Holding my hand.

Holding my hand.

Hard. Tight. Fingers laced.

Like he’d never let go.

Suddenly, like a shot, it hit me, my legs and arms tensed and I cried out as I came again. Not harder, not longer but for some reason way, way sweeter.

When I came down, his thumb was gone, his arm shoved under me, his hand curled around the back of my neck and his mouth came to mine as he kept thrusting, deeper, deeper, God, I loved having him inside me.

Then his h*ps bucked into mine, stayed planted, he groaned into my mouth and I loved that even more.

Nearly instantly, his lips left mine, slid across my cheek and I heard his labored breathing in my ear as I felt mine even out.

We were lying in the dark in the middle of night but everything about that moment I felt with a clarity I’d never had before.

Everything.

His weight on me, our bodies connected, his hand warm at my neck, fingers wrapped firm around the back, our fingers laced in the bed, his breath sounding in my ear, drifting across my skin, his weight on me, his thick, soft hair in my hand, my legs wrapped around him.

I hoped I never forgot that, any of it, not any of it, for the rest of my life.

I’d given Chace Keaton my virginity like I decided I wanted to do at the age of sixteen.

He took it and, before, gave me two orgasms and during, gave me another one.

And when I had mine and he had his, he held my hand.

Overwhelmed by all of it, the beauty of it, having what I’d dreamed of for years, having it be better than my dreams in a big way, the tears hit the backs of my eyes. I didn’t even try to stop my mouth when my head turned so I could find his ear.

“When I was sixteen, I saw you and when I did, I was young, romantic, and it might sound stupid but the minute I saw you, I knew I wanted to give that to you. I knew it was only you. I waited thirteen years, honey. It was worth the wait.”

His body stilled over mine and my heart clenched.

Oh frak, that was too much.

Oh frak! Maybe the first time couples did it, they didn’t share deep, romantic secrets.

Frak!

His hand slid from my neck as I tensed, uncertain what do, unable to escape him seeing as he was on me and in me. I had nowhere to go and no hope of getting there even if I had somewhere to go.

His body shifted slightly then the light came on.

I blinked at the sudden brightness.

Then I focused.

When I did, I stared.

The tears pooled in my eyes instantly at what I saw and mere moments later, slid out the sides.

Because his eyes were gazing in mine. His beautiful blue eyes, in his handsome face, on top of his amazing body. The eyes of a man who was all man.

And they were wet.

Oh my fraking God.

His hand came to my jaw, cupping it, his thumb sweeping across my cheekbone but he didn’t watch his thumb. His eyes never left mine and he didn’t hide it, he didn’t fight it.

I gave him my virginity.

He gave that to me.

It was the most beautiful gift I’d ever received.

Then he whispered, “I wanna see to you. Will you let me do that, Faye?”

I’d let him do anything.

Anything.

Even though I had no idea what he was talking about.

“Yes,” I answered.

His head dropped and, his lips on mine, he whispered, “Thank you.”

Then he touched his mouth to mine, gently, slowly slid out and he saw to me.

This being, he rolled out of bed, carefully gathering me in his arms and taking me with him. He then carried me to the bathroom and set my booty on the vanity counter. It was dark, only the light from the bedroom lighting the space. I saw his semi-shadow moving around as he turned on the taps of the tub. Then he moved to the little room that held the toilet, I heard it flush and he came back into the room.

The subdued light shown on his na**d body and I had my first glimpse of all that was Chace.

It was no less beautiful than my thirteen years of imagining made it out to be, broad shoulders, wide wall of chest, defined collarbone, muscled thighs, ridged abs, slim hips, cut hipbones.

But the sexy sprinkling of chest hair that spread out under his collarbone, over his pectorals, ribs, belly and led to the thicker hair above and around his beautiful c**k was a bonus I didn’t expect.

He stopped in front of me at the basin, gently pulled my nightie from under my booty and I held my breath as I lifted my arms and he tugged it off.

Before I could be embarrassed about being na**d in front of him, he lifted me in his arms again and set me on my feet beside the tub. Then he guided me and we climbed and settled in together, Chace behind me, his legs surrounding me, knees bent, me reclining between them back against his chest as the tub filled with hot, soothing water.

“Just relax, Faye,” he urged gently, his arms circling me, one at my ribs, one at my chest.

“Okay,” I whispered and it wasn’t a lie. It was impossible not to relax in that shadowed room, in that hot water with Chace all around me after having two orgasms.

“You’re beautiful, baby,” he said softly in my ear, one of his hands gliding over my belly. I suspected, through the shadows and over my shoulder, he was looking at me.

God, I hoped he thought so.

“Okay,” I repeated quietly, not as sure about that one.

“All mine,” he muttered. “Christ, finally, all mine.”

I closed my eyes, pulled in breath and relaxed deeper against his chest.

I felt him shift, his lips at my neck he kept muttering, “Thirteen years, all mine.”

That meant something, what I said to him. I knew it. Since after I said it, he showed me by making himself vulnerable to me, I knew it had to mean a lot.

But his words made me realize it meant a lot.

And that meant a lot to me.

I swallowed and turned my head toward his lips. They touched my forehead then his arms gave me a squeeze.

The tub filled.

When it was time, Chace moved us both forward and turned off the taps then settled us back. When we were settled, his hands glided over my wet skin, light, sweet, soothing, lovely.

The water, the orgasms, Chace and his hands, any vestiges of tension left me. I melted into him in the semi-dark.

His hands stopped roaming, both his arms wrapped around me and we sat in the tub, silent, together.

That was, we did until I drifted off to sleep, my arms over Chace’s, my head turned, my forehead tucked in his throat.

I didn’t know if I was asleep for an hour or two minutes before we were up then I was up as in, again cradled in his arms.

He was gentle and quick with toweling me off and pulling the nightgown over my head.

He did the same with himself but quicker then I was back up and he was carrying me to the bed where he laid me. I watched in sleepy fascination as he pulled on a pair of burgundy, flannel, drawstring pajama bottoms.

Drowsily, I decided he was hot naked. He was hot in clothes. He was also hot in pajama bottoms.

Not a surprise.

He came to my side and switched off the light then I heard it as he rounded the bed and I rolled as he did. The bed moved as I watched his shadow enter it. He flicked the covers over us and he stretched out on his back.

But he didn’t settle on his back because I felt his hand shove under me and I was hauled to his side. His arm curled me close, pressed tight down his side and I had no choice (not that I would take another one) but to rest my cheek on his shoulder and snake my arm across his flat abs.

“So you’re a cuddler?” I whispered.

“No,” he replied.

I blinked at the shadowed planes and angles of his chest.

“Uh…”

“Or I wasn’t until about two seconds ago.”

My belly melted and my heart flipped.

“You move away from me, Faye, you’ll be right back where you are right now,” he warned, his voice quiet, soft but low and serious.

Weird.

Hot and sweet.

But weird.

“Okay,” I whispered.

“You stay close,” he ordered.

“Okay, honey.”

“Okay,” he muttered and his arm around me got tighter.

My arm around his gut gave him a squeeze.

He fell silent.

I stared at his chest.

Then I called, “Chace?”

“Yeah?”

I licked my lips.

Then I said quietly, “Thank you for making that beautiful.”

He said nothing.

Then he rolled into me, pressing a knee between my legs so I was forced to hook one around his hip and both his arms gathered me close and held me tight.

“Sleep, baby,” he whispered and now his voice was quiet but hoarse.

“Okay. ‘Night, honey.”

One of his hands slid up my spine and into my damp hair then it slid through.

And back.

Then he whispered, “’Night, baby.”

His hand slid through my hair.

And again.

Moments later I fell asleep pressed deep and held tight to Chace Keaton.

Chapter Ten

Halfway Gone

Chace’s eyes opened and he blinked away sleep.

The strong Colorado sun was fighting his curtains and, as usual, winning.

Chace felt his body get tight.

Something was wrong.

He stared across the pillows at the empty bed.

He was on his side, one hand shoved under the pillow at his head, his other arm thrown wide.

No Faye.

Instantly, it felt like a hand reached in and gripped his gut in an iron tight fist.

Not a man prone to fanciful thoughts, not one he could recall in his life, it still hit him that the way his life had swirled down the toilet, it wouldn’t be a surprise that the last three weeks had been a dream. A cruel, twisted, dream.

A taste of sweet.

The touch of an angel.

A trace of a miracle.

Then gone.

He smelled bacon frying.

The moment he did, he rolled, threw back the covers, angled out of bed and prowled out of the room, down the hall, through the arch and toward the kitchen where he took five steps then stopped dead.

Because Faye Goodknight was standing at his stove at the island.

Faye Goodknight.

In his house.

In his kitchen.

At his stove.

All this the morning after she gave him her virginity and spent the night in his arms in his bed.

She was wearing the shirt he wore yesterday. It was unbuttoned and only partially covered the sexy as all f**k sapphire blue silk nightie that had thick lace at the top and, he’d seen last night but couldn’t see now, another rim of thick lace at the hem as well as deep slits up each side. A nightie the likes of which he figured no virgin would wear. The likes his ex-virgin was definitely currently wearing.

Her head was turned slightly to the side to take a sip from one of his coffee mugs.

But her eyes slid to him and she didn’t take a sip.

She lowered the mug to the counter by the stove and snapped, “You spoiled the surprise.”

“What?” he whispered, unable to make his voice louder but she still heard him because she answered.

“I’m making you breakfast in bed.” Her eyes moved the length of him then came back to his. “Or I was.”