I think I want to spend all my nights with you.

I don’t say that. Instead, I answer simply. “Yes.”

He pulls in a long breath and then we’re headed forward again. “I’ve got a better idea.”

That’s all he says, and I don’t care to ask what the idea is.

I’m all in regardless.

In more ways than one.

Royce continues forward, curving around the back of the property, a place I’ve yet to see.

Tucked behind the mansion is a giant trampoline with a large net wrapped around it. It’s in the center of a wide-open field to the left of the overflowing flower garden and pool house.

“We put this up for Zoey about a week ago, but I don’t think she’d mind loaning it to us for the night.” He grins, his eyes shifting to mine. “You good with that?”

I nod, because I’m not sure what my voice would sound like.

He brought me to his house, where no one is allowed.

Okay, sure, I’ve come back here on my own twice and this isn’t quite the house, but I know this boy, and this is just as much his home as anything inside that mansion is. Not that going into his home wouldn’t feel like, I don’t know, more? Because it would, but this. This is more than I’d have expected.

“There’s a zipper where the stepstool is, climb in and I’ll be right back.”

I nod and head right for the trampoline.

The moment I step inside it, lights flick on.

Running along the bars at the bottom and trimming along the tip-top of the net, soft white lights shine, illuminating the area. And then they change to pink, and then blue, green, and purple.

I grin, spinning as I wait for the next color to show itself.

Royce is back as quick as he disappeared, large puffy blankets in his hands.

He shoves them in, and I grab one, laying it along the bottom.

I notice there are two more, one for him, one for me, maybe, but I leave those on the side and drop onto my back.

Royce climbs in, a bag of candy and two water bottles in his hand. “We were out of Yoo-hoos.”

“The travesty,” I gasp playfully.

We lay back, and after a few minutes, both of us let out a long sigh.

“It’s calming, isn’t it? The sky.”

“It’s dark.”

I smile. “There are so many colors.”

“It’s a pit of darkness, like my soul,” he jokes.

I laugh. “If that’s the case, let’s look closer, find what you can’t see.” I scoot my head toward his, my hands lifting above us to point out the varying shades. “In this darker spot, you can’t see many stars, but you can see the deep, dark blue—”

“Blackness.”

I grin. “The blue that takes up this space.”

“Anger.”

I grin into the night. “Okay, fine, but here.” I run my hand left. “That darkness, or anger, blends into the lighter, more royal blue we’ll call loyalty. Then a deep violet shade, devotion.” I make a wave with my fingers. “And then you get here, just before the edges of the stars that allow for the most unsuspecting part, a softness. An almost gentle-like baby blue. Tenderness, maybe?”

Royce’s hand comes up to encase mine, and our eyes meet.

He holds my gaze. “Don’t forget the silver.”

I swallow. “Silver?”

He nods slowly. “It’s in there, too. All over, everywhere.”

Everywhere.

Jesus.

“Thousands and thousands of specs of silver, too many to forget.” His eyes fall to my lips. “Too many to leave out or let go.”

The stars.

The shades of his soul.

Silver.

“See?” I breathe. “There’s so much more than darkness.”

A faint smile falls over him and he faces the sky again.

Mere minutes pass, and he’s already falling asleep... his hand in mine.

It’s times like this, when the lights go out or when he thinks no one can see, that his heart opens.

At the end of the day, he’s just a lonely boy who doesn’t understand how he can have so much, brothers and more who love him, who are there for him when and if ever he needs, no matter what, yet still, at night, after dark, he aches.

Like a lonely boy.

Like a lost boy.

I could take away that pain, if he’d allow it.

After all, lonely recognizes lonely.

I’m not sure how much later it is when I wake up cold, but before I can lean over and grab a blanket, one falls over me, and then a large, strong and warm body presses into mine.

Royce’s arm wraps around me, holding me there, so I scoot back more, tucking myself farther into him and when I do, I feel his need pressing against my ass cheeks.

He’s hard, and large and while my body shivers, I’m no longer cold.

I’m hot all over.

Pulling in a deep breath, I push into him more, and his face buries into my neck in an instant.

“You don’t want to do that, baby girl.”

“Yeah, I really do.”

He chuckles, but then I do it again, and that chuckle becomes a low groan.

His hand flattens on my stomach. “I’m not as strong as you seem to think I am.”

“You’re stronger than you know, but you don’t need to be right now.”

“Fuck,” he growls. “Careful.”

“I’m tired of being careful. I want to be—”

“Bad.” He kisses my jaw. “Naughty.” Another kiss. “Dirty?”

“Free. Valued.” My breathing is picking up now. “I want to know what it feels like to be wanted.” No, wait, that’s not right... “I want you to show me what that feels like.”

“If I touch you, I might get addicted.”

Please get addicted.

His shoulder tenses and then shakes in silent laughter.

I roll my ass into him again and a sharp hiss heats my ear. It serves as a lightning bolt, sending a shock wave down my spine.

Royce’s hand dips lower. Completely flat against my stomach, he glides over the V of my jeans while biting at my earlobe.

A low moan escapes, but I bury it in the blanket.

“Listen to me, Tink.” He kisses directly over my heavy beating pulse there. “I need to know every fucking thing you like and dislike. What’s good and what’s better. You think something in your head, let it out.” I feel his smirk against my skin. “Not that you’re real good at hiding your thoughts.”

I grin. “Got it. Royce?”

“Hm?”

“Touch me,” I demand instantly. “And not over my jeans.”

The button on my pants is popped with zero hesitancy, but his fingertips, they pause at the edge of my underwear. His strong chest inflates at my back and then he slips inside.

The heat of his hand alone, the roughness of his skin, has my muscles curling.

“Tell me the truth,” he whispers into the night. “You really never been touched?”

“Do my hands count?”

He groans.

“Not even a little bit,” he rasps as two fingers slide lower, slipping between my slit and gliding along my clit. I jerk, and his heady exhale follows. “You touch yourself since you been here?”