Page 21

I genuinely wanted to take a step back after our kiss backstage. I had good reasons for it. She’d been drinking—I could taste the bourbon on her tongue. She’d also just performed for the first time in front of a crowd, and that had her in a euphoric frame of mind.

But both the alcohol and the euphoria had worn off by the time she told me no man had ever gotten her off, and that knowledge was more than I’m capable of corralling.

I thought maybe being the first man to watch her come undone would satisfy me. At least for a little while.

Guess not.

“I...” Myra pulls in a quick breath before admitting, “I usually use it every morning before I get out of bed.”

Fuck . Every damn morning? I was just hoping for once a week, but once a day? I’ve died and for sure gone to heaven. In spite of all the shit I’ve done in my life.

“Look at the clock, Myra.” I move closer as she turns to glance over one shoulder, bringing my hands to her hips. “Tell me what time it is.”

She sways a little in my hold. “It’s four o’clock.”

“That sounds like morning to me.” I wrap one arm around her back. “The only problem is, you’re already out of bed, so we might have to bend the rules a little bit.”

Myra’s hands slide up, coming to grip my biceps. “I’m okay with bending the rules.”

“That’s good, because I think we might be doing a lot of that in the very near future.” I slide the hand still at her hip across her belly, tracing the waistband of her pajama pants. “But if you ever decide you’re done, you just say the word and everything stops. Always.”

I don’t know the full specifics of what happened to Myra during her marriage—it’s probably best if it stays that way—but I know enough to assume she’s been touched against her will. I want her to know that will never happen with me.

I tease the tip of my nose against hers. “Can I touch you now?”

Myra’s head barely moves in a nod. “Okay.”

I groan at her quick agreement. “Thank fuck.”

Stepping in, bringing my body flush against hers, I work my hand under the elastic and into the soft cotton of her panties. I’m not expecting her to be as wet as she is, and the slickness of her hot flesh under my fingers has me groaning again. “You’re soaked for me, Sweetheart.”

Myra whimpers as I tease alongside the hard nub of her clit, her fingers digging into my skin as her legs wobble.

“I’ve got you.” I tighten the arm I have around her back, supporting her weight as I gently strum the tiny bit of flesh I plan to use to my full and complete advantage anytime she lets me.

“I won’t let you fall.” I rest my forehead against hers, breathing in the air from her lungs as I soak up the feel of her against me.

The scent of her skin. The sounds she makes.

I want to stretch the moment out. Bring her to the edge over and over. When I finally let her fall, I plan to leave her wrung out and spent. But as I’m not sure she’s ready for that yet, I let her move as fast as she wants. Let her set the pace.

And my Myra is a bit of a speed demon.

Before I’m ready, she cries out, body shuddering against me as she comes for me for the second time.

When she slumps against me, pride swells my chest. This woman has every reason not to trust men. Not to put her safety and well-being in their hands. But she trusted me when I told her I wouldn’t let her fall. Believed the promise I made her without question or concern.

And it might be the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me.

Carefully, I shift her toward the bed, laying her onto the mattress as she pulls in deep gulps of air, her flushed cheeks puffing just a little as she blows them back out.

After lifting her feet into place, I lean down and press a kiss to the slightly sweaty skin of her forehead.

“Don’t move.” I straighten, giving her a stern look.

“And I expect you to listen this time.” Taking in the boneless state of her, I don’t imagine I’ve got anything to worry about, but I’m making a point.

I appreciate her trying to come to my rescue earlier, but if it had been an actual intruder, and she’d gotten hurt, I would have never forgiven myself.

Myra blinks up at me, the lift of her lids slow, expression dazed. “Kay.”

Satisfied she’s going to listen, I duck into the bathroom, retrieving two washcloths from under the sink and soaking one with warm water. After wringing it out, I carry both the damp rag and the dry one out to where Myra’s still splayed across the blankets.

Her eyes follow my movements, brows pinching together. “What are you doing?”

“Cleaning up the mess I made.” I hook a finger under the waistband of her pants, also catching her panties in the process, and hold the layers away from her body.

“I want you to be comfortable while you sleep.” I carefully work the warm cloth between her thighs, gently swiping away the slickness collected there before patting it dry.

After righting her pajamas, I straighten, pulling the covers over her before tossing both rags into the hamper and sliding into bed beside her.

This time I don’t hesitate or worry about what I should or shouldn’t do.

I curl onto my side and pull her body close to mine, resting my head on the pillow as the soft strands of her blonde hair tickle my face.

“Now go to sleep. I’m pretty sure the shit’s going to hit the fan when I tell everyone Butch showed up, and we’re going to need our rest to deal with it.”