Unbreak My Heart

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Chapter One

February

Simon jerked upright in bed, the sweat-soaked sheets twisted and tangled around his legs, as if he’d been fighting them. The light of the full moon that streamed through his window washed out the bright blue of the sheets to a faded version of itself that seemed to blend with the shadows of the room.

He shoved his shaking hands over his face and scrubbed at the days’ old stubble and too-long hair that flopped over his eyes.

Glancing to his left, the digital numbers on his clock slowly coalesced into something with meaning.

Three AM.

Every. Freaking. Day.

He didn’t know what it was about this witching hour, but every night was the same.

Suffocating nightmares filled with desperation and soul-crushing agony.

Nightmares that morphed into reality each day, as dawn split the night sky.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he rested his elbows on his knees and just … sat there.

Even knowing now that Max and Lucy’s marriage had originally been about him taking care of her while she was sick, Simon had seen how Lucy’s death had hit his older brother. It had nearly wrecked the man.

Something he now understood all too well.

He didn’t know how Max had survived it. Sure, Simon’s crying jags had stopped—mostly. It was only when something caught him unaware that the tears now hit.

Something like kids.

His little nephew Finn’s face flashed into his mind. Almost a year old and he had the entire family wrapped around one chubby little finger. Not to mention the new baby—due any day now.

Simon could barely stand to be in the same room. Not with any of them.

He knew it was stupid. Knew it was unreasonable and overreacting and all those hideous things.

But he couldn’t help it.

Something that should have been the best moments of the life he and Amy had built … stolen. Joy and anticipation had been replaced with heartache and avoidance. It was as if his life had simply hit pause.

His parents had tried to help—hell, everyone had tried to help—and it was simply too much. Too many people trying to cheer him up. Too many people in his face all damned day long. He’d let the lease run out on the home they had rented, couldn’t handle being alone in those rooms where Amy should have been.

At least he hadn’t had to deal with getting rid of any baby stuff. They hadn’t got that far yet. But the house, the car, everything else?

Gone. Sold.

Even his wedding ring. He’d taken that off only a few weeks ago. He didn’t want to be like Max, who had worn his ring for years, a reminder of something that could never be fixed, never moving on until recently. Simon’s ring was now packed away in a box in the hall cupboard.

He had been staying with Gabe and Emma …

A shudder ran down his spine. He’d had to leave. He should have known he couldn’t handle being anywhere near Gabe’s farm, particularly if he had to see that paddock. He hadn’t set foot in there since the day it had happened. He didn’t want to be anywhere near Max and Millie, what with the baby due; and he certainly didn’t want to move back home with his parents, as much as his mother wanted him to.

So, Darby had given him the use of her small house in town, after she moved out to Ryan’s farm.

It gave him a place to stay and didn’t deliver too many hits on the memory scale.

He pushed up off the bed, hauled on a T-shirt and shorts, and yanked his sneakers on.

May as well go for a run, since I’m awake.

He shoved his phone in his pocket and let himself out the front door. It wasn’t necessary to lock it. The Crossing was a safe place and he’d be back soon, anyway.

Feet pounding the pavement, he headed toward the Lakewalk. The wide boardwalk ran around beneath the bridge and down in front of the shops, all the way over toward the weir at the other end. It was a good, long run, and this time of night—or morning—not another single soul was in sight.

He hadn’t bothered with earphones, knowing he wouldn’t run into anyone. It allowed the night sounds of the mountain town to invade his body instead, a calming balm that reached deep and tried to soothe, the bright stars above flickering their cold, beautiful light, oblivious to his mortal problems.

He loved where he lived, had never wanted to be anywhere else. Family meant too much to him. Besides, his education was severely lacking, and he’d find getting a job in another town problematic.

No. The Crossing was home and, right or wrong, putting up with well-meaning people came with the territory.

It just made dealing with them on a daily basis pretty darned hard.

The solid, rhythmic slap of his sneakers hitting the thick wooden boards of the Lakewalk intruded, the sound distinct and hollow compared to the bitumen now behind him.

Simon glanced at the lit windows of the shops fronting the Lakewalk, letting the happy little snapshots of the businesses wash over him.

Cat’s cupcake shop drew his attention and he almost tripped over his own feet as he stumbled to a stop.

Bright blood-red, white, and silver beamed out at him, her custom track lighting highlighting the display, and hollowing out his stomach at the sight before him.

Valentine’s Day.

Red hearts and teddies and chocolates sat enshrined in the two huge windows, some even being stuck to the windows themselves.

It was beautiful, if you liked that kind of thing.

Cold sweat broke out all over him. His stomach churned and he spun to the Lakewalk railing and leaned over it, in case his stomach made good on the heaving and forced his dinner from his body.

Valentine’s Day. His wedding anniversary.

He pulled his phone from his pocket with shaking hands and tapped the screen to light it up.

Wednesday, 14 February.

It was today.

Amy had chosen the romantic date for their wedding, cheekily explaining that it would be impossible for him to forget it that way.

All strength went out of his legs and he sank to the boardwalk, hunching over his bent knees, wrapping his arms around his legs, his whole body shaking.

He didn’t know how long he sat there before soft footsteps intruded. He jerked back at the gentle touch of a hand to his shoulder.

“Simon?”

Cat Hart’s worried voice hit his ears as her face registered, reflected in the light from her shop across the Lakewalk. He looked at her compassionate eyes.

“Are you all right? Do you need me to call someone?”

He was shaking his head before she finished speaking, not sure which question he was answering.

“How do I help you?”

The concern in her voice undid him further. He struggled to his feet. Cat had always been so damned nice. Not only to him, but to everyone she came across. It was in her blood.

He motioned to her shop. “V-Day. I-it’s …” Scrubbing his hand over his mouth, he pushed on. “It’s our anniversary.”

Compassion lined her face and her eyes filled. Simon looked away. He couldn’t handle seeing her upset, especially because he was the cause.

He glanced down the boardwalk. The weak, predawn gloom was tingeing everything a strange, dark, muddy grey.

“I went for a run. Saw your window and …” He shrugged. She’d known him forever; he knew she’d understand. “It just caught me by surprise. I haven’t been watching TV or anything lately. Didn’t know what the date was.”

He saw her nod from his peripheral vision.

The gentle cheeriness in her voice hit him like a ton of bricks.

“Do you want to come in? You can come through the back. I’ll make you a cuppa? And I have some awesome muffins out back that I just know you’d like.”

Simon stumbled backward, shaking his head. He couldn’t go in there. “Nah. I’m good. Bye.”

He knew he was being abrupt, but he couldn’t help it. He needed to escape. But he knew Cat would understand why.

“I’ll bring you some around later, then.”

Simon nodded and spun away, lurching into a jog that fast became a sprint as he headed toward the weir end of the Lakewalk.

The burbling of Max’s personal tone jerked Simon from his sprint. He slowed to a walk, breath heaving, and swiped at the phone, seeing the family group chat come up.

Millie’s gone into labour. Has had pains since yesterday. Headed for the hospital now.

Simon’s breath stalled and his heart thunked in his chest. He stood staring at the message, unable to think clearly.

His eyes swam and he rasped in a deep breath, his lungs burning.

Millie was having the baby.

On his first wedding anniversary without his wife.

A gasping huff flew from his lips, a horrible cross between a laugh and what was most likely the sound of the last pieces of his heart shredding apart.

He hit reply with a thumbs-up emoji, then turned the phone off, looking toward the west.

Mallory-Jayne’s hotel was off to his right, the Art Deco lights spreading a warmth that seemed to reach for him through the waning night.

He veered off to his left, toward the weir, and pounded into the lessening gloom.

Simon stepped into the Fox Club bar in Bialga. It wasn’t packed, but a surprising number of people still milled around despite it being the middle of the week. He glanced at his watch.

Ten PM.

This morning he’d run until he was a shaking mess, reaching his house as the sun started peeking over the mountain behind the houses in their small town. The cloying sense of the walls closing in was almost too much to cope with, so he’d booked a room at a hotel in nearby Bialga, just down the block from this nightclub.

Heading to the bar, he glanced at the dance floor where couples had either paired up or were coming together, moving in that slow, intimate grind that came with the promise of one singular end result.

Averting his gaze, he caught the attention of the bartender.

“What can I getcha?” the young woman asked.

“Two double scotches. No rocks.”

Her eyebrows raised but she said nothing and grabbed the mid-level bottle behind her. He preferred a good single malt, but wasn’t about to get fussy tonight.

Tonight was about forgetting.

She placed them in front of him and he could tell by the look on her face that she was concerned enough that she was open to chatting if he needed it.

Not today.

Tapping his phone to the EFTPOS machine, he nodded his thanks and grabbed both drinks, spying a table in a dim corner at the back of the room.

That would do nicely.

He sat with his back to the wall and knocked back the first glass, eyes stinging as it burned all the way down his throat.

He sat the glass down carefully on a coaster, and picked up the second, swirling the golden liquid around the glass in time with the beat of the music that threatened to deafen him.

He shouldn’t have come out tonight. Shouldn’t be here, of all places. But at least with the music so loud, it forestalled conversation and made it difficult to even think. He could hide and pretend everything was fine, could pretend his life wasn’t falling down around his ears.

Could pretend he was coping.

Two months since he’d lost both of them. Two freaking months of coming home to realise she wasn’t there—would never be there again.

He’d silenced his phone earlier. It still vibrated in his pocket, so he knew if he had a message. It wasn’t like he’d gone completely AWOL. But he didn’t have to listen to the constant message tones of his family as they all kept him updated with what was going on at the hospital.

They’d all be there. Every last one of them. They’d be there supporting each other while they waited for the baby to make an entrance. Which was great. He wanted that for Max and Millie. He just didn’t want to be part of it. Not yet.

Another buzz in his pocket.

He yanked the phone out to see what set it off this time.

Si, it’s a girl! I have a daughter.

Max.

Simon’s face tightened and his hands shook as he replied.

That’s great, man. I’m really happy for you. Am in Bialga. Have had a few. I’ll stop by tomorrow to see you all, K?

He waited as the dots bounced while Max replied. He knew they all could see where he was. They all had their location settings on for each other, always had. It was just how they did things, and he was fine with it.

Max sent through a thumbs up, then—

It’s fine. I understand. And no one expects you to be here. I don’t expect you to be here, okay? I just wanted you to know.  We called her Juliet. Juliet Amy Jameson.

Simon’s eyes misted up. He downed the rest of the second glass and gritted his teeth. He’d known this was a possibility. They’d asked him if it was okay. He’d stupidly said yes.

He hadn’t realised how it would make him feel when it actually happened, though.

He knew if he asked, they’d change it.

He refused to do that to them. They deserved closure and to honour Amy however they wanted to.

The bartender stopped in front of him, and he glanced up, her form slightly blurry from the damned stinging in his eyes. He blinked rapidly to try to clear them.

“Done with these?” she asked. Compassion filled her eyes.

He nodded. “Can I grab two more of those?”

She nodded once. “Sure. Just go a bit slower, eh?”

He sent her a smile, which probably looked more like a twisted grimace on his face, then sent back a thumbs-up emoji to his brother.

He’d just get through today. He’d let himself wallow for one night, then get on with it tomorrow. He just wanted tonight.

To be near people who didn’t know what had happened.

To not have to avoid looking at people’s faces because they knew and didn’t know what to say to him.

To simply … forget.

To forget that wanting a child so badly had caused him to lose both Amy and the new little life that had been growing inside her.

The new drinks appeared before him and he paid, then glanced around the room, twirling the glass nearest to him around on its coaster.

Forgetting would be the biggest blessing he could ever ask for.

Evangeline Adams glanced again at the cute guy sitting all alone in the corner.

A desolate air seeped from him, seeming to stain the air around him. She hadn’t wanted to come out tonight, but her best friend, Sam, had nagged until she’d given in. Sam’s new boyfriend was in town tonight and wanted to catch up with her, and Sam hadn’t wanted to wait at the nightclub by herself.

The pair had gone off on their own over half an hour ago, fully expecting Eva to have left too, but she hadn’t been able to, hadn’t been able to stop looking at the guy who seemed to have the weight of the world sitting on those very nice, impressively wide shoulders.

Thick, messy, slightly shaggy black hair framed a handsome, but not excessively pretty, face. Not like some of the guys on the hunt in here tonight, manscaped within an inch of their lives, all coiffed and buffed and shiny, as if they’d popped out of the same cookie-cutter machine that dispensed pretty boys.

She almost laughed aloud. Boys, they were. Heck, none of them could’ve been over twenty-five.

But him … He was definitely older. And he wasn’t ogling the younger women who strutted around on the dance floor with their tiny little dresses and miniskirts.

Smiling to herself, she admitted she would’ve been one of them ten years ago. And all glory to them. They looked great. But her life had moved past that now, to a day filled with her career that was just taking off, and her nights with her gorgeous little man about the house—her two-year-old son.

Who was currently at home, tucked up in bed, with his grandmother sitting reading a book on the lounge.

She’d only expected to be out for an hour, at most.

Sit with Sam, wait for the new guy to show, then scoot back home. That had been the plan.

Her mother had messaged her to tell her to stay out, to have some fun since she was home with Matty anyway. Eva had been about to message her back to decline when she’d spotted Mr Dark and Gloomy in the corner, and every sense had gone into overdrive.

Firstly, curiosity at the guy sitting all alone in a corner. A guy who, though not manscaped, was dressed neatly, even if a bit underdressed for the upmarket place they were in, and looked clean.

Then he’d looked up, as if seeing straight through her.

Her heart had clunked. Had almost stopped beating, then sped up so fast she was worried she was having palpitations.

She couldn’t tell his eye colour—he was too far away and the lighting too dim—but they still arrested her, made her ache to hear his story.

And he would have one. No guy sat alone, on Valentine’s Day, in a room full of hot young things looking to hook up, and … ignored them. Regardless of whether it was men or women he was into, there were plenty of both on the prowl.

But his face …

The more she looked at him, the more attractive she found him. He was tall; she could tell that even with him sitting down. Lean, but toned. Not one of those gym-junkie types who got all buff to hook a girl. No, he looked like it was his occupation that had given him that strong, toned body that she could tell was hiding beneath his jeans and fitted button-up shirt.

A dark whisper of stubble hugged his jawline, and, even though she didn’t know him, it didn’t appear to be artifice. More like he had just forgotten, or didn’t care, to shave daily.

Nice.

Too nice, if she was honest.

She hadn’t felt any kind of attraction to anyone since her husband had walked out over two years ago. She certainly hadn’t expected to feel something this strong just by looking at a guy across a now-crowded dance floor. It felt like the worst kind of cliché.

She looked back at her half-drunk wine, grabbing it along with her courage, then shoved those niggling nerves deep, slipped off the barstool and headed around the edge of the dance floor, straight for him.

Stopping in front of his table, she waited until he looked up at her.

Blue-grey.

His eyes were blue-grey.

But it wasn’t the colour that made her breath catch. It was the all-encompassing desolation that hit her deep in the belly.

The tightness around his eyes. The lines around his lush mouth, as if he hadn’t smiled in who knew how long.

He blinked and the spell shattered. “Hey.”

One word. One word spoken in a deep, sexy voice that shimmered over her entire body like someone had taken a feather to her spine.

Wow.

“Ah … hi.” She motioned to the table. “Mind if I sit?” she asked, slightly too loudly so she could be heard over the music.

The guy glanced at the two empty chairs in front of him, as if noticing them for the first time.

“Sure.”

Nervousness threatened to consume her. So far, he hadn’t been either encouraging or dismissive. She knew she didn’t look like most of the women in here. She was short and, while she called herself curvy, she knew most would say she was chubby—if they were being kind. She certainly wasn’t tall and sexy and long-limbed, or equipped with any of the innate grace that seemed to ooze from some of the women around her like a cloud.

And she hadn’t dressed herself up to the nines tonight, either. Sure, she felt nice. But she hadn’t gone all-out into hunt mode. Her thick, unruly waves had been wound up into a bun to get it off her neck, the heat of the day having leached into the night as well. She was all about comfort. Snaffling a man for the night had been the last thing on her radar when she’d gotten ready.

Pulling the chair out, Eva sat gingerly and held out her hand. “I’m Eva.”

The guy looked at her hand a moment, then took it in a perfunctory shake. “Simon J—”

She quickly placed her finger on his lips. “No last names.”

His eyes widened in surprise. Either from the no last names thing, or her touch on his mouth, she couldn’t tell.

“Ookay.” He spoke against her finger and drew the word out.

And damn if that wasn’t as sexy as all hell.

Heat spread up her cheeks. She sat back and picked up her wine, sipping it to have something to do. She never did this. Never put herself so out there, so in the path of complete, humiliating rejection.

But …

She bit her lip and chanced looking at him. His gaze seemed glued to her mouth.

She pointed at the ceiling. “Would you like to get out of here? It’s rather loud.”

She almost slapped her own head at the cheesy line. What was she thinking? The guy would tell her no, and that would be it. He’d said a whole three words to her since she’d sat down. He certainly didn’t look too interested. But perhaps being close to another warm body for the night was something he needed, something that would smooth some of that desolation she’d seen in his eyes? She moved her chair back to leave before things went south.

“Sure.”

Eva looked up, shocked. “What?” popped out before she could censor it.

A slight tilt tweaked the edges of his mouth and her breath caught.

What would he look like if he really smiled?

Suddenly, she wanted to see that with a hankering that verged on compulsion.

“Oh. Okay. Um …” She looked around, then nodded.

Simon stood and reached out his hand as if to guide her, then yanked it back, covering his change with motioning an after you.

Taking a final sip of wine for courage, she smiled at him and stood, walking out ahead of him into the warm night air.

Oh, boy. What was she doing?

Was she really going to go home with this guy?

Stepping onto the sidewalk, she turned as he walked out behind her, the noise dimming to a distant thump behind them.

His hands were shoved deep into his front pockets, making him look for all the world like a bashful teenager unsure of what he was doing.

That almost made her laugh. She felt exactly the same way.

He chewed on his lush lower lip. A very sexy lip that looked like it would be so very nice to kiss.

Stop it! Goodness, Eva!

She was so hormone-fuelled she almost couldn’t see straight. She sent him what she hoped was a confident smile.

Did he even realise how cute he was?

Simon jerked his head to the right. “I have a room at the Baxter. We could go there if you want?”

Blinking, Eva’s smile grew. The Baxter was one of the most upmarket hotels in the small city, which had modelled itself on the bigger, fancy five-star numbers in the capital cities. “You’re not local.”

“No. Not from here. Just passing through.”

It was as if the angels themselves had delivered this man right into her lap. Not local. Not too young. And he actually seemed to like the look of her.

Nodding, she replied, “I’d love to.”

She followed him the hundred or so metres to the hotel and stepped into the lift while he tapped his room card on the access point, then pressed his floor number. Butterflies flocked her stomach, actually seeming to curdle the wine in her belly.

She wasn’t sure if it was from excited nerves or terror.

She stifled a giggle. The terror was in case he found her lacking once their clothes were off.

Taking her time to straighten her blouse, she tugged it into place over her dress pants, then shook her head at herself and her self-sabotaging brain.

He wouldn’t have asked her back if he hadn’t liked what he’d seen.

It was just that she hadn’t done anything like this in … well, ever. Certainly hadn’t put herself out there since her ex-husband had left her and Matty high and dry.

It’s just a booty call. You know it and he knows it.

She psyched herself up mentally. Not because she didn’t want this, she just needed a little confidence. Something that had taken a massive beating when Vance had walked out on her more than two years ago.

A hot night with a sexy man should help.

Shouldn’t it?

The elevator dinged and the doors opened on his level. Eva followed as he walked toward the end of the hall.

Simon tapped the card to the door and held it open for her.

She blinked up at him in surprise. He was holding the door for her?

How sweet!

She wasn’t used to that. Wasn’t used to a lot of things, to be honest.

He closed the door gently and she faced him, her excited nerves winning out and she rubbed her palms on the seat of her pants. She looked up as he came closer.

Yes. Definitely tall. At least six-two, if she wasn’t wrong.

She sent him a small smile. He motioned to the minibar.

“Would you like a drink? I can order up if you want something that’s not here.”

Shaking her head, she replied, “No, thanks. I’m good.”

She promptly kicked herself. Maybe she should have asked for a drink, at least it would be something to do while she gathered her courage.

Simon looked at a loss, then rubbed his jaw.

Oh, screw it. Just go with it.

She stepped forward and grabbed his nape and hauled him down toward her. The surprise in his blue-grey eyes registered as her mouth hit his.

Oh, yes. So very much yes.

Touching her tongue tentatively to his lips, she almost gasped in relief when he opened to her, deepening their kiss.

His hands went to her ass and he grabbed her, pulling her close against him. Eva stroked his chest with her free hand and almost groaned at the rippling muscle beneath his shirt.

So. Very. Sexy!

He pushed her back against the wall behind her and pulled his mouth from hers, kissing down her neck, nipping and licking.

Good God!

She was going to combust just from that.

“Simon,” she gasped as he undid the tie on the front of her shirt, exposing her bra.

She shoved her hand into his hair as his head dipped, his mouth nudging the low cup of her balconette bra aside, her breast spilling out. He sucked her nipple into his mouth and her knees gave out.

He grabbed her around the waist to stop her from falling, pressing her harder against the wall.

“You taste so damned good.”

“Hmm.” Eva couldn’t think. She yanked his shirt from his jeans and shoved her hands beneath it, stroking his hot skin.

He smelled so good that she wanted to lick him all over.

Everywhere.

She scraped her hands over his chest, his nipples, and he groaned into her skin. One hand dropped to the waistband of her pants and slid the zip down, then he slipped his fingers under her knickers.

She jerked against him. “Yes!”

He pulled his mouth from her breast, her nipple puckering even more in the cool air-conditioned room as he took her mouth in a soul-destroying kiss, his fingers sliding down over her clit. She cried out into his mouth, her own hands dropping to the button on his jeans, freeing him to her touch.

Simon moaned into her mouth. “You’re so freaking gorgeous.”

The words sank into her lust-addled brain, taking time to compute.

Her hand wrapped around him without conscious thought, his thick length so very hard beneath her fingers. Just as his words untangled in her brain, he pushed two fingers inside her.

Eva bucked on his hand, gasping into his mouth. His thumb stroked her clit as he pumped his fingers gently, sinking them deeper with each thrust. Her hand clenched on him, the other gripping his shoulder underneath his shirt.

Gasping breaths, interspersed with moans and sighs surrounded them.

“Simon …” she whispered. Sensation drowned her. All she could focus on was those incredible fingers inside her. “I want …”

He licked up her neck and tugged on her ear as she moved on his hand. He tapped lightly on her clit, and she cried out.

“Come for me, Eva,” he demanded.

Her hand clenched tight on his skin, her other still stroking his length. Whispered moans echoed in her ears as she did exactly what he commanded, her sex clamping down on his fingers as she lost her mind.

Eva cried out, her back arching, his thumb destroying her senses as he kept her high. A second, more intense orgasm burned through her and she screamed, her head thrust back as her body took over, bucking and grinding on his hand.

“I want you,” she managed to gasp. “I want you now.”

She could feel him pull back even before he moved. She opened her eyes to see a shadow of pain echo in his eyes.

“Simon?”

Simon slid his hand from her pants. His brow furrowed a little and he stepped back, her own hand sliding from his still-hard length. He tucked himself into his jeans with difficulty, his mouth twisting at the discomfort as he zipped up his pants.

He cupped her cheek and pressed his forehead to hers. “I-I’m so sorry, Eva. I thought I could do this. I thought …” He shook his head softly, his hair brushing against her skin. “I’ve had too much to drink. I should never have brought you back here. I know that’s a shitty excuse, but I just can’t …”

Ice doused Eva’s spine.

Was he really …

“But I, uh …”

He stepped back, pain tightening his face. “I really am sorry,” he whispered. He scrubbed at his face.

Eva looked closer. His hands were actually shaking.

What the hell was going on?

“Is it me?”

She knew she shouldn’t ask that, knew it was just asking for trouble and leaving herself open to the pain of rejection; but she couldn’t get that horrible, sneaking thought out of her head.

That he simply wasn’t into her.

That she wasn’t sexy enough.

That her post-baby body wasn’t enough of a turn-on.

His expression tightened further, and he looked right at her, those blue-grey eyes so deep, so seemingly heartfelt. “No. Never think that. You are so … You’re delicious.”

He stepped back. “But I can’t.” He motioned to the room. “If you want to stay here, I can get another room, or go somewhere else. You don’t have to leave.”

Incredulous shock wound through her. What the hell was happening?

“No, Simon. I’m not kicking you out of your room. I live here in Bialga. I’ll go home. I’ll get a cab or something.”

Humiliation ate at her soul, rising through her body as heat, pinking her cheeks, flooding her body in chills.

He didn’t want her, after all.

Regardless of his reasons, that’s what it came down to.

She couldn’t hold his gaze. Couldn’t look at those beautiful eyes while he was essentially kicking her out of his room. He’d given her two of the best orgasms of her life, but couldn’t bring himself to fuck her.

She hastily fixed her clothes, that telltale heat blazing from her cheeks as she did so, her pure mortification clear for all to see. “I’ll let myself out.”

Then she ran for the door.

End of Excerpt