Crying is not a sign of weakness.

Since the minute you were born it’s been a sign of life.

—Kenzie’s Secret Thoughts

Nixon carries me into the shower after our lesson, holding me like the most delicate piece of fine china, and I let him. Probably another ding on my independent woman card, but I’ll take the hit if it means I get to stay like this for a little longer.

I let him hold me. My body completely sated and relaxed, I surrender myself over to this foreign feeling. Relishing in it. And maybe enjoying that Nixon was the man to give it to me.

He stands me in front of the shower and turns on all six shower heads. Once he’s satisfied with the temperature and the room fills with steam, Nix shoves down his jeans and boxer briefs, and my breath catches in my chest.

Nixon Sinclair is well-endowed.

I mean, he’s big.

A god among men—massive, and I studied anatomy in college, med school, and residency. I can safely say he’s not the norm.

My initial thought is, Holy shit, is that going to fit?

But then my scientific brain kicks in, and I know it will fit. It’ll just hurt like a bitch.

He cups my face in his hands and smirks. “Don’t worry, beautiful. It will fit.”

Shit . . . did I just say that out loud?

Nixon lathers my hair with shampoo and conditioner, then washes it out, massaging my scalp in the most delicious way. Not at all sexual but completely sensual.

I turn to face him, my eyes nearly as heavy as my thoughts.

It would be impossible not to feel this connection between us.

It’s tangible, like corded steel wrapping around us, pulling us together, whether we want it or not.

I know I’m not supposed to want it.

I’ve worked my ass off for my career, and there just isn’t room for anything else.

My heart beats rapidly in my chest as I remind myself there’s a clock ticking on this thing with Nixon. There has to be. This isn’t a relationship. This is using each other to scratch an itch. Someone else . . . someone less complicated with an easier job will come along and give him everything I can’t.

Tick tock.

Falling hard for this man is going to be too easy, and heartbreak isn’t on my bucket list.

The warm water soaks my skin and clings to my lashes as I look up at him and slowly drop to my knees. He might not be mine for long, but he’s mine tonight, and I want more.

His strong body is cut like chiseled marble. Beautifully defined muscles cover golden skin. His dark hair sticks to his face, and those baby-blue eyes are dark . . . darker than I’ve ever seen them before. I’m not sure how I missed this all before coming home, but now that I’ve seen it, I’ll never be able to look at him again without seeing him this way. He’s like a god walking among mortals. A golden god.

“I think I’m ready for my next lesson, Mr. Sinclair.”

I wrap my hand around his thick quads and look up through the pelting water. “I think it’s your turn to tell me what you like. I’ve never done this before. So I think I need some help.”

Is that really my voice?

Confident and sexy and wanting desperately to make him fall apart for me.

Needing to know I can give that to him.

His hand runs over my wet hair, and he wraps it around his fist, then tugs my head back. “This would be easier out of the shower, Mac.”

“I’m not scared of hard, Nix.”

“So fucking pretty on your knees for me.” He tugs again. “Gorgeous.”

When he says it like that, I believe him.

For the first time, that word doesn’t make me self-conscious. It empowers me.

“This isn’t a lesson, Mackenzie,” he tells me with dark, hooded eyes. “This isn’t for you to learn and use with anyone else. This is me showing you how I’ve wanted you to suck my cock for fucking years, Mac. You have no idea how long I’ve thought about your lips around my dick.”

Oh. My. God.

My breath gets stuck in my throat, followed by a mouthful of water that I spit out.

“Open your mouth, beautiful.” His grip on my hair tightens just enough to hurt the tiniest bit, and I press my thighs together, need pooling in my belly. Completely new sensations I can’t get enough of.

He fists his erection, and I lick my lips in anticipation. “Wrap your hand around me.”

I tentatively do as he says, barely able to wrap my hand around his thick cock.

He’s huge.

I’m in medicine, and it feels ridiculously safe to say Nixon Sinclair has his fair share and everyone else’s share too. My mouth waters, and I lean forward, needing to feel him in my mouth but waiting for his words.

“Put me between your lips . . .” I swirl my tongue around his crown, then take him between my lips and suck. “That’s it, baby. Wrap your lips around me and take the first inch. Get used to it, because I want to fuck your face almost as much as I want to fuck that perfect cunt.”

The warm, pounding water hides the red flush I have no doubt is covering my entire body. Not embarrassment. Not this time. No, this is all pure, unadulterated need. Need I never knew I could have.

“Good girl. Now take me deeper. Get it wet, baby. Don’t worry about being sloppy. The messier, the better. But take it slow, Mac, because there’s a lot of me to take, and if you’re a good girl and take it all, the reward will be worth it.”

Oh. My. Goodness. Yes, please. I want it all. Now. Like right now.

I work my way further down his shaft, loving that the pelting shower is covering us. Sheltering us. And hiding so many imperfections from my first time doing this. I hollow my cheeks and twist my hand, working him with both as I try to take him deeper. And my God, when Nixon’s moan fills the fucking shower, I think I could come just from that sound alone.

“Fuck, Mackenzie. So good. Such a good girl for me.”

I preen under his words and hands. He tugs on my hair, and I dig my nails into his ass. Who knew sucking dick could be so fun?

I slide further down, determined to take him down my throat and gag, my eyes watering. “Sorry,” I murmur, and Nixon’s eyes heat to two pools of molten blue fire.

“Fuck, yes. Don’t apologize. You’re doing so good, Mac. So fucking good.”

I work my hand up and down his cock once, then twice, then take him back into my mouth and swallow while he holds my face. “Christ, Mac. That’s it.”

I look up through wet lashes, and Nixon throws his head back.

His muscles pulled tight.

Knowing I did this to him is such a turn-on.

“Tell me, Nix. Tell me what you like. Tell me what you want,” I plead before licking his cock from base to tip and sliding my hand from his ass to cup his balls.

“You’re doing so good, Mac. Twist your hands, suck my cock, and don’t stop until you’re swallowing my cum. Can you do that for me, beautiful?”

His praise lights me up, like he knows how to hit every hot button I never knew existed for me.

He lets go of my hair and pushes it out of my face before gathering it up again. “You okay if I’m a little rough?”

“God, yes,” I moan as the rough pads of his fingers bite into my skin, and I take him back down my throat and swallow my gag as he fucks my face, shocked that I love it, but I abso-fucking-lutely do. I suck and lick and gag as I work him deeper and faster and harder, loving the sounds coming from Nixon. His words of praise.

I get high off each good girl that leaves his lips.

Each deliciously deep growl and moan.

His body tenses, but he’s holding back, and that’s not what I want.

“Don’t stop,” I plead, having had no idea how absolutely desperate I could be with the right partner. “I want it all, Nix. Give it to me, please.”

“Fuck . . .” he groans, and I hum around him, feeling the vibration down to my core. My eyes go wide when the first line of hot, salty cum coats my tongue, but I don’t stop. I hollow my cheeks and suck harder, working him faster, taking every last drop and wanting to please him like I’ve never wanted anything in my life.

After he gets his breathing back under control, Nixon bends down and lifts me in his arms like a groom carrying his bride over the threshold, and something inside me cracks. Maybe it’s my heart. Maybe it’s the wall around it I’ve spent years constructing. It’s the smallest fissure, but it’s there and scary as hell as he steps out of the shower and sets me on the vanity.

He wraps a fluffy towel around my shoulders and silently dries me, then himself before he picks me up again. “I can walk, Nix.”

The whispered words feel rough on my swollen lips.

In truth, I’m spent. The adrenaline high has run its course, and exhaustion has taken hold, so I let him carry me. It feels good to be in his arms. Safe.

“I know,” he tells me as he carries me into my bedroom and lies me down on my bed, then takes a step back. “I should go.”

His voice holds something I don’t recognize from him, but I can’t place it, so I take a chance and grab his hand. “It’s late. Why don’t you stay?”

Nixon looks torn. “I shouldn’t. You need your sleep, Mac.”

I close my eyes and decide to give him a truth I don’t share often. “I don’t sleep much, either way, Nix. It would be nice to not be alone.”

I roll over, making room, and pull the blanket back. If tonight was about me taking control of my wants and needs, then I might as well ask for what I want, and what I want right now is to not be alone.

My breath hitches as he walks back into the bathroom, then comes back in, dressed in his boxers and carrying our clothes. “You want to be the big spoon or the little spoon?”

A giggle that sounds completely inappropriate in the quiet room slips from my lips. “I mean, I’m half your size, so the little spoon only makes sense, right?”

He lies down and wraps a hand around me, pulling my hips back and trailing his fingers up and down my ribs. “Why don’t you sleep?”

I drag my nails over the arm tucked under my head, enjoying the way goosebumps break out over his skin.

And I wonder if the light of day tomorrow will make me regret the secrets I’m sharing in the quiet safety of tonight.

“I haven’t slept well in years. Jules and Becks had me talk to a grief counselor about it when I was younger. I basically fear what will happen while I’m sleeping. What can change. What can be lost. It’s something I’ve worked on over the years, and I can go a few months at a time without it being a problem, but when it starts again, I know I’m in for months and months with very little sleep.”

He pulls me back against him, like his strength alone can keep my demons at bay. “Have you tried taking anything for it? My uncle uses melatonin to help him sleep.”

I close my eyes and soak in the warmth of his body. The delicious way his fingers skim higher with each pass of my ribs. Just up high enough to touch the outer edge of my breast. It’s soothing and sexy, and the need I felt in the shower sparks back to life. “I’ve tried everything. Herbal, prescription, exercise, meditation. None of it really works, so most nights, I end up reading charts or studying. Throwing myself into medicine was a great excuse. There was always more studying to be done.” I roll over in his arms and relish the way his eyes devour me.

“Basically . . .” I skim my fingers over his pecs and down his arms, tracing his Sinclair tattoo proudly inked into his gorgeous arm. “I look for anything to do to keep my brain occupied and hope that eventually exhaustion will set in.”

Nix slides his knee between my thighs, that sexy smile back in place on his handsome face. “Anything . . . ?”

I nod my head and lick my lips. “Anything.”

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