“Me too.”

I held on awhile longer.

Then I swallowed. Then I admitted, “Maybe I am part-goof.”

“Total,” he replied on another squeeze of his fingers at my neck with a corresponding squeeze of his arm around my back. “Total goof.”

“Not total. Part.”

He didn’t reply.

I drew in a last breath through my nose and finally pulled my face out of his neck. His head came back and his chin dipped down so he could look at me.

And God, God, he had beautiful eyes and their beauty increased exponentially when they were close up.

“Sorry,” I whispered.

“Don’t be,” he whispered back.

“I know…” I started, stopped, pulled up the courage and started again, “I know it’s fake but thank you, Ty. I never expected to have anything that nice and it is nice, no matter what. So thank you for giving it to me.”

He didn’t speak but his eyes changed, one of those changes I didn’t know, didn’t yet understand but this one was meaningful. They all were but this one was more meaningful than the rest.

A lot more.

And then I couldn’t stop myself, his eyes so close, that look in them, my arms moved from around his shoulders, my hands framed his face, I leaned up and whispered, “Thank you.”

Then I pressed my lips to his.

I meant to give him a soft kiss of gratitude. This was not to say I didn’t want to give him a long, hard, wet kiss of something else. And just what I wanted to give him and what that would lead to had also been filling my headspace the last couple of days but that wasn’t where I intended to go just then. Not yet. Not with a houseful of people downstairs waiting to eat fried chicken.

But when my mouth hit his, he didn’t give me the chance to give him a soft kiss of gratitude. Instantly, his fingers slid up into my hair, cupping my head and his mouth opened over mine making a demand. Mine complied. Then his tongue spiked into my mouth and I liked the taste of it, I hadn’t had it in what seemed like a decade, I missed it and he tasted so f**king good my body pressed into his and not just because his arm around me grew super tight.

Then I was twisted, on my back in what was, I noted vaguely and was unbelievably happy for, a bed. His torso was on mine, his h*ps beside mine, his long, heavy leg moved to tangle with mine as his tongue moved in my mouth and I wrapped one arm around his back, one around his shoulders, my hand moving to cup the back of his head and hold him to me.

God, he couldn’t kiss. He could kiss.

And spending days and days with his beauty, his generosity, his teasing, his attention, his fabulous body, hearing his deep, rumbling voice, trying to find sleep beside him in bed at night, seeing him stroke himself in the shower, knowing he could use his mouth, I wanted that. I wanted all of it. I wanted it na**d and moving on me, in me. I wanted all of him.

To tell him this, I pressed up into his body and his arm slid up my back then moved out so his hand could slide down my side from pit to waist, his thumb extended so it brushed light against the side of my breast and just that simple touch sent shocks of electricity between my legs so strong, I thought for a second just with that, his weight on me, my arms around him, his leg tangled with mine, his tongue in my mouth, I was going to come and do it hard.

Then I suddenly found myself on my feet by the side of the bed, teetering because I didn’t know how I got there and the loss of all the beauty I’d just had was a brutal shock. I only remained standing because Ty’s big hands were cupping my jaws, his thumbs moving through the wetness still on my cheeks but his big body was held distant, the few feet between us seeming like miles.

“Christ, I’m sorry,” he whispered and I blinked up at him in profound confusion.

“What?” I whispered back breathily.

“I’m sorry, Lexie. That won’t happen again. I promise you, it won’t happen again.”

I blinked again, his hands dropped away, I felt the loss of them like a blow and I watched, I… actually… watched as he closed down. Completely. He snapped the shutters tight and the Ty I’d been getting to know disappeared behind that impenetrable wall that had been up when he’d walked out of prison five days ago.

“Bathroom’s in there, you wanna clean up,” he told me, jerking his head to the side. “Take your time. They’re cool. They’ll get it. Come down when you’re ready.”

Then, without another word or glance, he walked away.

And I stood there in what I realized was a huge bedroom, watching him disappear down a flight of stairs wondering what just happened and hoping it wasn’t what I thought it was.

Hoping at the same time knowing that it was.

Because good shit didn’t happen to me.

Lady Luck played with Ronnie and she also played with Ty, giving and taking, not in equal measure but they got their chance to taste sweet.

But she didn’t like me.

Not at all.

Chapter Seven

Still Feeling Hollow

I opened my eyes and saw Ty’s pillows beside mine, the down depressed from his head resting there but his head wasn’t resting there as it hadn’t been the morning before or the morning before that or the morning before that.

I knew it was stupid but I looked for a note on the pillow, his nightstand, my nightstand but there wasn’t a note as there wasn’t the morning before or the morning before that or the morning before that.

I flopped to my back on the bed and looked at the wood paneled and beamed arched ceiling.

I should probably be thankful I had a few days of it, a few days of sweet, a few days of teasing and soft voices and endearments.

But I wasn’t.

Because if you don’t know how good something can be, you don’t know how bad you’ll miss it when it was gone.

I sighed, stared at the ceiling and let the last few days sift through my brain.

When I finally got back to the party, everyone was a bit watchful and a bit friendlier (if that could be believed), handling me with care though doing it without prying. I tried to relax and pulled on my game face. I was a newlywed married to their Ty, happy, giddy and about to help my man put the past behind him and start a new life.

The good thing was, with that many people, all of them wanting Ty’s time and to get to know me, distance from him didn’t seem unusual, so I nursed that as best I could. He was in huddles, I was in huddles. Sometimes, we’d find ourselves in the same huddle and his arm would move casually around my shoulders and I’d smile bright and listen hard so I didn’t miss anything but mostly so I wouldn’t dissolve into tears again.