Page 89 of Perfect Assumption

Well, there goes my chance to see Beckett Miller in concert. Please, God, let it be rescheduled when I can make it. I had backstage passes. Crap.

— Moore You Know

The wind is whipping outside Angie’s living room window, blowing gusts of snow overtop of the roof. It’s a miserable night, calling for ruin and misery. Yet, cradled within her arms, I can’t believe that to be true.

A warmth hits me square in the chest as I study her glowing face. Slowly, still shy despite everything we’ve done, she reaches up to push a strand of hair off my forehead. Before it drops away, I turn my head and kiss the center of her palm.

This is a time for her to realize I meant everything I said earlier. She’s worth more to me than anything else in my life. She has no idea, but she’s the gold that Midas really wanted when he asked Dionysus for a wish.

She’s unmeasurable riches beyond compare. There’s nothing that could equal the value of her in my life. Ever.

“Are you sore?” I ask in a low rumble.

Her head flops back and forth on the pillow, sending her hair dancing like flames. “Maybe I will be later, but right now, I’m too…” She breaks off in contemplation.

Bracing myself on my forearms, I capture her mouth for a brief kiss. The motion pushes my hips tighter against hers, causing a sweet moan to escape her swollen lips. Tearing my mouth away, I pant, “Too what, Angel?”

“Euphoric maybe?”

“That you were able to be with someone?” I cup her cheek to show my support.

“No, Ward. That when I finally chose to make love with someone, it was you.” Her simple words, the directness of them, unman me.

“Angel, there’s nothing special about me.”

She wiggles her hips, her lips curving against mine. “I beg to differ.”

The sauciness makes me bark out a laugh. My forehead drops down to hers. “Every moment I find out something new about you that astonishes me.”

Her hands slide up my arms. “And to think, after dinner I thought you might find me perfectly boring by this point.”

I slowly pull out, causing her to catch her breath. “Boring is the absolute last thing you ever could be, Ms. Fahey.”

I reach for a tissue on the end table and quickly dispense with the condom. Before I can leave our makeshift bed to tend to her, I hear her soft voice murmur, “But I’m afraid I’m not strong enough.”

“For what?”

“For…” Angie squares her shoulders much in the same way she does when she’s at the office and is about to press her point with one of us. I’ve always thought it was adorable. Until now when she declares, “For you. I’m afraid I’m not strong enough for you.”

I surge to my feet, my jaw clenched. “I can use the bathroom down the hall?” She nods. “Don’t move an inch, Angela. I will be taking care of you before we discuss this.”

Striding to the bathroom, I quickly dispose of the soiled tissue and wash my hands before reaching for a few washcloths I find neatly stacked on a shelf. Wetting one down with the ice-cold water, I run it over my chest and cock before tossing it into her shower. Dampening a second, I carry it with me back to the living room along with a dry one.

Unsurprisingly, Angie’s covered herself up with the blanket. I immediately rip it off.

“Ward!” she screeches, her hands instinctively moving to cover her breasts and mound.

I can’t prevent the wicked smile that touches my lips. “No wonder virgins were so prized in ancient times.”

“We were sacrificed!” she retorts.

“That too.” Sitting down on the side of the bed, I hush her. “This is part of the honor of being the first man you trusted with your body.”Your heart. And if I have my way, I will be the only man to have both.Somehow,I refrain from saying the words aloud. Slowly, I begin at her neck and run the cold towel over her ample breasts, careful not to aggravate her nipples.

She shivers. I bite back a smile.

I trail the cloth over her stomach, drying her skin with the other, showing her with each touch that men aren’t the monsters who hurt her. Certainly not this man. By the time I reach between her legs to clean up the trace evidence of her virginity, Angie’s writhing again. Her arms are stretched to the side, fingers clenching the blankets. Her feet slide back and forth, agitated.

Her blue eyes are twin flames burning with a need she’s unaccustomed to ask for.