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In a fast maneuver, I flip her back over, cradling her in my arms and stalk over to the comfortable leather sofa and sit down, making sure to shift Ophelia into position so she is straddling me, holding her firmly in place. “I knew you would have the sexiest morning bed hair,” I compliment her wild mane.
“What?”
“Your hair is amazing. Looks like you have been having wild sex. Or have you been dreaming dirty dreams and playing with yourself? Did I star in them?”
Her mouth opens and shuts.
“Oh, Shagspeare, you have been a naughty girl. Don’t worry; mine were just as filthy.”
“I did not touch myself. I don’t know what you are—”
I press a finger to her lips. “Save it, we don’t have long until the house comes alive, and we need to make breakfast then leave for the hangar.”
“You all need to pack.”
“Alice and Teagan packed while you slept yesterday afternoon, and I always have two go-bags packed, so I’ll add to those after we arrive home from Temecula. Any more excuses?” She licks her lips again. “No? Then how would you like to spend the time we have in a soundproof studio?” The ball is in her court. Well, the anaconda is in my boxers. Not that sex is on the table, but Anaconda is Anaconda. He can’t help himself around this woman.
Ophelia sucks in a breath then lets it out slowly, her lips pursing together.
“Did I read you all wrong?”
“No… I mean…ugh…”
“Spit it out, woman. I don’t want any interruptions this time. I want to kiss you again.” I waggle my eyebrows.
She squirms in my lap, licking her lips. Hell, yeah, she is on board, but something is holding her back from committing.
“Have you got something to say?”
“No.”
“Well, okay then, I’ll serve the first ball.” My hand tangles in her bed hair, drawing her mouth toward mine.
“WAIT!” she whisper-shouts, smooshing her palm against my open mouth.
I lick her palm. Fire burns in her eyes for a moment before she shakes her head, extinguishing the flames.
“I need to ask you something.” She removes her hand, placing it on my shoulder.
Gently squeezing her bare thighs, I reply, “Okay. Shoot.”
She sighs like she has the world on her shoulders. “I’m not going to beat around the bush. Who is Jillian?”Shit.How much did Teagan spill? “Your sister told me nothing other than she deduced the song ‘Flicker’ you were singing as a sort of goodbye to a girl called Jillian.”
“This means you have been sitting outside listening for a while.” I stroke my beard. I’m not angry. I just didn’t want to have this conversation now. Maybe after Alaska.
“You have an amazing voice. My heart was hurting for you during a couple of the songs you sang, especially ‘Flicker.’”
But now it is.
“Yeah, well, Jillian is a painful story to tell,” I say softly.
“I am sorry, I shouldn’t be nosy, it’s just—”
“It’s okay. I will tell you.” She lets me draw her closer, resting my chin on her head, my arms wrapped securely around her, anchoring myself. I’ve spent the past three days convincing myself I am ready to put my guilt to bed and allow myself tofeelfor another woman on a deeper level—not just a one-night stand kind of level. “Jillian is/was my wife,” I murmur, holding tighter to keep her from climbing off me.
“What?!” Ophelia gasps, yanking her head away sharply as though I stung her.
I let out a weary sigh, so full of emotional baggage.
