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I blink at him, dumbfounded by his words. "No way." I shake my head. "But you never…"

He lightly rubs his lips against mine.

"No, I didn't. Because you were obviously going through something. You were in your head a lot, and I wanted to give you time to do whatever you needed to do to get ready for me."

I laugh at that. "There's that ego," I murmur, sliding him a glance from beneath my lashes. "Women definitely have to have the right headspace for you. That's for certain."

He kisses me again. And then again. I pull him down for a third time before he ends the kissing and locks his arms against the quartz countertop as he gives me a thorough once-over.

"Two days," he murmurs.

I laugh again. "You'll survive just fine."

Something in my words darkens his eyes, and he inhales and shoves himself off the counter to his full height.

Survive, I realize. That's the trigger. But I can't allow him to lock me away, even out of concern. "I'll be fine."

"Remember what you promised. Don't take any chances."

I poke a finger into his chest. "Right back at you."

Sully's tension ramps up before he gives me one last kiss and grabs a duffle bag on his way toward the door. I hear him locking it once he's outside.

I brace my palms behind me on the cold countertop and lean my head back to stretch.

Take no chances. I nod at that, the warmth and heat generated by a too-handsome man and lots of kisses fading as my brain refocuses on reality.

My reality. I cannot—I will not—buckle beneath fear or Sully's possessiveness and protectiveness. I am my own woman, and I must see to my safety and future regardless of whether Sully is in it.

That's being a responsible woman. It's being loyal to myself.

I leave the counter and go in search of the pile of cards and gifts I was given, finding the one I want near the bottom.

I can't say I'm not afraid of what Thad may try to do next, especially considering what he's already done. I'd be lying to myself and everyone else if I pretend otherwise.

But I'm done being a victim.

The opposite of fear is power. Strength. Being able to give myself a fighting chance, no matter the circumstances.

So that's my next step…

Thirty minutes later, I enter the building housing Safe Harbor. I don't call first because I don't want to give myself the chance to chicken out.

No, I jumped in the shower, pulled my hair up into a pony and headed out the door. The guys outside—Ranger and Decoy, as they introduced themselves—don't seem pleased when they eye my workout gear, but they climb onto their bikes and follow me to my destination.

I've never done anything like this before in my life. I don't even exercise that much these days due to my work schedules. Going to a self-defense class is out of my comfort zone, and that's the understatement of the year.

But here I am. Staring around the inside of what appears to be an old garage if the multiple expansive doors are any indication. They're up to allow the early March breeze to blow through.

The block walls are decorated with quotes about strength and empowerment, and a Bible verse about doing all things. There's also a massive mural of a bulldog, his paws and tough-boy expression matching the logo on the business card and the pamphlet that came with my gift.

"You're Sully's girl."

I bristle at the term before resigning myself to the truth. "My name is Violet," I say as I swing around to face a giant of a man that seems to take up the majority of the interior space. He's big and broad with huge arms, thick thighs and looks as muscular as the bulldog face painted on the wall.

"No need to be afraid of me, hon. I'd die before hurting a woman."

I swallow hard and force myself to nod, my heart tugging at his statement. Not all men. But men. Hopefully this guy is as trustworthy as he says. "You're…kind of an intimidating guy. Do you know how big you are?"