“Is it good, baby?” Crystal asked, not yet having touched her own.

He grunted affirmatively and forked in another mound of noodles and sauce. God, he even ate aggressively. How had she never before noticed? With the sounds of Bruno’s eager eating filling the room, Crystal sliced the edge of her fork into the corner of her portion of lasagna and scooped a small bite into her mouth.

It must’ve been good, because Bruno was absolutely hoovering it down, but it tasted like cardboard in her own mouth.

“How was your day?” she asked.

“Um,” he said around a swallow. “Okay. Busy getting ready for tonight. You know how it is.”

“Yeah. You always have so much on your plate.”

He sucked a bit of sauce off his thumb. “That’s why I have you. To relax me. Help me blow off steam.”

Yes, that’s what Crystal was good for. At least as far as Bruno was concerned. She smiled and tucked into another bite, but all she could think about was Shane’s wanting to talk to her, wanting to get to know her. For an instant, she wondered what it would be like to cook dinner for Shane, to have him over to her apartment, to go out on a date with him. Would he hold her hand again? Would he want to hold her again? Would they talk all night or just sit in the quiet peacefulness of one another’s arms?

“Crystal? Crystal?” Fingers snapped in front of her face. “Where the hell’d you go?”

“Oh, sorry,” she said as warmth crept into her cheeks.

“More,” he said, pushing his plate toward her.

She scurried out of her seat and grabbed the plate. “Of course. Coming right up.” She nearly collapsed against the counter. Get your head in the game, Crystal. With a deep breath, she got Bruno’s seconds and ran them out to him. “Here you go. I’m so glad you like it.”

He grunted around a bite. God, was he always this much of a cretin?

Probably. Definitely. Now it was so prominent because she had something—someone—to compare him against.

Pushing away the thought, Crystal forced herself to eat more than half of her portion of lasagna while he responded to another series of text messages. She didn’t want to do anything to draw Bruno’s attention and make him wonder any more about her behavior.

“Jenna around tonight?” he asked, wiping his mouth on the paper napkin and throwing it onto his empty plate.

“Not ’til later,” she said, knowing where this conversation was going. “She’s staying on campus to do some research at the library.” And thank God for that. Because after the way they’d been fighting the past few days, the last thing Crystal wanted was for Jenna to witness her little performance here tonight.

“Hmm.” Bruno tipped his beer against his lips and took a long pull from the can, eyeing Crystal the whole time.

“Dessert?” Crystal asked, acting like she didn’t know where his thoughts were going. She rose and reached for their dirty dishes, but Bruno grabbed her wrist and hauled her around the table and in between his spread knees.

He grabbed her breasts and kneaded. “Definitely dessert.”

Too rough. Too scary. Too much about him—always. The gentleness and affection of Shane’s touch was maybe her favorite thing about him, which was why Bruno’s groping now felt so hard to bear. “Well,” she said, clearing her throat and trying to hide a wince from a particularly hard squeeze. “The nice thing is that you can have your cake and eat it, too.”

Bruno stopped and his gaze dragged up to her face. “You made cake?”

Sucker. She smiled. “Yup.”

“What kind?”

“Red velvet with cream cheese icing.” Bruno’s eyebrows flew up. The first time she’d ever made him red velvet had been his birthday four years ago, which had only been about two months after he’d pulled her out of that hole in the basement of Confessions. It was the first night she’d let him between her legs, although she’d quickly freaked out when he’d tried to position his weight there. It had taken another month before she could manage sex with him. She cried for an hour afterward. He’d only stuck around for the first ten minutes of it.

So many things she loved had been ruined by their association with Bruno Ashe.

But not Jenna. Never Jenna.

“Yeah, cake,” Bruno said. “Thanks, baby.” He patted her ass and let her go.

Releasing a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, she cleared the table and took the dirties to the sink. She removed the cover from the cake plate and stared at the creamy swirls of white frosting—then she cut him almost a quarter of the cake.

She carried the hunk of sugar out to him with a fresh can of beer and sat opposite as he devoured it.

Why aren’t you having any?” he asked around a too-big bite.

“I made it for you. Besides, I have to watch my figure, you know?”

“Yeah, I guess you do.” His gaze dragged over Crystal’s breasts, and it made her want to shrink into herself.

As his slice of cake got smaller and smaller, her heart raced and her stomach knotted. It was like facing a trip to the gallows. She knew what was about to happen was inevitable, but that didn’t keep her soul from howling in protest.

And then his forked clanked against the empty plate.

“More?” she asked brightly.

He licked his lips and shook his head. “No. I had enough cake. Now I want dessert.” Bruno lifted his hands, urging her to come to him.

For a moment, her muscles refused to respond. But then her survival instinct kicked in, and she got her butt out of the chair and rounded the table to stand at Bruno’s knees. He helped her straddle his lap and pulled her down as far as her snug jeans and his thick thighs allowed. He fisted his hands in her hair and slowly pulled her mouth to his.

And then his lips smothered hers, and his tongue penetrated her mouth. Crystal was drowning in the sweetness on his breath until she felt like she was suffocating. Bruno grew hard between her legs and slid down in the chair to force them more tightly together. He gripped her hips, hard, and ground her down against the ridge of his erection, unleashing a grunt into their kiss.

Crystal’s throat went tight and her eyes stung, but she responded the way she always did, the way he expected. She kissed back. She moaned. She writhed. But everything within her revolted against his touch and his taste and his scent. Her skin crawled, her mouth soured, her nose recoiled. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get out of her own head. Usually, she could tolerate, she could compartmentalize, she could rationalize. It won’t last long. It’s not that big of a deal. You’ve done it before. Once, you wanted him.

Now, none of those worked. None of those appeased. None of those made her feel any less like she was back in that basement room of Confessions, watching a total stranger undo his belt and leer at her like she was his for the taking whether she wanted him or not. She had been then. She was now.

“Get up, baby. I don’t have a lot of time,” Bruno said, pushing her off his lap. “And I gotta get inside you. It’s been too long.”

Crystal found her feet, though her knees felt soft, like they couldn’t possibly hold her weight. The walls seemed to spin around her.

Bruno grabbed her, kissed her, pulled at her clothing. Her shirt went up, her bra got tugged down. His hands were everywhere, big and hot and harsh. He opened the button on her jeans. Then the zipper. He shoved the denim down over her hips. It chafed at her skin.

“Turn around and brace yourself,” Bruno said in a ragged voice.

And that was when Crystal got out of her head. Out of her body, actually. She had the weirdest sensation of floating, and then somehow she was on the other side of the room. Or, at least, it seemed that way, because instead of seeing the dull white of the plaster wall in front of her face, she saw a couple about to have sex up against a wall, as if she’d become a casual observer not involved in what was going on. The woman’s bottom and thighs were bared, as well as her lower back, showing just the tail ends of her scars.

The man shoved down his own jeans, baring the heavy, corded muscles of his glutes and thighs. He reached a hand in between them and grunted in frustration. She was too tense, too closed. He yanked her hips farther away from the wall. Another moment of attempted consummation. More frustration. Because her body wasn’t responding. Refused to respond. He smacked her ass hard enough to leave a red handprint against the fair skin.

“Damnit, what the hell’s wrong?” Spitting into his hand, he reached between them again.

Keys rattled at the door.

Crystal-the-observer slowly turned her gaze away from the couple, who hadn’t yet heard the sound, and watched the door ease open.

Bruno gasped. “What the fuck?” He jerked his pants back around his waist. “Jesus, Jenna, what are you doing here?”

Crystal boomeranged back into her body. Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God. It was damn close to every nightmare she’d ever had converging into a real moment in time.

Jenna’s expression was total abject horror—brow furrowed, mouth agape, cheeks flushing with anger. “I live here. What are you doing here?” Her eyes were like blue fire as they whipped between his open fly and Crystal’s disheveled clothing.

Oh, God, Jenna, stop. Crystal pulled her jeans up but couldn’t get her fingers to master rebuttoning them. “Sorry, Jen. We just got carried away, didn’t we, Bruno?” She smiled up at him, trying to distract him from what Jenna had just said, and the tone with which she’d said it. “Can I get a rain check?” she asked, wrapping her arms around his neck.