A bossy, overbearing man unwilling to give me space.

A handsy, perpetually horny man who seemed determined to make me come until I was dehydrated and who wouldn’t let me sit on the couch. I had to be on his lap.

A badass biker who was so damn patient with me.

And that was the difference. None of what Ward did was bad. I liked it all. I wanted it all. More importantly, it wasn’t against my best interest.

He was more in tune with my needs than I was—which wasn’t the best, but that was on me, not him.

Not to mention, we were adults. There was a massive distinction in that alone.

“Aaron can wait a few minutes,” I said.

“He can’t. He’s legit obsessed with me. He told me. Isn’t that the best, most amazing thing to hear?”

A frigid chill ran through my bones like I’d taken a casual Alaskan walk in the nude. My voice was harsher than usual. “No, Ev. Obsession isn’t healthy. It’s dangerous. Not some relationship goal—”

“I gotta go see my boyfriend, who loves me.”

The video ended.

Shit.

I was always cautious with Everly and how I talked to her. If I pushed, she’d get defensive. Lump me in with her mother.

She’d run away.

Karmic as that last part was, I didn’t want her to feel alone. Or, worse, like it was her and Aaron against the world. It’d just make her all the more desperate to cling to him.

Releasing a long sigh, I rubbed my forehead, thinking about a nice bath with a glass of wine.

Unfortunately, the bathtub in the house was sized for a Barbie doll, and I couldn’t drink wine, so I was out of luck all around.

My cell vibrated on the desk, startling me. I grabbed it, surprised to see it was Ward.

But not his name.

Because he’d changed the contact info.

Your Man.

After he’d left me in his bed at an ungodly hour, I’d woken up to find a note from him reminding me he wouldn’t be home until late. He’d already told me he’d be unreachable.

Along with said note was a key because according to the PS, he wanted to crawl into bed with me. And since I hadn’t given him my key, that meant it’d have to be his bed.

I wasn’t sure how a man could pack so much sweetness, heat, and high-handedness into one short message, but he’d done it.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Hey, baby, you got a second?”

I didn’t. I had another meeting starting in just a few and some messages to read through.

But there was a sharp edge in his voice that told me it wasn’t a social call, so I said, “Sure, what’s up?”

“I need to make an eight-year-old talk.”