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  For James, who, like me, believes in fate. And forever.

  chapter one

  When Grace Brooks had unexpectedly appeared at the wedding reception of his best friend, Carter, and Kat Lane, Max O’Hare’s heart had damn near stopped. The weeks since Grace left him had been unbearably hard. And her return to him brightened up his whole life.

  “What are you smiling about?” Max asked her now, pulling her close and nuzzling her temple.

  “Nothing,” she replied, folding her arms around his neck. “I’m just thankful I came.”

  “Me too,” he whispered. “You’re really here.” They smiled softly at each other, and Max kissed her gently.

  Then he clasped her hand and proudly led her to where a group of people—three of whom Grace recognized as Carter, Tate, and Riley respectively—were watching them surreptitiously and talking to each other. A beautiful red-haired woman stood with them, wearing an exquisite ivory wedding dress—Kat. She grinned at Grace and Max as they approached, then pulled Grace into a welcoming hug.

  “I’m so glad you came,” Kat said, and winked at Max.

  Max blinked, looking between the two women before pointing a finger at her. “You did this?”

  Kat laughed. “I was nominated to do it.” She glanced back at the three men who were shuffling their feet, not meeting her eyes. “These three were useless.”

  As his friends unleashed their defenses Max chuckled, shaking his head and putting his arm around Grace’s waist to pull her in, and she snuggled into his side.

  Carter moved toward Kat from behind and rested his chin on her shoulder, placing his hands on her stomach. “It’s nice to see you again, Grace.”

  “Damn straight it is,” Riley chimed in. “Hopefully Max will stop moping now that you’re back, Running Girl.”

  He and Tate snickered when Max flicked them the finger.

  Despite not knowing the laughing people around her all that well, having Max at her side calmed Grace in ways she hadn’t felt in a very long time. With the waves brushing against the shore and the smells of good food, wine, and late summer in the air, she was quickly swept up in the happiness of the occasion. The house and the beach were beautiful, and Carter and Kat danced, kissed, and smiled as only two newly married people could.

  Max didn’t leave Grace’s side all day and into the evening, a part of him always touching her—his finger on her arm, his hand on the small of her back. His touch had always heated her blood, but now it sang, as though every part of her came to life when he was near.

  “I want to ask you something,” Max said later as they slow-danced to Marvin Gaye.

  Carter and Kat had left an hour before for their honeymoon under a shower of peach and white confetti and cheers, but the party continued regardless. The sun had set and small twinkling fairy lights, which were draped over and around every inanimate object, surrounded the dance floor in a soft, glowing circle.

  Max opened his mouth to speak again but only stammered. Grace smiled at his awkwardness. She knew he’d been building up to something for a couple of hours; she could read him like a book.

  “I’m staying here tonight,” he began, his eyes going to their feet as they stepped from side to side. “Carter asked me to look after the house for a couple of days while the cleaners are here and whatever, and . . .” He exhaled, and his gaze was searing when it met hers, stealing her breath. “I don’t expect anything, but . . . I’d really like it if you stayed with me.”

  Grace ran her palm up his bicep to his shoulder and cupped the back of his neck, pulling his mouth to hers. “I’d love to,” she whispered, because it was the truth, because she couldn’t think of anything she wanted more than sleeping in Max’s arms again.

  Max woke gradually to the smells of cocoa butter and ocean. Blinking the sleep away, he smiled slowly when he realized Grace was snuggled into his side, her cheek on his shoulder and her hand over his heart. How appropriate. She slept soundly, so beautiful and soft against him. He was still in a slight state of shock that she’d turned up at Carter and Kat’s wedding, but the happiness which followed it was swift and awesome.

  He knew what a lucky son of a bitch he was getting a second chance with her, and he was going to make sure he didn’t fuck it up this time. Almost losing her once was hard enough. Climbing into bed together last night, doing nothing but kissing, had been incredible and reaffirmed what Max already knew. He couldn’t say the words yet, but he felt every ounce of love he had for her in every inch of his body.

  Kissing her nose gently, he pushed the covers back and quietly got up. Still asleep, Grace mumbled something and snuggled farther into the pillows. Pulling on a pair of sweats and a gray tank top, Max crept out of the room to head down to the kitchen.

  The creak of a floorboard and the soft sound of a door closing down the hall made Max turn around. Riley stood with one hand on the doorknob of the room he’d just left, his dress shoes in his other hand. His suit pants were unfastened, his shirt was untucked, and his feet were bare. He froze when he noticed Max.

  “The brunette?” Max asked, referring to the wedding guest who’d made googly eyes at Riley from the minute she saw him. Riley just shrugged and smiled with no embarrassment. Max snorted, shaking his head. “You never fucking change, man.”

  Riley just rolled his eyes and followed Max down the stairs to the kitchen, which had been partially tidied by the hired staff. Champagne glasses still littered the counters and numerous filled trash bags sat by the back door, ready to be picked up. Riley parked himself on a bar stool at the relatively clear breakfast bar and watched Max brew coffee, boil a few eggs, and make toast.

  “So how’s Running Girl?” Riley asked, sipping the orange juice Max placed in front of him.

  “Good,” Max answered with a broad smile. Riley nodded and folded his arms on the countertop. “I’m happy for you, dude.” He leaned his head to the side, looking troubled despite his words.

  Max had been noticing Riley’s lack of smiles recently, and it bothered him. Riley was the life and soul of every party, and seeing him so serious was as worrying as it was uncharacteristic. Frankly, he looked rough as hell, and Max suspected it wasn’t just the alcohol.

  “What’s up?” Max asked casually. “Girl upstairs not quite do it for ya?” He chuckled, but it fell flat in the large kitchen.

  Riley lifted one shoulder and rubbed a palm down his face. “No, it was . . . it was what it was. It’s just . . . I’m not . . . fuck, I don’t know.”

  Max placed a plate of toast between them, along with butter, a jar of jelly, and one of Nutella. Then he sat opposite his friend. Riley was never without words. “Come on,” he encouraged. “Talk to me. What’s up?”

  Riley exhaled and raised his eyebrows. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.” He took a bite of toast and sighed. “I feel, kinda . . . I don’t know, restless? Shit’s changing. Carter getting fuckin’ married. You all loved-up with your girl.” His smile was wistful. “It’s like . . .” He shook his head and glanced toward the window and out at the ocean.

  Max cupped his elbows and leaned forward. “I’m worried about ya, man. What’s going on? Does this have anything to do with what you told me?”

  Riley’s face pinched. He knew what Max was talk
ing about. Weeks before, when Max was pining for Grace, Riley had said that he knew what Max was going through; that he’d once lost the woman he loved.

  That had shocked the shit out of Max. In the ten years they’d been friends, Riley had been known for two things: his voracious appetite for women, and his ability to drink anyone and anything under the table. There had never been a whisper of a relationship that lasted longer than a night, let alone love.

  Riley cleared his throat and began slathering a third piece of toast with butter. “I’m just being a pussy,” he said with a grin, though his eyes betrayed him. “Ignore me.”

  Max nodded, determined to prod later on.

  Riley didn’t stay long after he finished eating, leaving quickly before his conquest emerged looking sheepish and bedraggled, and leaving just as swiftly.

  Max made his way up the stairs back to his room, carrying a tray filled with food, coffee, and juice. He pushed the door open to find Grace, wearing only his white T-shirt, standing by the large open window that looked out onto the beach, her eyes closed, her hair moving in the breeze. Her long legs were incredible. She opened her eyes when Max closed the door and smiled at the offerings in his hands.

  “You read my mind,” she said, moving toward him as he placed the tray on the vanity.

  “I was afraid if I left your stomach to rumble any longer, we’d get complaints from the neighbors,” Max deadpanned, chuckling when Grace swiped at his arm. He clasped her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her fingers gently.

  “Morning,” she said, her green gaze fixed on his mouth.

  “Morning.” He bent down to kiss her, lost in the need to taste her. He’d tried so damned hard not to want her, to love her, to kiss her, but, shit, what could he do? He was a fool for her.

  The kiss started innocently, Max tentative and cautious not to crowd her. When her small tongue darted out to greet his, her eagerness filled him with hot lust and he pulled her closer, cupping her face and groaning into her mouth when her nails pinched his shoulders and neck. He loved her like that, all desperate and willing.

  Their mouths shifted, growing hungrier, the heat that always simmered between them sparking into something bigger, something that had Max lifting her and carrying her to the bed, where he set Grace on his lap, her knees straddling his thighs. She swiveled her hips, rubbing her fun parts right against his.

  “Fuck,” he muttered against her mouth. “Do that again.”

  She did, smiling as her lips traveled down to his collarbone, nibbling and licking, kissing and, oh my fucking God, sucking as she went, leaving a trail of wet warmth down to his shoulder and back up to his ear with her tongue.

  “Grace, what you do to me . . .” She had to know she drove him fucking insane.

  She moved back and he groaned as the warmth of her body left his, then hissed through his teeth when her hand pulled at the waistband of his sweats and disappeared inside, gripping his cock and moving slowly up and down. Her palm was so soft, but she knew how hard and tight to hold him.

  “Jesus.” He kissed her chest, moving up to her ear and sucking her lobe. She moaned, whispering his name, lighting his veins in a way only white powder had done before.

  He loosened his grip on her hip and slid his hand down her leg, raising goose bumps as he reached her knee. Slowly, gently, not wanting to surprise her, Max opened her leg more so he could move up the inside of her thigh. She exhaled hard as his hand neared the place he wanted to lose himself most.

  When he realized she wasn’t wearing anything under his shirt, Max grinned and winked at her. “That’s my girl.”

  She laughed and kissed him in reply. Max stopped just as his thumb touched between her legs, making her jump a little. He inhaled deeply when he felt how wet she was, knowing that despite how turned on she was, he still needed to take his time.

  “Don’t stop,” Grace breathed, grabbing his wrist and pushing his hand farther between her legs.

  Max resisted slightly, reveling in her desire for his touch.

  Her mouth met the corner of his, her breath hot and damp on his cheek. “Max,” she whispered. “Touch me, please.”

  How could he resist her?

  His hand inched up her thigh. Her eyes clenched shut, and she arched and moaned when his fingers slipped between her folds. Her hand stayed on Max’s wrist while his index and middle finger stroked, moving to the top of her, then back down. His moist fingertips slid teasingly against her, his movements soft and easy. Grace gripped his cock tighter when the tip of his finger pressed against her nub.

  “God, Gracie,” he mumbled, his hips moving against her hand on his cock. “I want you so badly.”

  She muttered something and gasped when he pushed one finger inside her. He brought it back out slowly, not wanting to rush, then pushed it in again, feeling her tense around him. Her breath started to come in small gasps and her fingers tangled through his hair, pulling. Max fucking loved it, feeling her want him as much as he wanted her.

  He stroked a second finger in, and grunted when she pulled her hand up his cock.

  “Max,” she breathed, moving with him. “That feels so good.” She licked his lips as he curled his fingers inside her, pushing and withdrawing in long strokes, circling her clit with his thumb.

  Her hand moved faster on his cock, making his balls tighten, his hips moving in sync with Grace’s. He pushed his nose into her hair and breathed her in.

  She gasped, “I want . . . I need . . .” She bit her bottom lip, rotating her hips.

  “What, Gracie? Tell me.”

  Her thumb circled the tip of his cock.

  “I need you inside me, Max.”

  Fuck me . . .

  Grace moaned when he stroked his fingers inside her harder, utterly ecstatic at her words. “Pocket,” he grunted, thanking God he’d gotten a condom from Riley.

  He pulled his fingers from her, while she grabbed the packet and tore it open with her teeth. He glanced up at her, silently inviting her to roll the rubber on him, and she did. Max wasn’t sure he’d seen anything quite so sexy in his life. He moved farther back on the bed, lifting Grace as he went so that his cock slid against her, teasing them both. He gasped when she grabbed him.

  “Now, Max,” she ordered. “I’ve waited so long for you again. I need you now.”

  He didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled her close, and pushed into her in one swift movement.

  “Jesus, Grace!”

  She didn’t give him a chance to catch his breath and moved her hips, lifting so Max could push deeper; the sensation of her taking control, dropping, squeezing, grinding, pushed Max closer and closer to the edge. He’d never last, and he needed her as close as he was.

  “Tell me you feel it,” he murmured. “Tell me you feel this, you feel what you mean to me.”

  She ate up his words, her mouth ravenous and wanton. “Yes,” she replied, her eyes on his. “I do.” She dropped her head back. “God.”

  He placed his fingers back on her clit and started rubbing, increasing the speed of his thrusts. Her whimpers got louder and her grip on his hair tightened as she lifted and dropped again and again.

  “I’m close, Grace. Please come,” he begged. “Please.”

  As if his words were the switch she needed, she threw her head back, her body flush with his, and cried out his name. Max thrust twice more, hard and deep, and exploded inside her, calling out nonsense, unable to form a coherent thought. All he could do was hold on to her as they both came down from the most amazing high.

  Max knew he would never touch drugs again. He didn’t need to. Grace gave him a rush better than anything he’d ever had before.

  His heart hammered in his chest as he held her close, kissing her temple, feeling her breathing slow and her head relax on his shoulder. He pulled out of her and nuzzled her cheek. “That’s what I call a brea
kfast of champions.”

  Moving off of him to lie beside him, she giggled. Max grabbed a tissue off the bedside table and cleaned up. Over his shoulder, he watched her stretch with her arms over her head, elongating her body like a cat. He couldn’t do anything but smile like a fucking idiot. She was so beautiful.

  Throwing the tissue and condom in the trash, he kicked off his sweats, pulled off his tank top, and leaned over her for a kiss. His gaze did a circuit of her face, resting on her perfect cupid’s bow before meeting her eyes, which were heavy and lustful.

  “You really feel it?” he asked again, not caring how needy or anxious he sounded. He had to know that she understood—that even though his words got stuck, she knew just what she meant to him, what he felt for her.

  She smiled. “Yes,” she answered, her fingers dancing above his heart. “I always have.”

  Max nodded and smiled back. “Good.”

  She cupped his face, pulling him closer so his body rested on top of hers. And not flinching or panicking, she whispered, “I love you, too, Max.”

  chapter two

  Riley’s apartment phone was ringing when he arrived home. He shut his front door and launched his keys onto the nearby brown leather couch, hurrying over to pick up the phone before the machine kicked in.

  “’Yello,” he answered, placing it between his ear and shoulder as he sat down and began to untie the dress shoes he’d had to wear for Carter’s wedding. Give him a pair of high-tops or work boots anytime over this restrictive shit.

  “Hey, man, how’s it goin’?”

  Riley smiled at the sound of his brother Seb’s voice. “Hey, fucker, what’s up? Haven’t heard from you in a while.”

  He pulled off his socks and slumped back against the sofa cushions. Seb was the youngest of the Moore brothers and the one who got into the most trouble with bed partners. He was always jumping from one to the next, leaving a trail of broken hearts wherever he went. Riley considered himself a damn priest in comparison.