A good daughter. A good sister. Then a good student, because that was all she could be. Because she had left those other things behind. A good advocate for herself, a protector of her own time and space. But not a friend. Not a lover.

And Clayton... With him, she had found something. With him, she had found something so unique and wonderful and reverent. It was friendship, and it was desire. And it was strength as much as it was weakness. And she wanted. With everything that she was, she wanted. And holding back since she had discovered how much she wanted him had been just another thing that felt like a lie. Another thing that felt like it wasn’t her.

But this... This felt like her.

And she wasn’t embarrassed. Not when he pushed her jeans down her hips, taking her underwear along with it. Not when he unclipped her bra and bared her breasts to his dark, intense gaze.

No, she wasn’t embarrassed.

She was free.

“I’m a virgin,” she said.

He let out a slow breath. “I was afraid of that.”

“I figured I ought to be up-front.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Are you going to not do it now?”

He shook his head. “I couldn’t turn back if I wanted to, ma’am.”

And she flushed all over and laughed. “Well, that’s good. Because I would be pretty mad if you took me this far and didn’t carry me the rest of the way.”

“I aim to get you there. I just... I wish it could be different. For us. For you. You deserve more.”

“No. I deserve what I want. And I want you, Clayton Everett. Bullet wound, shitty family and all.”

The corner of his mouth hitched up into a smile. “There’s something I don’t hear every day. Or even once.”

“Will you take your clothes off, please?” she whispered.

“Happy to.”

He unsnapped his jeans and pushed them down his narrow hips, revealing his arousal to her. It was thick, hard and ready.

And so was she.

Oh, she wanted this man. She wanted him so badly she ached with it. Burned with it. Couldn’t breathe for it.

Then he hauled her up against his body, every bare inch of her against every bare inch of him.

He was so hot. So beautiful. She pushed her fingers through his hair and studied his face. Those dark eyes, that square, outlaw jaw and the dark stubble there.

She moved her thumb over the scar on his lip. “How did you get this?”

“My brother,” he said. “I made him mad. He slammed my head against the side of a brick wall. My teeth cut right through my lip. This is not real,” he said, pointing to one of his front teeth.

And she kissed him. She kissed him, because if she didn’t she might cry. Because she wanted to take his past and erase it. Because she wanted to destroy anybody who had ever mistreated him.