Fleeting Moments(36)

“Is this your room?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

“You live with your brothers and friends?”

“Yeah.”

“Are your brothers cops, too?”

“No, just Sheldon and Blake.”

I shift uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, Heath. I didn’t . . . I didn’t realize it was this bad.”

“I know that, honey.” He sighs, grabbing me around the waist and pulling me down onto the sofa. I fall onto his lap and for a few minutes, I let him just hold me.

“They don’t like me,” I whisper against his shirt.

“They’re just worried. They’ll come around.”

“Are you the oldest of your brothers?”

He grunts. “No, youngest. Tank is the oldest here. Then it’s Johnny and I.”

The oldest here. That has so many questions popping into my mind. “So there are three of you in your family?”

“Four.”

Four? I turn and study him. “Four?”

“Yeah. There is one more who’s older than all of us.”

“Where is he?”

His face hardens.

Oh.

“Did you lose him?” I say softly.

“No, he’s still very much alive.” He says that in a way that basically tells me he’s not going to give any more information, so I don’t push.

“I’m sorry I’ve created such a mess for you.”

“Worth every second,” he says, nuzzling my hair.

“Heath?”

“Mmmm?”

“What are we doing here?”

“Don’t know, baby. But I like it.”

Baby.

God.

I can’t get enough of this man.





CHAPTER 15


“Gotta stop, honey,” Heath murmurs as my lips trail down his throat.

I pull back, hot and bothered, but mostly confused. His hands are under my shirt, but he slowly pulls them out.

“What do you mean stop?” I ask, narrowing my eyes. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No. Fuck no.” He sits us up, shifting so his erection is no longer pressed against me. “Believe me, I don’t want to stop, but . . .”

I look away, shame rising in my cheeks.

“Hey,” he prompts, moving so he catches my eye. “Listen to me.”

Feeling insecure, I turn my head back but can only bring my eyes to his chest.

“It’s not because I don’t want you. Fuck, Lucy, you have no idea how much I want you. It’s because of respect.”

My eyes move up to his. “What?” I whisper.

“I respect the hell out of you, and I shouldn’t have f*cked you last night. Not because I didn’t want to, but because you’ve barely stepped out of a marriage, you’ve seen awful shit, and we hardly know each other. If you were any other woman, I’d likely not care, but it’s you and I do.”

He’s slowing down . . . for me?

“You’re not going to sleep with me again because of the situation?”

He cups my jaw. “No, because I respect you. You’re not the kind of woman to just be thrown on her back. Shit, Lucy, I’ve never met anyone like you, and I want to keep getting to know you. Until we know each other a little better and all this shit is over, I think the right thing to do is not sleep together again.”

My heart explodes, not with shame or anger, but with absolute admiration for the man beneath me. No one has ever, not ever, respected me like that in my life. My entire body swells with happiness, and a tear rolls down my cheek.

He reaches up, swiping it away with his thumb. “I know you’ve been feelin’ guilty about it, on top of everything else you’ve been through, but you shouldn’t have to feel guilty about it.”

“I don’t regret it,” I croak.

“I know that, but we’re going to give this some time, yeah?”

“Does that mean I don’t get to see you?”

He grunts. “You’re in it with me now, honey. I’m not keeping away.”

I smile and grab his face in my hands. “Do I get to kiss you?”

“As much as you want.”

I lean forward and press his lips against mine, a soft, short kiss. Then I pull back and roll off, lying beside him. “Does this mean I get to ask questions about you?”

He groans.

I chuckle.

“If you must, but I’ll only answer the non-serious ones.”

I huff. “No fair.”

“I didn’t say I played fair.”

“All right.” I grin. “What’s your favorite food?”

His mouth twitches, and he shifts us so I’m tucked against his chest and we’re snuggled together on the bed.

“This is going to sound weird,” he begins. “But it’s . . . cheesecake.”

I smother a giggle. “How very masculine.”

“It gets worse.” He grunts. “Strawberry cheesecake.”

The giggle bursts forth, and he pinches me softly.

“I can’t help it; I have a sweet tooth.”

“Okay, cheesecake boy, what’s your favorite color?”