by LK Farlow
She finishes pulling back the covers and slides under them, completely oblivious to my dilemma. After tossing and turning for a few seconds, she finds her sweet spot, but I’m still standing at the side of the bed, staring.
“Cash?” Her sleepy voice breaks my trance, and I climb into the bed next to her. She’s close enough that I can feel her heat, even though we're not touching, and I swear on all that’s holy, this girl is it for me. If just lying here like this has me feeling like the king of the goddamn universe, I can only imagine what being inside her will be like.
My thoughts are put on hold when she rolls away from me and snuggles her ass right into me, murmuring, “G’night, Cash.”
I reach over to switch off the lamp before pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder. “Sweet dreams, darlin’.”
Though I doubt I’ll be getting much sleep.
By some miracle, I manage to fall asleep—and yes, I mean it when I say miracle. Myla Rose kept her body pressed firmly into mine all night, which is why this morning is a little painful. I mean, waking up to her in my bed . . . yes, please. Every day.
As much as I’d like to stay in bed, wrapped in with her, this morning wood I’m sporting needs to go if I have any hope of surviving the day. This girl has me wound so tightly, I’d probably blow if she shifted in the slightest.
I check the time and groan at the numbers on the clock. Five thirty. But I’m too wired to fall back asleep. Slipping out from my spot behind her, I take care not to jostle her and make my way to the shower.
The hot water pours over me as I do my best to will away thoughts of her out there in my bed. It’s no use, though. The image is branded into my brain, and I’m helpless to fight it.
Even here, in my shower, her scent surrounds me. Inhaling deeply, I’m hit with a barrage of images and memories—the way her body feels pressed into mine, the feel of her soft skin, the sounds of her breathy moans . . .
I close my eyes and give in to the fantasy. I’m so caught up in it, in her, that it only takes four strokes before I’m chanting her name like a prayer, my release circling the drain.
31
Myla Rose
I roll over, and just like in that stupid dream I had right after meeting him, I’m met with empty, cool sheets. However, I can hear the water running behind the bathroom door, so I know I’m not alone.
I turn my head to glance at the clock. It’s not even six yet. I toss and turn before settling myself on his side of the bed, burrowing myself under his citrus-scented sheets. I’m on the brink of falling back asleep when I swear I hear him groan my name.
Sweet baby Jesus. His voice is heaven in everyday conversation, but that sound was pure sin. It was feral, and it has me wanton and needy. Too bad I’m too chicken shit to do anything about it.
The water stops, and I hear the clink of the shower curtain being pulled back. I do my best to pretend I’m still sleeping. The last thing I want is for him to know I heard him.
The door opens, and the mouth-watering shower steam seeps out into the bedroom. It’s a heady combination of citrus, soap, and deodorant—I swear, it’s like I’m cocooned in all things Cash, and I’m pretty damn sure this is what Nirvana is like.
I peek my eyes open as he walks past the bed, and the sight I’m met with elicits a loud gasp from me.
He isn’t wrapped in a towel . . . no, he’s as naked as the day he was born. Now, mind you, my view is of his backside, but it is mighty fine all the same. His shoulders are broad and his back is strong. And his ass, Jesus, don’t even get me started.
“’Morning, darlin’,” he says with a devilish smile before making his way into his closet, presumably to get dressed. What a shame.
A few moments later, he emerges, much to my dismay, fully clothed. “You a breakfast person?”
“Best meal of the day,” I tell him sincerely.
“I could think of one I’d like better.” He winks and extends a hand to me. “C’mon, you can help me get food ready for the twins. They’ll be up shortly.” I take his hand and quickly shimmy into my bra and shorts before trailing behind him to the kitchen, where he starts gathering ingredients. “You like French toast?” I nod, and he starts cracking the eggs into a bowl.
Sure enough, by the time the food is ready, two bed-headed, sleepy-eyed little boys shuffle into the dining room. Neither of them speak. They just plop themselves down into their chairs and wait for their plates.
After a few forkfuls of French toast, though? A different story. It’s like they mainlined the sugar because they are wired now.
“Princess, did you sleep over too?” Preston asks.
I freeze, unsure of what to tell them. Thankfully, Cash saves the day. “Yup, she sure did.”
“Cool. Can we go play outside?” Cash nods, and they tear out of the room like rockets.
“Boys!” he hollers, and they freeze. “Y’all need to get dressed first. C’mon.” As Cash leads them from the room, I start cleaning up our mess.
I’m standing at the kitchen sink, up to my elbows in suds, scrubbing our dishes when I feel Cash come up behind me. He reaches around me, bringing his strong hands to rest on my bump. He drops an open-mouthed kiss to that sweet spot where my neck and shoulder meet. “Mmm,” I moan at the contact.
“Shh,” he warns as he peppers kisses up and down my neck while lightly caressing my belly.
“Can’t help it, Cash. When you lay your hands on me, I’m helpless to fight it.”
“Good,” he grunts, pressing his body closer to mine. I can feel the evidence of his desire for me, and I lean fully into him, tilting my head back against his chest.
He captures my lips in an aggressive kiss. “Need you, darlin’, so bad.”
Good God, his words have my heart soaring. This man . . . he makes me more than want it all—he makes me believe I can have it.
“Need you too.” I drag my wet, soapy hands from the water and place them over his on my belly.
Just as he moves to turn me in his arms, a male voice rings out from somewhere in the house. “Cashmere . . . OH, SHIT!”
We break apart, both of us panting. “Awesome timing, Jake.”
Ah, so this is his d-bag brother. Lovely. I can only imagine how this looks. I keep my eyes focused on the floor at his feet.
“This her?” his brother asks.
“Jesus Christ,” an unfamiliar female voice scolds, “Have some manners.”
“Yes, this is Myla Rose.” Cash wraps an arm around me. “Darlin’, this is my idiot brother, Jake, and his much better half, Paige.”
I finally look up, steeling myself for whatever may come. However, nothing could have prepared me for what came next. Instead of judgey looks and nasty glares, Paige draws me into a tight hug. “It is so nice to meet you, Myla Rose. We’ve heard only good things.”
“Sure enough, Cash never shuts up about you,” Jake adds, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Also, guess I need to apologize for the texts you saw. That wasn’t me at my best.”
“Nowhere near your best,” Paige adds.
It would be so easy to stay mad, but if Cash is gonna be in my life the way I hope he is, then I need to be able to forgive and forget. Deep down, I know he meant no harm.
Stepping back from Paige’s embrace, I address him. “It’s already forgotten, and I’m really glad to meet y’all both. And your boys—they’re absolutely precious.”
Paige beams and asks me if I know what I’m having. She and I fall into easy conversation while Cash and Jake head out back to get the twins.
I’m not sure how long Paige and I have been in the living room chatting, but I adore her. She’s everything right and good in this world, and despite our gaping age difference, I can easily see us grabbing lunch and whatnot.
“Honey, you ready?” Jake calls as he, Cash, and the twins file into the room.
“MOM!” Preston and Lucas yell as they both rush over to Paige, wrapping their tiny arms around her.
“Hey, sweet peas, I
missed y’all.” I can hear her love for them, and it really hits it home the fact that this’ll soon be me, telling my boy sweet things.
“We missed you too, Mom, but Princess Myla is AWESOME! She cutted our hair, and played with us at the beach, and she spended the night too!”
Oh, Jesus. They’re going to think I’m some kind of two-bit whore, having spend-the-nights when their children are here.
“Oh, yeah?” Jake asks through a snort. “Getcha a little brown chicken—” Paige smacks a hand over his mouth just as Preston says, “No, Dad, we had pizza!” At that, we all laugh. From the mouths of babes.
“Okay, boys, time to go. Y’all head on out to the car. I’ll grab their stuff.” She stands and sets off toward the spare bedroom, still chuckling.
When she returns, Cash swoops in and grabs the boys’ stuff from her and carries it out. My belly dips—such a damn gentleman.
“Paige, it was so nice to meet y’all, and please know that nothing inappropriate happened last night. I fell asleep on the—”
She cuts me off. “Even if something did happen, y’all are grown. No harm, no foul. Now, give me your number, and I’ll text you about setting up a girls’ day.” I fire off my number and in turn save hers before hugging her bye.
I swear, Cash’s family is almost as amazing as he is. I smile to myself, thinking that Grams would approve for sure.
“What else you got going on today?” Cash asks as he drops down beside me on the couch.
“Hmm, not really sure. Probably laundry.”
“Living the life, huh, darlin’?”
“You know it.” I can’t help the smile that stretches wide across my face. Being here with him, discussing mundane, everyday things . . . it just feels right. Like it’s where I’m supposed to be. He gives me this sense of belonging I’ve never felt with anyone else.
“Well, my day isn’t gonna be any more exciting than yours. Gotta clean up from Preston and Lucas. Then, I’ll probably head down to my shop and get prepped for the week.”
“Need help cleaning up?”
“I mean, shit, darlin’, if you’re offering . . .” His smirk leads me to believe cleaning is the last thing on his mind.
“Yeah, Cash, I am.” And maybe it’s the last thing on mine too.
The moment the words pass my lips, it’s as if time stops. Cash is like a statue—totally unmoving. His eyes are molten, pinning me in place as they search mine, making sure we’re on the same page. Lifetimes pass, or maybe it’s seconds. He must find the answer he’s looking for, because all at once, he lunges toward me, plunging his hands into my hair as he lays me back onto the couch.
His lips meet mine, and I swear—I swear—this man was made for me, to be mine. Our kiss is frenzied, more teeth than tongue, but it’s perfect. It’s passionate. It’s us.
“You sure?” he pants, pushing his hips into mine.
“A hundred and ten percent,” I whisper-moan.
“We do this, you’re mine, darlin’.”
“I’m already yours, Cash.”
Just like that, we’re a flurry of limbs, pulling at one another’s clothes until there’s nothing between us. The feel of him, of his skin, has me drunk—floating, flying . . . falling.
Cash stops, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and one under my legs, and he lifts me from the couch like it’s nothing. “Where’re we going?” I pant.
“Want you here, darlin’,” he tells me as he gently sets me on his bed. He stands at the end of the bed, staring at me like I’m the most precious thing. Like I’m delicate and fragile, but I’m not. I want his rough side. I need it.
“I’m not gonna break, Cash,” I tell him as he gently runs his strong hands up and down my calves.
“I know that, Myla.” He places a soft kiss to my right calf and then another to my left thigh. He pauses, level with my belly button, and holds my eyes before placing a soft kiss on my rounded belly. “That’s mine too.” I swear, this man, he is so much more than I could’ve ever hoped for.
He drops small kisses all along my chest and neck before finally making it back to my lips. He groans as he pushes into me, and oh, my stars . . . I know that I’m ruined for any other man. Cash is using his body to take mine to places I’ve never been. With every shift and every thrust, this man is moving heaven and earth, all for my pleasure.
“Never felt this good, darlin’.”
“No. Never,” I whine as I fall apart beneath him, all shuddered breaths and soft moans.
“Goddamn, Myla, so good,” he growls, following after me.
32
Cash
Between Myla Rose’s hormones and the way we were burning up the sheets, she was fast asleep by the time I rolled over to settle myself next to her in the bed. As I pull the sheets up over us, I can’t help but chuckle at the small smile she’s sporting in her sleep, knowing that it mirrors my own. We’re both sated and spent, and I know soul-deep that I’ll never get enough of this girl. Wrapping an arm around Myla, I pull her close, her back to my front, and drift off to sleep with her.
Afternoon sunlight filters through the cracks in the blinds, rousing me. Myla Rose is still snoozing, wrapped in my arms. “Darlin’, time to get up.” I gently draw my fingertips across her belly, barely touching her. “C’mon, rise and shine.” I press my lips to that spot below her ear that I know makes her crazy.
She shifts and turns her head to look at me, all sleepy-eyed and hazy. “Hey there, handsome. This is a wakeup call I could get used to.”
“Is it, now?” I ask, pulling her back into me.
Her cheeks pinken, like she’s embarrassed. “That’s the sleep talking. Feel free to ignore me.”
With my thumb and forefinger, I grasp her chin, tilting her head to look fully at me. “I won’t ignore anything you say, darlin’, not ever. If you talk, I’m gonna listen. Your words are important, Myla.”
“Um . . . oh–okay, Cash.”
“I mean it, and forget anyone who’s ever made you feel differently,” I tell her, making my way from the bed to the closet. I throw on some sweats and a Carson’s Custom tee and return to her. “And for that matter, don’t censor your words around me. If it falls from your lips, I wanna hear it. Now get dressed, babe. I’m gonna make us lunch.”
Sensing she needs a few moments to herself, I don’t wait around for her reply. Instead, I head out to the kitchen and set about making us lunch.
I hear Myla’s bare feet padding across the tile floor and turn to find her once again dressed in her clothes from yesterday. “Hope you like sandwiches, darlin’. My cupboards are bare. Just shopped, too, but those boys ate me outta house and home.”
She smiles and shakes her head. “Sandwiches sound great, Cash. You think you’ve got it bad? Just think about their mama.”
“Think about you, darlin’. Soon enough, that little rascal you’re carrying will eat up all the food in your pantry, too.”
“Don’t I know it. He’s already making me eat damn near everything in sight.”
“Well, you look good for it, so keep at it.” She blushes as she finishes off her sandwich before collecting both of our plates and depositing them in the sink.
“Thanks, Cash. I wish I could stay and actually help clean. I mean, not that I’d change what happened, because it was . . .” she trails off.
“It was what? Magical? Phenomenal? Damn near religious?”
“Perfect. It was perfect,” she tells me with a soft push to my shoulder. “Now hush up and walk me to my car.”
“Yes, ma’am, and as the saying goes, ‘I hate to see you leave, but I love to watch you go.’” Myla Rose turns her head to look at me, amusement swimming in her deep chocolate eyes, but a snort is all she offers in return.
Much to Myla’s dismay, I not only open the door to Bertha, but I also buckle her in before sealing my lips to hers in a scorching kiss. “I’ll talk to you soon, darlin’. Let me know when you make it home, ‘kay?”
“You know I will, Cash.�
� I close the door and give the hood two taps before watching her reverse down my short driveway.
I head back inside and clean until I can no longer take the silence screaming at me. Myla Rose spent less than twenty-four hours in my house, but damn, it doesn’t feel like home without her.
I already miss her voice—that sweet Southern drawl. I try to watch some TV, mindlessly flipping through the channels, but nothing holds my interest. My thoughts are too eaten up with remembering the feel of her. The way her long hair fanned out on my sheets like a fiery halo. The way she moaned my name as she shattered beneath me.
I fire up the computer in the office, trying to immerse myself in the business side of my work. Nothing like numbers to quiet your soul. Except it isn’t helping. Not one lick. I pull up my Spotify to drown out the lack of her presence, but it’s no use. Every goddamned song makes me think of her.
The fact that I’m missing her even though she’s barely gone has me feeling a little crazy. In my head, I know I’m being irrational, but I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again . . . nothing about love is rational.
Fuck. Love?
I . . . love her?
I love her—I love Myla Rose McGraw. The realization smacks me square in the chest, stealing the air from my lungs.
With that revelation fresh in my mind, I tear ass out of the house and head straight for my workshop. I want to channel this feeling into every part of the crib I’m building, and what better time than when it’s fresh in my mind?
While I’m well aware she’s more than forgiven me, I have every intention of following through on the plan Simon, Drake, and I came up with. Only now, this crib will be built not as an apology, but as a way to show Myla Rose my love for her—every part, package deal and all.
With the plans I drew up the other week laid out before me, I set to work marking, measuring, and cutting the lumber. I went with a stunning pine for the build and plan to varnish it. I know it’s gonna be amazing, and I know it will measure up to the one she saw in that boutique.