The Contract (The Contract 1)

“She liked you.”

My throat felt strangely thick as I studied her face in the pale light from the window. “I liked her,” I stated, quiet but honest. “She was a wonderful woman.”

“I know.”

“I know you’ll miss her, sweetheart, but . . .” I didn’t want to say the same platitudes I’d heard uttered to her over the past few days. “She would have hated being a burden to you.”

“She wasn’t!”

“She would have argued with you. You worked hard to make her feel safe. You sacrificed so much.”

“She did the same for me. She always put me first.” She shuddered. “I–I don’t know where I’d be today if it hadn’t been for her finding me and taking me in.”

I didn’t want to think about that either. Penny’s actions had affected both our lives—for the better.

“She did it because she loved you.”

“I loved her.”

“I know.” I cupped her face, staring into her pain-filled eyes. “You loved her so much you married a total asshole who treated you like shit so you could make sure she was looked after properly.”

“You stopped being a total asshole a few weeks ago.”

I shook my head. “I should never have been an asshole to you at all.” To my shock, I felt tears gather in my eyes. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“You miss her, too.”

Unable to speak, I nodded.

She pulled me down, my head resting in the crook of her neck. I couldn’t remember the last time I cried—most likely when I was a child—but I cried now. I cried for the loss of a woman I only knew for a brief time, yet came to mean so much to me. Who, with her stories and fractured memories, brought to life the woman I was married to—her words showed me Katy’s goodness and light.

She and Katy showed me it was okay to feel, to trust . . . and to love.

Because, in that one moment, I knew I was in love with my wife.

I yanked Katy to me, holding her tight. When my tears dried, I lifted my head, meeting her gentle gaze. The air between us changed from one of comfort and care to something charged and alive.

The lust and longing I had denied myself ignited. My body burned for the woman I was holding, and Katy’s eyes widened, the same desire flaring in their vivid blue color.

Giving her the chance to say no, I lowered my head, pausing over her quivering lips.

“Please?” I whispered, not certain what I was asking.

Her feather-soft whimper was all I needed, and my mouth met hers with a hunger I had never experienced.

It wasn’t only lust and desire. It was need and longing. It was redemption and forgiveness. All of it wrapped up in one tiny woman.

It was like being reborn in a fiery burst of flames that licked and snapped at my spine. Every single nerve hummed in my body. I could feel every inch of her pressed to me; every curve fit to me as if she were made for me and me alone. Her tongue was like velvet against mine, her breath like gusts of pure life filling my lungs. I couldn’t get close enough. I couldn’t kiss her deep enough. Her ridiculous nightshirt vanished under my fists, the material ripping easily. I had to touch her skin. I needed to feel all of her. Using her feet, she pushed down my pants; my erection released, trapped between us. We both groaned as our skin met. Soft, smooth skin, rubbed my rougher, harder body.

She was like cream—fluid and sweet, wrapping around me. Using my hands and tongue, I discovered her everywhere. The dips and hollows hidden from the world were now mine to explore. I feasted on her taste, each discovery new and exotic. Her breasts were full and lush in my hands, her nipples pert and sensitive. She moaned as I tongued them to stiff peaks, tugging on them gently with my teeth. She squirmed and whimpered as I drifted lower, swirling my tongue on her stomach, down to her tiny belly button, and beyond, until I found her, wet and ready for me.

“Richard,” she gasped. The word was static and frantic as I closed my mouth around her and tasted her sweetness. Her body bowed, arching and stretching as I explored, using my tongue to delve and tease. She buried her hand in my hair, pushing me closer and tugging me back as I built a rhythm. Her moans and whimpers were like music to my ears. I slid a finger, then two, inside, stroking her deeply.

“God, sweetheart, you’re so tight,” I moaned into her heat.

“I’ve . . . I’ve never been with a man.”

I stilled, lifted my head, her words sinking in. She was a virgin. I needed to remember that, to be gentle with her and treat her with respect. That she would bestow that gift to me, of all people, made me ache with emotions I couldn’t identify. I shouldn’t be surprised, yet, as always, she continued to confound me.