by Lena Hart
“Zamya, honey, were you running?”
Mya’s shoulders fell. Not that she didn’t want to speak to her mother, but there was one person she’d been hoping to hear from all day, and he hadn’t even bothered to text her. Since that night he apologized, things had been better between them. It wasn’t great, certainly not where she wanted them to be—with him still sleeping in the guest room—but at least he wasn’t going out of his way to avoid her.
“Hi, Mum.”
“Hello, honey. Happy Valentine’s day.”
Mya couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Mum, but I can’t believe you called me at your hour just to tell me that.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s almost midnight where you are.”
“I know, but I wanted to be sure I called you before it was too late. I would have called earlier, but Jeffrey took me out on the most fabulous day trip…”
Mya listened to her mother’s fluid British accent as she went on about the wonderfulness that was her second husband. Not that Mya had anything against the man—he did treat her mother like a queen—but as a wealthy African diplomat, he tended to be highly conservative and a bit arrogant. Maybe she wouldn’t mind him so much if her mother didn’t feel compelled to constantly talk about his wonderful qualities and how she, as her only daughter, needed to be less “combative.”
In her opinion, defending her choice to live her life the way she wanted and not attend college didn’t constitute being confrontational. But, apparently, the more Mya rejected their “advice,” the more defensive—and rebellious—she was behaving.
And that part was true.
Her tattoo was a result of that rebellion. Her mother and stepfather may not have approved, but the small artwork served as a reminder to rid herself of the emotional restraints she had carried with her to England—and give herself permission to feel again.
After fifteen minutes of her mother’s story, Mya cut her off.
“Sounds like you had a great time, Mum, but I really have to go. Guy will be home soon and I want to make dinner for him tonight.”
“What? You mean he’s not taking you out? But it’s Valentine’s Day.”
Mya was more than aware. Today wasn’t just a holiday for them. It meant so much more. At least it had once.
Mya shook the thought away. She had promised herself she wouldn’t let their recent tension change her plans. She was going to make tonight special and try to close the gap that seemed to be expanding between them.
“Dinner at home with my—” Husband. Mya caught the word before it slipped out. “—my Guy is all I need to celebrate Valentine’s Day.”
Her mother huffed, but let the topic drop. “Well, I won’t keep you, then. I just wanted to let you know that a letter from Cambridge came for you.”
The excitement in her mother’s voice filled Mya with guilt. She had only applied to the university to appease her mother and had no intention of returning to England, much less going to school there.
“Really?” Mya said with forced interest. “What did it say?”
“I didn’t open it, of course. Though I wanted to! But I thought we could open it together. Over the phone, I mean.”
“Uh, why don’t we do it some other night,” Mya said. “It’s already late for you and I have so much on my mind already.”
“But—”
“Please, Mum. I really don’t want to hear bad news tonight.”
It wasn’t a complete lie. Bad news would be finding out that she was accepted into the prestigious university—then having to tell her mother that she wasn’t going.
“Okay, honey. We’ll open it another night.”
Relieved, Mya said a quick goodbye then pushed all thoughts of England and school aside. With only an hour before Guy got home, she rushed to prepare their meal.
An hour was all the time she needed.
By the time she finished setting up the table, she only had a few minutes to admire her picture-perfect set up before she hurried through her shower and changed into her favorite red dress.
But another hour passed and still no Guy.
Mya debated whether to call him. It was a little after seven. On Valentine’s Day. He should be home by now.
She stared at her phone for what seemed like an eternity then grabbed it. Before she could talk herself out of it, she sent him a text.
Hey. When will you be home?
She waited several minutes before he finally responded.
Late.
Mya blew out a frustrated breath and jabbed in her next message with more force than she wanted.
How late?
This time she waited much longer for his response, and for a moment she thought he wouldn’t answer. When her cell phone vibrated, she snatched it from the table.
Don’t wait up.
That was all he wrote, and she immediately thought the worst. Was he with another woman? It had been over a week since she’d come back and he had made no attempts to touch her, though she could see the desire burning in his eyes.
She started another message.
Do you know what today is?
She instantly deleted it. He had to know. It was more than just Valentine’s Day. It was the anniversary of the first time he told her he loved her—and promised his love was forever.
Unconsciously, her fingers came up to her neck and she touched the small jewel nestled at her throat. As beautiful as the necklace was, he had given her something far greater.
His heart.
Of course he wasn’t with another woman.
Mya shook her head at even having the thought. He would never break his vow to her like that. And she didn’t believe in her heart he had given up on their marriage.
After blowing out the candles, she grabbed the bottle of wine from the table. She made her way to the living room and turned on the television. Settling into the large couch, Mya grabbed the warm afghan and draped it across her legs.
So much for her happy Valentine’s Day.
* * *
Guy walked into the house to find the lights turned low. It was late, and he imagined Mya was already in bed.
He unbuttoned his shirt on his way to the guest room, but froze when he passed the dining room. On the table was a dinner set up for two, with a small bouquet of roses and tall candle in the center. The wick was burned at the end and the meal was virtually untouched.
What the hell…
The date suddenly dawned on him and Guy leaned against the wall, feeling like a complete ass. It was Valentine’s Day.
He knew what today meant to her. It had meant the same to him once. On their first Valentine’s together, he had taken her to Promise Lane and given her the necklace—and his promise to love and protect her always. That was the first time he’d told another woman, other than his mother, that he loved her.
With a small curse, Guy pushed away from the wall and went searching for her. She wasn’t in any of the bedrooms, and a slow panic began to build in him.
It immediately fell away when he found her in the den, curled up on the sofa. An empty glass and a half-empty bottle of wine was on the center table. An infomercial for tabletop grills played in the background, and she slept through it all. She looked vulnerable and small curled on the couch like that, like someone who needed caring and protecting. But that was a bad habit he needed to break. She wasn’t a kid anymore, and she certainly wasn’t weak.
Guy made his way to the sofa and stared down at her a moment longer. Even asleep, she was breathtaking. He could see evidence of the painstaking steps she had taken with her appearance tonight.
With a small sigh, Guy carefully pulled back the throw blanket and gathered her in his arms. He lifted her high against his chest, and she murmured but didn’t wake. Instead, she cuddled closer and released a soft sigh, her breath tickling the side of his face.
Sharp desire pierced through him and his grip involuntarily tightened around her. He imagined her naked body pressed against his, her breath t
easing his throat, while he was deep inside her. His shaft grew unbearably full, and he clenched his jaw against the intense need building in him.
Guy scoffed. He only had himself to blame for his discomfort. Apparently, she couldn’t even breathe without giving him a hard-on.
When he finally reached his bedroom, he carefully laid her on the bed and pulled the covers over her.
“Guy?”
He stilled. “Yeah?”
She propped herself up and looked around the dark room. “Where… What time is it?”
“It’s late. You fell asleep. I’m just putting you to bed.”
She sat up and brushed the loose strands of her hair behind her ear. “You missed dinner.”
Guilt once again seared through him. “You shouldn’t have gone through the trouble.”
“It’s—was Valentine’s Day.”
“I know.”
“So you stayed out all night on purpose?”
“No, I was working. I told you I would be late.”
“What was so important you couldn’t come home until” —she glanced at the clock on the nightstand— “midnight?”
“I said I was at work, Mya. I’m not about to itemize every step of my day with you.”
He turned to leave, but she grabbed his hand. He stopped but didn’t pull away from her.
“Guy, wait. I don’t want us to fight.”
She tugged on his hand until he came down on the bed. He knew he should turn and walk out now, but he was powerless against her gentle urging.
“I just wanted us to have tonight.”
She rested her hand on his chest and he was lost from the light touch, swept away by the overwhelming tide of his desires. He sat frozen for a millisecond as she fitted her lips against his. She was soft and warm and everything he had dreamed of having.
Wrapping his arms around her neck, he drew her to him and deepened the kiss. Her fingers clutched at his shirt as he moved his lips over hers, familiarizing himself with the taste and feel of her again.
Yet it still wasn’t enough.
Guy jerked off her dress, and only when he felt her soft, smooth skin beneath his fingers did his anxiety ease. He trailed his lips down the column of her throat, savoring its smooth texture, her soft moans nearly sending him over the edge. He had gone too long without her, and there was nothing that could pry him out of her arms.
Not tonight.
With frenzied movements, they stripped off the rest of their clothing. They were skin to skin within a matter of minutes. Her small, plump breasts pushed against his chest, and for a moment he held her to him, committing every sensation to memory.
God, I missed you.
When she began to kiss along his neck and jaw, he lost what little hold he had on his self-control. At that moment, nothing mattered but being inside her and reclaiming the passion, the love they had once shared.
Guy fell over her on the bed and settled himself between her thighs. He brought his lips down to hers as he began to slowly push into her. She was unbelievably tight, and he gritted his teeth against the incredible sensation. The soft pulsing of her warm channel around his shaft nearly drove him over the edge.
“Relax, baby,” he murmured, still gliding into her with excruciating care.
She dug her fingers into his shoulders as he continued to bury himself in her, but he was the one wired to break. He wanted to unleash all the pent-up desire he held, but his fear of hurting her kept him from pounding into her.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and gradually lifted her hips against him. A harsh groan tore through him and he sank deeper into her.
In the cover of night, he lost himself in the moment, making up for those many nights he’d burned for her. And it was as exquisite as he remembered.
When her soft cries echoed through the dark room, he covered her mouth with his and greedily took everything she had to give before he found his own release.
* * *
The next morning, Mya woke to find herself alone in bed.
She rolled onto her back and stretched, the tender pulling between her legs a delicious reminder of last night, which had been…
She had no words for it.
It had been more intense than their first night together. There was no way he could make love to her the way he had last night and pretend as if he didn’t love her. For the first time since she’d been back, Mya felt more than a glimmer of hope for them.
The shower in the connecting bathroom suddenly came on. She gingerly got out of bed and slipped on a pair of panties and her favorite sleep shirt. She was relieved and a bit anxious that he hadn’t left before they had a chance to see each other yet. Last night was exactly what they needed, and she could only hope that he felt the same way.
Mya made her way to the kitchen, and her first stop was at the coffee maker. She threw out the dinner left out from last night and began making breakfast. Years of preparing meals for her and her dad made the task quick and easy. She fell into a comfortable routine as she prepared a simple meal of scrambled eggs, sausage, and cheesy grits.
By the time Guy made his way into the kitchen, breakfast was on the table. But he said nothing as he went to the cabinet and took down a mug.
She didn’t want things to be awkward between them, so she turned and forced cheerfulness into her voice.
“Good morning.”
“Morning,” he said over his shoulder.
“Are you hungry?”
“Not really.”
“Well, you should eat anyway. Here, I fixed you a plate.”
To her relief, he didn’t argue. He sat down at the table and started in on his meal. She fell into the seat across from him, acutely aware that she had nothing on underneath her simple nightshirt, besides panties. She needed to get ready for work herself, but she didn’t want to miss this opportunity to spend a little more time with him.
They ate in silence—a silence that had so many questions and unsaid words hovering between them.
When Mya couldn’t take the quiet any longer, she finally blurted, “Will you be working late again tonight?”
“Not if I can help it,” he muttered, not looking up at her.
“Good. Then what would you like for dinner tonight?”
He placed his fork down and leaned back in his seat, studying her. She shifted under his close scrutiny then tensed, sensing an excuse—or refusal to have dinner at home with her—coming.
“Mya—”
“I cooked what chicken we had left,” she cut in. “But I can make a casserole or stew.”
“Mya, I don’t want you to make dinner.”
She tried to mask her disappointment. “Why not?”
“Because the mayor’s having a function tonight and he invited me to come.”
“Oh.”
“Can you be ready by seven?”
Her head jerked up in surprise. “You want me to come?”
“Do you want to?”
“Yes, of course.”
He visibly relaxed and gave her a curt nod. Then suddenly he leaned forward in his seat, his brow furrowed as if he were carefully weighing his next words. “About last night…”
“What about it?”
“It was—”
“Nice,” she finished for him.
He cocked a brow and his lips quirked up slightly. “Only nice?”
Her cheeks warmed. Thoughts of last night flooded her, reminding her just how incredible they had been together. To her mortification, her nipples grew taut and pushed against her thin shirt, craving his touch.
“You know what I mean. It was amazing and I have no regrets.”
He stared at her searchingly. “Neither do I. But it’s going to complicate things.”
“No, it won’t,” she said. Before he could say anything else, she rose and began gathering their dishes.
“Leave it,” he said. “I’ll put it in the dishwasher.”
“Thanks.” She wanted to kiss him before she left but
was suddenly feeling awkward again. “I should go get ready. Gloria will never let me hear the end of it if I open the shop even five minutes late.”
She walked past him, regretting that lost moment of intimacy, but was surprised when he grabbed her hand and pulled her to a stop.
“I’m sorry about last night. For missing dinner.”
She smiled, warmed by the unexpected apology. Tossing her pride and uncertainty aside, she leaned down and kissed him. What should have been a quick peck became a long, lingering kiss. He cupped the back of her neck and she braced herself against his shoulders.
His hands slid under her shirt and he slowly dragged her panties down her legs.
“Guy?” she breathed. “What are you doing?”
“You said last night was nice.” He pushed their dishes aside and pulled her down on the edge of the breakfast table. “I need to make up for that.”
Mya held her breath as he pushed her down on the table and lifted her legs high. When his mouth covered her throbbing flesh, she gasped and grabbed his head. His tongue moved over her with expert skill, licking and stroking her with a gentle caress that left her panting. She lifted her hips, eager to take more of his teasing mouth.
With a throaty sigh, she fell back on the table and held on to him, not sure if she wanted to take more of his gentle assault or push him away. In the end, he decided for her. Looping his arms around her thighs, he pulled her to him and held her still. She tried yet failed to hold back her cries of pleasure.
His skilled mouth move voraciously over her sensitive flesh and her body caved under the delicious pressure. With a soft scream, she tightened her legs around his head and came with an intensity that bordered on pain.
She was certain the whole town had heard her moans of release.
Her entire body still shook as ripples of pleasure moved over her. With a few soothing laps of his tongue, he eased her back to reality. When she found the strength, she opened her eyes to find him staring down at her, his green eyes bright with unspent desire. Her quivering thighs hung like soft noodles over the table. Moving over her, he kissed her deeply and without restraint.
“Now that,” she panted into his mouth, “was incredible.”