Strong hands gripped me under my arms, and I found myself lifted to my feet like I weighed no more than a hummingbird. I caught a glimpse of my rescuer’s face as his large body moved; a jolt of awareness rocked through me. It was the stranger who’d studied me earlier.

Suddenly, he had his arms around Jim, pulling him away from his opponent, while his companion did the same to Lewis.

“Enough,” he announced calmly, his voice cutting through the entire room.

Roddy shoved his way through the crowd to get to Jim. To anyone else, Roddy looked unaffected but I knew him better. And like me, he was annoyed at my husband.

It took him a moment, but Jim jerked out of the stranger’s hold. He pointed his finger at Lewis. “Ye stay the fuck away from my wife.” He then gestured at me, and I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole.

I glared at my husband as I tried to ignore the penetrating stare of the stranger.

“Right. Out.” Gareth pushed past people to get to Lewis and his friend.

“How come we need tae go?” Lewis huffed, wiping the blood from his nose. “He hit me first.”

“Because I know him. I dinnae know you. All I know is Jim’s never caused a problem in ma bar before … until you. So you and yer pal can get the fuck out, or I’ll throw ye out.”

The stranger’s friend let Lewis go, and with much grumbling and empty threats, they staggered out.

Roddy said something to Jim that made him scowl, but I couldn’t hear what. As everyone settled down, fixing upturned chairs and sitting at their tables, I was aware of the stranger and his friend taking a seat at the bar. I didn’t dare make eye contact with him again. Not only because I was humiliated, but because I was genuinely concerned Jim might overreact if he caught me looking at another man. Worrying about that was another problem in our marriage. I knew it was.

My whole body was stiff, and my wrist throbbed as I gazed in reproach at my husband. He stared back at me, seeming defeated.

I wanted to cry.

Jim hadn’t always been as possessive, as territorial as he was now. It’d worsened over the years, and I didn’t need that psychology degree to know it stemmed from insecurity.

I feared my husband sensed my true feelings.

The reproach abruptly fled, replaced by guilt.

“Are you okay?”

I jerked out of my melancholic thoughts to find Seonaid right in front of me, her hands on my biceps. I looked up into her concerned face. “I’m fine.”

“You hit the floor hard. Mr. Hottie,” she nodded to the stranger at the bar, “got to you before I could.”

The throbbing in my wrist intensified and I winced, lifting it. “I went down on my wrist.”

Anger suffused Seonaid’s face, and she glanced over her shoulder at her brother. Whatever he saw on her face had him finally moving toward me.

“Ye okay?” he asked quietly.

“No, she’s not. She’s hurt her wrist.”

“It’s fine.” I cradled it to my chest.

“Jesus,” Jim winced, sliding his hand around my waist, “I’m sorry, Nora. I’m so sorry.”

I nodded. I was too exhausted to berate him like I wanted to.

“Let’s get ye home, get yer wrist wrapped up.”

The mood was obliterated anyway, and I was sure the whole pub would breathe a sigh of relief once we left. “Okay.”

“Do you want me to come?” Seonaid asked.

“No, we don’t.” Jim shot her a back-off look, and she raised her hands in defense.

“Okay. I’ll get your purse for you.” She wandered back to the table and I saw her say something to Roddy. Fergus, oblivious to anything not related to him, sat playing with his phone.

Jim kissed me softly, murmuring against my mouth, “I’m so sorry.”

I nodded again, anxious fluttering flaring to life in my belly as I thought about the much bigger conversation I feared on our horizon. As Seonaid walked back toward us with my purse, I used the moment to surreptitiously check out the stranger at the bar.

Our eyes met again. This time he was so close, close enough to hear my conversation with Jim, close enough I could see curiosity in his beautiful green eyes. He’d been so calm and authoritative, breaking up the fight. He’d barely even had to say anything.

I still had the phantom imprint of his hands under my arms, and my eyes dropped to those hands. A shiver rippled through me, making me feel a strange mix of guilt and pleasure. He had big hands, large knuckles, slim fingers. Elegant hands. My gaze lingered longer than I’d meant, taking in his extremely fit physique delineated by his black thermal.

It wasn’t only his height and general attractiveness that made the stranger stand out. He reeked of money. Despite the simplicity of his clothing—a thermal and jeans—he reeked of money. When he’d picked me up, I’d gotten a whiff of cologne so sexy … earthy but fresh. Like wood, and amber, mint leaves, and apple. It smelled expensive.

Maybe it wasn’t the clothes or the cologne that gave the impression of money. Maybe it was the confidence, the ownership of the room, like wherever he went, this guy was the one in charge.

Maybe it was an age thing, I reminded myself. He was probably in his mid-thirties.

Seonaid suddenly blocked him from view, giving me a knowing smirk. “Your purse.”

I blushed, glancing at Jim to make sure he hadn’t noticed my ogling (he hadn’t), and gave my sister-in-law a hug.

As Jim slid his arm around my back and led me out of the bar, I glanced over my shoulder one last time to find the stranger watching me. He lifted his drink, and I nodded my thanks, holding his gaze until Jim had led us out of sight.

It wasn’t the alarm that woke me up for work the next morning.

It was Jim’s tongue.

A languid, luscious feeling low in my belly pushed through me, moving me toward consciousness. A delicious tension tightened and swelled inside me, forcing me awake with a gasp. Confusion reigned for a few seconds. I was lying in bed with my pajama top bunched around my neck, breasts bare.

And then I felt the tongue on my clit.

“Oh God,” I groaned, looking down to see Jim’s head between my thighs.

He looked up at me from between his thick lashes but continued to love me with his mouth.

My head flew back from the sensation as he played me expertly.

Fingers curling into the sheets, I shoved my surprise aside and enjoyed his pursuit of my orgasm. My hips undulated against his mouth, wanting more, always reaching for more.

After three years, Jim had this part down pat.

It didn’t take long for the orgasm to ripple through me in pulling waves, and before I was even through it, Jim was braced over me. He thrust inside while I was still swollen tight from climax, and I gripped onto his waist, wincing at the slight burn.

As my release faded, I watched my husband as he threw his head back, eyes closed tight, teeth gritted, hips pumping against mine. I lifted mine to meet his thrusts, feeling a stirring of pleasure, but nothing like what I felt when he put his mouth on me.

We’d discovered I couldn’t come with penetrative sex. I would never tell Jim this but I felt too disconnected when he was moving inside me. Jim didn’t seem to mind. He was happy with a regular blow job. In return, he always got me off with his mouth first before he got himself off inside me.

“So. Good,” Jim grunted out, groaning hard as his hips stilled for a second and then jerked in spurts as he came.

After he rolled off me, he threw his arm over his eyes as his chest moved up and down in short, fast movement. I glanced at the alarm clock to discover I only had ten minutes until I needed to get ready for work.

What a nice way to greet the day, I thought, and turned on my side, tucking my hands under my head to stare at Jim as he came down from his orgasm.

Once his breathing evened out, I whispered, “Well, that was new.”

Jim lifted his arm from his eyes and grinned at me. “New good?”

It was a little disconcerting to wake up with his mouth between my legs but definitely good. “Yes. Duh.”

He chuckled and rolled into me, his hand sliding down over my bare ass. “I wanted to make up for yesterday. I was an arsehole.”

I touched his bruised cheek, unable to meet his eyes. “Just promise not to do it again.”