found her center again. She heard someone crying out over and over—was that her?—as she was pushed higher, then higher still. Then two fingers were inside her, scissoring against her swollen tissue, and she shattered.
She had no awareness of her limbs, of moving or of being moved, but suddenly she was in the steaming bath. John reclined in the scented water, and she straddled his lap. His latex-covered cock pressed against her, his hands at her hips, and she melted around him as he pulled her down, or he surged up, filling her to the brim.
It was too much. It was not enough. She couldn’t handle it, and when he began to thrust, she came again, and again, riding a series of aftershocks that had a scream tearing from her lips. He muttered filthy words in a rough voice, his fingers digging into the flesh of her hips as he followed her over the edge.
The fog overtook her. When she came to, she was lying on the bed, wrapped in a giant plush towel. Her nose was pressed to John’s chest, his arms around her.
Holy crap.
She felt as though she’d been turned inside out. What the hell had just happened?
HE WAS SCREWED.
He’d had a lot of sex with a lot of different women. He didn’t see any shame in that, because he’d always been up-front with his partners about what he could—and couldn’t—give.
What he’d just experienced with Meg had been like nothing he’d ever experienced before.
He’d wanted her from the first moment he’d seen her. He remembered it with crystal clarity—he’d wandered into the Marchande family garage to offer Jo a job, and there she’d been. She’d only been wearing a bra and a pair of faded overalls—none of the fancy clothes she loved. There had been no makeup on her face. She’d been surrounded by her sisters, and yet he hadn’t been able to look at anyone but her.
She’d looked right back. He’d thought that when they got together, any attraction they succumbed to would burn itself out, then be something they could exchange glances over at any future encounters.
He’d been stupid. Having Meg made him think of the tasting menus she put together for clients. So many different flavors. He could eat and eat, stuffing himself and never have his fill.
He had... He had feelings.
He was also leaving. Usually, that was appealing—moving on, a clean slate, a fresh start.
Right now, all he could think of was the fact that when she’d surrendered to him, something had clicked into place. Something that neatly filled all the empty places he ignored.
Pulling her against his chest, he squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t have any answers, but right now, just having her in his arms was enough.
Except she wasn’t all warm and pliant like she’d been just a few minutes ago. She was stiff. Tense.
“What’s wrong?” Pulling back enough that he could see her face, he took in her pale skin, her wide eyes. “Hey. Talk to me.”
She sighed, squirmed with avoidance, then huffed out a breath of exasperation and finally spoke.
“My dad died when I was twelve.” She eyed him warily, and he knew she was searching for signs that he didn’t care, that stories about her past weren’t what he was here for.
He was here for everything, so he nodded for her to continue.
“Mamesie was a stay-at-home mom when it happened, and suddenly, she was responsible for four kids and a house.” Meg’s chin quivered. “I was the oldest, so a lot of responsibility fell to me. I’m the normal kid. The one who doesn’t create any trouble.”
“The one who doesn’t cry?” He traced a fingertip belong one of her eyes. It came away wet. “There’s no shame in crying.”
“Except that I don’t know why I am!” Placing both hands on his chest, she pushed back until there was a ribbon of space between them. He wanted to close it back up but understood that she needed it. “I’m just... I’m not used to having my needs made a priority. It brought out some stuff.”
“Hey.” Placing a finger under her chin, he tilted it up so she had no choice but to look at him full on. “I thought part of what you wanted from me was some care. Isn’t that part of our deal?”
She eyed him uncertainly but didn’t speak.
“Let me provide it.” Swiping under her other eye, he lifted his fingers to show her the wetness. “And let’s start with this. While you’re with me, you are mine. That means these tears are mine. If they’re in you, you’d better let them out so that I can have them. Understood?”
Meg laughed, then sniffed. He couldn’t lie; he was more than a bit relieved that she hadn’t burst into tears. He wasn’t one of those men who panicked at the sight of a crying woman, but he didn’t want Meg to cry. He wanted her to feel like what she was—the queen of the world.
“Orgasms. Therapy.” The corner of her mouth crooked up in a half smile. “You’re a man of many talents.”
“Oh, I’m very talented.” He smirked down at her, sliding his hand around to cup her bottom. “Let me show you.”
“Take a cold shower there, Romeo.” Pulling herself to a sitting position, Meg looked down at him with those big blue eyes, which were now, thankfully, dry. “I have to be up at four to make muffins.”
“I like muffins.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Sure you don’t want to see more of my talents?”
“I’m sure.” She rolled her eyes, then looked at him thoughtfully. “Though since you’ve shown me yours, I suppose it’s only fair that I show you mine.”
“I like this game.” He sat up as well, laughing when she ducked out of reach of his roaming hands.
“Stop that.” She arched an eyebrow. When he stilled, she took one of his hands in hers. Turning it over so that the palm faced up, she traced a finger over the lines that creased his skin.
He watched, saying nothing.
“Mamesie learned to read palms when she was just a kid,” she started, and the touch of her fingers tickled his skin. “She taught all of us girls, but I took to it the most.”
“This is one of your talents?”
“Yup.” She squinted at his palm, and he felt an unexpected trickle of nerves. “I don’t tell most people about it, because they’re skeptical. But since you shared with me, I’m going to share with you.”
“Huh.” She continued to study his palm, where the skin was lighter than it was on the rest of his body.
“Huh?” He was unexpectedly nervous. That was weird. “What’s huh?”
“See this line here?” She traced a finger over the line that curved
