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I pat the bed beside me. “Come on, angel.”
It’s a bad idea to let her near me again, especially in this room. She’s hard enough to resist outthere, fully clothed in the daylight, but in my bedroom? Settling her perfect, round ass onto my bedspread?
“Can’t sleep?”
Jessica shakes her head, the movement jerky. Her lips are pale, and she stares at the opposite wall instead of looking at me. “Is it always like this?”
I cough. “Sometimes.”
Need to be honest about that, even if it puts her off. Even if it means she leaves.
The bed frame creaks and the mattress pings loudly, but I shuffle over and we get her settled against the headboard next to me. It’s weird, sitting in bed together like this in the soft glow of the lamp. Like we’re a real husband and wife.
Fuck. I can hardly breathe, I want that so badly.
Jessica plucks at her pajama pants. “Would you want to share a bedroom if…?”
If we got married. If by some miracle I kept her here.
“Yes.” Bedroom. Bathtub. The fireside. I want to share it all. “As long as that made you happy.”
Jessica nods, her plump lips pressing together, but she’s still staring at her thighs. Still fiddling with her pajama pants.
I wait. I can be a very patient man. I waited nearly forty years to meether, didn’t I?
“I thought you didn’t want to kiss me earlier.” Her voice is barely more than a whisper. “But it turns out you did.”
My chest rumbles in agreement. “I did.”
“And—and now…” She ducks her head, caramel hair swinging down to block her face, but she keeps talking. “Now I feel like you don’t want to, um. To bed me. But… am I wrong about that too?”
I stare at my mail order bride, chest aching. I’m hollowed out, thrumming with pain. She’s so shy, so unsure. I did this.
“Yes.” The words fight their way out of my tight throat. “Yes. You’re wrong about that, Jessica.” I sit up higher against the headboard, head ringing. “It’s all I can think about. Ever since the first glimpse I had of you, it’s been stuck in my mind. Sucking on your pretty little tits. Squeezing those hips. Feeling you sink down on my cock, working me into your body.” I swallow. “Of course I want that.”
There’s a long pause.
Jessica blows out a slow breath, and the tension in her shoulders melts away with it.
Finally, she looks at me, tucking her hair behind her ear and glancing over her shoulder. “You could have me, you know. So why don’t you want to?”
I’m too tired.
I’ve pulled a muscle.
The bed frame won’t survive it.
Bullshit excuses line up on my tongue, but my bride deserves better. She deserves the truth.
“I won’t be any good.” Jessica blinks, but she looks confused. Ah, shit. Nothing for it. “I haven’t done any of this before either.”
And fuck. It’s one thing for a young woman to admit such a thing—hell, men usually want to throw a victory parade when they hear that. But a middle aged man? A scarred recluse with so little to offer already?
“It won’t be bad forever.” God, I’m pleading now. My voice is low and urgent, and I need her to understand. “Believe me, Jessica, making you moan will be my life’s purpose once we’re married. I’ll never leave you wanting. But if we do it now and it’s bad and in the morning you make your decision—”
“Murray.” A small hand covers mine where I’m gripping the bedspread, white-knuckled. “It’s not like that. It’s not a test.”
Itis, though. These twenty-four hours are a test for both of us, and Jessica passed hers with flying colors the second she opened her mouth. She had my heart the second she took my hand on the cliffs.
