Virtuous(62)

“What else do you want to know?” he asks with a hint of amusement lighting his eyes.

“When was the last time a woman made you wait to have sex with her?”

“Other than tonight?”

I poke him in the belly, making him grunt with laughter. “Seriously.”

“It’s been a while, but a little dose of humility might be good for me.”

“No one makes you wait for anything.”

“No, they don’t, but can’t you see how refreshing it is for me to have to work for what I want with you? To have to put in the time and the effort and the care to make sure that when we get there, we’re both in the right place at the right time?” He gathers me in close to him. “Stop thinking so much. Holding you this way is better than sex with other women who meant nothing to me. Try to relax and go with it. When the time is right to move forward, we’ll know.”

His words and the sincerity behind them bring me the kind of peace that’s been largely elusive in my life since I left home. Running from the past is exhausting, especially when you can never run fast enough or far enough to truly escape the demons. But here in his arms, with the low hum of the plane’s engines lulling me, I’m able to close my eyes with the comfort of knowing he’s there, and he’s not going anywhere. Not now, anyway.





Chapter 12





If a man could die from unspent desire, I’d be on my deathbed. Watching her come apart in my arms was the single most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced, particularly because I suspect I just gave her the first orgasm of her life. What an honor and a thrill it is to hold her and to feel her beginning to trust me.

I caress her soft skin in small circles as she drops off into a light sleep.

I truly meant every word I said to her, but she’s right about one thing—I’m not accustomed to denying my stronger-than-average sex drive. With my need for her still pulsing through my body, my cock hard and throbbing, I have to get myself together.

Moving slowly so I don’t disturb her, I get up from the sofa and cover her with the blanket. Her lips move as she settles into her nap, and she’s completely adorable.

In the small bathroom, I splash cold water on my face, trying to summon the control I need for her. Thinking about what she told me earlier, that she’d been attacked and raped as a fifteen-year-old, makes me crazy with rage and thirsty for revenge on her behalf. I want to find the guy and cause him twice the pain he caused her. I want to know if he ever paid for what he did. Is he rotting in jail where he belongs or living his life like nothing ever happened?

The latter possibility makes me seethe. I have so many questions but can’t ask them without venturing into territory she’s marked off-limits. I could hire someone and have the answers I crave within days, but I won’t do that either. I’d never violate her privacy that way.

The thought of her turning on me is worse than not knowing. But it pains me not to know the full story. How can I protect her if I don’t know my enemy? This is all new territory for me—these intense feelings for a woman and the knowledge that I’d kill to protect her.

I’ve always been a live-and-let-live kind of guy. I’ve created a monster career without leaving a trail of enemies behind me. My father taught me early on that ours is a small community with a long memory. “Be a gentleman in all your dealings?” he advised, “and never forget the director you disdain today could be the producer you’re wooing tomorrow.”

It was good advice and words I live by. Sure, I’ve had my detractors and people who looked on with envy as my career took off while theirs stalled. I’ve had fellow actors and others in the business snidely imply that I am where I am because of who my parents are. I’ve always shrugged off that shit. Did my parents give me a leg up when I first ventured into the business? Without a doubt. But I’ve done the rest, and I know how hard I’ve worked for everything that has come my way.

But I already know I’ll never work harder for anything than I will for the future I want with the gorgeous young woman currently sleeping on the sofa. I grip the edge of the countertop as I summon the innate control I need to manage this situation. I stare into the mirror at my reflection, surprised to realize the man looking back at me seems unfamiliar in many ways.

He wears a hint of fear in his eyes, and an unusual amount of tension tightens his jaw. It’s not lost on me that I’m the last guy in the universe Natalie should be with. When you’re into the kind of sex I want and need, there’s no place for a woman traumatized by sex in the past. It’s a testament to how strongly I already feel for her that I’m willing to put aside my own needs to tend to hers. But will I be able to do that forever? I can’t answer that question, which is why I fear I’m setting up both of us for disaster.