Page 17

MYRA

I press my lips together before I threaten to douse the man next to me in whiskey every time I see him.

It’s tempting though.

Being forward isn’t something I’ve ever done. Mostly because there was nothing I wanted to initiate. Being touched by my ex-husband turned my stomach and left me disgusted with him.

With myself.

I assumed I might always feel like that. That physical intimacy was something that would sound good in theory but be unbearable in practice.

I assumed incorrectly.

I’ve barely scratched the surface of being close like that with Simon, and I’m already craving more. Already feeling all the things I thought weren’t meant to be mine.

Desire. Lust. The need to be touched. Held.

My momentary lapse of judgment initially seemed like a mistake, but it brought me more clarity than anything else I’ve done this past year. It was instant and profound. Shifted the foundation I believed was under me.

And now that I haven’t had a drink since before I sang, hopefully Simon will trust that my thoughts and decisions are unhindered enough to explore this new footing I’ve got.

“My, I...” Simon seems to struggle for words as he shifts in his seat. “Are you sure you’re not hungry? I could pick something up on the way back.”

An amused smile curves my lips at his attempt to change the subject. To move away from the evening’s events. It’s cute. Endearing, even. And one of the many reasons I’ve decided I want Simon to be the first man I ask to touch me.

Even when I basically threw myself at him, he didn’t take advantage. He was the one to hit the brakes. Because he’ll only touch me if I’m sure I want it.

And—after thinking it over the second half of the show—I definitely want that.

“I’m not hungry.” For food. My body is humming with another sort of need, but I’m not really sure how to go about asking him to assist me with that problem.

Do I just put it out there? Excuse me, Simon, would you please stick your hand in my pants?

Possibly put your tongue between my thighs the way I’ve fantasized?

Pretty sure that’s not the correct method.

Simon grips the wheel, quickly glancing my way before looking back out the windshield. “I guess if you change your mind, at least now your refrigerator is full.”

Yet another reason why I want Simon to touch me. He’s already shown a willingness to take care of me, and that gives me hope that maybe he’ll be interested in taking care of me in other ways.

Ways no one ever has. I didn’t even know what an orgasm felt like until I came to Memphis. Had no clue something like that was possible. But once I figured it out, I had a lot of years to make up for.

I turn, angling my body, hoping his expression might give me some clue about how to get what I want. “Thank you for that, by the way. It was very sweet of you to take care of me.”

Simon’s jaw flexes, the tension building in his shoulders making them crawl closer to his ears. “You don’t have to thank me for that, Myra.” Another glance my direction. “Based on the lack of food in your house, you could probably use a little taking care of.”

The landscape outside shifts from residential to industrial as we get closer to the isolated, dead-end street I call home.

Time’s running out. If I don’t make my move soon, I’ll be alone, untouched, and filled with an ache I’ve never faced.

“You’re right. No one’s ever taken care of me before.

” I lower my voice, hoping it sounds suggestive instead of whispery, as I lay out my best attempt at seduction. “In any way.”

If I didn’t know Simon better, I’d think the shift in his features was due to anger.

But I do know Simon. Have probably watched him a little too closely anytime he came home.

And he wouldn’t get mad at me for saying something like that.

It’s possible he could be mad at the way my ex-husband treated me, but that’s not what I think has tightened his jaw and squinted his eyes.

I’m more inclined to think the stiff way he’s sitting is more about controlling his reaction to my words. More specifically—their implication. And based on his initial reaction to my kiss, I think things might be looking good for my libido.

After turning onto our street, Simon whips the box truck right to the edge of the road. He turns again, parking it sideways in front of the fence that identifies the end of our neighborhood before shutting off the engine. “We’re home.” He practically jumps out of the truck, fleeing.

“Dammit.” I fling my door open and slide out, feet connecting a little harder with the asphalt than I expected thanks to my rush. The impact jars my joints and has me wobbling in the tan heels strapped at my ankles, making me yelp.

“ Myra .” There’s a hint of panic in Simon’s voice. A second later he’s there, hands on me as his dark eyes move up and down my body. “What happened?”

I reach out, grabbing the front of the shirt he claims he spilled whiskey on, holding tight.

“I’m okay. I just slid out of the seat a little speedier than I thought I would.

” Taking full advantage of the situation, I shift my weight, leaning forward against him. “Thank you for making sure I was okay.”

Simon’s hands flex where they grip my hips, but he doesn’t let go. “You’re welcome.”

I gaze up at him, my heart beating wildly in my chest. “It seems like you’re always taking care of me lately.”

My eyes drop to his mouth, zeroing in on lips that were on mine not long ago.

It was the single best kiss I’ve ever experienced in my life.

Technically, there’s not a lot of competition for that spot, but still.

I’m pretty sure it would have landed the honor even if I hadn’t only ever kissed my flabby-lipped ex-husband.

The reminder digs up memories I’d rather not revisit. I don’t like thinking about where I’ve been. It wasn’t a great place. And going back there is my least favorite thing to do, even if it’s only in my head.

But the thoughts linger, and I want to wipe them away. Eradicate every second of them from my memory forever. I know that’s not possible, but I can force them out for now. And I know exactly how to accomplish it.

Reaching up, I hook one hand around the back of Simon’s neck, pulling him toward me. Bringing his face close to mine, I push up onto my toes until our lips are less than an inch apart. “You should kiss me again.”

I think he wants this as much as I do, but I’ve already made the first move once—plus tossed out more than one suggestive comment in the past ten minutes—and if I keep having to do it, I’m gonna start to question our alignment.

“I shouldn’t kiss you, Myra.” Simon’s hands slide over my body, tracing the curve of my hips and thighs. “You need time to breathe. Space to decide what you want.”

That has my brows pulling together. “I don’t remember saying that.” I’ve had time and space, and all I did was sit in one spot like a lump. I couldn’t move forward, and I sure as hell didn’t want to go back. More time and space are the last things I need.

What I do need is someone who’ll push me a little. Someone who’ll urge me forward when I start to drag my feet. Not because they want to control me, but because they have faith in me. Want the best for me.

Care about me.

“I carried you out of the woods while your father and ex-husband hunted you like an animal.” Simon’s voice is rough with an emotion that warms my insides. “You went through hell. The last thing you need is another asshole expecting shit from you.”

“You’re not an asshole,” I defend him immediately. “And you don’t expect anything from me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, My.” Simon’s big hands grip my thighs, hauling me up his body until we’re face-to-face. “And that is exactly why I should be giving you space and time. Because my expectations for you are already through the fucking roof.”

The way he says it makes every part of me clench, but primarily the part of me that’s now pressed right against the sizable bulge in the front of his pants.

I’m not going to point it out, but while Simon says he wants to give me time and space, my current position implies something entirely different.

Instead of pushing me away, he hefted me up and pulled me closer.

Has my back pressed against the side of the box truck and my legs wrapped around his waist, my body held in place with his.

Simon leans in, but instead of giving me the kiss I’m desperate for, he traces his lips up the side of my neck, sending goosebumps breaking out across my skin. I’m not sure how I expected this to go, but being pinned midair in the dark definitely wasn’t on my bingo card.

I think I need to update that freaking card.

I understand how sex works. And not just the missionary ‘stick it in and pound away’ sort I’ve experienced. I know there’s way more to the act than I’ve been privy to, and now my brain is swirling with possibilities.

I didn’t expect I would ever want to have sex again. Because—like so much else in my life—I was stuck. Caught in an unsatisfying and depressing sort of limbo between what was and what could be.

I’m not in limbo anymore.

Simon breathes deep, the drag of his inhale cooling the skin just beneath my ear. He groans. “You smell so fucking good.”

My head is already spinning, and the lustful sound of Simon’s voice adds momentum. Ramps up the dizzying pace epically. Because in just two tiny interactions, he’s made me feel sexy and safe and wanted. It has me feeling almost drugged. A little giddy.

And powerful. Very, very powerful.

“I don’t think you understand how hard it’s been for me to stay away from you.” Simon leans back to look at me, his lids low with lust and arousal. “To walk away when I know I can give you every fucking thing you need.”

The spinning in my head amps up as I fight to pull air into my lungs. “Why do you walk away then?”

“Because you’re not ready for me.” He shifts, the hard line of his dick teasing against me in a way that sends more sensation racing through me than my vibrator ever could. “For everything I want to give you.” He leans in, his lips hovering just above mine. “For everything I want from you.”

I swore I would never give anything of myself to a man again, but I can’t stop myself from asking, “What do you want from me?”

“Everything.” The deep rumble of that single word ripples through me, hot as it drops through my body, warming my nipples and making my pussy clench.

Simon’s nose traces alongside mine as he rocks against me again, mimicking an act I’ve had done to me, but never participated in.

“I’m not patient, My.” His hands tighten where they grip my ass.

“And I’m not good at doing what I know I should.

” He rocks against me again, and I gasp, already deliciously close to experiencing my first orgasm initiated by another person.

Simon’s eyes align with mine as he continues dry fucking me against the side of the truck. “Just like now. I shouldn’t be doing this, but I can’t fucking stop myself.”

My fingers dig into his back as my head tips back against the metal wall of the truck behind me. I’ve got no leverage. No ability to even accomplish so much as a wiggle. All I can do is trust him to give me what I want.

And it’s fucking liberating.

“You’re fucking irresistible, My.” Simon’s breath mingles with mine, his voice rough and ragged as he continues. “I try, but all I want in this world is as much of you as I can get.”

I’m not sure what’s doing the most for me right now.

It could be the friction of his cock dragging between my thighs.

Could be the insanely sexy way he’s got me pinned against the truck.

Or it could be the ragged words coming out of his mouth.

Whatever it is, Simon’s got me on the edge faster than even modern mechanics has managed.

The only thing stopping me from toppling over is fear. Worry of what he’ll think of me if I do. It’s ingrained into the fiber of my being. Drilled into my head that this isn’t something I should want or crave.

“ Simon .” I choke out his name. Needing reassurance. Needing to know I’m as safe with him as I think I am.

His lips drag to my ear, his breath warm as encouragement spills between them. “That’s it, baby. Come for me. Give me just a little bit of what I want tonight.”

Hearing my pleasure isn’t simply an acceptable byproduct of what’s happening, but something he’s actively pursuing, is more than I expected, but exactly what I need. The next time he grinds against me, I cry out, pleasure unlike anything I’ve ever experienced washing over me. Through me.

“That’s my girl.” Simon continues working his body against mine, his broad chest expanding with heavy breaths as the world spins out around me.

I cling to him. Not because I’m afraid he’ll drop me, but because I think he might be the only thing anchoring me to this world.

To this moment. And I don’t want to leave it.

Don’t want to let it go. Don’t want to lose what it’s giving me.

Because as high as I felt after singing on stage, it was nothing compared to how I feel right now.

For the first time ever, I feel alive.

Simon’s head lifts, his hooded eyes moving over my flushed face. “Fucking beautiful.” After brushing a kiss across my forehead, he slowly lowers my legs, holding me tight as my feet hit the ground.

I’m still dazed and a little out of it when movement catches my eye. I blink hard, thinking I’m simply still fogged by the cloud of release. But then I hear rustling coming from the same area.

Simon must hear it too, because his whole body stiffens, going on alert.

Slowly, his head turns in the direction of the fence behind him.

I don’t know who the wooded area at the other side of it belongs to, but they sure don’t do much to maintain it.

The overgrowth obscures anything—or anyone—who might be lingering in the shadows.

Never once have I worried about it, but right now, a chill snakes down my spine as my eyes follow the line of the fence as it runs right up alongside my house.

Because I’m pretty sure someone on the other side of that fence just watched me get off.