Tyler chuckles. “I was so awkward. But nothing easy is worth having.”

I hide my face against his chest, not wanting to admit that his words feel aimed straight at my heart. I was easy, with my string of one-night stands and bad boys. But I want Tyler to believe I’m worth having.

Tyler hums a tune I don’t know as he pets my hair, his fingers combing through the short strands at the nape of my neck. “A bad guy will want to change you, Stella. A good guy will see your potential. He’ll appreciate who you are, no matter how many battle scars you carry.”

“You say that now—”

Tyler hushes me with a kiss. “Broken, mixed-up, damaged, or a little bit crazy. Doesn’t matter, as long as you’re you.”

Tyler keeps humming and pulls me toward the practice space. He seats me on the drum stool and picks up his bass, plucking a couple of chords to match his tune.

His chest rumbles as he adds words to a low, slow song I’ve never heard before.


A little tarnish on your halo

A little tear in your dress

A ragged wing, angel,

Couldn’t make me love you less


You’re not perfect

Never can be, should be, want to

You’ve got mistakes to make 

Hearts to break

A life to live 

Full of try, try, try

And sometimes fail

And sometimes fly


You’re not perfect

Never can be, should be, want to

Perfect’s not what I need

Perfect’s what I’ve got

When I’m with you.


I smile and warmth spreads through my chest. I peek at the ragged angel wings on my wrist.

Tyler leans his bass on the stand. “Do you understand what I mean now?”

“Yes.” A ridiculously hot rock star just wrote me a love song! And it’s not even my birthday.

Tyler hikes me up around his body in a bear hug. His hands grip my rear as he carries me upstairs to his bedroom.

He sets me down on my feet and his fingers hook the waistband of my skirt to tug it down my hips. Tyler’s hands are smooth and deliberate, removing my shirt and my bra as his eyes feast on me.

It’s been a week since Tyler left the hospital and I’ve been afraid to ask for this with the specter of Kim Archer hanging over us. Tyler hasn’t pushed us further either, each night content to just twine our bodies together and stroke my back as we fell asleep.

But now his intention is unmistakable.

“I always knew where I stood with you, Stella. I knew when you wanted me, when I pissed you off, and when you wanted to run away. I knew the minute you wondered if you loved me, and the moment you knew it was true.”

My mouth falls open at the L word, the one I crave. Tyler traces my lower lip with his thumb. “Am I that easy to read?”

“No. You’re damn near impossible sometimes.” He grins. “But I’ll keep trying.”

Tyler draws my panties down my legs, then lays me back against the cool sheets. He spreads my arms and legs wide, as if I’m a giant X.

“Bed hog,” Tyler snickers, as he shoves down his jeans and pulls off his T-shirt.

“I thought you wanted me like this?” I stretch my limbs out further, trying to occupy all of Tyler’s massive, king-sized bed.

“Oh, I want you.” Tyler leans over me and covers my body with his, stopping barely an inch from my skin so I can feel the heat of his chest but not his weight on me. “Do you want me? Even after everything?”

“More than anything,” I breathe, and pull him down against me. Chest to chest, skin to skin, legs tangled in mine. I run my nails up his shoulders and down to his ass, feeling his reaction hot and hard against my thigh.

Tyler grabs my wrist and traces the wings of my tattoo. Alis volat propriis. She flies with her own wings. “Next time you want more permanence in your life, just say the word. You don’t have to ink it on your skin. I’ll give it from my heart.”

I grip his hair, pulling his mouth to mine in a kiss that’s crackling with need. I’m dizzy when he finally pulls away.

Tyler sits up on his knees and wraps my legs around his waist. He studies me, fingers feather-light as they explore. I don’t feel shame at being so exposed to him, only hungry, breathless as I wait for him to take the next step.

Tyler’s fingers find each of my pleasure points and work them first gently, then with urgency. His touch sends sparks through my body; he feints and dodges, teasing me until I arch into his hand, begging him to stroke the spot that we both know he’s circling.

When I’m whimpering with anticipation, his palm covers my mound and his thumb presses against my sensitive bud, making little earthquakes that shake my body with ever-greater force.

A slow smile creeps across his face. His finger moves faster and I grip the sheet beneath me.

I feel the seismic shift and the energy finally explodes inside me, pulses radiating from Tyler’s fingers that must have their own Richter scale. Tyler’s teeth nip at my lower lip and his hand brings an aftershock, deep and intense.

He shifts his body and his tongue explores the trail his fingers blazed, his hands tilting my hips to give his mouth better access. I feel like I’m floating with only Tyler’s touch tethering me to earth, and sounds escape my throat that tell him exactly how well he’s mastering my most sensitive areas.

Tyler moves back up my body, looking down at me with tenderness, his liquid brown eyes flecked with gold and copper.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t say this too soon. I’ve heard it so many times, from fans who just threw it away like it was nothing. It’s not that I don’t know it. I do, down to my soul. But I didn’t want to say it until I was sure you knew what it means from me. Stella, I love you.”

The breath leaves my chest as Tyler’s mouth covers mine, his lips forming the last three words over and over without sound. I kiss him back like my life depends on it, like he’s the last man I’ll ever kiss.

I hope that he is.

Tyler centers me against his tip, making me ache with want. My hand flies up in the direction of the bedside table drawer, my green-light signal for Lights, camera, action!

Tyler laughs at my lust-clouded clumsiness when I drop the condom twice before I manage to tear open the foil packet. He rolls it on and our eyes lock the way they did when I watched him in concert. I feel the intensity of his desire all the way into my bones.

He grins. “Safety check complete, captain? Are we ready for takeoff?”

“Ready for takeoff,” I confirm. I breathe deeply and close my eyes, craving the feeling of fullness again, but instead I feel pressure and a pause.

My eyes open and his gaze is hot and raw, devouring me while he teases my entrance. I shift my hips but his hands still them, unwilling to be rushed.

“I want you to see me, Stella. I’m here with you, not anyone from your past, no one who’s hurt you. Just me. Just us.”

I nod, unable to form words as the pressure builds. My body is screaming to take him inside me but he waits and I count a dozen heartbeats. Finally, I whisper, “Just us.”

This breaks the dam and Tyler thrusts inside me, his body quivering like an arrow shot from a bow, straight and true toward its target. My breath releases in a loud whoosh as he pierces me.

He begins a slow withdrawal and I wrap my legs more tightly around his hips, begging him not to pull away. Tyler growls and his body coils again for another thrust, his muscles straining to cement our connection.

“All systems go?”

“All of them. Go, Tyler. Let’s fly.”

And we do, in gentle strokes and hard ones, with smooth caresses and fingers digging into each other’s flesh. I ride waves of pleasure that build inside me like air currents, updrafts that send birds soaring without a single flap of their wings.

“Stella.” Tyler says my name like a prayer, like it’s a word invented only for him to speak. I tilt my hips and he hits a new spot inside me that sends my world spinning, and I can’t fight this current for control.

So I let go in deep, quaking waves, and feel Tyler’s release spill over in the same torrent of sensation. I clench to hold him as tightly as I can, then release as he collapses, rolling us on our sides, the big spoon and the little spoon.

He pulls me closer, as if he can’t bear to allow a breath of air to separate our skin.

“I love you,” he whispers in my ear.

“I love you back,” I tell him, and finally give him the first promise he asked from me: “I’m all in.”

THIRTY-FOUR

The sun rises with Tyler still curled around me and I stretch, trying to get feeling back into the leg Tyler crushed between his own while we slept.

My phone chimes and I debate whether to look at the text, but curiosity wins. I stretch as far as I can reach and nab my phone from the table on my side of the bed.


Violet [6:14 a.m.]: I have a story for you.

Stella: You get that it’s dawn, right?

Violet: It can’t wait.

Stella: Lay it on me. What happened?

Violet: Not that kind of a story. Put your reporter hat back on, Stella. I need you to write one.