Thank you for your great reviews and for your continued interest and support. I really appreciate it. And while I didn't mean anyone in particular, I am humbled by your responses, because some subject matters are very sensitive and can cause offense without persons meaning to.

You guys are awesome!

I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own Reaper's Legacy.

MERCEDES CONT'D

I screamed as Meg jerked me to the side, both of us ducking our heads and huddling together. Then three guys jumped on Sam, pulling him off Rally.

He fought against them, cussing and growling, then Plank appeared, followed by Scope...who carried a bat.

"Shut the hell up, everyone," Plank yelled. "Wringer, pull your shit together! You're out of the ring, you forfeit. Now stop thinkin' with your dick, jackass!"

"Let me go," Sam growled.

"You gonna pull your shit together?" Scope asked.

Sam nodded tightly and the guys let him go. Then Scope reached down to Rally, giving him a hand up.

"Do we have a problem here?" he asked.

Rally spat out some blood and grinned, the bright red outlining his teeth horrifically and dripping down his chin...

He looked like a serial killer.

"It's all good," he said, licking his lips. "Asshole just won a bet for me. Too fuckin' easy."

Then he glanced at me, still crouched next to Meg, utterly stunned.

"No job," he said. "I've got enough bitch drama at the bar already. At a fight, though? Perfect. Wringer always wins. Fuckin' beautiful moment. Thanks, sweetheart."

"Uh...okay," I said quickly. "I think I'd do better working somewhere else anyway."

Sam glared at me, his chest heaving and his entire body covered with a sheen of sweat.

"You asked him for a job?" he demanded, grabbing my arm and steering me through the crowd.

I tried to break away, but he didn't even notice.

"Let me go!"

He didn't answer, only dragged me over to the courtyard wall and pinned me up against it, putting a hand on either side of my head as he got down into my face.

"What part of this is so fuckin' complicated?" he asked, as angry as I'd ever seen him. Well, almost... "You don't just go around flashing your tits. It's not a difficult concept, Mercedes."

"Meg said he needed to check me out for the waitress job," I told him quickly. "She said it wasn't personal...not a big deal at all."

Sam's eyes darkened.

"When a man asks to see a woman's tits, it's always personal," he said slowly and clearly. "And yours belong to me. Besides, there's no fuckin' way I'm letting you work at Top Shot. And keep your damned shirt on. Christ, it's like I'm talkin' to myself half the time."

"No worries," I said, not bothering to argue. It was pointless. "I've had enough of this club, anyway. I'm leaving. Mel and I plan to watch movies and eat ice cream."

Sam stilled, then reached out and brushed my hair behind my ear, his touch gentle. And I felt myself relax a little.

Maybe he wasn't as angry as I'd thought...

Then his fingers slid deeper into my hair and his eyes hardened, even as his hand tightened and he jerked my mouth into his.

His tongue stabbed deep into my mouth, possessive and dominant. And his other hand caught my arm, jerking my body forward into his as he twisted it up and behind me.

One knee shoved between my legs and he slanted his head, taking everything he wanted and more.

Know what? My body loved it, the faithless bitch.

The fight had left him sweaty all over, sending out pheromones so strong it's a wonder I could still stand upright.

I wanted to wrap my arms around him but he held me too tight, controlling every move.

And I was starting to sense a pattern with Mr. Don't-Come-Until-I-Tell-You...

Finally, he pulled away, both of us gasping for breath.

He still held me tight, completely incapable of movement even if I'd wanted to get away...which I didn't...seeing as my brain had checked out a while back.

His hips ground into me, his hardened shaft more than ready to finish things off.

"You belong to me," he said, voice harsh.

"Sam..." I started, but a sudden, loud, feminine scream tore through the air...

Sam dropped me and spun around, covering me with his body as he scoped out the situation.

But the screaming continued...

And then I heard a roar of masculine rage...

In the dim firelight I saw a man tear across the courtyard, with about ten more guys chasing him.

He hit the far wall, jumped high and caught the top with his hands, pulling himself over.

"Holy shit!" I muttered.

"Stay out of the way!" Sam said, turning to me. His eyes were deadly serious, and for once, I had every intention of doing exactly what he said. "I'll send one of the girls over, then you get the hell outta here. Walk to your cars together. Got me?"

"Shouldn't we call the cops?" I asked as the screaming died down. Now I heard crying and angry shouting. "Someone's hurt. What the hell is going on?"

"No idea what happened," he replied. "We'll get help, no worries. But don't call the cops. We handle things ourselves, within the club. Do what I say for once and wait for me to send someone over. Then go home and stay there. I can't deal with this and worry about you, too."

I nodded and he kissed me hard, then ran off towards the Armory gate.

In the distance, I heard bikes roar to life and then a gunshot. So I slid down the wall and sat, my knees drawn up tight against my chest, as I did my best to obey Sam perfectly.

Meg came over ten minutes later...

Her face was grim and she had streaks of blood on her arm. I stood and threw my arms around her, clutching her tight.

"What happened?" I whispered.

"Fucking Torque," she muttered. "There's some sort of club shit going down. They voted on it today and it was supposed to be a done deal. But Torque...he's out of Portland...had a few too many beers and decided there should be a recount. So he started fighting with Deck and pulled a goddamned knife, waving it around like a jackass."

"Who was screaming?" I asked. I pulled away and looked down at her arm. "You're all bloody. Who got hurt?"

Her eyes hardened.

"Mel," she said. "Cocksucker caught her with his knife."

Shock hit me and I felt myself sway.

"Did anyone call an ambulance?" I asked, glancing around the courtyard. Beyond the fire I saw someone sitting on the ground, surrounded by women.

"She's fine, thank God," Meg said, her voice harsh and angry. "It's not a bad cut at all. We've got a guy who'll give her a few stitches, to keep the whole thing off the radar."

"What about that gunshot?"

"Plank wasn't too happy about his baby girl getting cut," she said, which I figured was a bit of an understatement. "Had to be him. But Torque took off, right over the wall, and I'll bet he's setting a new land-speed record right now. If he's smart, he won't stop 'til he hits Mexico. Mel's a special girl...everyone loves her. Not to mention, pulling on his own president. This is more than a fight...it's club business. And Torque just stepped in a giant, steaming pile of shit."

I shivered.

"Let's go," Meg said. "They want all the girls cleared out. Marge and Spirit will stick with Mel, but the rest of us are no longer welcome. We need to stay out of the way. Hell, at this rate we'll be posting bail. Be sure to sleep with your phone tonight."

"You serious?" I asked, eyes wide.

"If Plank catches Torque, shit will get ugly," she said. "But don't worry...our boys are smart. They'll keep the situation under control."

"And the bail thing? That was a joke, right?"

"Just keep your phone close, okay?"

Holy hell!

My hands shook so hard I had trouble getting the keys into the ignition.

Meg offered to follow me home but I wanted to go by myself. I had a lot to think about and I didn't feel like company.

Clearly, Sam and I had different definitions of what normal, appropriate behavior looked like...

For one, I felt that long-term relationships should be monogamous. He felt they should be monogamous for me and open for him.

Another issue?

My parties usually wound down when people ran out of food and got tired. His occasionally ended with stabbings and high-speed chases.

And last, but certainly not least, I tended to think sex should be private. He liked rubbing his sperm on my stomach in front of his friends after branding me with hickies.

I needed to move out...

Immediately.

No more messing around.

The more I thought about what had happened, the angrier I got. Mel could've been killed...because of a stupid, drunken act.

I might already have an STD, seeing as I had sex with the King of the Man-whores...condom-free...in a damned shed, because I'm classy like that.

Oh, and what's-his-name might've raped me in the darkness, just because I'd had the nerve to take out the trash when it needed emptying.

What the hell was wrong with these people?

Two hours after pulling into Sam's driveway, I was nearly finished packing up me and Bray's stuff.

We'd only been at his house for a week, so it wasn't exactly hard. I just threw shit into boxes and then hauled them out to my car.

I could probably get it all in one trip too, seeing as Bray was still at Marley's.

I needed to call her first thing in the morning and ask if she could put us up for a couple of days...

Fuck Sam!

Fuck his beautiful house and fuck the Collectors!

Fuck their motorcycles, too. I hoped they all get food poisoning at one of their damned pig roasts!

I had already finished packing my clothes, the living room and the bathroom, by the time I heard Sam's bike pulling into the driveway.

Well, wasn't that just craptastic?

I'd planned to be gone before he got home, but if he wanted a fight, I'd give him one...

I might not have my life entirely together, but I was pretty sure about one thing...parties that ended with stabbings weren't part of the long-term plan.

Neither was being tied to a man in prison, working as a stripper, or worrying about whether or not I was safe without a goddamned brand across my back like a fucking cow.

I had just started throwing Bray's clothes into the suitcase when Sam's boots thudded down the stairs.

He paused in my kitchen and I heard the sound of water filling a glass. So, now it wasn't good enough for him invade my privacy...he had to get my glasses dirty, too?

I threw Bray's stuffed dragon into the case with a disgusted thud.

Wait!

Why the hell should I care where Sam got water?

I wouldn't be here to wash the damned dishes. It wasn't my house.

The ridiculousness of the night, the horrible way the party ended, packing to move God-knew-where at three in the morning...it all hit me at once.

So I grabbed the stuff dragon and slid down next to the bed, laughing at my own craziness.

Why had I ever...for even one second...thought we could live in Sam's basement?

I laughed as he walked down the hall...

I laughed as he came in the room...

And I kept laughing when he knelt down in front of me...

But I ignored the waves of frustrated anger rolling off him because I just didn't give a damn.

He reached out and caught my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes. They cut through me accusingly, like he had the right to an opinion.

Then I stopped laughing and gave him my most evil smile.

"What the hell is going on here?" he asked.

"I'm packing," I told him, holding up the dragon for him to see. "We're leaving. I'm not your whore and Bray is not your son. Your club is insane and I don't want a damned thing to do with any of you."

"Do you remember when I said coming to the party was a bad idea?" he asked me, raising a brow.

"Yeah, I remember that," I snapped. "But you know what would've really driven the point home? Mentioning that when your parties get wild, girls get stabbed... Because I'm pretty sure we didn't cover that part. I would've remembered, Sam."

"She'll get her justice," he said, eyes darkening. "Torque will pay. Deck and Plank are on it."

"Uh...I hate to break it to you, but Mel doesn't need justice," I pointed out, voice heavy with sarcasm. "She needs to not get cut with a knife in the first place. Women are finicky that way...we like not getting cut."

"It was a horrible accident," he said slowly. "And despite whatever crazy shit you're imagining, it's not something that's ever happened before."

"You're telling me with a straight face that you never have fights at your clubhouse?"

"No," he said, speaking slowly and clearly. "I'm telling you that they don't usually involve innocent women. If two men want to fight, that's their business."

"And what about women who aren't so innocent?" I asked. "Where do you draw the line on that one? Do you like to hit girls, Sam? Is that okay in your stupid club?"

The air changed between us, growing cold. Oh, that got to him...

And a whole new level of angry rolled into the room between us.

Suddenly, I realized taunting him might not be such a great idea.

"Don't talk about the club like that," he said, his face like stone. "Show respect if you want to be treated with respect. And you know what? Damned straight I'd hit a woman, if she hit me first. I'm not a knight in shining armor, Mercedes. What part of this don't you get? I've been honest with you all along, no bullshit. And yeah, a woman who attacks a man deserves what she gets. If she wants to act like a man, she can damned well fight like one!"

"And that doesn't bother you?" I asked him. He shook his head.

"Not a bit. You want equality, babe? That's equality."

"Yeah, you're practically a feminist," I muttered. "Mel wasn't fighting, Sam. But she'll have a scar the rest of her life. And how is it women have equality when it comes to taking a hit, but the rest of the time they're just some guy's property?"

"Stop talking shit about things you don't understand," he growled. "Property is a term of respect. It's part of our culture. if you start judging us for that, you better start judging every woman who changes her name the day she gets married, because it's the same damned thing."

Sam stopped, running a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated.

"When you're someone's property, you're a woman the brothers will die to protect," he continued, his voice softening. "And they'll die to protect your kid, too. Don't turn that kind of loyalty into something ugly because you don't like the words we use. Spirit, Marge, Meg? They're proud to be property, because they know what it means. And nobody is forcing them to do anything."

I swallowed, processing that.

"So tell me this," I asked. "Why did Stud tell me that Marge is worth every penny he paid for her? Because that sounded a little fucked up. And I don't think he was joking."

"You're at the clubhouse for less than a day and you've already heard about that?" he muttered, almost to himself. "Jesus. A little fuckin' discretion would be nice."

"Yup, don't want to scare away the new girls with reality, do we?"

"Don't worry about it," he replied. "Marge and Stud are fine. And they're getting married next month, so I think it's a moot point."

"Holy shit! Did he really buy her?" I asked, eyes widening. "Sam, that's...I don't even have words for that!"

"Good, maybe you'll shut up," he said. "If you're interested, I have an update on Mel for you. You know, your friend you're so worried about? Maybe a little more important than lecturing me about women's rights, ya think?"

I froze, shamed...

Sam was right. I'd been more focused on fighting with him than on Mel. How shitty was that?

"Yeah, I'd like to hear how she's doing," I said. I tossed the dragon to the side and rose to my feet.

He stepped forward into my space, doing that intimidation thing he was so good at...

"So how is she?"

"She's fine," he said after a long pause. "It wasn't much of a cut. About three inches long and not deep at all. We got a friend of the club who came by and gave her some stitches, to make sure she stays all pretty when it heals. He left antibiotics, just to be careful. And the last I saw of her, she was high as a kite on oxy and singing some kid song about kittens and mittens. But Plank is not feelin' quite so festive, I must admit."

"That's good news," I replied, staring at his chest blankly. He really was way too close. "I got a text from Meg an hour ago, but I wasn't sure if she was downplaying things or not... I don't like your parties, Sam."

"The first part wasn't half bad," he said slowly, a knowing smile stealing across his face. "You know, in the shed?"

He reached out and touched my neck lightly, then wrapped his fingers around it.

"My marks look good," he continued. "Might keep them on you long term, haven't decided yet. But you need to learn not to flirt with other guys, babe. You're claimed now."

"One...take your damned hand off me, because I am not claimed," I said. He ignored me. "And two...I didn't flirt with anyone!"

"You flashed your tits at the whole damned club," he said. His hand tightened ever so slightly on my neck. Not hard enough to hurt...just enough to show he could.

And I didn't like that at all...

"Take. Your. Fucking. Hand. Off. Me," I growled.

This time he did, but at the same time he pushed me forward with his body, unbalancing me. And I fell back on Bray's bed, almost hitting my head against the wall.

Before I could roll away, he'd dropped down over me, trapping me, just as surely as he had back in my Seattle apartment.

"I was wearing a bra and Meg told me to do it," I hissed, not bothering to fight him. That'd probably just turn him on. Perv. "She said he needed to check me out if I wanted to waitress at Top Shot. I need a damned job, Sam. It didn't seem like a big deal. Besides, half the women there weren't even wearing shirts. And it's not like I took off my bra."

"You're a damned idiot," he snapped. "Of course Rally checks out potential waitresses... At the club. During business hours. He did that to piss me off and get me out of the ring. He played you to win a bet. Merce, he'd never hire you without my permission, anyway."

"Why did Meg say it was okay, then?" I demanded.

Damn, he was heavy. He smelled good, too, which I hated.

Predictably, my body wasn't listening to my brain again, because I had the urge to spread my legs and wrap them around his waist.

"Fuck if I know, but she did it on purpose," Sam growled. "You might want to ask her about that. She set you up. And that means she set me up. I'll have words with her later."

I narrowed my eyes.

"You leave Meg alone," I said, glaring. "If someone needs to 'have words' with her, it'll be me. If you and Stud had a problem, would you want me involved?"

"Jesus, you're a pain in the ass," he said.

"And you're a disgusting pig man. No respect for me at all..."

"I respect you," he said, frowning.

I snorted.

"Yeah, I'll bet you screw all the women you respect in public? And what the hell was that shit about coming on my stomach? I'm not a damned porn star, Sam. I'm still all sticky and disgusting. Kinda hard to clean up in a Porta-John."

"This house has three showers, babe. Not my fault you haven't taken one yet. But I like the idea of me all over you, so no rush on that."

"I was busy packing! I wanted to get out of here before you got home, asshole!"

"Yeah, I see that," he muttered. He leaned down, his face so close our lips almost brushed. "You're not moving out, babe. You're mine. We covered this. Done deal."

"Oh, I'm definitely moving out," I told him. "Not even you can think this is healthy, Sam."

He smiled at me with the eyes of a predator.

"I don't care if it's healthy," he whispered. "The whole damned world is unhealthy. You think all those people living in giant houses on the lake have happy, pretty, perfect lives? You think those bitches aren't backstabbing each other while their husbands screw interns on their lunch breaks?"

I shook my head.

"My friend Marley is not like that. Her life's nice and normal and not crazy at all."

"Then she's one in a thousand," he replied. "Because I swear to you, sometimes the nastiest shit happens behind the prettiest doors, while everyone laughs and smiles and pretends everything's okay. Here's the thing about my world. We're fucked up. But we own it. Take care of business and move on. In twenty years, those 'healthy' people you're so jealous of will still be backstabbing each other, and their kids will, too."

"I'll take my chances," I said.

Sam scowled and pushed himself up abruptly. Then he grabbed me and threw me over his shoulder like a sack of wheat.

I squawked as he carried me out of the room and up the stairs to his loft, kicking and punching him the entire time.

It didn't do a bit of good...

I don't know what I expected...maybe that he'd throw me down on the bed and ravish me, like a movie or something.

But he didn't.

Instead, he carried me into his big bathroom, dumped me in the shower and turned on the faucet.

"What the hell are you doing!" I shrieked as cold water hit me, still fully clothed. Sam grabbed the shower hose and started spraying me down with it.

"I'm showin' you respect," he yelled back at me. "So sorry I got you all messy earlier. Just doing my best to make this relationship healthy and clean, because that's so damn important to you. Aren't I a fuckin' prince?"

"I hate you!" I screamed, lunging for the hose. He laughed and sprayed my face.

I lashed out and slipped...

In a flash, Sam caught me, then pulled me tight into his body. And I found myself looking up at him, my wet clothes soaking both of us, while one of his arms wrapped around my waist and his other hand held tight in my hair.

We glared at each other...

"Jesus, you fuck with my head, you know that?" he said roughly. "My dick gets hard just thinkin' about you. You're in my dreams every night. When I wake up in the morning, all I think about is you in my house and you and Bray as finally mine. My family. It's even better than riding my bike. I'm crazy for you, Mercy."

I shook my head, stunned. I didn't believe him. I couldn't afford to.

"You're just saying that to control me," I whispered, not sure whether I was talking to myself or him.

"Fuck! You just don't get it, do you?"

I didn't get a chance to reply...

Sam took my mouth in a fast, hard kiss and I fought him for about two seconds. Then I gave in, because my body recognized him and needed him.

Suddenly, there were too many clothes between us...

Our hands scrambled and I discovered that water-logged shorts must be the least convenient thing on earth to wear when you needed quick access.

Still, I managed to get them down and kicked away just as he grabbed my waist, spun me around and leaned me against the bathroom counter.

I looked up to see him in the mirror, his face flushed red with need, his green eyes capturing mine as he slammed his length deep inside.

It filled me fast and hard, stretching me until it bordered on pain. And I gasped, the sound a mix of pleasure and pain...

But I've never felt anything better in my life.

"I'm so fuckin' crazy for you," he muttered, fingers digging into my skin. "Always have been."

"Sam..."

Then he took me, forcing me to brace myself with both hands as he pounded me from behind.

One hand steadied my hips while the other reached around to my clit.

And that piercing of his slid along my G-spot, the hard little knobs of metal on the top and bottom of his dick's head, carrying me to a whole new level of sensation.

When my orgasm hit, it was with agonizing speed and I screamed, pulsing around him.

And Sam...he kept thrusting, his actions getting more frantic as he hurtled towards the finish.

A short time later, with a low growl, he came, too, his hot seed spurting...only this time...spurting inside me...

Shit! We forgot the condom again...

Sam pulled out of me slowly and we looked at each other in the mirror, our chests heaving.

He was fully clothed and I still wore only my T-shirt.

My hair was sopping wet and kinky, and eye makeup ran down my face.

In essence, I was a hot mess without the 'hot' part.

"Do you have any diseases?" I asked, my brain valiantly fighting for control. He shook his head, still watching me in the mirror.

"I always use a condom," he said. "I've never had sex with a girl without one, actually."

"Except me without one. Twice," I said, my voice dry. "Wanna rethink your answer?"

He offered a smug smile.

"I know you're on the pill," he said. "So pregnancy's not the issue. I also know you're clean. You're my woman, so why shouldn't I feel you around me? And I swear to you, babe. I have never, ever screwed anyone without protection before. I even donated blood about two weeks ago. I'm all clear."

"That's a relief," I said, straightening. I looked around for my panties and shorts. They'd landed near the toilet, dripping water everywhere.

"How do you know I'm on the pill?" I asked, reaching for a towel to wrap around myself.

"I found them in your purse," he said without a hint of shame.

I looked up, startled.

"Why were you in my purse?" I asked, not pleased.

"To get your phone," he replied, tucking himself back into his pants. "I wanted to set up the GPS on it."

I stopped cold.

"You have GPS tracking my phone?" I asked, incredulous. "What the hell is wrong with you? You want to chip me like a dog, too?"

"I want to be able to find you if there's an emergency," he said, his face growing serious. "I know it sounds paranoid, but we had a real bad situation last winter... Marge and Stud would be dead right now if I hadn't had GPS on her. They nearly died as it was. Now I do it for all the girls in the club. Don't worry, I won't spy on you or anything. But it'll be there if you ever get in trouble."

"I don't even know where to start," I said, closing my eyes. I was exhausted, I realized. No wonder my brain wouldn't kick in and tell me what to do.

"Let's go to bed," he said. "I'm tired. You're tired."

"I'll sleep downstairs," I told him, clutching the towel as I reached for my clothes.

"You'll sleep up here with me," he replied. "You can fight me on it and lose, which is more work for both of us, or you can just give in. It's gonna end the same either way."

I looked at him and knew he was right. I'd set him straight later. Right now I needed rest.

"Can I borrow something to wear?" I asked, trying not to yawn. "I'm too tired to go get dry stuff."

"I'd rather you sleep naked."

"I'd rather you go fuck yourself, but seeing as that's not an option, can I borrow something to wear?"

He smiled at me.

"Knock yourself out. Shirts are in the top drawer, underwear in the second one down."

I left the bathroom and looked around to find Sam's dresser. And sure enough, the top drawer held a variety of T-shirts.

I found one with a Collectors symbol on it and pulled it out. Then I moved down to the next drawer...

Most of his stuff was black or gray, but a flash of pink in the back caught my eye.

What the hell?

I pulled out a pair of silky, pink panties...

"Jesus, Sam!" I said. "Is there anywhere in this house women don't leave their lingerie? It's like a damned Victoria's Secret in here!"

I turned to him, holding the panties out with two fingers, disgusted. But he cocked his head and gave me a strange smile.

"Those are yours, actually," he said slowly. "You left them behind."

"What are you talking about?"

"That first night," he said. "With Shaun. You left them in my apartment. I've had them ever since."

I froze, and studied them more closely. It'd been a long time, but they did look familiar.

I'd been so sad to lose them, because I'd bought them specially...

"I can't decide if that's just a little bit creepy or really, super creepy," I said finally, glancing over at Sam. He shrugged, his eyes holding mine steady.

"You asked me the other night if wanting you was a new thing," he said, his face free of mockery for once. "It's not a new thing, baby. Not a new thing at all."

I woke suddenly, wondering where the hell I was...

A strong, masculine arm lay across my stomach, pinning me down and a vaulted cedar ceiling rose overhead.

I turned to see Sam lying facedown next to me, and it all came back in a rush.

I needed to get out of here before he woke up and started in on his you're-my-woman-and-I-own-you bullshit.

I couldn't afford to play around anymore...Bray had been through enough already.

Lifting his arm cautiously, I rolled out of bed and turned to look at his sleeping form. His back was half covered by the sheet, and for the first time I had the chance to study his ink in full light.

His perfectly sculpted body wasn't just sexy. It was literally a work of art.

His arms were a mass of patterns and designs so intricate I had trouble following them.

But dominating his right bicep was a picture of what had to be Noah's Ark...

The animals marching away from it were fantastical, dragons and demons and snakes, but the Ark itself was unmistakable.

My breath caught...

How had I never noticed that before?

He shifted in his sleep, the sheet slipping lower. I couldn't allow myself much time...

I wanted to leave before he woke up and we started fighting.

And given our track record, I'd have sex with him again if that happened. And just like that, my nether region perked up and sent an urgent memo to my brain endorsing that option.

Screwing a man-whore had one advantage...he certainly knew what he was doing.

As for the pink panties I wore? I didn't know what to think about that.

It should've grossed me out, but it mostly just turned me on.

All those years I'd been lusting after Sam, and he'd been lusting after me, too. Not enough to stay faithful, of course. But he'd still wanted me.

At that, my nipples joined my lower region in petitioning for another round.

But I ignored both of them.

Nothing had changed...

The party, Mel and all the reasons I should avoid the Collectors.

Sam and I simply couldn't be together...

But for a few minutes, while he still slept, I let myself study the incredibly sexy man who'd been an unofficial father to my son.

Across the top of his back was a broad, curved banner of ink matching the patch on his cut that said "Collectors."

Strange as it sounds, the combination of his club colors and the Ark illustrated Sam's contradictions perfectly.

Strange spots covered his shoulders, and along his side I saw just a hint of the panther's claw reaching around from his hip.

Then he shifted and I froze, reality crashing back down...

I needed to get out or we'd have another fight.

Realistically, we'd have another fight regardless, but a little break would be nice. So I went downstairs and found my phone, checking the time.

Thank you for the birthday greetings...

Oh, I didn't read over, so you know...

Stay safe!