Flynn trailed the oak branch in the dirt, stopping now and again to whack at the weeds growing next to the ruts. Dammit to hell. She'd confided in him and he couldn't tell Roman. She wouldn't ever trust him again.

No doubt when his stepbrother found out, he'd never speak to him again. Roman could hold a grudge better than most. But considering all he'd been through, and the people in his life who'd disappointed him, Flynn couldn't blame him. He just didn't want to be added to that list.

His reason for staying extra days wasn't a lie. He needed to get his head straight about Céline, but more than that, he wanted to see Mariana. She was the only person he'd never been able to forget, and for months, he'd thought more and more about her.

The way her skin looked in the moonlight. How she'd fit perfectly against him. The sound of his name on her lips. Oh God, how he'd loved that. No one had ever said it the same way. Not even Céline, and she claimed to love him. And he'd thought he loved her. But the closer the wedding got, the more he felt like her puppet instead of her equal.

Ophelia was right. She planned every moment of Flynn's life. Dictated when he could spend time with friends. Demanded his attention to things that didn't matter. He'd realized what a mistake he was making. The only thing to do now, was end it.

Career suicide for sure. At least in Baton Rouge. But that'd been part of the problem. He'd gotten so caught up in her fancy life, he'd lost himself.

If he didn't have over two-hundred thousand dollars in student loans, he could branch off on his own.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and turned it on. By now, Céline was pissed because she'd not been able to get in touch with him. But he got tired of hearing the damn thing chime knowing she'd sent him some selfie with her uppity friends. All spoiled little rich girls.

Shouldn't think that way because he was no better. He'd promised his soul to be a part of that world, but he'd finally come to his senses. No need to put it off any longer. He palmed his phone. Time for a little face time with his betrothed.

By the time he got back to the house, he'd finished his call with Céline. Things turned out better than expected. She'd flown to Vegas for a girls' weekend. Not unusual. On short notice, she dropped everything to fly to New York, Paris, wherever her sorority sisters wanted. He doubted she'd ever find it necessary to use her degree in English, but hey, a degree is a degree if that's all a person wanted.

Céline wasn't dumb, just unmotivated. No reason to be. She'd had everything given to her. Her goal in life was to look good and appear in the society pages at least once a week. And she was successful at those things.

Roman waited on the front porch. "Took you long enough."

"Sorry, I stopped to call Céline about staying longer."

"How'd that go?"

Flynn tilted his head. "Better than I hoped."

"So, how was Zoya?"

"She's doing fine. Her, the dog, and the goats. Look, you should go over there and talk to her. Fix whatever the problem is between you."

"Why? Did she say something?" He tried to feign nonchalance, as if he really didn't care, but he was sure Flynn could see right through him.

Damn. Flynn wanted to tell him she was about to be gone out of his life for good. But he couldn't. All he could do was encourage him and hoped it took. "No. But she doesn't seem the type to make the first move, so you should."

"Oh, take my word. She can make the first move when she wants. Besides, I've already tried to reason with her. She'll be back on Monday and then we'll hash it out."

No, she won't. "I see my truck's gone, so I guess Ophelia's left already."

"Yeah. She hightailed it out of here pretty quick, something about too much testosterone in this house. You still want to go to the steak house?"

"Sure, if you do." He lifted his head to the heavens and eyed the dark clouds rolling in. "We should leave soon before the bottom falls out."

Miles Landry rolled off Stella and gasped for air. It'd been too long since he'd had sex but damn if it wasn't just as good as he remembered.

She ran her palm across his chest. "You okay?"

He laid his hand on top of hers. "Better than okay. You?"

"I'm downright giddy."

"Good to know I haven't lost my touch."

"Well, I don't have a before and after comparison, but based on this one performance, I'd give you a gold star."

She giggled and Miles loved the sound. He needed a woman with patience in case his execution took longer than normal. Thankfully, it had not. Turned out, the thought of making love with Stella caused everything to work like he was twenty again.

"I have a confession."

"Oh no. That's four words a woman never wants to hear right after sex."

He chuckled. "Nothing bad. It's been awhile since I've slept with anyone, so I was nervous. Crazy, huh? At my age, you'd think I'd have the bedroom stuff down."

"Take my word, you have it down." She laughed again.

Damn, he liked this woman. A lot. And he sure as hell didn't want this to be a onetime thing. "I like you, Stella, and I don't want you to stop seeing me because of this St. Clair case."

She sat up and propped the pillow behind her back, then pulled the sheet up to cover her breasts.

"You've found her, haven't you?"

He sat up, too, and took her hands in his. He could see it, how much she cared for the girl. Clearly, she had been more than just a housekeeper. A maternal figure, maybe a friend, trying to protect Dove from the likes of Marion. "I think so." What came next caught him off guard.

Stella burst into tears. "You're going to ruin her life."

He pulled her to him and spoke into her hair. "No. I'm not. I promise I'm going to help the kid all I can, yet still do my job."

She looked up at him, that luscious bottom lip quivering. "You swear?"

He couldn't stand it any longer, so he took her mouth. And when she pulled away, he groaned. "Baby, I swear. You've got to trust me on this."

"How d'you find her?"

"Been monitoring the reward website. Somebody from Arcadia, Louisiana did a search. The IP address belongs to an old woman. With everything I've learned about the girl, it seems logical. You agree?"

"What do you mean?"

"Hiding out with an old woman in some backwoods town, close enough to be virtually invisible to Marion. That'd be the last place someone would look, right?"

"Have you told Marion?"

"No, and I won't until I'm sure. I'm going down there next week."

"And if she's there? What happens next?"

"I'll send my report to Mrs. St. Clair, but who knows, by the time she gets it, the girl could be gone again."

By the time Roman and Flynn finished dinner, ran by Target, and left Breaux Bridge, it was almost eleven o'clock. Flynn had been quiet during dinner, and Roman figured it had to do with his brother's soon to be ex-fiancé. Even though Roman had never met her, he was glad Flynn decided to break it off. Earlier, he'd explained if he ever wanted to work again without her family ruining him, he had to come up with a way to make her think ending the engagement was her idea. Wasn't sure how he'd go about that, but he was brainstorming.

Roman suggested that he put his foot down about the ex-con being included in the wedding party. So far, that had been the best plan, but Flynn wasn't sure it'd be enough. No doubt she'd throw a fit, but to save face, she'd probably agree.

There'd been something else, too. Flynn had insisted on buying a new computer and a small television. Roman pointed out that those were things he could get at home, but he wouldn't listen to it.

After parking in the garage, he helped Flynn unload the boxes. Once inside the house, Flynn headed to Zoya's bedroom where he'd been sleeping.

Roman called after him. "Hey, no need to take the stuff in there. It'll be easier to load in your truck from here."

Flynn answered over this shoulder. "No, there's plenty of room in the closet. It's empty except for my clothes."

Roman set the TV on the kitchen counter and sprinted down the hall. "What you mean? Zoya has her stuff in there."

Flynn slid the box across the carpet. "Nope. As you can see. Plenty of room."

Roman rushed to the bathroom and opened the cabinets. Empty. He rejoined Flynn and stared at the blank closet, then scratched his head. "I don't get it. She's only staying at Mariana's until Monday. Why would she take everything?"

"Beats me. Guess you'll have to ask her."

Roman slumped down onto the bed. "She's not coming back."

Flynn turned to face him. "That can't be right. Can it?"

He didn't answer. Just sat there, frozen. His jaw locked. She wouldn't just up and leave, would she? How far would she go, to Mariana's across the field, or out of Arcadia entirely?

She wouldn't, not without saying goodbye. Would she?

"Roman?"

He rose and stuck his hands in his pockets, shoving the overwhelming sense of nausea away. "Hell, if she wants to leave, fine. I don't care."

He didn't mean it, and Flynn knew it. Roman's defense mechanism was always to pretend he was okay, that nothing and no one could hurt him.

"Yeah," he deadpanned. "I can tell you don't."

He sat again and covered his face with his hands. "I slept with her. I thought it was recreational. She didn't."

Flynn sat, too. "Damn. We're a pair aren't, we? I'm trying to get rid of my woman and you're trying to get yours to stay. You'd think we could fix each other's problem. Don't know about you, but I don't have a clue."

Roman took a deep breath. "Guess we should ask O. She's the only one of all of us that seems to have her shit together." Ophelia was braver than the two of them put together, and it showed. She was a force of nature and life wouldn't dare not work out for her.

At one o'clock the next morning, Roman still wasn't asleep. Outside, a storm brewed. Low rumbles moved closer. But it wasn't the weather keeping him awake. It was Zoya and the fact she'd taken all her belongings. He'd had enough of this dancing back-and-forth thing they'd been doing. He wasn't about to let her run from her problems, from him.

He vaulted from the bed, jerked his jeans on, and then his tee-shirt. He wondered if she was scared in the barn at Mariana's, all by herself, what with the storm brewing ferociously outside, and branches slapping at the windowpanes. He took time to brush his teeth, then slipped his feet into his boots, and grabbed his truck keys on the way out of the door. If she wanted to leave, she could, there's nothing he could do to stop her - but not until they settled things.

In ten minutes, he was in Mariana's drive. There weren't any lights on in the house and none in her garage where he knew she liked to work on engines and everything else under a hood, but a dim glow came from the barn. He bumped his door open and headed that way as the drizzle turned to a downpour.

Thunder had Zoya hunkered down in the corner of the stall, clutching Homer so tight that the dog gasped for air. There'd been a flash of light and she wasn't sure if it was lightning or someone in the drive. Either way, she wasn't budging. She'd turned on the battery-operated lantern. That way, the storm wasn't so scary. Thoughts of Roman pushed its way to the forefront of her mind, of him holding her and like the last time, existing in the same space.

As if her imagination conjured him, the barn door flew open and Roman filled the space. He wasn't tall by conventional standards, but he could fill up a room with his presence. Breath caught in the back of Zoya's throat. She tried to speak, but her words came out shaky. "What are you doing here?"

In three long strides he was in the stall looming over her. His jaw ticked. "You've punished me enough, Zoya. It's time to come home."

She ignored the gruffness in his voice and hugged Homer tighter. "I told you..."

He pointed his finger at her. "Don't talk. Just listen. I've done the wrong thing and I've said the wrong thing, but I'm here now to do and say the right things." He took a shaky breath, his voice pleading. "I want you to come home. I miss you. I want you to stop being mad at me. I don't like you laughing and dancing with Flynn. I sure as hell don't want you running your fingers through his hair." He sucked air through his teeth. "I'm not good for you," he ran his hands through his already messy hair, until the ends stuck straight and his voice hitched, like his own words pained him. "But you've got your whole life to find the perfect guy. Right now, you want me and I want you, so we'll go with that. You understand?"

She wanted to say something, argue with him, but she didn't have the fight in her to voice herself raw that she knew without a doubt in her mind, he was it for her.

His eyes were dark and dilated and she knew he meant business. She wasn't about to argue. Besides, he'd finally said most of what she'd wanted to hear so she'd settle for that. She eased her grip on Homer and he ran from the stall.

"Zoya? You can talk now. You still want me, right?" His voice was raw, as if he were asking her something he had confirmed himself to be true. Maybe she didn't want him; maybe he waited too long.

She struggled to find her voice, but that was impossible because her heart was lodged in her throat. All these years, he'd had it ingrained in him that he was not enough, that he'd never be enough, some broken shell of a person who didn't quite fit whole. Unable to find her words, she gave him a look that she hoped translated that his question was stupid.

He dropped to his knees and hauled her against him. "I've already brushed my teeth." Then he kissed her long and deep. And she kissed him back, tugging on his shirt and his hair, trying to bring him closer and closer still. He pulled back, dazed; stared at her. "Ground rules."

Still unable to put a sentence together, she nodded.

"We're not rushing this time. You got that?"

Another nod.

[MATURE THEMES AHEAD]

He dipped his head and pressed his mouth to hers again. One hand slid around her waist, the other to her belly, then lower into her panties where he stroked her. "Jesus, Zoya. Already so wet."

Thunder rumbled overhead and rain hammered the roof. She felt safe in his arms, like the storm outside couldn't hurt her. She ran her hands under his shirt, feeling muscle and bone. "Your clothes are wet. Take them off."

"You do it."

She followed directions, then unbuttoned his jeans. He stood, toed out of his boots and let the Levi's drop to the floor.

She gasped. He'd gone commando and already had an erection. He was as magnificent as the bronze warriors she'd seen at the Museo Nazionale della Magna Grecia in Italy when she was nine. He dropped to his knees and lifted her onto his lap. She clutched his shoulders for support. Her skin caught fire. Her nipples tightened, from the chilled air, or the sight of him, she wasn't sure. She pushed away.

"What's wrong?"

She scrambled to her knees, grabbed the hem of her nightshirt and tore it off, then ran her hand around his neck and brought his lips to her breast. He drew one peaked nipple into his mouth and she shivered. Her hands reach to slide her underwear off, but his hands covered hers, stilled her movements. "Let me," he murmured against her skin, his hands gentle over hers, and urging her, slides the material off her hips. He leans back, his gaze dark as he drinks her in, lingering. He'd never seen anything so beautiful, he thought. Zoya whines in the back of her throat, impatient, and he grins in response.

With perfect precision, he moved his hands to the back of her thighs, opened her stance, and slipped a finger inside her. Then two.

"Oh, Zoya. You're so wet for me."

And she was. It'd be different this time. She wasn't a virgin anymore, and she had one encounter under her belt. At least she knew a little about what to expect. No man had ever talked to her like this, and the rasp of his voice made her blood heat. And as it raced through her veins, it set every part of her on fire. She rocked against him, backing away to get his fingers in the right spot, and when she did, a whimper escaped her before she could stop it. He worked her. In and out. Around and around, driving her to madness. And when the orgasm hit with such force, she panted his name. "Roman. Roman. Roman. Roman."

He started to withdraw, but she put her hand over his and held him in place. "Not yet." She moved against him again, and within seconds another climax shook her to her core. Harder this time, she buried her face in the hollow of his neck and sobbed.

"Oh, shit. Zoya. What's wrong?" His arms wind around her tighter, tugging her close to his warm chest.

"Nothing. I don't know why I'm crying. I'm sorry."

He eased her onto the hay and lay next to her, taking her mouth again. "It's okay. I imagine back-to-back orgasms can do that to a girl." Then he chuckled. A low mellow tone that caused her toes to curl and raised goose bumps everywhere.

"Now, where were we?" He rolled to all fours and hovered above her, then ran his tongue between her breasts. This had to be a dream, but when he scraped his teeth over her skin, she squealed. Not a dream.

Next he trailed his lips down to her stomach where he flicked the silver heart dangling from her bellybutton back and forth with his tongue. He had noticed the silver before, but had been too preoccupied with her wrapped around him to think of anything else. "Sexy."

"Thank you," she answered plainly.

He laughed out loud, his hot breath spreading across her skin, then he went lower gently pressing kisses against her skin, biting at the flesh of her hips.

She went perfectly still. The thought of his head between her legs again turned her bones to ash. And then he hit home with his first stroke. She dug both hands into the hay and lost herself to the passion. Everything faded away except the roaring in her head. She writhed against him feeling every delicious lash. Over and over again until she came undone.

He kissed his way back up her body and stared down at her. "Now, let's hear you use that in a sentence."

She drew a shallow breath.

"Come on. You're about to get the main event, but not until I hear a sentence. So make it a good one."

Her whole body shook, and she thought she was on the verge of a heart attack. But if she had to die, she wanted it to be in his arms. "Okay. Roman is good at cunnilingus."

She loved how his mouth quirked up at the corner when he fought a smile. "Not your best work, but I'll give you a pass."

"Thank you."

He nudged her legs apart with his knee and leaned low for a kiss. He opened for her and the dirty dance of his tongue made her think of where it'd been and the pleasure it'd caused. She licked inside his mouth and when they parted; he whispered a laugh. "Open your eyes." And then he slid inside her. A little at first, then more.

Before he moved again, he raised his brows as if to ask if she was okay. She bit her bottom lip. "More, please."

There was that wicked grin. "Oh, baby. So polite."

Then he gave her more, and she responded by coiling her legs around his waist to bring him closer. Deeper. Her eyes locked on his, she heaved the words out. "More. I want more. Give me more."

"You feel so fucking good, Zoya. So fucking good."

She shivered in response, digging her heels tighter against his ass. He thrust harder.

Her gaze never wavering, she dug fingers into his hips and bucked against him. "All of it. I want all of it, please."

A low growl came from deep in his throat. "I haven't stopped thinking about you, Zoya. Not for one minute. I've wanted you wrapped around my cock."

The way his voice sounded made her dizzy with desire. The sight of him rendered her senseless. Nothing mattered. Only him. Moist flesh against hers. Big hands moving over her.

He cupped her hips, tilted them until he stroked high into her. How did he already know how her body worked? He pressed, and she arched. He gave, and she took. And when she couldn't stand it anymore, she shattered, locking her legs around him until he emptied into her.

[MATURE THEMES OVER]

They stayed that way, fused together, for a long time, their bodies jerking with aftershocks. Finally, Roman rolled to his side, bringing Zoya with him. All doubt... gone. She loved him. More than she'd ever loved anyone. Now her only problem was how to get him to love her back.

Yikes, Miles knows where she is.

ALSO, Boomchickawowwow.

Be sure to check out the scene drawing of Roman and Zoya in the barn at the top of the chapter (PG, of course), created by my awesome friend eliyeda

TEASER: "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Wonder what thats about.