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With trembling hands, Miranda laid the letters on the table. The postmarks and smeared ink reflected a journey of the man she thought she knew. If she fought past the crippling fear of being hurt, could they have a chance at something precious? The future was uncertain. He may go back to his career and leave her behind again. They weren’t the same people any longer—their younger, more innocent selves. She’d grown up, and now took what she wanted. She had the rare opportunity to close out the past on her terms.

Wasn’t it time to face her fears?

In order to find out, she needed to re-open a door she swore she’d never unlock.

When she fell in love with Gavin, it was the first time she ever opened herself up to the idea of love. Her gamble only dragged her back to her past, where everyone important in her life walked away. She’d sworn to never be hurt like that again. These past few weeks opened her up in a new way, and pushed her to grow. Gavin demanded. Every physical reaction, every laugh, every smile. She began to like the person she was with him: strong, confident, but open. Open to life, love, hurt. It was a huge risk.

Could she finally put the past aside and be the woman she wanted to be?

Miranda sat up. God, she was so tired of being afraid. Tired of being a mere shadow of the woman who clamored out from her inner being and longed to be set free. She’s been brave enough to pick up the pieces and create a career she loved. Didn’t she deserve to give her whole heart and damn the consequences?

She needed to rediscover her strength and take a chance on the future. With the man she loved and had never been able to forget.

She had nothing more to lose.

Gavin snapped back the shot of tequila and barely felt the sting. Good, maybe he’d finally reach a level of numbness. The past two nights had been like descending into Dante’s Inferno, and heaven seemed an impossible climb up. Not that he deserved it. Hell was his new home now.

The drama of his thoughts wrung a laugh from his lips. His cell beeped again, and he glanced at the emergency text from his brother. Where the fuck r u?

He punched out his response. Sick. Cover fOr me.

The phone vibrated. Last time. Mom and pop worried.

Gavin sat back and refilled his glass. Being away from the restaurant for two nights in a row was criminal, and if Brando had pulled this crap he’d kill him. He’d tried to get ready, but the idea of facing his family with guilt eating his insides proved too much to handle. One more night of self-pity and drunkenness. One more night of incredible pain and self-recriminations. Then he’d get himself together.

He ignored the doorbell and figured the person would go away. When the banging became insistent, he muttered a curse and flung open the door.

Miranda.

He drank in her figure with a greediness he despised. Even after destroying her, he never seemed to get enough—his hunger to immerse himself in her fire and light pulsed through him. Yet, he managed to back away and keep his distance. If she’d come to release more rage, he’d take it.

“Hello, Gavin.”

Her voice curled like smoke and singed. His gaze swept over the short lime green raincoat that left her legs bare. Mist shimmered around her hair from the rain like an angel’s halo gone naughty. Her crimson lips pursed as she waited him out. Her coat was cinched tight, but no fabric marred the swell of her breasts or neck. Dewy peach skin tempted him to take a bite, but instead he nodded and let her in.

Gavin cursed as he sprung to attention and yanked on his sweatpants. Down boy. The luscious curve of her buttocks swung as she entered his house and curiously gazed around. He hadn’t cleaned for company, and realized it looked like a bachelor pad gone wild. Empty beer bottles and junk food bags filled the surfaces. The sixty-inch television reflected a football game with the sound muted. A stadium blanket for the NY Giants lay over the leather couch, and remnants from a pizza delivery still wafted in the air. Yep. Way to impress the girl of his dreams. Not that it mattered anymore.

“I wanted to talk to you. About what we spoke about the other night.”

His gut clenched, but he made sure to look open for conversation. Gavin didn’t know if he could take anymore. The pain reflected on her face the night she confessed the truth would haunt him forever. He’d caused her misery from his selfishness, and no act could possibly redeem him. Her complete rejection humbled him. He swallowed past the tightness in his throat. “Of course. I’m willing to talk about anything you need. I just didn’t want to cause you any more distress.”

One red brow arched at his polite tone. “I think you left before I could properly tell you how I feel.”

He winced but readied himself for the torment. “I’m sorry. Go ahead.”

“I want you.”

Every muscle tightened. Her words roared in his ears like a flight gone turbulent. Knowing he walked the edge of insanity, he stared at her. “What?”

“When I first found out I was pregnant, of course I blamed you. You left me. But you had nothing to do with me losing the baby, and I never gave you the choice to come home. Maybe we would’ve made it, maybe not. We’ll never know. I’m tired of reliving the past, Gavin. I’ve never felt more alive since you came back into my life, and I’m willing to see if we can build something together. Something solid and new and real. I’m ready to take a gamble on us.”

He looked at the woman in front of him and realized she offered him the whole fantasy. All of her, body and soul, ready for surrender. Gavin gave up his last shred of hope and realized he needed to release her. Somehow he’d convinced her to take a chance, but it was too late. Too late for them.

He bore down. “Before you told me your true feelings, I would’ve fallen to my knees in gratitude. Now I realize how much more you deserve. How could you ever trust me again? Open yourself up enough to have the relationship we both need?”

“I can try.”

“Bullshit.” He knew then that he was fighting for both of them. If she couldn’t save herself from a lifetime of regret, than he’d do it for her. “I’ll never be enough,” he ground out. “I’ll always be the man who left you at the most vulnerable time in your life. Can you live like that? Or do you want me to be slowly tortured, constantly waiting for the old wounds to flare up? Wait for you to accuse me of leaving you behind?”

He prepared himself for tears and an evening dedicated to trying to forget the anguish.

“Let me tell you what I want.” She drew in a ragged breath as if afraid to take the final plunge. He waited for her retreat, but she lifted that stubborn chin and met his gaze all the way. “I want you. I want you to give us another chance. I want to start fresh—tonight.”

“Miranda—”

“I’ve been afraid, but I’m tired of it. I’ve always belonged to you. You claimed me years ago, Gavin. I just haven’t been able to admit it. So let’s finish this tonight. Take me now and show me.”

He uttered a vicious curse as his skin tightened and burned with the frantic need to possess her. “I won’t let you go again,” he warned. “If you try to leave me, I’ll find you. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

He waited a beat. Then closed the distance, yanking her into his arms and crashing his mouth upon hers.

The kiss was wild and hot, a primitive act of a man claiming his woman, and allowed her no retreat as his tongue plundered her mouth in a punishing pleasure. The scent of ripened strawberries and rich vanilla filled his head, and he tangled his fingers in the glorious weight of her hair and tugged, giving him better access. He stroked, possessed, deflowered. A moan purred from her lips but he swallowed it whole and didn’t up the bruising pressure of the kiss. When he finally ripped his mouth from hers, she panted, her eyes wide and half drugged.