RAZOR WAS ACTING unusual.

I wasn’t sure if it was due to the hockey season getting ready to start or if it was more because of all the things we were having to do to prepare for our interview with the immigration people. For all I knew, it could be something else entirely.

All I was sure of was that he wasn’t himself.

Usually, he was good-natured and laughing. Now that we were in Portland to visit his friends and have our honeymoon, such as it was, he was grumbling and surly. It had started yesterday, actually. Maybe it was the stress of taking this trip right before his training camp was set to start. Or it might come down to the fact that he was tired of being my husband and wished he’d never made the offer to begin with. Our new sexual arrangement was better than what we’d been doing before, but it could hardly be satisfying to him, and as of yet, I’d made very little progress at all with the treatments the physical therapist had prescribed.

Any way I looked at it, however, I was typically the one in our relationship who was grumbling and surly, or at least more so than Razor was. I didn’t know what to think of this change in him, or if there was something I ought to do to help him get back to normal.

As we came around the corner to the baggage claim area, Razor tightened his grip on my hand.

“You’re not nervous about hanging out with Babs and Katie this week, are you?”

I shrugged, hoping he wouldn’t notice how anxious I truly was. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. I keep thrusting you into different parts of my life even though you’re not prepared for them.”

Before I could reassure him that I understood and tell him not to worry about me, he saw his friend and waved.

Babs came over to us, grinning.

Razor released my hand, and the two of them hugged in the way men do, complete with a lot of back slapping, laughing, and shoving each other around. I did my best to be invisible. The last thing I wanted was to end up in the middle of a hug like that.

But when they separated, Babs smiled at me and held out a hand to shake. I took it—tentatively, in case he intended to leverage that grip and drag me into a big hug. He merely shook it, though. “We didn’t get the chance to properly meet at the wedding. I’m Jamie.”

I reminded myself to breathe. “Tori.”

“Glad you two could come.”

The next thing I knew, the three of us went to the baggage carousel with the two of them talking and laughing as if they saw each other every day. They picked up our luggage, and Razor reached for my hand again.

“Katie’s making dinner,” Jamie said as we walked out to his car. “And Levi’s coming over. No Koz, though,” he added, giving Razor a sideways look. “I hope you brought your skates.”

“Wouldn’t go anywhere without them this time of year.”

“I don’t know if you brought anything with you to dance in,” Jamie said to me. “But if you want to, Katie’s got plans to take you to a friend’s house. Brie’s got a dance studio in the basement. She might even be able to convince Devin Shreeve to stop by...”

I nodded, even though I’d stopped breathing for a moment. That seemed to be enough, as the two of them kept talking, leaving me to my thoughts as we loaded everything into Jamie’s car and climbed in. I knew who Devin Shreeve was. He’d come to my school one semester and choreographed an entire production. He’d cast me as the lead, and I’d worked side by side with him for months. But then the day of the performance, he’d said something that had caused my insides to freeze.

If you do well enough with this, you won’t need to do your other work anymore.

That was all he’d said, nothing more and nothing less. But it had been enough for me to realize he knew what I did with my weekends.

Somehow, I’d gotten through the production without falling apart, but the whole time I’d been on the stage, I’d wondered who else out in the audience knew. Were they thinking of the films they’d seen me in? Were they imagining me with my clothes off, thinking of all the things they’d like to do to me? Was Devin?

He’d brought flowers to my dressing room afterwards, as is tradition in the ballet. You were fantastic tonight. You brought down the house. I meant what I said, you know. I’m sure I can get you some work if you’re interested. But I’d pushed past him and hurried home, and I’d done my best to forget about him.

Not that anything he’d done or said was wrong. It was the simple fact that he’d recognized me, and he’d been in a position to tell the directors of my school if he’d wanted to. For all I knew, he was the one who had informed them of my extracurricular activities.

He probably wasn’t. I was almost positive that it had been Jason Hirschmann, who’d been my most frequent partner at school. There had been too many Mondays when I’d come back to the studio too sore from the weekend’s shoots to get through a rehearsal without him realizing something was wrong. I was good at hiding my pain from a distance but less skilled at disguising it from someone who was up close and personal. Jason had been as close as anyone other than the men who’d starred opposite me in the shoots. I was fairly certain he’d known for more than a year before he’d finally said something. But the end of my schooling had likely come about thanks to Jason and not Devin.

I was still in the process of mulling over the idea of having some form of contact with Devin while Razor and I were in Portland when Jamie turned into a driveway and pulled into the garage.

I got out in a daze while Razor and Jamie unloaded our bags, and I followed them inside. I’d barely made it through the door before Katie was launching herself at me and wrapping me up in a hug.

“I can’t even tell you how glad I am you two came to visit,” she gushed. “I have to be honest. I never thought Razor was the marrying sort, so I’ve been absolutely dying to get to know you.”

She took my hand and led me into the living room. I looked over my shoulder at Razor as we went. He winked and nodded encouragement.

I could do this. I’d spent plenty of time with Tallie, and I actually liked her.

Yet somehow, the thought of getting to know more of Razor’s friends terrified me as much as trying to talk to the counselor.

So far, none of those things had killed me.

 

 

 

AFTER DINNER AND an evening spent with lots of talk and laughter—in which I’d only felt moderately out of place, surprisingly, and laughed more than I could remember laughing in a very long time—Jamie’s brother, Levi, was ready to drive Razor and me to the hotel we would be staying in this week.

“You really can stay here,” Katie said as we were on our way out the front door with Levi. “I know I already told you that. But it wouldn’t be an inconvenience at all.”

Razor shook his head. “You two are newlyweds. So are we. I think we all know it’s better for us to go to a hotel.”

“Truth,” Jamie agreed, and Levi snorted in laughter yet again. They all had the sort of relationship that led to a lot of teasing and good-natured laughing at each other. I’d never really had anything like that before.

Part of me had been jealous of it all night. Another part of me had been trying to fly under the radar so they wouldn’t poke at me.

It hadn’t worked. Before long, I had been on the receiving end of any number of jokes.

What surprised me about it most of all was that I’d enjoyed it. I still wasn’t comfortable enough with them to retaliate. Maybe someday. Still, they’d made me feel part of things, a piece of the puzzle that fell into place instead of one being forced into the wrong position.

Katie pouted. “Fine. Be that way.” She turned to me, then, and took my hand to stop me. “But I’ll come pick you up when the guys go to the rink, okay? We’ll do something fun together.”

I nodded and let Razor hold the door open while I got into the car. Ten minutes later, Levi dropped us off at the hotel. Razor got us checked in, and a bellhop helped us transport our bags up to the room.

Once we were alone, Razor collapsed on his back on the king-sized bed. “I like Portland. Always did. But I sure as fuck didn’t miss all the damn bridges in this city.”

I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting him to say, but that definitely wasn’t it. I laughed—couldn’t help it. The laughter bubbled up inside me and boiled over before I could put a lid on it, much as it had been doing all night. My stomach ached from all the laughter, but it was the most delicious kind of ache.

“You are so damn beautiful when you laugh,” he said. “You have no idea how good it is to hear it. To see it.”

He had no idea how tingly it made me feel to hear those words from his mouth while he was looking at me like he’d never seen anything he wanted more. The tingles spread from my aching abs out to my fingers and toes, and everywhere in between. He kept watching me with a sense of wonder in his eyes, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make the smile go away.

“Come here,” he said, and he held out a hand for me.

I crossed over and let him tug me down beside him on the bed. He didn’t waste any time in kissing me once he had me where he wanted me, doing it slowly, taking it deep enough that it made my head swim and my toes curl.

“Was today awful for you?” he asked, teasing his fingers through my hair.

“Not awful. I like Katie.” And it wasn’t even a lie to say so. It’d been a long time since I’d had female friends. Now I had Tallie and maybe Katie, too.

“Yeah. But this isn’t your kind of thing. I know that.”

“Not awful,” I repeated. Especially because Razor’s mood seemed to have improved dramatically since we’d been around his friends. He was acting more like himself, which left me feeling less self-conscious. Maybe his mood earlier hadn’t had anything to do with me, after all.

“Was it maybe okay?” He pecked me on the lips. “Or even good? I know you laughed, but were you just playing along, or did you really enjoy yourself?”

I wasn’t satisfied with just a quick kiss. “More than okay,” I said, lifting a hand to cup the back of his head and drag him back down to me. “Fun.”

Fun. It was the truth. I’d had fun.

His smile came through in the way his lips pressed against mine, but in no time, it turned from a sweet, laughing kiss to something needier. He slid his tongue along the seam of my lips and swept it inside my mouth as soon as I opened for him.

I hooked one leg around his, tangling our limbs to match our tongues.

He nibbled on my lower lip. “I want another chance to try to make you come.”

I was still convinced it was a lost cause, but he hadn’t given up in his efforts. Not in the least. Although, I did have another idea that might kill two birds.

“I need to practice with dilator,” I said. “You can help.”

His clear eyes turned a deep midnight blue. “You’re sure?”

I nodded. “Positive.”

“Where’d you pack them?” He was already up and heading for my suitcase.

“In blue drawstring bag.”

While he rummaged around for the dilator set, I got up and went into the bathroom to wash up. By the time I came out again, naked, he’d located the bag in question and the tube of lube I’d packed next to it. His eyes roamed over me, taking in every inch of my body. It shouldn’t have affected me. Not like this. Millions of men around the world had seen every tiny pore of my skin. They’d gotten off while watching me. But even though I should have been immune to the sensation of being looked at, this was different. He wasn’t acting like he owned me. He wasn’t trying to use me for his own purposes.

I swallowed past the butterflies that were stealing my ability to speak and crossed over to him. When I reached for the drawstring bag, he handed it to me, his fingers brushing mine in the exchange.

“Tell me what to do,” he said, stripping his shirt over his head and tossing it behind him. “Tell me what you need.”

“Touch me, first,” I said. “Before dilator.”

My therapist had encouraged me to spend a good amount of time getting in the right mood before attempting insertion. That part would definitely be easier with Razor’s help and some foreplay. Yes, it was true that I’d once told him I didn’t need foreplay, and now I was asking him for it. The fact was, for a long time now, foreplay hadn’t done anything to eliminate the pain I felt, but now I was starting to believe there could be a solution.

Even though I’d had some difficulty with achieving arousal when practicing on my own, I’d still managed to move up to the second dilator in my set. That said, I was supposed to be the one inserting the dilators at this point so I could control the depth and angle, stopping if it grew too painful.

But Razor had given me no reason to believe he wouldn’t stop if I needed him to. He’d given me every reason to think he would treat my body with more care than I often did, myself.

It felt right to ask him for help at this juncture, and there was no doubt he was eager to do what he could.

“Touch you?” he repeated.

I nodded, my eyes on the broad expanse of his chest. Some men looked better with their clothes on. While there was no denying he cleaned up really well and filled out a suit better than most men I’d ever seen, he was a man who improved without a stitch of clothing on his body.

He was halfway there. I tossed the bag and lube on the bed, then reached up and splayed my hands over his ribs. His abs jumped to life under my touch, rippling before finally settling. I slid lower, inching toward his waistband. “I want you naked.”

A cocky smile spread across his lips. I was starting to love that smile.

“You want me naked?”

“Yes.”

“Never let it be said I wouldn’t give you what you wanted,” he said, undoing his fly and slipping his jeans down his hips.

My thumbs stopped at the band of his briefs, and I flickered my eyes up to meet his.

He stepped out of his jeans and kicked them out of the way. “Do you want to do the honors, or should I?”

In answer, I hooked my thumbs under the elastic and tugged him closer to me. We were chest to chest, his chin bumping into my forehead. I flattened my palms against him, under the fabric at his hips, gliding my hands behind his back until I hand two handfuls of his firm, toned ass.

He flexed his cheeks and waggled his brows, and I laughed.

“You like?” he asked.

I kneaded him for a moment before edging his briefs past his hips. His cock sprang free and bobbed between us, hard as ever.

“Yes, I like.” I traced the lines of muscles over his hips and up the six-pack of his abdomen.

It struck me that in all the sexual encounters I’d experienced, I’d never had free reign to touch the men I was with beyond sucking their dicks and massaging their balls. Any other time or way I’d touched them had been all about positioning, holding on so they could keep me in the right angle for the cameras. It was all about them touching me. Groping me. Using me.

That wasn’t how Razor touched me, though, and he was giving me as much time to explore his body as he took to explore mine. Even now, he was waiting for me to take the lead. To do with him as I would, and to tell him what I wanted.

The reversal of roles left me lightheaded.

I let my eyes roam over every inch of him. They settled on the words tattooed on his side. I slid my hand down to trace over them. “What does it say?”

“En emprutant un Ange, vous remboursez le Diable. By borrowing an angel, you repay the devil,” he explained.

“Why did you put it here?”

“Just a reminder.”

“Reminder of what?”

“Of everything my mother did for me. She’s my angel,” he said, putting a finger under my chin and raising my gaze until I looked at the kneeling angel on his shoulder. “Or one of them, at least.”

“You have more angels?” I wasn’t sure I believed in them. Angels were supposed to look out for you. To protect you. I certainly didn’t have any angels in my life. They were all gone.

All except for Razor. But calling him an angel didn’t seem to do him justice after all that he’d done for me. All he was continuing to do. He was so much more than simply an angel. He was real.

“Maybe one more,” he said. He took my hand and pressed it to his chest, over his heart.

He meant me. But I wasn’t anyone’s angel.

“What do you think?” he asked. “Are you my angel?”

I shook my head.

“I think you’re wrong.” He raised my hand and pressed a kiss to my knuckles.

Dizzy. My knees gave out. Razor caught my wrists and eased my backward fall onto the bed. All too soon, he released me. I took hold of his hands and guided him down beside me, then pushed him onto his back so I could climb up and straddle his waist.

His hands dropped to the bend of my knees. He kept them there, not moving, his eyes on mine. Waiting.

I placed my hand on his and slid it up my thigh. “Touch me. I need you to touch me.”

He kept moving it upward until he reached my hip.

I traced the line down the center of his abs until I got to his belly button.

“Your skin is so soft,” he murmured. “Like silk.” He put his other palm flat on my belly, his fingers splaying up toward my breasts. “But so much strength underneath.”

“I’m not strong.” I eased my hands along the length of his arms, marveling at the corded muscles of his biceps beneath my touch. “You’re strong. Big muscles everywhere.” I pinched a spot on his side to prove my point. “No fat anywhere. All muscle. All strength.”

He inched higher to cup my breast, my nipple hardening into a taut bud immediately upon contact. “You’re all muscle, too. Except here. Here, you’re all softness and sweetness.” He rolled up until he could take the other breast in his mouth, and I arched my back, driving farther into him. His tongue circled my areola and flicked my tit, and when he suckled me, I felt the pull all the way down in my pussy. Not to mention the wetness. He repeated the process with my other breast before backing away and looking deep in my eyes. “That’s not the kind of strength I was talking about, though. I meant in here.” He pressed his hand over the left side of my chest, directly over my frantically beating heart.

I shook my head, but he stopped me with a kiss that stifled any argument I might have had. Wrapping both arms around his neck, I allowed myself to get lost in him. At least for now. At least for this moment.

Without a thought in my head, I ground my hips down into him, relishing the sensation of his cock gliding through my folds.

“Christ, you’re so fucking wet,” he murmured against my lips. He kissed me again before flipping us so I was on my back and he was hovering over me, supporting his weight on his elbows. “Do you think you’re ready to try the dilator now?”

In a haze of need, I’d completely pushed all thought of the dilator from my mind. I’d just wanted Razor. I still wanted him, but he picked up the drawstring bag and opened it, emptying the set of dilators onto the bed beside us.

He was right. As much as I wanted to forget all about using the silly things and just have sex like any normal man and woman would do, I knew he was right.

“We should try,” I agreed, albeit reluctantly.

“Tell me what to do.”

I fumbled through the set until I found the second smallest piece, one that was about the same size as one of my fingers. “This goes on handle. Then put on lube, try to relax, put inside, and do Kegels.”

“No moving it while it’s inside you?” He was already screwing the handle into the base.

I shook my head. “Maybe later. Kegels first, see if it hurts.”

“And what should I do while you’re doing that?” He took the lube in one hand.

“I…” I shook my head. How could I ask for what I wanted when I didn’t know what I wanted? He was the only man who’d ever given me the option before. In the past, I’d usually only reached an orgasm when I’d been completely immobilized and had intense, direct contact on my clit. The problem was, they’d done that so many times for so long that I’d lost my sensitivity. After a while, if they weren’t doing something like that, my only option had been to fake my orgasms, something I’d done more often than not.

Razor wasn’t going to go for that.

But he smiled and spread some lube on the dilator. “How about this? How about I try some things, and you tell me if you like them or not. Tell me what you want more of. We’ll go from there.”

I bit down on my lower lip and nodded.

“Do you want to put it in?” he asked.

“No. You.” I wanted him to be as much a part of this as I was. I needed to learn to trust him with my body. Or maybe I needed to learn to trust my body with him. Either way, it had to be him.

I bent my knees, placing my feet on the edge of the mattress.

I expected Razor to place the dilator at the entrance of my pussy, but he didn’t. He pressed a kiss to the inside of first one thigh, then the other, gradually working his way closer to the center of my heat. He squeezed a bit more of the lube onto his fingers and spread it over my inner labia, almost but not quite inserting the tip of a finger.

“Still breathing?” he asked.

Good point. I inhaled, long and deep, focusing on relaxing my muscles.

His mouth came down on my clit. He circled it with his tongue a few times and then sucked it gently between his lips.

And I felt it. Really, truly felt every bit of what he was doing.

He flicked his tongue over my nub a few times. When I rolled my hips, he set the dilator at my entrance and slowly—painstakingly slowly—slipped it inside me.

I’d been bracing myself for the pain, the sharp stinging and the clamping down of my muscles at the invasion into my body. But there was none of that. Oh, I felt the presence of the dilator, sure, but it wasn’t the pain I’d come to believe would always be part of me.

“More?” Razor asked after a moment. “Or should I stop there?”

“More,” I replied in awe.

He pressed it in farther and then glanced up to meet my eyes. He winked. “Do your Kegels, beautiful.”

I contracted my muscles, squeezing them tight around the dilator for several seconds before releasing and resting them. The second time I tensed, he lowered his head again and used his tongue on me. Each time I strained with the effort of my exercises, he went to work on my clit. Each time I released and relaxed, he stopped.

With every effort I made, he drove me higher, closer to the edge. Within a few minutes, I was fisting my hands in the sheets and squeezing my eyes closed, a desperate attempt to hold on to whatever remained of my sanity.

But I squeezed again. And he swirled his tongue.

And I shattered into millions of tiny pieces.

And it wasn’t just my body.

It wasn’t just sex. It wasn’t merely an orgasm, one to go along with many before it and many more to come.

It wasn’t an instance in which I could separate myself and look down on it from above.

It was me. All of me. Every piece of myself that I’d tried to hold back, to protect, was now in shards no bigger than specks of dust.

It was too late now. I loved Razor, and that scared me more than anything else in my life ever had.

Because everyone I loved was taken from me. That was how my life worked.

He was still between my legs, guiding me through the first real orgasm I’d had in months and months. The waves of my climax kept crashing, but they dragged me down, down, under the depths until I couldn’t see the light above me anymore. All I could see was fear and its icy fingers, which were digging tracks into my skin like a tattoo.

Mine might be invisible, but it felt far more permanent than the ink on his skin.