knows I deserve all of this, all the repercussions."

"Don't say that," Beau said, taking to step to the side to lean against his TV stand, looking defeated.

I ignored him, pressing forward.

"No one else does, though. No one else deserves to have their lives chased like this. I don't trust them, Denver's family. I don't trust that they won't hold more against me. Why do you think I stayed in California when my mom and brother moved? Why do you think I've tried to isolate myself so much? It isn't other people's responsibility to fight battles of my making. But now there's you, Beau, and you're so...so pure. I don't want anything to ruin that."

Beau pushed off the stand and strode purposefully toward me before rocking to a half. He shoved his hands into his pockets, and then his eyes found mine, and they bore deep inside me. "Pure?" he questioned, his voice scraping against all my senses, making me shiver. "That's really the word you want to use to describe me?"

"You are," I insisted, though weakly. "Maybe you don't see it, but you're impossibly good."

"Good, maybe," he agreed, a nonchalant shrug. "But pure?"

I swallowed, not sure if I would be able to keep arguing this point with him. Because he took another step toward me. And when Beau got close to me...

"Collins, think about the night we met and tell me again that you think I'm pure," he muttered through gritted teeth.

"You know what I mean," I said breathily, trying distinctly not to think about the night we met. If I thought about the night we met, I'd be in his bed or on my knees in no time. My hand looked for something to hold onto, and my fingers found the door handle, wrapping around it.

"No, no, I don't." Beau closed in, just barely a foot or two away now. "I'm not afraid to get dirty, especially where you're concerned."

"Just leave it alone, Beau," I begged. "I told you because you deserve to know what you're getting close to and decide if that's what you want. That's it."

Beau didn't say anything for a long, torturous moment. My quickened breathing was likely visible, but I couldn't help it. Because his eyes were tracing every inch of me as if searching for answers. For something.

"And is that everything?" he asked, voice a low hush.

That I killed someone? That I almost went to jail? That I still could go to jail?

It was close to everything. He didn't know exactly who Denver's family was, didn't know what I suspected they were truly scared of. But it was everything he needed to know. All except one thing.

"Denver is trying to get me to move back to Fresno. That's what we were arguing about on Christmas. His mom wants me close by. Wants to keep an eye on me."

"Absolutely fucking not," Beau growled. "You live here. And the only person allowed to keep an eye on you is me."

I felt my knees weaken. That fight he had. As much as I hated to admit it, I was tired—tired of all of this. And I need that bit of fight, of fire that Beau brought back to me.

"I don't plan on moving, Beau."

He nodded tightly. "Good. Anything else I should know?"

I shook my head.

"Am I allowed to touch you now?" Beau asked, his fists still deep in his pockets.

"Yes," I breathed.