My lips mold against Tara's, and my hands sneak under her shirt, splaying over her lower back.

I can't stop kissing her. Don't want to, even though I know I'm trying to fix my fuckup with sex.

I place open-mouthed kisses on Tara's neck and grind my hips against hers, pressing her into the mattress.

"Bast."

Her voice is barely above a whisper, but luckily, it breaks through the lust-induced haze.

I prop myself up on my forearms so I can see her expression. "Yeah?"

"Would you be mad if we...if we stopped?"

Concern tightens its icy grasp around my throat. Did I misread the signs? She kissed me first, didn't she?

"No, of course not." I swallow and caress Tara's face with the back of my hand. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I just..." Tara's fingertips feather over my bare chest. "I can't get into it, and you deserve better. We both do."

"Okay. Do you want me to leave?"

Asking is the right thing to do, although the possibility of an affirmative answer terrifies me. No, I don't want to leave. I want to sleep with her even if we do nothing else.

A smile shadows her mouth. "No. Stay."

I kiss her cheek and roll onto my back. Even though she lets me hug her as she switches off the light, a fucking rock forms in my stomach.

It feels as if something broke, and I'm shit at fixing things.

***

I pop awake after what feels like a couple hours of sleep, but it might be less. Worry oppresses me, intensifying when I don't find Tara in bed.

Where the hell can she be?

I throw the comforter aside and sit, roaming the bedroom with my eyes. The en suite is dark. I get up and pad to the door.

Not a single light in the apartment is on, but I hear a faint sound of Tara's voice and walk toward it.

I halt in the living room doorway. She's sitting on the kitchen counter with the phone pressed to her ear, rubbing the hem of her shirt between her fingers.

"Yes, Dr. Jennings. I can be there tomorrow after class. Do you think I might need medication again?"

I vaguely remember Tara mentioning that name before. Right. Her therapist. That's who the guy is, and she's calling him at night.

Anguish grips my throat. If she needs meds, it's bad. And she said again.

After I listened to Elena's bullshit. After I behaved like a jerk and made her cry. After I kissed the fuck out of her without making sure we were on the same page.

"I understand," Tara says. "No, don't worry. It's not that bad. Will do."

She rests her phone beside her, and I take a step forward. "Tara."

A cheerful mask slips onto her face. "Hey. What are you doing up?"

I want to shake her and tell her to stop pretending, but one glance at her face is enough to walk over. I stand between her legs and press her to me, weaving the fingers of my left hand into her hair and keeping the right arm around her waist.

Tara's shaky breath blows against my collarbone. "Bast."

"I'm sorry. I heard you on the phone, and-"

"It's nothing," she whispers. "Really. I just asked to change my session to tomorrow."

I rest my chin on top of her head. "Because I was a dick, right? Is that why?"

"No. You apologized, and it's okay. You should go back to bed."

"We." I slide my fingers through her blond strands. "Let's go, and I don't know, cuddle?"

"Okay."

Taking a step back, I help Tara off the counter and take her hand as we go to her bedroom.

When we're by the bed, I grip the hem of her shirt. "Can I take it off? Nothing sexual, I promise."

She nods, and I pull the fabric up and over her head.

Fucking masochist. She's not wearing a bra, and the sight of her perky, round breasts makes my cock swell.

I force myself not to stare and run my hand over Tara's back. "Lie on your stomach."

She sends a curious look my way before complying, and I lower myself onto the mattress by her side.

"Let's play a game." My fingers skate along her spine. "I draw, you guess. Close your eyes."

"Done," Tara says.

"Okay. Here we go."

I keep it simple. Short strokes. Long ones. Lines. Circles.

When I stop, Tara chuckles. "A flower."

"Excellent guessing skills. Let's level up."

"Thank God. I seriously thought you were trying to woo me with first-grade doodles."

I slap Tara's ass. "First grade, huh?"

"More drawing, less talking, Sebastian."

I bite back a smile. "Alright."

More lines and shapes follow. Goosebumps rise on Tara's skin, and satisfaction floods me.

I stop. "So?"

Tara's slender shoulders shake with barely contained laughter. "That's a two-story house and a stick man next to a car, Basti."

"How could you?" I gasp. "That's a magnificent seascape with sharp-edged rocks, towering palm trees, and roaring waves."

Also known as bullshit. But she's laughing, and I couldn't have asked for more.

"It's a good thing you're not an art major," Tara mumbles into the pillow.

"I suck." My fingers hover over her silky skin.

The next thing I draw earns me Tara's wide smile. "A caterpillar."

Also, a sailing boat, a book, a unicorn, a swan, and a Christmas tree with a star on top. She guesses it all, but midway through my next drawing, Tara's breathing evens out.

I finish it, anyway. My Anatomy prof would be impressed I didn't need a plastic model to draw a heart.

***

Tara is ready to go to class when I get up, which sucks because I wanted to make her breakfast.

She needs to be on campus earlier, and since my time management skills leave much to be desired, I enter the lecture hall when the prof is already there.

I drop into a seat beside Brian and focus on the class. When Statistics is over, he elbows me, coughing into his fist.

"Later," he says, nodding at my left.

A glance in that direction reveals Elena approaching my desk.

Brian picks up his backpack and walks backward, throwing me an apologetic look and a sheepish grin. Fucking traitor. Then again, he's not Elena's fan, even less so after she gave his girl a stink eye months back.

Elena cuts me a glare and folds her arms over her chest. "What's up with your phone?"

Shoving my notes into the backpack, I shrug. "Nothing's up. Why?"

"I called you."

"For inquiries, doubts, and concerns, you're strongly advised to use my email. It's Sebastian Hutches, at, Bartley University, dot, edu. Should I spell that for you?"

Elena's eyes bulge with rage. "You blocked my number."

I hop to my feet. "Fucking finally, right? Sorry it took you so long to convince me. I'll be much faster next time. In fact, fucking meddle again, and your mail will be forever buried in my spam folder."

"So mature, Sebastian."

"Mature enough to know better. Get lost, El. For real."

I push past her, struggling to contain the urge to release a stream of curses. I wanted to check on Tara to make sure she's feeling better, and now I barely have time to go to the Humanities Building for my elective.

The day is gloomy again. I shiver in my hoodie as I jog down the steps of the Science Building. Before turning right, I survey the parking lot because that's where I saw Tara with the cradle robber yesterday.

Lo and behold, the piece of crap is there.

My pulse picks up speed, and my vision tunnels, focusing solely on him.

The image of Tara's vulnerable posture when she stood talking to him appears behind my eyelids as I blink, and I make a straight line for the fucker's Benz.

He glances up from his phone at the thud of my boots against the asphalt.

Good. Be alert, motherfucker.

"You." I jerk my chin up. "Got lost?"

"Ian," he says, smirking. "And no, I don't think I did."

I want to wipe the stupid smirk off his face with my fist. Fucking predator.

He turns his head and squints at something. I register blond hair in my peripheral vision, and chills rock my spine. Then I exhale. It's Connor's girlfriend Sadie, rushing to class. Not Tara. Thank God.

"Thought it was Atla," the prick mutters.

Atla. Who the hell is Atla?

He must notice the confusion on my face because he leans against his car, tilting his head to the side. "Sorry, Tara. That's how you know her, right? It's good she's Atla only to me."

Something inside me snaps. I lunge forward, but he seizes my wrist, his expression blank. "Easy there, boy. I don't hit kids."

"You only fuck them." I push the words out through gritted teeth, wriggling my hand free. "Didn't think I knew?"

"Those who bark hardly ever bite." He shrugs. "Calm down. I need to talk to Tara. Save your jealousy for someone who cares."

I step forward and stare him in the eyes, my breaths ragged, my face inches from his. "Leave her alone, you hear me? Come near her again, and I'll fucking end you."

"Hutches!"

Drew's voice carries through the cool air, and a lazy grin stretches across the cradle robber's mouth. "Hutches? Now, this is interesting. Not lots of people have this last name. In fact, I only know two. Say hi to the other one, will you?"

He gets a remote from his pants pocket and unlocks his car.

The prick slides into the driver's seat, shaking his wrist before resting it on the leather-wrapped steering wheel.

He winks, starting the vehicle, and I stand stock-still, seized by helpless fury as I watch him drive away.

His watch alone must cost more than my tuition.

It's such a stupid fucking thought, but it tightens its tentacles around my brain.

Boy.

Those who bark hardly ever bite.

Atla.

"Bast." Evans catches up to me, panting from the jog across the parking lot. "Who the fuck was that?"

"The dude's been stalking Tara."

Under other circumstances, I'd keep my mouth shut, but Evans cares about Tara. As much as it fucks with my head to think about him calling her baby girl and hugging her, it won't hurt to have him on the lookout in case the cradle robber shows up when I'm not near.

Evans runs his hand through his hair, nodding. "Got his plates?"

I throw my head back. "Fuck."

"Dad's a cop, but the son..." Drew sighs and punches my bicep. "No worries. I'll keep an eye on her. You've got one more class, right? Wanna meet us at The Fork later?"

"Not today, but thanks for the invite."

Evans eyes me as if he expects me to spill my guts in a fucking parking lot. I thought he'd know better by now.

"Okay. Gotta run. Nash's waiting," he says.

All I manage is a nod. And as soon as Drew rounds the corner, I do a one-eighty and hurry to my Mustang.

***

When I park in my parents' driveway, it's a little after two. I slam the car door shut and stroll to the porch, fiddling with the house key. I could nap while I'm waiting, but after everything, I doubt I'd achieve anything other than tossing and turning.

Coffee would be great, though.

I unlock the door and step into the foyer.

"Basti?"

Mom walks out the kitchen and stares at me. "Are you alright?"

I nod. "Are you? Why are you home?"

"Dad and I are going to see cars. I've been carpooling with Mary from the Hill Cottage, but now that I'm getting paid, I need my own vehicle. Mary took the kids to the cinema today, and I have the afternoon off."

"So, Dad'll be home soon?"

"I hope so. Let's have coffee."

I perch at the kitchen table, waiting for Mom to fix the drinks.

"So, you came to see Dad?" Mom asks, handing me a mug.

I take a sip, wincing as the scoarching liquid coats my tongue. "I wanted to talk to him. Guy stuff."

"How's Tara?"

"Good. You can ask her now that you have her number."

"I'm waiting to have my car." Mom grins. "I want to take the poor thing shopping. It'd be a shame if she had to drive me around in addition to finding me a job. You're lucky to be friends with her, Sebastian. Don't mess it up."

I want to tell her I won't, but it's a little too late. And Mom still doesn't know Tara's my roommate. I drink quietly, and a few instants later, Mom leans back in the chair and bites her lip. "Sebastian."

"What?"

"Dad will probably say nothing, but something happened in Ashwick a few days ago. Promise you won't go to the woods with Tara."

I leave the mug on the table. "What? Why?"

"They found a dead girl. It's not even in the papers yet, but Dad's concerned. He said it looked like a murder. I said nothing, okay? I overheard him talking to his colleague on the phone. Just stay away from the woods for now. I'll be calmer that way."

"Shit. Do they know who she is?"

"They might, but I don't. I'm just worried because this area was supposedly safe."

Just great. Now I also have to worry about Mom living so close to a crime scene. The woods are so dense whoever can lurk there. My mind circles back to the hike with Tara and the figure in white clothes, but that was months ago.

"Nora." Dad's broad frame fills the kitchen doorway. "And Bast. What are you doing here?"

I jump off the chair, and Dad hugs me. "Getting stronger, huh?"

"Haven't been to the gym in days."

Cause well, too busy fucking, not that he needs to know.

I zip up my hoodie and shift my weight. "Have you got a moment? I wanted to talk to you about grandpa's house."

Dad's eyebrows lift a notch. That's what we say if we want to talk about something Mom's better off without knowing. As in, the first time I had sex or the only time he had to haul my drunk ass home from a bar.

"The flooring, right?"

The fucking flooring? I'm not sure Mom is that oblivious, but she loves it when Dad and I bond. Her words, not mine.

We go outside and circle the house until we're in the garden, a few feet away from the woods. Dad sits on a log and pats it so I'd do the same.

I plop next to him and stretch my legs, crossing my arms. "I can't do this anymore. Tara and I, well... We're kind of together."

Dad groans, running a palm over his eyes. "Should've known."

"It just happened, okay? It's not something you do on purpose. I like her, and she's great. She's fucking selfless. Fun. Kind. Did you know Mom has a job thanks to her?"

Dad rubs his chin, nodding. "Yeah."

"But she's also vulnerable. And if she finds out I lied, it'll hurt her. Plus, she doesn't even use her father's money. They're not close, and she has a job. She said he doesn't let her get close to his business."

Dad mirrors my position, folding his arms over his chest.

"I care," I whisper. "I didn't think I would, but I do. And I can't kiss her and not think about everything I hide. She's not her father. And I need to know what the fuck's going on with him, even if it's to give her support. She has nobody else."

"Hurting her is the last thing we want. The less she knows, the better," Dad says. "But it's not easy, Bast. Not easy at all."

"Fucking stop with the half-truths." I ball my hands into fists. "You've taught me to be honest, and this is called being fucking shady. I can't sleep, okay?"

Dad's heavy hand lands on my shoulder. The corners of his mouth turn downward, and I brace myself for his next words.

Whatever he says will be better than not having a clue.

"I don't want you or Tara to be a part of this." He exhales. "I'm not in charge, but I have a role in the investigation. Vincent is involved in human trafficking."

Well, oops.

What now?

Knowing something readers don't is nice. Also, we love cliffhangers and bombs dropped. Am I right?

And I think I'm in love with Sebastian. He has his soft side after all.