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“I need you. Both of you. Now!”
Piers pressed against her opening until she stretched around him.
Suddenly, he was inside her and Ash was too.
Both of them moving in synchronization designed to drive her to the brink of ecstasy.
Chapter Ten
Piers gave Sylvee a once-over. “Hold on. You need a warmer coat than that. It’s chillier today.”
She smoothed her hands over her lightweight fleece jacket. “Are you sure? I’ll be doing barn chores with you. Once I get moving, I’ll be warm.”
“Trust me.” Piers was already walking away to grab the extra jacket he’d had the foresight to bring to the bungalow for those colder mornings outdoors. He grabbed the heavy barn coat off the hook by the front door and carried it back.
“Here, Peachy. Slide this on.” He held it out for her to slip her arms into.
When he adjusted it on her shoulders, she turned to face him.
His heart slammed into his ribs. “Goddamn, you are adorable.”
Her eyes softened, the depths like a calm sea.
Their night together had changed him, and if he had to guess, it changed her too.
Her dark brow arched. “Wait until you see me in your shirt.”
With a rumble, he drew her close and wrapped his arms around her. “Mmm. Citrus and something warmer, like vanilla.”
She drew back to meet his gaze. “What?”
“Your bodywash.”
“You know scents now? The old Piers never bothered with such things.”
Knowing women, and everything to do with them, was his business. But he wasn’t going to share that with Sylvee, especially when not a single one of those women ever mattered.
As usual, she picked up on what he wasn’t saying. “Did you have any special women at all, Piers?”
His mind skimmed over the handful of ladies he’d dated over the past twenty years. Their faces were all a blur. Some, he couldn’t even recall their names. Terrible of him, but a fact of life for a man whose heart had always belonged to another.
He caught a long tendril of Sylvee’s hair and guided it off her cheek. “None of them mattered.”
“You never saw yourself married. While I was planning out what kind of house I’d live in—” She stopped cold.
He searched her face. “What is it?”
“I just realized something. The house Charlie and I bought…it was traditional. Two stories, wood floors. Front porch with big columns.” She shook her head. “Nothing like he wanted.”
“What did he want?” He still wanted to ruin Charlie’s perfect white teeth with one punch, but she needed to speak freely about him. If he knew anything else about women, it was that they needed to work out their issues in their own time. He’d listened to plenty of them.
“He loved modern shapes. Buffed concrete floors. He was just buying into my dream. I see that now.”
“That’s his problem.” He threaded his fingers through her hair and lightly cupped her nape. “He had a voice to speak up. He chose not to.”
“It happens a lot in marriages, that’s true. After dealing with so many divorces in the practice, I can see the patterns. I just never thought I’d become a statistic.”
“Nobody sets out to get a divorce, baby. It doesn’t make you a failure.”
