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She shakes her head. “It’ll pass.”
My pulse races, and every fiber of my being wants to carry her back to New Alderney, where she can get the best care under my supervision. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, just give me a minute,” she says, her voice strained.
I loosen my grip on her shoulders but don’t let go. All I want is to point a gun at someone’s head and make her pain disappear. Since that’s not an option, I rub circles on her back, but even that gesture feels trite.
Emberly’s head flops forward, and she exhales a sigh, the soft sound stirring up memories of her panting and moaning at my command. I push those thoughts aside and focus on easing her discomfort.
“That feels so good,” she says, her voice breathy. “But then you always knew what to do with your hands.”
Heat rushes to my cock, but I force myself to stay calm. Emberly is relieved, not ready for anything else.
“Glad to help,” I say, my voice even.
“Aaah,” she sighs.
My jaw tightens and my nostrils flare. When I was on death row, if anyone had asked me what I looked forward to after exacting my revenge and reconnecting with my family, it would have been an endless stream of pussy.
I would never have imagined it being six months of jacking off to the memory of a woman I’m loving from afar.
Half a year of celibacy is fucking with my mind. My brain is misinterpreting her every move as an invitation to fuck. I need to get a grip on propriety.
“Let me check on the minestrone.” I pull back my hand.
“Don’t stop,” she moans.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
Fuck.
“I need to turn down the heat,” I mutter.
“Hurry back,” she says, and my cock swears she wants a deeper tissue massage.
I straighten, already feeling lightheaded because all sensation has gathered south. The horny bastard between my legs is at full mast, wanting to return to its favorite place in the world.
No matter how much I remind it that Emberly doesn’t want that bullshit, it still manages to lengthen and thicken.
Dickhead.
I march to the stove and take the lid off the pot. A cloud of steam wafts over my face, reminding me I’m here to give comfort, not to satisfy my urges. After stirring the pot, I turn down the heat, take a few deep breaths, and count to five to gather my thoughts.
My cock doesn’t want anyone else but Emberly, and neither does my heart. The ring around my finger is a constant reminder that there is no other woman for me but Emberly, yet the ring I wear on the chain around my neck presses down on my sternum like a brand.
To get her back, I need to at least act like a gentleman, even if every other part of me wants her on her hands and knees with me pounding into her slippery heat.
That’s not happening.
When I turn back, Emberly waits for me on the sofa, her green eyes darkening with desire. She breathes fast through parted lips and her breasts strain against the fabric of her T-shirt.
My heart stops.
I clear my throat and try to clear my mind, but all I can think of is how badly I want to kiss her. How desperately I need to feel her body against mine.
“Hungry, baby?” My voice lowers a few octaves.
“Come back to me,” she whispers.
