Page 13 of Tear Me to Pieces
But if this goes down in flames, I won’t just lose her. I’ll lose everything that matters.
“It’ll be better tomorrow after they turn on the power in this place.” I motion to the vacant house I’m parked behind.
Myra looks up at me. “You talked Jill into having the power turned on?”
“It wasn’t difficult. Jill’s got her fingers crossed I’ll move home permanently. I think this gave her hope it could happen soon.” I start to reach for her, hand hovering an inch from her lower back when I catch myself. “And I’m sure Levi and Carly will be happy not to have my extension cord running across their backyard anymore.”
It was the best temporary solution I could come up with. It involved buying the longest cord I could find and adjusting the location of my fifth-wheel. And all I have the power to run is the lights and fridge—stovetop is propane—but it made it possible for me to make Myra dinner.
And gave her somewhere comfortable to eat it.
“Oop—” Myra’s body lurches forward.
I drop my phone—I’d rather it hit the blacktop than Myra—and grab her, planting one boot against the ground as I attempt to stop her forward momentum.
I overshoot the needed force to counteract her trajectory and end up with her body against mine.
I should let her go.
I really should let her go.
I absolutely should let her go.
I don’t.
I breathe deep, pulling her sweet scent into my lungs as I savor a moment that shouldn’t belong to me. “You okay?”
Myra blinks up at me, face shadowed in the dark. “Yeah. I think so.”
I should let her go.
I really should let her go.
I absolutely should?—
Myra pushes up onto her toes, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “Thank you for dinner.” She steps out of my arms, backing toward her house. “And thank you for catching me.”
I keep my feet where they are, watching as she moves away. “I’m not gonna let you fall.” Because I’m an idiot, I take a step toward her, already hating the distance between us. “Promise.”
5
MYRA
Staring up at the ceiling,I try to talk myself into getting out of bed. Nothing good will come of opening the drawer beside me.
My eyes still roll that way, fixing on the handle, tempting me to reach for it. But I can’t. I know exactly how this will play out, and it’s only going to make my life more confusing.
More complicated.
Clamping one hand between my thighs, I put pressure on the throb there, trying to calm it down. Smother it out.
Wrong move.
Instead of easing the ache that’s been building since I opened my eyes, the contact only inflames it. A quiet whimper slides free and I close my eyes, squeezing them tight as I try to reign in the surge of sensation.
But the second I close my eyes, all I see is Simon. The easy smile he offered so many times last night. The deep rumble of his voice. The broad expanse of his chest when he pulled me against it after saving me from taking a tumble.
The rough drag of his fingers across my skin as he held me tight.
