Page 42 of The Only Heart that Matters

“I thought we had an agreement?”

I don’t care about the agreement. I want more of him. But the guilty part of me forces myself to remind not only him, but the both of us.

“We agreed to one night, and the night is far from over, Mia.”

His hands begin to wander. Growing wet and needy for him, I press my legs together only to be reminded my underwear are in his pocket.

God, that’s hot.

“Besides, you deserve better than a cold tack room in a barn.”

“I do?” I gasp when he cups my breast.

“Damn straight,” he whispers in my ear. “Not to mention you’re already sleeping in my bed.”

Without warning, he scoops me up and carries me in his arms, down the hall to his bedroom as if I were his bride.

He flips the switch on the wall. “Only this time we leave the lights on.”

My body stiffens. The control I felt in the barn nowhere to be found. I’ve carried a child. Nursed a child. I have stretch marks and cellulite. I can’t let him see me.

“Gus, I’m not sure I can.” I squirm out of his hold. “I’m a mother. Not a hot cowgirl or twenty-something tourist like the women you usually invite up to your loft. My body has been through, well, a lot in the last two and a half years, and I have the stretch marks to prove it.”

“You have always been and still are the most beautiful woman I have ever known.”

“Because you haven’t seen all of me.”

“Trust me.”

It’s not a request, it’s a demand.

He reaches for the silk tied behind my neck and in one move, my halter dress falls to my feet. I’m left standing in front of him in my strapless bra and heels. Scared motionless, I’m frozen to the spot as he examines every inch of my body. Unease churns in my stomach, threatening to make me sick.

“You. Are. Breathtaking.”

“Angus, you don’t have to--”

“Tell me I’m lying,” he says, grabbing my hand and cupping it over the tight denim straining to contain his erection.

Is this really happening?

Is Gus McKinnon planning on taking me for the second time tonight? In his bed, no less? And is he standing in front of me admiring my body as if I am exactly what he says I am?

Breathtaking.

He releases my hand and takes a step away from me. I let it fall to my side, missing the feel of him. Slowly and with purpose, he slips off his jacket and untucks his shirt from his jeans. He tugs on his matching black tie, loosening it enough to pull it over his head before sliding it over mine. The silky fabric tickles my skin as it falls into place.

“I’m not sure how this night keeps getting better, but you standing in front of me looking like a god-damned goddess right now is proof that it can.”

He unbuttons his shirt. My stomach twisting with fear and lust, I reach behind my back to unhook the clasp of my strapless bra. His eyes darken and his tongue snakes out to wet his top lip, fire igniting in my lower belly.

When my bra falls to the ground, he all but growls, “Fucking perfect, Mia.Youare fucking perfect.”

He rips his shirt open the rest of the way. Buttons scatter across the hardwood floor.

His shirt hits the floor beside my dress. He yanks his boots off and removes his jeans in the blink of an eye. Tucking his thumbs into the waistband of his boxer briefs, he bends and, in one more swift move, stands before me naked as the day he was born.

It’s only been an hour since I saw him without his clothes on, but he’s no longer shadowed in darkness. Now, with the lights on, I can really take him in. And he is a masterpiece.

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