"You're just lucky I got your clothes off first," he mumbled against her lips, clearly reading her mind.

"I'm glad you did," she said, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him closer, feeling the strength in his powerful body, the heat that caressed her from chest to knee. Digging her nails into his back, she pulled him to her, her mouth reaching for his.

Their tongues skimmed as his fingers slid into her already slick folds. She moaned against his mouth, pushing her hips up to meet his exploring hands, desperate to feel him inside her. Luckily, he didn't make her wait before his thick length was pressing against her entrance.

"Oh, God," she moaned softly. "Oh, yes." He felt so good as he made his way inside her. He stretched her so deliciously, her body ready for him as he eased in deep, his hips stilling, leaving her aching for more.

"Mia," he breathed against her mouth. "Love."

Mia forced her eyes open to look up at him. What she saw on his face had her heart wrenching in her chest. There was so much emotion right there for her to see, she wanted to throw out a net and capture it, to pull it into her so she could hold on to it forever.

His hips began a leisurely grind as his lips brushed hers softly. Slow and deep, Tarik made love to her in a way she hadn't known possible. She felt him so deep she was sure he had penetrated her soul. Her hands slid up and down his back as she scrambled to hold on, to ground herself, because she was quickly losing herself to this man, losing herself in his gaze, the way he searched her face as though looking for the same thing he was offering.

She wasn't sure if he saw it, but she knew it was there. Right there in that moment, Mia felt some of the remnants of her once-shattered heart mend, pulling together and intertwining with pieces of him.

"Oh, Mia," Tarik said quietly, his hand cradling her head, his nose brushing hers as his hips dipped and retreated, driving him deeper into her.

"Tarik." His name came out on a strangled moan as her body began to float, every cell, every nerve ending tingling as her climax grabbed hold.

"That's it, baby." Tarik's thumb brushed her cheek as his hips thrust forward. "That's it. Come for me."

His words were but a whisper in the darkened room.

Mia pressed upward to meet each delicious thrust as he increased the pace. He was driving deeper, an exquisite plunge of his hips causing him to hit her G-spot, making it impossible to hold on.

"Mia. Baby, I'm gonna come." He breathed against her lips as her body hummed, her muscles tightening, the tingling igniting into an inferno inside her as it began to trickle outward, making the hair on her arms stand up.

"Tarik," she whispered, not wanting him to let her go, because she knew she was about to shatter, and she wasn't sure, when this was over, that she was going to be the same person she had been before. It felt... "Oh, God, Tarik."

A strangled cry escaped her as she thrust her head back, her body bowing as her orgasm ripped through her.

Tarik's hips pressed forward, retreated, then again and again before he erupted, a muffled roar escaping him as he pressed his mouth against her neck.

Mia didn't move, didn't breathe as she tried to take stock of herself. She wasn't sure she was still in one piece. But what surprised her most was that it didn't scare her.

Not yet, anyway.

TARIK SOMEHOW MANAGED to get them both cleaned up and dressed and back on the couch even though his head was still reeling from what just happened.

Now, he wasn't some sort of fucking pussy who had sex with a woman and thought he saw stars and shit, but something had just happened. Something that had never happened to him before. Not with a man or a woman. What had transpired between him and Mia in those few minutes was ... earth-shattering. So completely different from anything he'd known, including his time with Phoenix - although that had altered his life in an entirely different way.

The fact of the matter was that Tarik felt something for both of them. Although it was equally strong, it was still different. In a good way. Just like they were different from one another in so many ways.

"You okay?" Mia asked as they lay on the sofa once more in the same position they'd been in before he'd found himself buried to the hilt inside her, losing a part of himself.

"Never better," he told her as he stared up at the ceiling. He watched the large circle of golden light from the small lamp beside his head that shone some twenty feet above them, but he didn't really see anything.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure." Tarik knew Mia well enough to know that what was about to come out of her mouth was going to be a question that would make him uncomfortable. He braced himself.

"What happened between your mother and father?"

He wasn't surprised by her curiosity. He'd already told her that his father had killed his mother, so he'd expected her to want to know what had happened. And it wasn't that he didn't want to talk about it, to share with her, he just didn't know how.

"It's okay if you don't want to," Mia said, and Tarik realized he hadn't bothered to say anything for a minute or two.

"My parents met in high school," he began, not knowing where else to start. "My dad was a senior, my mother a sophomore. From the bits and pieces of conversations I overheard, neither of them were popular, both from relatively poor families. She was the nerdy type, he was the bad boy. Typical high school crush. One thing led to another, and they had me. She was sixteen when I was born, and her father threw her out."

"Where did the name Tarik come from?" Mia questioned.

"My father was part Egyptian," he explained. "My mother picked out the name, originally intrigued by his heritage. He, of course, hadn't given a shit. Anyway, for whatever reason, my father decided to marry her, probably more out of guilt than anything. He graduated, but my mother dropped out of high school before I was born.

"They hated each other. Detested the mere sight of one another. Always fighting. And I don't mean a screaming match. They were violent with one another and with me. Throwing things, hitting each other, tearing shit up. We moved so much, always evicted. If it wasn't for not paying the rent, they were thrown out for vandalism. I think I changed schools every year through grade school. I guess one day things went too far."

Tarik remembered the day he'd come home from school to find his mother on the kitchen floor, her head at an odd angle, blood pooling beneath her, the fireplace poker lying beside her.

"Honestly, I was surprised it had taken that long before one of them was killed. I was a freshman in high school. We lived in Houston, and we'd just moved into a shitty-ass apartment in another crappy neighborhood. I came home from school one day and found my mother in a pool of blood on the kitchen floor, my father sitting in the living room, his head in his hands as he stared at the floor. I don't think he was shocked, either. Cause of death was blunt trauma to the head. He'd hit her with a fireplace tool."

"Oh, my God, Tarik," Mia whispered, the top of her head burrowing closer to his neck, her cheek on his chest.

He allowed her warmth to seep into him as he fought the chill that still lived inside him. There was a hollow spot encasing the memories of his parents. He didn't have any feelings for them one way or another. He wasn't sure he ever had.

"It was eerily calm as I dialed 911, then gave the operator the address, explaining what I saw. My father never budged from his chair until the police arrived. He went willingly, never saying a word."

"Do you see him?" she asked.

"No. I've never visited him in prison, didn't go to the hearings. I didn't care. Still don't. They might've fulfilled their parental obligation of feeding and clothing me, making sure I had a bed to sleep in, which was usually just a blanket on the floor, but I never felt any love from them."

"What about your grandparents? Did they take you in?"

"No. My parents had severed ties with both their families and not on good terms. I think they figured I was more of a nuisance than anything. I didn't know any of them at that point."

Tarik wrapped his arm around Mia when she sobbed against him. He'd never cried for his parents. Not once. Without any family to take him in, Tarik had been taken by the state and placed in foster care. He'd gone through the motions from there, never getting close enough to one family to worry about having feelings for them. When he was old enough, he'd moved to Austin, wanting to get away from the reminders of them, wanting to start anew.

Until Phoenix, Tarik hadn't even been sure he was capable of having feelings for anyone. Then again, until Phoenix, no one had ever made him feel like he mattered.

Brushing his hand over Mia's hair, Tarik inhaled deeply.

"I didn't mean to make you cry," he said softly, keeping her close.

Mia nuzzled closer, her breath warm against his skin.

"Can I tell you something?" she asked, her words so soft he wouldn't have heard her if she hadn't been close to his ear.

"Sure," he said just as quietly.

"I love you, Tarik."

For the first time in his entire life, Tarik was pretty sure those three words were going to pull tears from him. He was just grateful that it was dark.

WHEN PHOENIX MADE it back to the penthouse after spending nearly three hours talking to his mother, he was emotionally wrung out and exhausted. What had started out as a conversation about the Arrows, the lawsuit, and the direction the team was headed had turned into a trip down memory lane, and Phoenix hadn't been able to leave. He'd helped his mother cook, and they'd eaten together while talking about his father, the pain still fresh for both of them.

Finding Mia and Tarik asleep on the couch curled up around one another in the dark, Phoenix had pondered what to do. He hated to wake them, but he didn't want to spend the night alone in his bed, so he'd managed to nudge Tarik awake enough to get him moving. Phoenix had lifted Mia and carried her into his bedroom. He didn't bother removing her clothes, just tucked her in, then stripped down to his boxers and joined her. To his surprise, Tarik climbed in beside him, lying on his back as they both stared up at the ceiling in the darkened room.

"You okay?" Tarik asked, breaking the silence.

"I will be."

"Me, too."

Phoenix turned his head to look at Tarik, only making out his profile in the light shining in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. "Something happen?"

"She asked about my parents."

Something compelled him to find Tarik's hand with his own, linking their fingers as they lay there. "Did she cry?" Phoenix asked. He'd heard the story, knew it was heart wrenching. Having grown up with two parents who had doted on him and one another, Phoenix couldn't relate to the hell Tarik had lived through. He knew Tarik carried scars with him that would never fade, both physical and emotional. He also knew that Tarik was a much stronger man than he was.

"Yeah."

The silence lingered between them for a few minutes before Tarik spoke up again.

"I made love to her."

"I figured," Phoenix replied. "There's the distinct scent of sex in the living room. Incredible, huh?"

"That doesn't even begin to describe it," Tarik admitted, and Phoenix heard something he'd never heard in Tarik's voice.

Phoenix knew what Tarik was feeling. He'd felt it himself when he'd been with Mia. He'd known from the beginning that there was something about her, something unique. She captivated him, pulled him in, and as every day passed, the strings that tethered him to her only strengthened. The same way those that held him to Tarik continued to be reinforced. Proof was in the way Tarik held his hand, the three of them in his bed.

"This is real, huh?" Phoenix finally asked.

"It's real."

"Good." And with that, Phoenix gave in to sleep.

Chapter Thirty-Three.

"DAMN IT," PHOENIX growled, tempted to punch a hole in the kitchen wall. After what had turned out to be an incredibly relaxing Sunday spent with Mia and Tarik doing little to nothing and a decidedly uneventful Monday, it was now Tuesday, and he was ready to go back to a simpler fucking time.

His mother had bombarded him with questions the moment he'd gotten back from his run that morning, apparently having gotten a few more details from Phil. The details that Phoenix had purposely kept from her for that very reason. He had enough to deal with without her getting worked up. And to make matters worse, his phone hadn't stopped ringing, his email was overrun with bullshit messages, and on top of that, he had a fucking headache.

Not enough coffee, that was the problem.

Before he got the chance to enjoy his second cup, the one he had just poured, the doorbell rang, and he spun around so fast he nearly spilled his coffee all over himself.

His initial thought was that Mia was there, but he couldn't picture her coming up without calling him first. She'd paid him a surprise visit once, and he remembered how that had gone.

So, what the fuck was someone doing ringing his doorbell? And how the fuck had they gotten up there in the first place? No one was permitted on the penthouse floor without the code to get there. Not even the doormen or the concierge were allowed to give out that information.

Glancing down the hallway toward Tarik's office, he expected to see him emerge, but he didn't. Where the hell was he? Another chime from the damn doorbell had Phoenix moving. He could easily handle whoever had made it to his front door; he just wasn't sure they were going to be walking without a limp when he got through with them. It wasn't his mother, either, he knew that much. She had a key and wouldn't bother with the doorbell.

Stalking through the entryway, Phoenix grabbed the knob and yanked it open. Hell, it hadn't even been locked.

"Teresa?" Phoenix was stunned to see her standing there, raking her fingers through her hair. "How the hell did you get up here?"

"Good morning to you, too," she said sweetly, clearly ignoring him as she flashed a toothy smile his way.

"I asked you a question," he snarled.

Her devious smirk was enough of an answer. She'd somehow figured out his code, probably having watched him enter it back when he'd brought her to his condo. He was a dumbass. And he needed to remember to have Tarik change the code.

"Are you going to invite me in?" she asked.

"I'd rather not," he said honestly at the same time Tarik came to stand behind him, the warmth of his body relatively close to Phoenix.

"What's going on?" Tarik asked, glancing past him. He was holding his phone to his ear as he peered over Phoenix's shoulder, close enough that Phoenix could smell him. He smelled good.

Shaking off the distraction, Phoenix looked back at Teresa.

"No fucking clue," Phoenix retorted and then turned away. He didn't have time for this shit. Whatever she wanted, she could just turn right back around and go elsewhere. He had nothing to say to her.

"I thought I'd make a surprise visit," Teresa said loud enough for him to hear as he headed for the kitchen. "Damien had some unfinished business to attend to with one of your tenants. I thought I'd stop by to chat while I waited."

Phoenix stopped in his tracks and slowly turned around to see Tarik had allowed her to step into the foyer. "Who?"

"Huh?" Teresa asked, looking around as though she were trying to see if anything was different from the last time she was there, which had been more than eight months ago.

"Who did Landry come to see?"

"His ex-wife. You know her, right? Mia something or other." Teresa's snotty attitude flashed like a beacon in those words, her distaste for Mia evident.

"What does he want with her?" Tarik asked, the growl in his voice causing Teresa to take a step back. She would expect Phoenix to be aggressive, to not put up with her shit, but Tarik had never so much as talked to her. According to him, she was a snake, and he hadn't wanted anything to do with her since the first time Phoenix had introduced them.

"We saw that she was in the news this morning. He felt the need to check on her," Teresa said. She was far too calm, far too easy-going about her fiance supposedly wanting to chat it up with his ex-wife. Teresa had always been the jealous type, which was why Phoenix hadn't pursued even a casual relationship with her, nothing more than a couple of nights of fucking.

"Enough with the bullshit, Teresa," Phoenix snapped as he thrust his hands into his pockets. He wasn't about to let her know that he had no fucking idea what she was talking about. He'd been so caught up in the shit storm that had erupted that morning that he hadn't seen any new articles about her. "That still doesn't explain why you're here."