Page 15

SIMON

I need to stop this. Let Myra go and give us both a second to breathe.

And I will. In just a minute.

After I take a second to appreciate everything about the moment. The feel of her body against mine. The taste of her on my tongue. The sweet way she looked at me in surprise after pressing her lips to mine.

Like she didn’t know what just happened. Didn’t understand what she’d just started. The dam she’d broken.

I’ve been holding back— my version of holding back. Trying, at least inwardly, to do the things I know I should. Give Myra space. Keep things simple between us. Appropriate. Uncomplicated.

But truthfully, things have been complicated since I carried her away from the man who did nothing but use her.

So, instead of pushing her away, I pull her closer. Wrap one hand in her hair while the other keeps her body against mine. I take everything she’s willing to give me. Drink in every move. Every sound. Every breath.

Dragging my mouth off hers, I press my lips to her neck, breathing in the scent of her skin as I run my lips along her jaw and up to her ear. I’m pushing things further than I first intended—shocker—but I’m still in control. Still aware of what I’m doing.

But then her hands leave where they’ve been laced around my neck, soft palms sliding over my bare skin as they slide down my chest. When the tips of her fingers drag across my nipples, I have to bite back a groan.

Forcing myself to push her away, I fight to keep my grip on the tiny shred of restraint I’m still in possession of. My chest heaves as I hold her at arm’s length, my fingers digging into her hips.

Myra blinks up at me, gaze hooded, lips parted. All I want is to pull her back. Run with everything I’m feeling and never look back.

But I can’t. Because this isn’t about me. It’s not about what I want or what I need.

Myra’s pale brows pinch together in confusion. She tries to step closer to me, but I hold firm, keeping her where she is.

“We need to stop.” I can’t believe those words are coming out of my mouth. I’m shocked I manage to spit them out, but I do. They don’t sound convincing, but they’re there.

A flash of hurt moves across Myra’s pretty face. “Oh.” One hand lifts to her mouth, wiping across her lips. “I thought?—”

“No.” I grab her hand, wrapping my fingers around her wrist as I pull it away before she can rid herself of any trace of me. “It’s not like that.”

Myra’s eyes come to my face. “Like what?”

“I didn’t say I wanted to stop. I said we needed to stop.

” My whole life I’ve chased down what I wanted.

Grabbed it with both hands, refusing to let go until I had no other option.

But I won’t do that to Myra. She’s gone her whole life not having choices.

I’ll be damned if I try to take one more decision out of her hands.

“I don’t understand.” She tries to step toward me again, but I spread the hand that was holding her wrist across her belly, ensuring at least some distance stays between us.

“You’ve been drinking, and you just came off stage. Your mind is being affected in more than one way. When something happens between us, I want you to be thinking clearly.”

Myra cocks her head. “When?”

I blink, unsure what she’s asking me. “What do you mean, when ?”

Her eyes drift down my body, hooded with desire as she takes in the chest I left bare thinking it might catch her attention. “You said when something happens between us.” Her gaze slowly comes back to my face. “Not if .”

Well. Fuck.

I open my mouth to reply, but the next second, the curtains blocking us off from the rest of the bar begin to move. Dropping my hands, I take a step back, putting even more distance between Myra and me.

“Oh my gosh. That was amazing.” Lydia rushes into the small space, throwing her arms around her older sister’s neck. “You sounded freaking insane.” She leans back, smile faltering as she looks over Myra’s face. “What’s wrong? Did you not enjoy it?”

Myra’s eyes come to me, hanging for just a split second before going back to her sister. “I enjoyed it. I think I’m just overwhelmed.”

Lydia smooths back Myra’s blonde hair, arranging the loose curls around her shoulders. “I can imagine. It was probably a pretty surreal experience to be singing what you were singing, where you were singing it.”

Again, Myra’s eyes come my way. It’s only for a second, but if she keeps doing it, someone’s bound to notice.

When her focus returns to Lydia, she smiles softly. “A lot about tonight is kind of surreal.”

Lydia hooks one arm around Myra’s shoulders, leading her through the curtain. “Piper and I cheered so loud. Could you hear us?”

I don’t catch the rest of the conversation. It’s lost to the drone of the crowd as the women make their way down the handful of steps leading off the stage and get lost in the sea of people here to watch us play.

My eyes stay fused to her until she’s out of sight. I’m not ready for her to go yet. I don’t like the way we left things. I don’t want Myra thinking she did anything wrong. That I was rejecting her.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

“Did you have any idea she could sing like that?” Christian’s voice startles me. I’ve been so focused on Myra, I didn’t even notice he’d come in with Lydia. Which is stupid, because, generally speaking, the man follows his wife wherever she goes. And I hate him a little for having that opportunity.

Forcing my attention away from the crowd, I turn to my friend. “No. Did you?”

Christian chuckles, shaking his head. “Lydia told me Myra sang in church all the time, but she didn’t come close to preparing me for what we saw tonight.” He braces his hands on his hips the way he does when he’s thinking something over. “The crowd fucking loved her.”

I nod. “They did.”

Myra’s voice is unreal. Powerful. Soulful. Just a little textured around the edges. Enough to give her a unique sound, but not so much her tone is raspy.

I could listen to her sing all day. Would do unholy things to find a way for her voice to be the one that sings my children to sleep.

Closing my eyes, I pull in a breath, scrubbing one hand over my face. I’m getting fucking ahead of myself. I always do. The worst part is, I like it. I like planning for what’s coming. Thinking about what I want to have.

And then finding a way to get there.

But I can’t do that this time. Not with Myra.

“I might see if she wants to perform with us again. Maybe do a few more songs next time.” Apparently, Christian is working on a few plans of his own. “Tonight we muddled through, but we could probably come up with some pretty fucking cool options if we actually practice.”

I don’t disagree. Plus, practicing means spending even more time with Myra. Unfortunately, spending more time with Myra means the odds I’ll manage to behave myself—give her the space to decide what she wants—go down exponentially.

And after that kiss, they’re already fucking underground.

“I’ll talk to her tomorrow. See how she’s feeling and what she’s thinking.” Christian seems to be just as excited about how the performance went as Myra is.

I can’t blame him. We’ve been playing together for a long time. And while I love it—some of my best memories are centered on nights like tonight—there’s a certain amount of stagnation creeping in. Adding a new voice to our lineup would bring in a freshness we probably need.

Tate slips through the curtain, carrying a drink for each of us. “Bottoms up, boys. We don’t have much time.”

I take the whiskey he brought me and tip it back, swallowing down a few mouthfuls even though I hate the idea of washing away Myra’s taste.

I need something to take the sharp edge off my thoughts.

Calm them down before they pick up momentum and start slashing through the boundaries I need to keep in place.

While we take a breather, Christian and Tate fall into an easy conversation about running businesses, and I start to tune them out. I do work for myself—contracting pays better than working for someone else, so that’s the route I take—but I don’t run a whole-ass business.

Yet . It could happen soon. I could start looking into buildings to?—

“Fuck,” I swear under my breath and drink down the rest of my liquor, letting the burn steal my attention away from plans I need to stop making.

Thankfully, our break is soon over and I throw myself into the performance.

At least, I try to.

Knowing where Myra sits makes it hard to look at anyone else. Impossible to keep my eyes from going to that spot anytime they can. And every time they go there, she’s looking back at me. Watching me the same way I’m watching her.

By the time the show’s over, my skin is itching with the need to get away. It’s obvious that’s the only option I have. I just need a night to get my head back in the game. To hit the brakes on the future my mind’s trying to manifest.

One featuring blue-eyed little girls with their momma’s serious nature and determination.

Once the show’s over, I bust my ass helping break down our set. Packing up lights and speakers and instruments while Tate and Christian take their sweet time, splitting their attention between the task and their wives.

I’m shoving the last of the wire into the back of the box truck we use to haul our shit around, when a soft voice freezes me in place.

“Hey.”

Bracing, I turn to find Myra standing right behind me. I’ve been staring at her all night, but I’m still struck by how pretty she is. What would it be like to wake up to her every morning?

To sleep beside her every night.

I clear my throat as my thoughts slide downhill fast. “Hey.”

“Umm.” Myra glances to where her sister and Piper stand talking to Christian and Tate. “Can I ride with you? They want to go get food, but I’m really tired.”

“Of course,” I agree without thinking.