The drive back to our motel is quiet. Tense. Scenery, tranquil and vast, flies by the window in a seemingly endless stretch of forests, meadows, and mountains. I have to admit, Flagstaff is beautiful. Sadly, I'm not in the mood to enjoy any of it. I can't focus on anything but Cruz. My eyes keep darting toward him. There's a tick in his jaw that won't go away.

What's he thinking right now?

So badly, I want to talk to him and clear the air, but I'm scared to break the silence. I don't know what to say. I feel like, after all these twists and turns over the past few days, I've lost the fucking plot. The unanswered questions simmering between us don't have clear, easy solutions.

As our rental car shoots down street after street, the shine from my chat with Nascha is beginning to wear off, and everything my great aunt offered me suddenly sounds too good to be true. The woman seemed nice enough from our hour-long meeting, but a good first impression doesn't change the fact that she's still a stranger. I hardly know her, and my trust issues have trust issues. After being dealt so many shitty blows in life, I have a hard time believing that she's the real deal. There has to be a catch.

There's always a catch.

Yet, even if my great aunt can deliver on half of her promises to Persie and me, I'd be an idiot to turn her down. At the very least, my sister and I would have a free place to live, and we'd finally be together again, I'd be doing a huge disservice to my future and Persie's future by walking away from such an opportunity.

I peer over at Cruz again, his knuckles are stretched tight as he grips the steering wheel, and my heart clenches with apprehension.

Fuck.

I can't leave him behind, though. Not even for Persie. I just can't.

He's everything to me.

There's no way in hell I'm letting him go back to his dad's house alone. After the volatile way we left things, Ron will probably end up hurting Cruz if he returns home. Or worse. I don't even want to think about the levels of cruelty and rage that Ron might unleash on him.

My mind starts reeling, spiraling, spinning.

What can we do?

If I reject Nascha's offer, the three of us, Persie, Cruz, and me, will be homeless.

But we'll be together.

If Persie and me choose to stay with Nascha, Cruz will have to go somewhere else.

Unless I can convince my great aunt to take him in as well?

I'll have to fucking try.

Maybe Nascha will let him live with us, at least, until he turns eighteen and goes off to college?

It's a huge ask, I know. My great aunt and I share blood, but, as I mentioned earlier, she's a stranger to me. And Cruz is a stranger to her. I'm not in any position to ask Nascha for more than she's willing to give, and she certainly doesn't owe Cruz anything. My mind takes a pessimistic turn. There's a big chance she might say "no" to Cruz.

What... then?

Frustration mounts in me. It turns into despair. My temples start to ache. Every worry inside my head sounds off like a siren. Each one fights for my attention until I can't think straight anymore.

Soon, Cruz pulls back into the motel parking lot and parks the car. He finally speaks up then, splitting the tension with a quiet, strained voice, "You... okay?"

Fuck, no.

Not at all.

A sting hits the back of my eyes. I shake my head and blink back my tears. "You?"

He shrugs listlessly. "Same."

There's a deep furrow marring his brow that hasn't eased since our meeting with Nascha. Cruz looks like he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"Come on, baby," he murmurs. "Let's go back inside and sort this shit out."

"Okay," I mumble.

We exit the car. With sullen, heavy steps, I follow him to our room. The air remains thick as fuck. Everything feels so unresolved. Once Cruz and I are inside the room again, he shuts the door behind us. I plod over to take a seat on the edge of the bed. Cruz sits down beside me and reaches for me. I lace my fingers into his hand and grasp him tight.

We sit there for a while.

Not talking.

Just touching.

Neither Cruz nor I seem ready to have this conversation. There's no perfect path forward in the imperfect choices we've been presented. In order to gain one blessing, we'll have to sacrifice another, and I don't know if I'm more terrified of losing Cruz or fucking up my chance at a stable life with Persie.

My headache worsens. The dull ache at my temples throbs harder. Wincing, I lay back on the mattress with a defeated sigh. Cruz follows me down. His arm snakes around my waist, drawing me to his chest. Snuggling into him, I lay my ear over his heart and listen to the strong, steady thuds beating away like a drum. It has become the most precious sound in the world to me.

As the minutes drag on, our hands begin to wander. I stroke the hard muscle on his arms. His hand slides under my shirt to fondle my breasts. I'm not sure who started kissing who first, but, before I know it, we're full on making out. Cruz's mouth captures mine over and over again. His teeth graze my lower lip, nipping it, sucking on it. Pleasure and a touch of pain flood my senses. But it's a good kind of hurt. I slip my tongue between his lips. Our kisses grow more and more frenzied. I become breathless and lightheaded. Desperation fuels my passion even while anguish darkens my mood.

For now, I don't want to think anymore.

Releasing a moan, I drape one of my legs over Cruz's waist, half straddling him as we start grinding on each other through our jeans. The friction feels so damn good. I rub my clit against the rock solid hardness that has formed near his crotch. Cruz grunts in approval as both of his palms lock on my hips, pulling my body as close to him as possible. Piece by piece, our clothes fall away. That's when he scrambles off the bed for a few seconds. He grabs one of the rubbers. Cruz tears the foil with his teeth and rolls that sucker onto his thick, veiny cock with one hand.

I lay back on the bed and spread my legs, urging softly, "I want it rough and hard. Just like you promised."

Cruz's mouth quips. "You still remember?"

I flip his question back on him, "Don't tell me you forgot?"

His green eyes darken. "I haven't forgotten, baby. Trust me."

"Then fuck me like you still hate me."

A strained smile stretches over Cruz's mouth. "No."

I pout. "Why not?"

He whispers hoarsely, "Because now I can't live without you."

I try not to swoon, murmuring, "You're so full of it."

A wry smile tilts his mouth. "Maybe I am. But I wanna fuck you like you own my heart, Athena Rose. Because you do. I don't even care if you break it."

"I'd break my heart a thousand times over before hurting yours, Cruz Recker. You're my everything."

My confession seem to unleash something in him. A feral gleam enters his eyes. Above me, every muscle in Cruz's body tightens.

He rasps fiercely, "You don't know what you're doing to me."

Cruz climbs over me and settles between my legs. Brimming with emotion, green eyes stare down at me. For a moment, I let my gaze linger over his beautiful face and his beautiful body. I comb my fingers through his dark hair. 

Lovingly. 

Tenderly.

But I don't want to take it slow. I don't want to make love. I want to be fucked senseless.

"Don't be gentle, baby," I beg. "Wreck me."

"God, Athena..."

I gasp when Cruz grabs my wrists with one hand, pinning my arms over my head. Something savage has been unlocked between us. I gasp as, without warning, he rams his cock into me. Rough and hard. Not gentle. Not vanilla at all. Then, he pulls out to run his under-shaft along my clit. Back and forth. Again and again. My pussy pulses with pleasure. The sweet, sliding friction makes me ache for more. Delight trembles through my core, thrumming through every nerve.

"Mine," he growls.

"Yours," I whisper.

In and out, in and out, he teases me in this way. Fucking my pussy. Tormenting my clit. Every sensation is so intense. I can't get enough of it. Of him. Instinct drives me to hold onto him for dear life. Hands lock behind his neck. Legs wrap around his waist. I pull him close, skin to skin, until the soft swells of my breasts are crushed against his broad, sculpted chest. I rub my nipples against him, feeling the sensitive tips harden with pleasure. Groaning, Cruz thrusts into me, this time, all the way. The length of his big, heavy dick is like steel, and the stretch and slide of him feels so fucking good. If only I could hold him inside me like this forever. I never want to let go.

I worry that, if I do, if I break this connection between us, I might actually lose him.

When he starts to move, I move with him. My pussy meets his cock stroke for stroke. I want him inside me as deep as possible. Our bodies are in sync as we chase after relief, release, and respite. Cruz and I fuck like we're trying to fuck away reality. This manic, reckless energy feels nothing like the first time we had sex. Breaths quicken. Excitement builds. Sweat kisses our skin. In this moment, we're untouchable, there's nothing but him and me and our love for each other. His dick pounds into me, relentlessly, and I let myself go, I give myself to him, free-falling toward oblivion.

"Oh, please, don't stop. I'm close," I whimper as the first tide of pleasure rises in me, "I'm so fucking close."

Through gritted teeth, Cruz holds his strong, steady rhythm. His stamina is unmatched. He pumps into me like a machine and growls, "I can feel your pussy begging for my cock. So hot and wet and ready. Like you were made to come for me."

His sweet, dirty talk does something to me. It's so unlike Cruz. Right now, I adore this darker side to him. It reflects all of the chaos I'm feeling about our future. My hips snap and writhe, faster and faster, as need and want overwhelm me. "God, I'm about to—"

Pleasure chokes my words. The gratifying, ongoing push-pull of his big, thick cock keeps filling me to the brim, I feel so full, it's almost too much. Cruz starts ramming into me harder, harder still. His thumb finds my clit, flicking the swollen, pink nub with no mercy as he fucks me over the edge. My eyes roll back. Every nerve comes alive. I swear I'm about to see stars. I moan loudly and cling to him like I'll die if I let go.

Cruz pants and grunts, losing some of his iron-like control, "That's it, baby. That's it. Remember this moment. Remember this feeling. This pussy belongs to me. Only I can give you what you need."

The possessive rasp in his voice shoots straight to my core.

"I'm yours," I reiterate once again in a hissed whimper.

"Mine and mine alone."

"Take me," I gasp, "take all of me."

My inner walls start clenching around his shaft, milking him in a vice-like grip. In response, his muscles seize up. Cruz gasps as he pummels into me, "Shit, I can't handle how good you feel around me. You're in my fucking soul. I love you, Athena. I love you so much."

The raw desperation in his voice hurls me overboard. My body bursts into a frenzied storm, the sweetest, most wicked sensations assault every nerve, and the force of my orgasm takes me by surprise. It rips the air from my lungs as wave after wave of pleasure pulses through me. I cry out his name as he rides me through the intensity of my climax. Wetness drenches my thighs. Cruz groans his release soon after, and, even in my post-fuck haze, I can feel every twitch and throb of his cock as he empties himself inside me.

He collapses over me, spent, drained, and, together, we lay in a boneless heap for quite some time. I want nothing more than to hide here with Cruz until we're old enough to take care of all our problems. Eventually, though, reality seeps through the safe, sleepy bliss of our afterglow. Cruz rolls away to dispose of the soiled condom. I feel sticky and sore. I grab some tissues to clean myself. When he returns to bed, the agonizing tension from earlier returns as well. Nothing has been resolved, and it starts tearing me up inside all over again.

I glance over to Cruz. He's not looking at me. He's staring up at the outdated popcorn ceiling overhead. A faint grimace rests on his handsome face. Right then, Cruz feels a million miles away from me even though he was literally inside my body moments ago. We really need to talk. I don't know if we can put off the inevitable anymore, but I'm still struggling to find the right words to say everything that needs to be said.

"Baby?"

My eyebrows dart up. To my surprise, Cruz beats me to the punch. Putting an end to the jarring silence between us, he begins by addressing the elephant in the room, "Can we... talk?"

I grow tense. "Yes?"

His jaw sets. Pain flashes in his eyes. He still won't look at me.

Why won't he look at me?

I try not to panic.

I fail miserably.

Then, in low, determined tones, Cruz speaks as though his mind has already been made up, "I've been thinking..."

"About what?"

"About what Nascha said to you."

"Okay..."

"You and Persie should consider accepting her offer."

"What about you?"

"I'll go back home."

"To your... dad?"

"Yeah."

This one word blindsides the fuck out of me. Instantly, my heart drops.

"The hell, Cruz!" I whisper-scream, "Have you lost your goddamn mind?"