And intimacy? That’s dangerous.
At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
Because this—us—it could never survive in the real world. We’re a time bomb. And when the lust fades, all that’ll be left are two broken people with matching scars and no idea how to love without bleeding.
I was halfway to my car, arms heavy with shopping bags, when my phone buzzed. I fished it out of my purse and froze.
Come home. Now.
Home? His home, not mine. Right.
Or did he mean our home? Did he miss me? Did he want me—really want me—the way he touches me like I’m the only thing anchoring him to the world?
The thought of him sliding into me, of the way he whispers my name like a promise, had my thighs clenching and my breath catching. He makes sex feel like a drug—one I’m not sure I’ll ever recover from.
Nick is a beautiful, dangerous addiction I never saw coming. Nick Consele is everything I never knew I needed.
But the high didn’t last.
The second I pulled into the driveway, my stomach twisted. A strange car was parked behind Nick’s truck. Cold dread snuffed out my butterflies. My pulse stuttered as I parked the bike on the far side, grabbed my bags, and forced myself up the steps.
And then—impact.
The moment I stepped inside, it felt like the floor vanished beneath me. The bags slipped from my hands and hit the ground with a thud I barely registered. All the air sucked out of my lungs.
Staring back at me were the same storm-blue eyes I saw in the mirror every day.
“Mom,” I choked out, voice barely a whisper.
Nick sat across the room, rigid, lips drawn in a hard, silent line.
And just like that, everything inside me split wide open. “What a wonderful surprise,” I say, plastering on my fakest smile.
“There you are, it’s so good to see you, baby.” She places her coffee mug on the coffee table and greets me with open arms. My eyes are met with green daggers as I hugged her.
“What are you doing here? Actually, how did you know where I lived?”
“I asked Abigail. When I went to the address you gave me months ago, she said you’d moved.” My mother’s voice was sharp, clipped, like each word was a slap. “And what do you mean, what am I doing here? I came to see my daughter. I didn’t see you at Thanksgiving, and I wasn’t about to let Christmas slip by, either. Richard and I are going to Turks and Caicos for the holidays—it’s my gift, since he actually listens to what I want.” She shivered dramatically, rubbing her arms. “God, it’s freezing out here. Honestly, Melanie.”
“Right,” I said, the word dragging like gravel in my throat. “So I see you met Nick.”
His eyes snapped to mine—sharp, accusing, unreadable.
Liar. Traitor. Coward.
“Yes, and I’d love for you both to tell me what the hell is going on,” she snapped, gesturing toward him. “This man?—”
Nick didn’t let her finish. His voice cut through the tension like a blade.
“Yeah, Melanie. Your mom’s having a great time realizing she’s been completely in the dark about our marriage. Real cozy silence going on in here.”
His jaw flexed, and I knew—he was furious. Pushed past the edge.
“Mom, I was going to call. Things just… got busy.” The excuse tumbled out of me like a weak defense. I hated how hollow it sounded.
“Busy? Getting married slipped your mind?” she said, crossing her arms like a judge ready to sentence.
“We’re planning a real ceremony soon. I?—”
