Unbreakable (Cloverleigh Farms, #4)(43)

I was tempted to do so many things at once—run a fingertip down her perfect spine. Lean over and bury my face in her sweet-smelling hair. Move closer and curve my body around hers like a comma. Kiss the back of her beautiful neck.

In the end, I waited too long and she stirred, rolling onto her back and blinking at me. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

Her smile was shy and seductive at the same time—an irresistible combination. “I stayed the night.”

“You did.”

“We broke all our rules, didn’t we?”

“And then some. But wasn’t that the point?”

Smiling, she turned onto her side and faced me, tucking her hands beneath her cheek. “It sort of feels like it might have been a dream.”

I reached beneath the sheet and pinched her ass, making her yelp.

“Ouch! Guess it was real,” she said, giggling as she rubbed the sore spot.

“It was real.” I put my hand on her lower back and pulled her closer. “It was unexpected, and it was even better than my fantasies, but it was real.”

Her eyebrows went up. “You fantasized about me?”

“Many times. But only since you’ve been back and we’ve been talking.”

She smiled. “I like that—being your fantasy.”

“I like the real you even better.”

The smile widened. “Thank you.” She tucked herself into my body, her head beneath my chin.

I held her like that for a few minutes, gently stroking her back. It had been a long time since I’d wanted to be this close to someone, since I’d felt this protective and possessive.

“Henry?” Her voice was soft and tentative.

“Yes?”

“So what happens now?”

“Well, first I have to shovel a fuck ton of snow. You probably have to pick up your kids, and I need to go into work at some point.”

“No, I mean . . . what now for us?” She pulled back and looked up at me, her eyes uncertain, her expression concerned. “I didn’t really think about that when I came here last night. Do we pretend this never happened?”

“That’s up to you,” I said. “Your situation is more complicated than mine. You’ve got children to think about.”

She nodded, biting her lip. One of her hands crept up my chest, and her eyes dropped to where her fingertips brushed softly over my skin. “I think it’s too soon to make anything . . . public.”

“I agree.”

She met my eyes again, her expression guileless and sweet. “But I don’t want it to stop.”

“Me neither.”

“Henry, are we crazy?”

“It’s possible.” I kissed her forehead. “But let’s not worry about it for now, okay? We’ve both been through a rough time, and I think we deserve something for ourselves that just feels good. The more we overthink this, the worse we make it for ourselves.”

“Okay.” She started to say something else, then stopped.

“What?” I prompted. “You can say it.”

“I just want us to always be honest with each other. If at some point, things don’t feel right and we need to take a step back, I want us to be able to say it. I don’t want either one of us to be blindsided or hurt.”

“You have my word—I will always be honest with you. I know trust isn’t easy for you right now, but my word is all I can offer.”

“Your word is good enough for me.” She looked relieved and cuddled in closer to my chest once more. “And I promise to always be honest too.”

Holding her that way felt so right, it was hard to imagine either of us wanting to walk away from the feeling. But I wasn’t an idiot—the circumstances were complicated. The timing was rushed. There was a lot at stake.

It was impossible to know what the future would bring, and for now it would just feel good to simply take each day as it came and enjoy one another’s company.

Naked.

As often as possible.





While I shoveled the front walk and driveway, Sylvia made coffee, scrambled some eggs, and sliced some fruit for us. Since she’d arrived wearing only that red dress and high heels, I’d loaned her a T-shirt. It was huge on her, hanging nearly to her knees, but she looked adorable in it, moving around in my kitchen in her bare feet, hair in a messy pile on top of her head.

I could get used to that so easily, I thought when I came in from the cold and saw her look up at me and smile. It was enough to keep me from going to her and tearing the shirt right off. Sylvia in my kitchen on a Sunday morning was not something I should get used to. In fact, it would probably be a really long time before it happened again—if it ever did.

After breakfast, she put the red dress and heels back on, buttoning her coat all the way up to the top. “I should have brought a change of clothes—and some boots,” she said at the door, shaking her head as she looked out the front window. “What was I thinking?”

“You were thinking about fucking me,” I reminded her, helping her with the top button.

“True story.” She sighed. “Oh well. I’ll live.”

“I could carry you to your car,” I offered, only half-joking.

That made her smile. “No, that’s okay. The walkway is shoveled, and I can pull right into the attached garage at Cloverleigh. Hopefully no one is in the kitchen and I can sneak up to my room.”