I smash the garlic cloves under the blade of the knife, peel the papery skin off and proceed to mince. I'm cooking – or trying to cook – tassot. I had to beg Mia for Mama's recipe since I hadn't the faintest clue on how to make the marinade for the beef nor flavor rice with anything other than store-bought teriyaki sauce.

Of course, that resulted in all the women in my family finding out I was trying to cook tassot. The reaction on the private Facebook chat was quick and explosive.

Noelle: Baby Bas! Do you have a girlfriend? Mia told me you're making tassot.

Mia: Of course he has a girlfriend. Tassot is a labor of love.

Claude: Did you just assume Bas's sexuality? It could be a boyfriend. Or just a significant other if they're gender-neutral and prefer the pronoun 'they/them'.

Leo: Seriously. C? You gotta drag PC bullshit into this?

Sacha: Who cares about PC. Bas!?!! Bro! You swinging for both teams, now?

Bastien: No to both teams. Yes to the girlfriend.

Noelle: Ha! Called it! Baby Bas is in looooooove.

Mia: Bullshit, I called it first!

Claude: Wear your cup, little brother. Mama wants grandbabies.

Mama: YOU HAD BETTER BRING HER HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

Leo: Mama, you know you don't have to type in caps lock?

Mama: I TYPE HOW I SPEAK. YOU BRING THE GIRL FOR CHRISTMAS, BASTIEN. I COOK JOUMOU.

Sacha: Guys...

Mama: AND I SEND YOU A BOTTLE OF MAMAJUANA. GOOD FOR VIRILITY. I NEED MORE GRANDCHILDREN

Bastien: I'm signing off, now.

Noelle: Nooo! I need deets!

Mia: Me too!

Claude: Me three!

Bastien: Thanks for the recipe.

Of course, my sisters hadn't listened to me. Noelle, Mia, and Claude have been blowing up my phone all day with texts and DMs, demanding progress pictures. The oldest, Noelle, was helpful and sent over some wine pairing suggestions, which I heeded.

I peer up where Reece sits on my couch. Her laptop is open, gaze distant and forlorn as she works on an assignment for class. It's been like that the past few days, ever since the new phrase was added to the Wall.

What happens when everything falls apart?

I'm not sure where her headspace is at. That's why I'm cooking tassot for her tonight, trying to comfort her and put her at ease. Something spooked her and I intend to find out what.

"Dinner will be ready in a few," I declare, vaulting over the back of the sofa and bouncing beside her. "Rice just has to simmer a bit longer."

A faint smile comes to her face but doesn't quite touch her eyes. "Great."

I take a sip of the meaty red wine Noelle suggested. Not really what I like, but I can pretend to be sophisticated for an evening. "How's the assignment coming?"

Reece makes a few swipes on the track pad to zoom out of the layer she'd been messing with. It's a stock image of a woman with a sleek bobbed haircut. She shows me the original image, then adds the layers of saturation, color, and background work. A mildly interesting picture transforms into an evocative piece of art.

"Holy shit," I grin. "That's incredible, Reece."

Her cheeks tinge pink and she scrunches her nose. "You really think so?"

I lean in and kiss the sparkle on her nose. "Bien sûr."

"That mean the same thing as putain?"

"Better." I chuckle. "You should definitely put that one in your portfolio."

She waves me off. "I don't have a portfolio."

I sit up. "Why not?"

That same noncommittal shrug. "None of my stuff is really good enough."

"Liar." I tug a strand of her hair teasingly. "I've seen your work on the Wall. I know better."

"That's different," she protests. "I'm just..." she trails off and bites her lip.

I arch a brow. "Just..."

"Just venting my frustrations." She slams her laptop shut, curls her knees against her chest, fingers digging into the marks I know lie under her jeans. "Better than the alternative."

There we go.

"What's bothering you, ma belle?"

"Nothing." She growls, scowling at the closed computer.

"Let me see your eyes." I wait until those pretty browns are on me, full of anxious doubt. I try for a comforting tone. "I may be new to this whole relationship thing, but even I know that when I ask a girl what's wrong and she says 'nothing' it's a trap."

There's a faint smile. "It's...just stupid."

My phone pings on the coffee table beside our glasses of wine. Fleetingly, I see Mia's name flash across the top, no doubt wanting an update on the tassot. I love my siblings, but damn they're nosy.

Ignoring it, I sidle closer to Reece. The forlorn look is back. I move to nuzzle her neck, but she rolls her shoulder, blocks my access to her soft skin.

"Maybe you should get that," she mutters. "Been pinging ever since I got here."

"Hmm," I hum, not dissuaded by her grumpy act. "I'd rather get you."

Reece giggles even as she shoves me. "You're ridiculous."

"You're beautiful." I grin. "See, I can call you names, too."

Her retort is interrupted by the melodic chime of a facetime call. Glancing to my screen shows Claude's name. Rolling my eyes, I reach over and pick up the phone.

"You mind?" I ask Reece. Claude is a year older than me and the sibling I'm closest to. Also the pushiest. "She'll keep calling if I don't answer."

Her eyes are guarded, fingers digging into her thighs again. "Sure."

I swipe to accept the call, angle the phone so both Reece and appear on the camera. Reece makes a little yelp of shock as Claude's deep caramel skin and lavender hair fill the screen.

"Hey Bas!" She grins past her snakebite piercings. "How's dinner coming – " she stops mid-sentence, hazel eyes catching sight of the blonde girl at my side. "Damn, you fine!"

"Aww, thanks sweetheart," I jeer.

"Not you, you stupid trash panda." Claude snaps, eying where the puck bruises have darkened to blue and purple. "I'm talking to the little fox sitting beside you."

I nudge her. "This is Reece."

"Indeed." Claude's lips curl into a Cheshire grin. "Alright. Show me what I'm missing out on tonight and I'll let you go."

Chuckling, I stand with the phone and walk into the kitchen. The rice is done simmering and I give it and the beans a stir while showing Claude the crispy outside and medium-rare center of the tassot. The moan she gives is downright pornographic.

"Wish I were there," she tisks. "I'm alone with store-bought lasagna tonight."

"Oh, poor baby."

"I'm proud of you, being all domestic n' shit." Claude shoots me a thumbs up and mouths the words, "Great job!"

"Thanks," I laugh.

"GLHFDD," Claude flashes a peace-sign before ending the call.

I head back to the sofa, flick my phone onto the coffee table and pick up our glasses of wine. "Alright," I beam. "All set."

Reece's face is drawn. "GLHFDD?"

I nod, translate. "Good luck, have fun, don't die."

My explanation of the acronym breaks something in her. She shoots to her feet, shoves her laptop back into her bag and shoulders the backpack. "I shouldn't be here."

"Wait, what?" The sudden shift makes my head spin.

"This is a mistake," she lets out a shuddering breath, eyes hidden behind the fall of her bangs. "You can't be tied down like this. I'm not good enough."

"Woah." I hold my hands up in front of her like I'm staying a frightened animal. "Where is this coming from?"

"You have girls spamming your phone, an entire fan club that knows everything about you." Reece scowls at me, pain swirling and noxious in her gaze. "What are you doing with me? I'm a worthless piece of – "

I cut her off by crashing my lips to hers, pulling her quivering body against mine and bolstering her. Those aren't her words, they're the demons'. And right now I need them to shut the hell up.

"Bas," she shivers airily.

"You're incredible." Framing her face, I force her gaze up. Now that I know where this misgiving stems, I need to nip it in the bud. "And you're the only one I want, understood?"

"But that girl just now," Reece protests weakly.

"Was my sister Claude," I smile. Some twisted part of me kind of likes that she's jealous. I just wish it didn't make her doubt herself. "The women on my phone? Older sisters Mia and Noelle. Checking up on me to make sure I didn't screw up Mama's recipe trying to impress you."

She blinks, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. "Impress me?"

"Yes, you." I swipe them away with my thumb, slide the strap of her backpack off her shoulder. "Sit down, please?"

Reece lets me ease her onto the sofa. "Why?"

"Your writing on the Wall," I murmur instead of answering, thread my fingers through her hair. "What was the real reason you wrote it?"

"It's stupid." Another shaky breath. Then she fists my shirt, buries her face against my chest.

I hold her tightly. "Talk to me, babe."

She takes a deep breath. Then another. Slowly she tells me about the puck bunnies recognizing her, their ugly comments, the storm of emotion prompting the latest phrase instead of bleeding herself. The fear of Asher.

I hate the dark places such simple words can send her. Lifting her shirts, I trace promises of adoration against the scars and tattoos. I never want her to feel worthless or broken.

It's also not in my nature to hide. I've lived my entire life loud and colorful. I never needed to mute it. Looks like I'll need to start off at a whisper before I can shout with Reece.

"I'm sorry I dragged you into the draw-off." I trail my lips along the shell of her ear. "I didn't know about Asher."

She shudders. "I know."

"I never wanted to make you afraid."

Reece emits a strangled noise. "How do you do it?"

"What?"

"Be so brave," she clarifies. "You're always in the spotlight. Everything you do is scrutinized by people – your manager, the fans, the media. It sounds terrifying."

"You know I'm the youngest of six, right?" I chuckle. "I spent most of my life fighting for attention."

"Why am I not surprised?" She raises those big brown eyes to me.

"Oh yeah. Family that big? Someone's always getting lost. Usually it was me. The number of times I've been forgotten at gas stations on road trips or at school after hockey practice was kind of incredible." At her look of abject horror, I raise my hands, "I'm fine. I wasn't neglected or anything. Just used to chaos."

Reece nods, the ghost of a smile on her face. "I guess that makes sense."

"I'm not sorry about you being my girlfriend. Or that the puck bunnies know it." My mouth brushes down her neck, tongue lapping against her collarbone.

"Bas..."

"Have more confidence in yourself." I nip the swell of her breast through her shirt. "You're astonishing. Being brave isn't always about being in the spotlight. Sometimes it's just carrying on and knowing that tomorrow will be better."

Her fingers suddenly clamp in my hair, wrench my lips up to hers. I groan and she wastes no time pressing for entrance. She tastes like red wine, starlight, and something distinctly Reece.

"How do you know just what to say?" She pants, shifting on the couch to straddle my lap.

"I don't." I grab her by the waist, slide my fingers under her shirts to feel the delectable texture of her skin. "I just say what I feel when I'm with you."

That earns me a desire-laced moan. She kisses me hard, bites down on my lower lip with feral ferocity. I grunt, drag her closer. She's so damn hot I feel like I'm about to slough my skin.

Hands slide under her clothes, cup her breasts and tease her nipples through her bra. She arches into me, claws digging harder against my scalp. A delicious sound somewhere between a purr and the word 'fuck' mewl from her throat.

"Tell me what you want, babe."

Reece pulls away suddenly, making me dizzy for a moment. The heat in her eyes makes my blood sizzle. "Take off your shirt."

I obey, hiss as her hands immediately find my skin. My dick is a lead pipe against her ass where she sits on my lap. I roll my hips, eyes hooded where she admires me with fingers and claws.

"I like you when you're bossy," I tease.

She gives a sharp tug on my hair again, wicked little grin in place. "You do?"

"And when you're rough with me." I wrench off her shirts, toss them on the ground with mine. My mouth and teeth drag across the marks on her wrist. "Tell me what you want."

She tightens her grip in my hair. "Touch me."

I take her unoccupied hand, press her palm against my throat. The fog in her gaze thickens, a thrill running through her. Her hold tightens experimentally and I grunt in pleasure.

"Tell me again," I growl. "Like you mean it."

"Touch me," she repeats, fingers tightening and sending a dizzying high to my head and cock. "Now."

"Yes ma'am."

There's not much delicacy as I unbutton her jeans. I finger her panty line, then glide down and sink into the silken warmth pressed so close to me. She's wet and tight and wonderful where I seek out that special patch of prickled flesh.

"Oh!" Reece moans in the same instant I grit, "Fuck!" Her grip on my hair and throat slacken, claws dragging down my shoulders and digging into my biceps. Then she starts posting, chest heaving where she rides my fingers.

I capture her in another ballistic kiss. Greedily I drink her moans, lap at the curses, taste her gasps. I match my rhythm to the roil of her hips, coil and tease and stroke. She's absolutely gorgeous, all flushed skin and wild pleasure.

"Bastien." Reece bites my lip so hard I almost lose it right there. "Going to come."

"Do it, babe." I rumble.

She does. Hard. I watch in sheer awe as euphoria sweeps over her features. Brow furrowed, head thrown back, beautiful throat exposed and open for me. That little body convulses astride me, grinding and jerking while her insides quiver around my fingers.

Damn.

Withdrawing, I make a show of languidly licking her arousal from my skin, savor her pleasure. Brown eyes follow my tongue with blown pupils, slowly coming down from her high. Kiss-swollen lips part, close, part again.

"That – " she clears her throat, tries anew. "That can't taste good."

"Babe," I smirk. "I give head for my pleasure as well as yours."

She lets out a strangled little croak. "Oh."

Reaching down, I pick up her shirts. When I go to offer them back, however, I see that the sinister streak is back in her gaze. I swallow hard, all of me throbbing under the weight of her in my lap.

"I'm not done with you yet." She says in a sexy, husky voice. "Touch yourself."

I can't believe what I'm hearing. "What?"

She lashes out, yanking my head back by the hair. "Did I stutter?"

I groan. "No."

It takes me more than a few tries to undo my jeans. I'm too damn turned on. My dick is a railroad spike in my boxer briefs, leaking and desperate for relief. I palm my shaft through the cotton, the back of my hand nudging against the scars under her jeans.

Reece licks her lips. "Let me see."

Oh sweet baby Jesus.

None of this is moving slowly. I swear I just wanted a nice, simple dinner with wine and maybe a movie. Something to put her at ease, get her out of her head a little bit.

Yet here I am, pulling my dick out and pumping my erection. I look deep into her eyes, needing her to see how badly I want her, how this is all so much more than just sex. I want her to see herself like I do – talented, striking, and resilient.

Reece's eyes grow wide and hungry where I spread the precum over my head. I smirk, "You like what you see?"

Her gaze sharpens, finds mine once more. "You like that I'm watching?"

"Mhmm," I groan. "I do."

"Dirty boy." She simpers, flattening her hands over my abs and chest.

"Fuck yes I am," I confess, loving the dominant derision in her tone. "Call me that again."

Another evil grin. "Dirty boy."

I hiss. "Nails."

"What?"

"Use your damn nails," I beg.

There's a moment of hesitation. Then she makes a downward drag. It's light, at first. Then her fingers crook and furrow deep red marks across my muscles.

Her teasing smirk and delicious pain tightens my balls. I groan, movements becoming more erratic and desperate. I've always prided myself on having phenomenal stamina. Guess that's only when Reece isn't involved.

"Need to come."

"Do it," she orders.

I let out a very unmanly noise somewhere between a grunt and a whimper. I'm so close. "...messy."

Those claws dig into my thighs, my hips. "I said do it."

"Fuck!" I grit through clenched teeth. "Reece – you – shit!"

My orgasm paints my stomach and chest, pearly webs splattering against my skin. I thrust against Reece, against my hand, milking myself absolutely dry. Exhausted bliss fogs my mind where I lay, panting in the afterglow.

"Wow." Reece finally acknowledges as I start to spiral from my high.

I find her gaze, heated and cautious. Then I glance down to my abs and give a rueful laugh. "Told you it was messy."

To my utter amazement, she smiles. "It was kinda hot."

This girl is going to kill me.

"Yeah, you are." I swat her ass where she still perches across my thighs. "Scoot. I need to clean up. And we have dinner to eat."