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"Tamra, I guess. She was given the honor of your love and of carrying your child."
"Hm. Well, back in the day, I did love her. She was beautiful. Long blonde hair and a face that would stop traffic. Her family was prominent, one of the wealthiest families in Boones County. Her dad runs Amalgent Plastics. And she wanted me. I was enamored with her and couldn't figure it out. Why me?"
She huffed out a breath. "Really? You're handsome, fit, honorable. What's not to like?"
"I didn't run in her circles. They owned the county and everyone in it. When we married, I was still so shocked that I signed every paper put in front of me by her attorney. A prenup, saying I wasn't entitled to any of her trust fund, her father's company, any of the family investments or real estate holdings. Basically, I couldn't touch a single thing they owned. As if I were dirt under their shoes. I couldn't figure it out. Why me then?"
His fingers softly caressed her cheeks, and even though he was looking at her, she got the feeling he wasn't at all.
"It wasn't long into the marriage I realized what a handful she was. Never pleased with anything. Bitchy, unhappy, and demanding. Nothing I did was good enough. I didn't dress right, walk right, talk right. When I continued to work as a bounty hunter, that behavior and her complaints came more often and louder in tone. When she found out she was pregnant, I think a part of her hated that baby growing inside of her. She whined and cried and bitched. It was horrible. She and Emmy almost came to blows many times over the years. Dawson and his wife, Sylvia, can't stand the sight of her.
“After Falcon was born, when I had to go out of town for work, I'd take him to my parents’ or Emmy's house. I felt real fear in leaving her alone with him. I didn't think she'd purposely hurt him, but she'd ignore his needs and not take care of him. She started using cocaine when Falcon was one or two. I've never gotten a straight answer, but she hid it well. It took me about five years to really see what was happening. Little telltale signs—she lost weight, her hair became limp and stringy, and the lines around her eyes more prominent. Then I found traces of the powder in the bathroom sink. I've been around it enough to know what it is."
Cupping his face in her right hand, she whispered, "I'm so sorry."
His eyes focused on her again, his gaze intense and dark. "Don't be sorry; it isn't your fault."
Turning, she lifted up on her elbow as she faced him, a sad smile on her face. "I know it isn't, but I've been there. Finding out your spouse isn't the person you thought they were or finding out they never were and you were too self-absorbed to see it."
His fingers tangled in her hair, running through the curls and the look on his face seemed almost marveled at how it felt sliding through his fingers.
"I wanted to resist you, you know. I've sort of found a calm sort of peace in my own little world, and I'm not interested in entanglements. But, the instant I saw you in person, it was like a punch in the gut." His hand moved from her hair to her face, and his thumb roved along her brows, her nose and down her cheek to her jaw. "It's more than your beautiful face—your smile."
He shook his head as if to gather his thoughts and her heartbeat thrummed so fiercely her breath became shallow. She could count on one finger the times a man ever really looked at her like Ford did right now.
"You have a quiet strength that calls to me in some way. Your stoicism is a beacon to my ship. I've read Waylon's file, his rap sheet, and heard you speak about him, and you never feel sorry for yourself. We're the same and different at the same time, you and me."
Her fingers itched to feel the whiskers on his chin, the shadow already growing in the early afternoon. The curly hairs on his chest beaconed for her fingertips to touch them and she didn't resist the call. Lightly touching his chest, smoothing her soft hands over the texture of his skin, a soft sigh left his lips, and she looked up to see his eyes had closed. Gently moving her hand over his nipple, swirling around the dark flat disk, his eyes flew open, and the barely discernible pupils grew large, making those dark orbs darker, almost black. But not sinister—shiny and dark and deep. She saw it now. They held so much emotion in them—tightly leashed and held in check.
"I thought you were scary. At first. You clench your jaw when you're irritated, and that's all I saw at first."
Her fingers gently brushed over his brow and lightly over his eyelids as they closed. "I see now that you aren't always irritated; you're concerned. You care."
When he spoke, it was almost a hiss. "Yes."
"That might be the scariest thing of all."
"Yes."
Chapter22
He slowly rolled her onto her back and cradled his legs between her thighs. It felt right the way their bodies fit together. His firm lines fit so perfect on all of her softness. Her breasts weren't huge, but they were full and heavy and thick. The feel of them as his hands molded and squeezed them sent electric jolts through his body landing on his cock. Tamra had never had that effect on him. She was gorgeous but too thin and boney. He'd been awed that she was interested in him at all, but her body offered no feeling of belonging or rightness. Megan was soft and welcoming and giving.
Touching his lips to hers, he enjoyed the feel of them against his—warm, wet, and inviting. Her lips softened and molded to his perfectly with the perfect amount of pressure and moisture. Her tongue dipped into his mouth and danced with his, both firm and soft and then she swirled it around and gently sucked his tongue between her lips and his cock jumped and thickened painfully. Then she giggled.
"I can feel how hard you are already." Her hips wiggled against him, then she arched up, so her pussy brushed against his hardened cock and the breath flew from his lungs.
"I'm clean. I was tested after Waylon and a couple of times since just to make sure. But I haven't been with anyone else since my divorce."
"Jesus. Megan." He thrust forward, rubbing his rigidness against her soft curls and enjoying the whimpering sounds that came from her chest.
"I'm clean too. I understand if you want me to prove it."
Her shaking head was the only answer he needed. Lifting up just enough to palm his cock, he stroked himself twice, his work roughened hand just enough abrasion that when he slid into her softness, it would feel like heaven. Her legs opened wider in invitation, and her hands cupped her gorgeous tits and lifted them up for him to suck on. Holy fuck.
Eagerly taking a proffered nipple into his mouth, he sucked in deeply and reveled in the sounds she made—part moan, part whimper—from deep in her chest. It almost sounded like she was growling or purring like a cat when it's content.
Kissing across her chest, he sucked the other breast deep into his mouth, and there it was, the purring sound. Her hips arched up, and his hand stilled at the base of his cock until she lowered herself down. Positioning the thick crown of his cock oozing with precum, swirling it onto the seam of her pussy, she reared up again, and he pushed himself inside.
