Page 32 of Tear Me to Pieces
“Myra.” There’s a hint of panic in Simon’s voice. A second later he’s there, hands on me as his dark eyes move up and down my body. “What happened?”
I reach out, grabbing the front of the shirt he claims he spilled whiskey on, holding tight. “I’m okay. I just slid out of the seat a little speedier than I thought I would.” Taking full advantage of the situation, I shift my weight, leaning forward against him. “Thank you for making sure I was okay.”
Simon’s hands flex where they grip my hips, but he doesn’t let go. “You’re welcome.”
I gaze up at him, my heart beating wildly in my chest. “It seems like you’re always taking care of me lately.”
My eyes drop to his mouth, zeroing in on lips that were on mine not long ago. It was the single best kiss I’ve ever experienced in my life. Technically, there’s not a lot of competition for that spot, but still. I’m pretty sure it would have landed the honor even if I hadn’t only ever kissed my flabby-lipped ex-husband.
The reminder digs up memories I’d rather not revisit. I don’t like thinking about where I’ve been. It wasn’t a great place. And going back there is my least favorite thing to do, even if it’s only in my head.
But the thoughts linger, and I want to wipe them away. Eradicate every second of them from my memory forever. I know that’s not possible, but I can force them out for now. And I know exactly how to accomplish it.
Reaching up, I hook one hand around the back of Simon’s neck, pulling him toward me. Bringing his face close to mine, I push up onto my toes until our lips are less than an inch apart. “You should kiss me again.”
I think he wants this as much as I do, but I’ve already made the first move once—plus tossed out more than one suggestive comment in the past ten minutes—and if I keep having to do it, I’m gonna start to question our alignment.
“I shouldn’t kiss you, Myra.” Simon’s hands slide over my body, tracing the curve of my hips and thighs. “You need time to breathe. Space to decide what you want.”
That has my brows pulling together. “I don’t remember saying that.” I’ve had time and space, and all I did was sit in one spot like a lump. I couldn’t move forward, and I sure as hell didn’t want to go back. More time and space are the last things I need.
What I do need is someone who’ll push me a little. Someone who’ll urge me forward when I start to drag my feet. Not because they want to control me, but because they have faith in me. Want the best for me.
Care about me.
“I carried you out of the woods while your father and ex-husband hunted you like an animal.” Simon’s voice is rough with an emotion that warms my insides. “You went through hell. The last thing you need is another asshole expecting shit from you.”
“You’re not an asshole,” I defend him immediately. “And you don’t expect anything from me.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, My.” Simon’s big hands grip my thighs, hauling me up his body until we’re face-to-face. “And that is exactly why I should be giving you space and time. Because my expectations for you are already through the fucking roof.”
The way he says it makes every part of me clench, but primarily the part of me that’s now pressed right against the sizable bulge in the front of his pants.
I’m not going to point it out, but while Simon says he wants to give me time and space, my current position implies something entirely different. Instead of pushing me away, he hefted me up and pulled me closer. Has my back pressed against the side of the box truck and my legs wrapped around his waist, my body held in place with his.
Simon leans in, but instead of giving me the kiss I’m desperate for, he traces his lips up the side of my neck, sending goosebumps breaking out across my skin. I’m not sure howI expected this to go, but being pinned midair in the dark definitely wasn’t on my bingo card.
I think I need to update that freaking card.
I understand how sex works. And not just the missionary ‘stick it in and pound away’ sort I’ve experienced. I know there’s way more to the act than I’ve been privy to, and now my brain is swirling with possibilities.
I didn’t expect I would ever want to have sex again. Because—like so much else in my life—I was stuck. Caught in an unsatisfying and depressing sort of limbo between what was and what could be.
I’m not in limbo anymore.
Simon breathes deep, the drag of his inhale cooling the skin just beneath my ear. He groans. “You smell so fucking good.”
My head is already spinning, and the lustful sound of Simon’s voice adds momentum. Ramps up the dizzying pace epically. Because in just two tiny interactions, he’s made me feel sexy and safe and wanted. It has me feeling almost drugged. A little giddy.
And powerful. Very, very powerful.
“I don’t think you understand how hard it’s been for me to stay away from you.” Simon leans back to look at me, his lids low with lust and arousal. “To walk away when I know I can give you every fucking thing you need.”
The spinning in my head amps up as I fight to pull air into my lungs. “Why do you walk away then?”
“Because you’re not ready for me.” He shifts, the hard line of his dick teasing against me in a way that sends more sensationracing through me than my vibrator ever could. “For everything I want to give you.” He leans in, his lips hovering just above mine. “For everything I want from you.”
I swore I would never give anything of myself to a man again, but I can’t stop myself from asking, “What do you want from me?”
