A brisk and tempestuous April thawed into an uneventful, rainy May. Then one spring morning the news broke that Valentine Black was arrested by US authorities and is currently in federal custody. They said it's a culmination of a joint Homeland Security and FBI investigation that was targeting him for more than a year and that he has multiple indictments pending in the US.

I was sceptical even though Dylan kept assuring me this was not going to be like his previous arrest and that he most definitely wouldn't be released. What the media didn't mention was that I was a key witness who put a final nail in the coffin. The detectives flew over on two occasions to Alaska to meet with me and I told them my story. I tried to remember all the details about Valentine, his LA apartment, the men who worked under him and some of the conversations I heard. He never disclosed much around me but he was becoming increasingly reckless at times. I only hoped that police would work hard to arrest other members of his gang too, stop the crime from spreading and keep Dylan safe.

We still had protection, a car was following us if we decided to leave anywhere but we weren't hiding anymore. It seemed life was slowly getting back to normal.

So I decided it was the best time to visit Paul and Adel. Dylan drove us to Wake Forest and I allowed myself to enjoy being surrounded by the landscape that I grew to love so much. Snowcaps melted and overflowed the rivers, running crystal clear and ice cold. The land thrived in a sea of bright green, and Wake Forest buzzed with people who had recovered from rough weather and persistent darkness, cleaning up the sidewalks and stringing flower baskets stuffed with blooming flowers from every porch.

We spent the day catching up with my aunt and uncle, laughter and carefree conversation filling up their warm home that once was my refuge. It wasn't a big surprise to hear that uncle Paul was one of the people who helped Dylan when we returned from LA and I was coping with my comedown.

And even though I've been terrified of revealing ugly parts of my life, my family deserved to know all of me. With Dylan on my side, I tell them everything about what happened in LA and my life before. Because the broken and damaged pieces made me. They gave me my kindness and empathy. Made me fiercely protective and loyal. Made me love so deeply.

A light spring rain was falling by the time we left their house and we pulled into Dylan's driveway. He wanted to ensure his house was still intact and the property was in good condition. Chilly needles hit my face as soon as I jump out of the truck, heading for the door.

The inside of his house brings back so many memories, my mind overwhelmed with the realisation of how much my world changed after I set foot in this place. That's why I don't hear him speak.

"What did you say?" I turn around to look at him standing near the kitchen counter.

His eyes roam the entire space before speaking. "I said I'm thinking about renting this place."

"Why?"

"Well, we're not living or working in Wake Forest at the moment. You know I asked for the transfer at the firm, so I'll be going back to work soon."

The guilt I feel about disturbing Dylan's day-to-day life is still eating me alive even though he assured me many times that none of it was a problem for him. Work-wise I didn't actually have to go to work. A few weeks after we came back to Alaska, we flew my dad's old lawyer to Anchorage and just like my mother said, there was a trust fund that was activated when I reached the age of twenty-one and now I am able to take control of the account and access the funds. Owning all that money now felt bittersweet. It was good having that safety net but I was itching to get back into the real world, working for my money, earning it. My time at the construction site seems to made me into a new person.

"You can work in Anchorage?" I ask.

"I can work anywhere. My job is in high demand around this area. I just deliberately chose to move far away from people who know me."

That triggers another doubt I had about our future in Anchorage. I remember conversations we had about his past relationship and how he was threatened. "Are you not worried about your ex? And his family?"

"After what you've been through Noah, those people are small fish compared to Valentine Black. I'll be fine." He says dryly and I snort at that. "I think they will not care about me corrupting their straight son when they see me with another man."

My cheeks blush. "And you're hundred per cent ok with that?"

Dylan comes around the island so we are face to face. "I thought I was buying you a ring, Noah. Or did I not understand that conversation?"

His words are teasing but so fucking sure. He looks happy. Genuinely bone-deep happy.

"Ok," I beam at him. I can't wait to belong to him forever, officially. There is no one else for me but him.

"Damn right is ok. I can't wait to hold your hand that has my ring on it, in my city, for everyone to see. Got that?"

I nod earnestly. "Will that day ever come though?" I sigh and cup his cheek. "I'm still anxious about the whole thing."

"The DA said they'd be transferring Valentine to maximum security prison soon. When that happens he will no longer have access or contact with anyone. It's not likely he'll be able to do any harm." He reaches for my hand on his face and squeezes my wrist. "So how do you like the idea of settling in Anchorage at the moment?"

"I haven't seen much of it," I grunt. "But I like the gallery." The area of the city is like a small multicultural haven with small hip restaurants, cafes filled with university students, artsy crowds going to vintage shops. Just a block away from the art gallery is a bar with a rainbow flag and I could picture us going there in the evenings.

Dylan is quiet for a while then speaks. "Why don't you buy it?"

"Buy what?"

"The gallery. My mom's friend only took over because he had a sentimental attachment to it and didn't want some developers turning it into another gym or a bank. But his main base is in New York. Why don't you talk to him about it and see where he's at."

"I can't just buy the gallery." I scoff but my brain starts processing the idea blatantly.

"Why not? Do you so desperately want to get back to working under me on a construction site?"

"I do like to be under you." I laugh.

"Don't laugh, I'm being serious. Tell me if you really see yourself working in the construction?"

"You're so bossy," I bury my face in his neck to hide my smile. "And while I do like you being bossy when we fuck I don't miss your grumpy ass at work, especially not early in the morning while it's still dark outside and you're yelling at me about picking up the pace. Jesus, you were a bully "

"This sexy ass of yours made me lose my goddamn mind," he grumbles in my ear, his hand circling over my behind. "Every time I saw you bending over I was questioning my sanity."

I laugh again and he kisses my temple as his hands move to my sides. "Anyway, my point is you don't have to go back to the construction anymore. You can do anything you want now. Especially with your art."

I nod with a little grunt. "Ok, I'll think about it...Thank you," I say.

"What for?"

"Believing in me. Finding me. Loving me."

"It's the easiest thing I ever had to do," Dylan whisperes the words so gently, I open my mouth on instinct like I want to swallow them and keep them inside of me forever. He kisses me after that. It's heavenly, open-mouthed and with tangled tongues, my chest aching from the intensity of his possessive mouth.

"Wanna fuck me?" My voice is thick with lust as my mind floats with the possibilities. It's been a long time since I had him inside of me bare, and now after finally being cleared by the doctors it's all I've been craving.

"Now?" Dylan glances at the front door where just outside is a parked car with our security.

"He's not going to come in. Come on." I take my shirt off and go back for more of his kisses. "This place is turning me on."

Dylan chuckles, that infectious grin spreading across his face again. "Oh yeah?"

"We fucked on almost every surface of this house. I'm getting flashbacks."

"Mmm," he smiles, but there's something predatory in the expression—something hungry. "Where was your favorite?"

"Agh... I don't know," I bite my lip. "By the fireplace maybe? Sofa? Sofa was always a good place. Dining table! Remember that time? Fuck, I was feeling you for days after the dining table."

"So you wanna replay?" He steps back to the table and after I take a few more steps he sits down at the chair just behind him.

"Come closer."

I close what little distance is between us, and stand before him.

"I want these off," he reaches out and releases a button of my jeans.

I obey. After lowering my pants down I slide down onto his lap so I'm straddling him and then whisper. "Remember what you did then? You told me to pull out your cock and ride you. And after you had me bent over the table."

His sinful tongue goes down to my chest and toys with my nipples as his hand goes lower, exploring the fabric of my underwear but doesn't touch my cock. "Yep. I remember everything."

When I reach between us for the hem of his sweater, he grabs my fingers and carefully eases my hand behind my back. Then he takes my other hand and does the same.

"Leave them there," he orders. I manage a nod because speech is pretty much impossible. I can feel the precum dripping from the head of my dick and dampening the fabric of my underwear.

As he keeps my wrist in the grip of his hand, he slides his free hand to my ass, Dylan's teeth close gently over a muscle in my neck. He soothes the spot with a tongue, then keeps repeating the move as his fingers trail along the edge of my boxer briefs. While one finger rides along the material, the other is touching my skin and the contrast between is making me crazy. His fingers disappear between my crease and caress me there for a moment before sliding down my ass and in between my legs. I automatically lift off him enough so he could move his hand closer to my balls.

Which he doesn't.

"Dylan," I say breathlessly as I drop my head to his shoulder. "Please."

"Please what, baby? Touch you?"

I nod against him. His mouth is next to my ear as he says, "Here?" And then he is touching one of the globes of my ass. I manage something that is between a nod and a shake.

"Here?" He asks again, this time touching my other cheek.

I don't respond this time, mostly because I am too gone to say anything but wait to see where he will touch me next.

I open my mouth against his shoulder and moan when his finger disappears into my crack and begins rubbing my hole through the cotton. I can't help but start grinding my dick against his bulge that I can feel pressing against my own hardening cock.

"So good, baby. So good," I breathe. Without the use of my hands, I can't grab him the way I want.

He turns his head and kisses me even as he continues to rub my entrance. When his finger slides under my underwear and touches the skin of my hole I moan into his mouth.

"Oh, God," I cry when he spits on his fingers, brings his hand back to my ass and begins rubbing me harder and harder. I keep trying to push back on him, but every time I do, he moves his finger away. I am completely at his mercy. And I love it.

I tug my hands, "Dylan, please, I have to touch you."

He is still fully dressed and I want to be skin on skin. To my surprise, he releases my hands. I instantly go for his sweater and Dylan lifts his arms only long enough to get the sweater free, then his palms are on me again, smoothing over my body. His mouth is there too. Kissing. Teasing. Tasting.

I grab him by the face and force his head up so I can kiss him. Really kiss him. He groans as I feed on his mouth and tear at his belt and practically rip it out of the loops flinging it aside. He continues to squeeze my ass with both hands, the underwear pushed down to the backs of my upper thighs, but still covering my cock in the front.

I am harder than I'd ever been and I can see the wet spot forming on my underwear when I look down. But I am not interested in my own cock. I frantically try to get his jeans open. Dylan pulls his mouth from mine and nuzzles my ear. "Breathe, baby. I'm not going anywhere. I promise you'll have me inside of this pretty hole of yours soon."

His words sound so tenderly, they calm me and my fingers finally begin to work as I open his pants. I can't see what I'm doing because I tip my head back so Dylan can lick the column of my throat. But I can absolutely feel what I am doing. I reach my hand into them and fish out his cock, swallowing hard when I feel his intimidating girth.

"Need you," I breathe against his lips and he moves one of his hands to my front and pulls my underwear down, freeing my pained cock in the process. His hand is hot and rough as he encircles my dick. I put my hand down to cover his and said, "Fuck yeah. Tighter."

Dylan's intense eyes hold mine as he firmly begins to stroke me, tightening his grip.

"Still want me to fuck you?" He murmurs. "You look so close to coming already."

I shake my head, panting. "Nuh-uh, you promised me."

To my surprise, Dylan grins. And it is so damn adorable. "So I did," he says. "Wanna know what is my favorite spot where we had sex?"

"What?"

He brushes his mouth across my cheek and kisses my jaw, then the bridge of my nose. "In my bed," Dylan rasps. "Come with me. Come to bed with me."

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