Page 36 of Tear Me to Pieces
Myra doesn’t have a guest room.
I slowly back up the way I came, looking over each room to confirm the room at the end of the hall is the only one even close to being habitable. It’s still not completely finished—there’s no flooring over the subfloor—but the bedroom where Myra sleeps and the bathroom attached to it are clean and painted a pretty teal. The queen-size bed is covered in a dark, almost black, comforter and piled with pillows. A set of nightstands sits at either side, each with a lamp and stack of romance novels piled on the surface.
A slow smile works its way onto my lips.
I might not have known I was agreeing to share a bed with her, but Myra definitely did. I can explain away a lot of her actions. Tell myself she’s not thinking the same way I am. But this is blatant. A clear sign Myra doesn’t need space as much as I’ve been thinking she did.
Because that queen-size bed won’t leave much space between us.
Striding into the bedroom we’ll be sharing tonight—longer if I can make it happen—I set my clothes on the smooth surface of her dresser—right next to another stack of second hand romance novels—before carrying my toiletries into the bathroom. After lining my items up alongside hers, I take a minute to enjoy the sight. Seeing even this tiny bit of my life and hers co-mingling satisfies me on a visceral level. Not because I’ve been aching for someone at my side—though I have—but because it’s Myra inching into the spot.
Ever since I carried her out of the woods the night she escaped her ex-husband, I’ve struggled to keep my thoughts away from her. Sometimes more successfully than others. I went to great lengths—literally—to keep my distance from her.
But after being back in town for only a handful of days, I’ve already managed to feel her lips under mine and the quake of her body as she came against my dick.
And neither one happened because I was the one pushing.
Now I’ll be sleeping beside her. Showering where she stands naked every day. Making sure she’s safe and fed and happy.
In every fucking way she’ll let me.
Flipping off the bathroom light, I cross the bedroom, eyes lingering on the spot I’ll soon be lying next to Myra as I make my way out the door.
When I reach the kitchen, I find her plating up two toasted subs layered with the deli meat I bought so she’d have food to pack for lunch when she works. It doesn’t seem like she’s dipped into it until now, making me suspicious she doesn’t eat when she’s at work.
Another thing I’ll be able to rectify if I’m staying here.
Myra slides a plate my way before picking up her sandwich and taking a huge bite, eyes rolling closed as she chews. “I was starving.”
I try to keep the smile off my face, but fail. “I thought you didn’t go with your sister because you weren’t hungry.”
Myra’s blue eyes open, sliding down my body as her cheeks pink up again. A hint of a smile curves her lips as her gaze comes back to meet mine. “I must have worked up an appetite outside.”
13
MYRA
Takingback my voice felt more amazing than I could have hoped for. It was what will likely be a defining moment in my life.
And it was immediately followed by another defining moment.
And then another.
And I’m about to stack up one more.
I should be freaking out. Panicked over a stranger watching me in the woods. Spiraling about what happenedwhilethat man was watching me in the woods. Hyperventilating because I’m about to be sleeping in a bed with Simon.
Instead, I’m struggling to keep the smile off my face.
“Thank you for this.” Simon lifts up the last bite of his sandwich then pops it in his mouth. “But you know you don’t ever have to feed me.”
The smile I’m working so hard to stifle manages to make an appearance. “I know.” I shrug, hoping he doesn’t figure out what a big deal this is. “I wanted to.”
Yet another defining moment slaps me in the face. Iwantedto feed Simon. Wanted to take care of him the way he takes care of me.
I was determined my days of caring for men were over. So standing here, watching him fill his belly with something I made for him, is a surreal moment. Not just because of the actions themselves, but because of the emotions trailing behind them.
I never would have thought a mundane task like making a sandwich would have me feeling just as good as cutting my hair and piercing my nose and buying a house, but it does.
