“Oh my God,” Holly said softly. “How did I not know about this? The press—how do they not—?” She left her question hanging, but I knew what she was asking.

“My uncle paid a lot of money early on to cover it up. It wasn’t hard. News doesn’t travel very quickly or efficiently from Papua New Guinea. I certainly don’t tell people, and my aunt and uncle didn’t want the notoriety. They were put out enough having to become responsible for two children they never wanted. They were the guardians my parents named in their will. I overheard James’s father telling his mother that my uncle asked if the church could find someone else to take us.”

“Oh my God.”

My face twists into a grimace. “It’s always good to know that you’re not wanted.”

Something wet hits my chest, and I glance down. Tears have gathered at the corners of Holly’s eyes, and a few more splash onto my skin. I catch them on my thumbs.

“Sweetheart, don’t cry. It’s not worth it. Not at all.”

“But you were only ten. And—”

“And you were only fourteen. If you think about it, we’re not all that different. You got dropped off on your gran’s front porch, and I got shipped off to boarding school. I’m just happy as hell that you had a grandmother who loved you, and my aunt fell in love with my little sister. Greer became the daughter she never knew she wanted.”

Holly’s smile is wobbly and utterly adorable, so I pull her up my chest so I can reach her lips with mine.

“I don’t want you to cry for me. Neither of us can change our pasts, but somehow, all of these things happened in a way that made it possible for our paths to cross. No tears are necessary; I’ve got you in my arms, and I’ve never been happier in my life than I am right now.”

She blinks, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Damn it, Crey. You can’t say things like that if you don’t want me to cry.”

I frown. “Why?”

“Because it’s not fair. And if you’re trying to make sure I have no chance of holding on to any piece of my heart where you’re concerned, you’re doing a damn good job of that too.”

My frown smooths into a small smile. “Under any other circumstances, I’d say I don’t fight fair to get what I want. But when it comes to this, I want you to give it to me of your own free will. I’m not taking it by strategy, power play, or seduction. I want it because you want me to have it. Freely given. Earned. And that will be the most valuable thing I’ve ever received.”

Her tears fall freely, dotting my face as she leans to kiss me. “Shut up and kiss me before I drown you with happy tears.”

So I do. And then we do something else I’ve never done before.

We make love.

Dress warm, he said. We’re going to be outside for a while. That was it; no other explanation. And then he left the room.

The last two days have been surreal. So surreal that I’m going to give myself a legit bruise if I pinch myself one more time to make sure I’m not dreaming.

Yesterday we spent the entire day in bed, just like Crey said we were going to do. I lost track of the number of orgasms I had. My lady parts are actually sore today. Crey gave me a dark look when I winced as we got out of bed this morning.

“I need to take more care with you. No sex today. You need to recover.”

“That’s not fair!”

His dark look turned smoldering. “Doesn’t mean I can’t fuck that sassy little mouth of yours.”

And that’s all it took for my previously mentioned lady parts to perk up and claim they were in perfect working order. I tried to tempt him later, but he didn’t take the bait.

I needed to get some songwriting done this morning, considering I have a deadline bearing down on me, so we retreated to our separate corners. Crey set up his laptop out in Gran’s back room—the one that was added on to the house about sixty years prior, but never properly insulated. It was drafty, but he didn’t seem to mind. I offered to share the repaired kitchen table with him, but he declined, saying he didn’t want to interfere with my concentration because he had calls to make.

So instead, I spent most of the morning watching him through the window in the wall that separated the kitchen from the back room addition. Even in this little house in Kentucky, he looked all business. He stood and paced and shoved his fingers through his hair as he talked with his hands. It was fascinating to see him in full empire-running mode.

I was unable to concentrate on my own task, so I dropped my pencil and slipped into the back room and dropped to my knees in front of him, just as he lowered himself into an aging La-Z-Boy recliner.

His eyes dropped to mine questioningly, but he didn’t stop me as I ran my palms up his thighs and reached for the button of his jeans.

He mouthed what are you doing, but I ignored him and unbuttoned and unzipped them. He didn’t object overly much to my actions because he lifted his ass and let me tug his jeans down—and God love the man—because he nearly always went commando. I can’t be the only woman in the world to think that is sexy.

He continued his call, but his answers shortened to single words—yes, no, fine—as I wrapped my hands around the base and lowered my head to run my tongue from root to tip before going in whole hog and deep throating him for the win.

I was in a go-big-or-go-home mood.

His choked-out, “Fuck. No, excuse me. Sorry. Wasn’t talking to you,” had me humming a little giggle around his cock.

After he muttered, “Please continue,” Crey’s hand found my hair and guided my movements. He slid into my mouth with long, sure strokes, and I took his cock all the way to the back of my throat with each thrust.

Ending the call with an abrupt and clipped, “We’ll finish this later,” he dropped the phone to the floor. It reminded me of the time I touched myself in front of him while he was on the phone in our hotel room back in San Antonio.

As soon as he dropped the phone, Crey cupped both my cheeks and tilted my face up at him. The look on his face was adoring.

“Best decision I ever made, Holly. Best decision I ever fucking made was making sure that missed connection went viral.”

Tears stung my eyes, and not because of the cock hitting the back of my throat.

“I’m gonna come, sweetheart. You ready to swallow me down?”