I swallow, and I can't meet her eyes anymore. I'm too scared of what might be reflected back at me.

"Something...more." I manage. Something so much more. I want to be his. I want to be one of those women that he makes moan and cry his name. I want to feel my body wrapped around him, lost to his muscles, lost to his mouth.

I want to feel his hard body pressing up against mine as he claims me for my own. I shake my head free of the thoughts. It's not an appropriate time for fantasizing about him, to say the least. But at least the thoughts take me away from the jail for a few seconds.

When I look at her again, I see how intensely she's been staring at me, those clear eyes looking through to my soul. It sends a shiver down my spine, and I just give her an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, I shouldn't be talking about this," I say and she shakes her head.

"It's not so bad, being in love," she assures me, and my heart's racing. I'd never thought of it like that. I've always denied that that was the word for what I feel.

But the way it strikes me, I know she's right.

I love Kaiden.

My cellmate is still dry heaving and shaking like mad on the bottom bunk. I guess she's drying out. They haven't woken at all in the hours I've been locked up in this grungy cell.

Sarah, the prostitute on the top bunk, has finally managed to get some sleep, though she makes these soft little whimpering sounds that make me want to reach out and comfort her. She didn't tell me much about herself, and less about what got her in here, but those pained gasps of her nightmares tell me more than she ever needed to.

I'm still at the table when I hear some noise from outside my cell. I haven't slept since the catnap in the car, but I'm too afraid to sleep. And, I'm still in a daze about my realization with Kaiden. About what I want from him.

"Abigail Tuney? Someone's come for you," the cop says through the little barred window. "You're being released."

I stand, pushing the chair away and turning towards the door as it swings open. I wonder if I should say goodbye to Sarah, but she's still deep in sleep, and I don't want to disturb her.

My hair's a mess, my muscles all ache, my makeup must be completely smeared or gone and I feel like a mess.

But when I see Kaiden's face?

He looks proud.

And I've never been so happy to see him in my life.

Chapter 6.

It's been a few days, and things have kind of returned to normal.

Well, I say returned to normal, but Kaiden and I haven't spoken since I got off his bike and went back into the house. I don't know what to say to him, either. I just keep thinking about what he told me...

What I had realized about how I felt.

It reminds me of the time I fell out of the boat. The way he looked at me like he was just seconds from kissing me, and then went suddenly cold out of nowhere. He didn't speak to me for so long I thought I'd done something wrong.

But this time, I'm just as angry at him as I am at myself. Angry at how much I still want him.

He hasn't brought any other women home, either. He's just been locked up in his bedroom by himself, barely eating, though he helped me get my car back from impound at least. Even at work, he's been avoiding me, and part of me is happy for the space.

But a huge part of me is upset that he's avoiding me. I know I started it, but I just want... something more than this.

It's dumb, I know that. But I don't care. If he really feels that way for me, he should do something about it. But of course he won't. I know I won't. It's too risky.

Even if we weren't siblings, just getting closer to him would give Ryder more ammo.

I'm grateful that I have today off. My first day off in seventeen days, and I'm feeling pretty good about it all, other than the fact that apparently Kaiden took the night off too.

I can hear him in his room, the TV on low, but it doesn't matter. The walls are so thin I can still make out every word.

Sounds like he's watching some biker show, random shootouts happening every once in a while and a whole lot of yelling and fighting.

I listen to it for a while, letting my mind drift back to when I was sixteen or so.

I was at home, watching a movie on TV. I was all alone, had the house to myself, so it must've been summer.

It was some crime drama or something, and I remember getting really into it when suddenly someone had their hands over my eyes. I screamed bloody murder, jumped out of my skin.

And instantly, Kaiden apologized.

Big, hulking Kaiden came around in front of me, looking so upset that he'd scared me. He came home for a visit, and just wanted to surprise me. I had leapt up, into his arms, and he'd spun me around like I was nothing more than a feather, and we spent the rest of the day cuddled up on the couch just talking about nothing.

A lump formed in my throat. I wanted so bad to get back to that, to just forget all this had ever happened.

To forget that mom and dad had died, that my college money was spent on Kaiden's bail, that I had to live with him and work in a sleazy bar.

Kaiden's TV shuts off, and it must be around four in the morning; we are both pretty much nocturnal now. I hear him shifting, getting comfortable beneath the blankets.

I picture him lying there, one arm strewn over his forehead as he stares up at the ceiling, bare-chested as the sheets gather around his waist. It's still warm out and we don't have air conditioning, so I imagine his leg strewn over the blankets, barely clinging to modesty as he closes his eyes.

And then I tap, softly, on the wall.

It is barely more than a touch of my knuckle to the drywall, but I know he heard it.

He simply doesn't respond.

"Kaiden, you remember that time when I was fourteen, and I was supposed to have that birthday party? It was going to be princess-themed, remember? Mom bought all those pink decorations, plates and balloons and streamers, had them up everywhere. I was so excited, I just couldn't wait. I'd invited all my friends on these little themed cards, and told you that you had to go and that I didn't want you there. I was just so embarrassed to have my big brother hanging out with my friends, stealing all their attention."

I pause, but he doesn't say anything, so I continue.

"But then... my friends all just... didn't show up," I say, my voice strained and I can feel tears burning at my eyes. "They all had just decided that princess parties were too young, not cool enough for them, and they never told me. So I was just sitting there in my dress, waiting for them all day. Mom kept telling me to come inside, to just open presents with the family, but I was in disbelief that they'd stand me up. That they'd be so mean."

The pain still feels so raw. I had been so humiliated, so hurt. They'd told me the day before, promised me they were going to come.

"And I was crying on the steps when you came home from being with your friends. You were skateboarding back then, remember? And a lot skinnier, but I think you'd already gotten your first tattoo and your tongue pierced, and you always had that stupid mohawk," I say with a bit of a laugh. "When you found out what happened, you were so mad, and I remember you ran inside, right to dad's closet and grabbed one of his suits. It didn't really fit, but you smoothed out your hair, and you offered me your hand, and introduced yourself as Prince Charming. Mom and dad put on some music, and you made me dance with you until I stopped crying and started laughing."

I smile at the memory, remembering his young, punk rock phase and how hard he always looked, but for me, it was nothing but affection.

He still hasn't said a word, though, and I worry he doesn't remember, or doesn't care. It makes my heart hurt, and a tear spills down from the corner of my eye.

He was my hero back then.

He was my everything.

But after that party, I started having feelings for him. Feelings I shouldn't have, and I started pushing him away. Little bits at first, and then when he turned eighteen and moved to a different town, it was easier to forget all of it and pretend like it was nothing but a girly phase. I dated, tried to move on and have my own life. But now here I am, back under the same roof as him, and my feelings are burning stronger than ever, even with my anger.

I swallow back the lump in my throat, the hot air feeling so heavy on my chest, and I push down my blanket, my nightgown already damp with sweat.

It's minutes later when I finally hear him, his dark, rumbling voice penetrating the wall.

"I remember, Princess."

That nickname again, this time said with such tenderness instead of scorn and mockery. I sob again and try to quiet it, trying to fight the urge to break down. I can't handle him hearing me like that.

"I miss them so much."

"I know..." There's a brief pause. "Even though I hadn't seen them in a while, I still expect to go home and find them there, like nothing has changed."

I don't know what to say to that, because even though I know they're not there, part of my mind tricks me into thinking I just haven't seen them in a while. As if they're not really gone, they're just not around.

The thought breaks my heart, and I push it away.

"I miss you. You always looked out for me, even though you never had to," I whimper, my voice pathetic.

"I tried."

He's still being short with me, but at least he's talking. That makes me feel a little better, and I imagine opening my door, going to his room, curling up with him. Feeling his skin against mine. Just like we had on the couch all those times. I don't even know what part of him I'm craving. The part of him that makes me feel like he's my hero, that he'll always protect me? Or the part of him that makes women lose their minds, willing to give up so much just for a chance to sleep with him?

I shudder at the thought, because deep down, I know I want both. I want him, wholly and utterly.

"When did things get so... fucked up," I say softly, my body sticky, and my sex throbbing with heat. The tension between us is driving me mad in more than one way, and his words keep echoing in my mind. The intensity in which he had said them.

"I don't know, Abby," he says with a deep gravel to his tone, sleeplessness getting to him too.

"Was it the drugs?"

"Naw... that was just a side effect."

"Then why? Why'd you move away?"

There's a long pause, and I'm afraid he won't answer. Lord knows I'd asked him that question enough over the years, and never got one. The clock in the kitchen ticks past the seconds, the sound echoing through the quiet of his house. I start drifting between sleep and wakefulness.

"I didn't want to hurt you."

His voice makes my eyes flutter back open, and I wonder if I heard him right."You hurt me more by leaving," I croak in return, that lump in my throat making it hard to even speak.

Another long silence spreads out between us, and again I want to go into his room, to see his face. But it's easier like this in some ways, not knowing.

I lick my lips.

"You never even told me you got arrested. Mom and dad, they never told me..."

"I asked them not to," he says quickly. "I didn't want to worry you, Abby. You didn't need that on your plate, not with college coming up."

"But they spent all my college money on that. On your bail, and it still hasn't gone to trial?"

"It's not fast and they've been delaying it. And I didn't know mom and dad... I didn't know they were in so deep. I never would've asked otherwise, but I didn't want to owe that asshole anything more than I had to."

Was he talking about Ryder?

A chill went through me, and my anger gave way to exhaustion.

I close my eyes, breathing deeply as we both drift to sleep.

Chapter 7.

"We're going to get this done, Ryder. This is the last fucking bit of your shit I'm moving, and after that, I'm done. No more threats, no more fucking with Abigail. She gets fired; that's it."

Ryder is giving me the smuggest fucking smile, and I feel like pummeling it off his pretty boy face. He looks like a movie star, but he's colder than any man I've ever met.

I sneer at him, folding my arms across my chest.

"This is it, Ryder, do you understand? You let this thing go to trial, you get me off, and you let her go if I do this for you."

"Sure," he says in that way that makes me instinctively not trust him.

But I don't have a choice.

There's only one way I can deserve Abigail, and that's if I get clean of this mess I got into trying to run from her. From how she makes me feel. No woman should ever make me feel like she does, and I've fucked dozens of them trying to prove that to myself, and my thoughts always go back to her.

Abigail.

From the way she tugs on her hair when she's angry to the way she always frowns at her reflection right before going out. Everything about her just gets in under my skin, and when I saw how she looked at me the other night... I was going to lose my mind if I didn't at least see if she felt the same for me.