Secrets that I did not even dare to think about.
Eventually, the water started to lose its heat and I forced myself to my feet, finished my shower, then turned off the water and stepped out, toweled off.
I borrowed Mom’s hairdryer and did my hair in a tight topknot, minimal makeup, and dressed in a pair of saffron yellow peasant slacks—tight at the waist and ankles, low-rise, and voluminous and blousy and flowing around my legs. Above, I wore a bright leafy green piece of thin linen which tied up around my neck and around my back, and was entirely open down between my breasts to where it was knotted over my diaphragm. I put some nude-colored nipple pasties on, just so I didn’t start a riot with Mom’s new “family,” along with some strategically applied double-sided boob tape to make sure the girls didn’t totally escape the negligible constraints of the top.
Leather sandals completed the outfit, and I was ready to go.
When I emerged from the bathroom, which was en suite to the bedroom Myles and I would be sharing, he was in the process of removing his damp jeans, shirtless, barefoot, messy hair. Fucking glorious. My heart started palpitating immediately upon seeing his broad back and taut, muscular ass and powerful thighs—he was facing away from me, kicking the jeans off and swearing under his breath as the damp denim stuck to him. God, he was beautiful with his collage of tattoos, his wild damp hair, skin golden.
When he was finally free of the wet jeans, he kicked them across the room with a shout of triumph, and snagged a clean pair. He shrugged into a tight white T-shirt, and threaded a faded, worn, tanned leather belt with a big platinum Texas-shaped buckle into his jeans. He snagged a clean ball cap from his duffel—this one white and orange with the Longhorns logo, then sat on the bed, tugged his socks on, and his trusty boots—in all the time I’d known him, I’d only ever seen him wear two different pairs of boots: one a pair of floppy-sided, square-toed, scuffed and stained tan leather cowboy boots, and the other a pair of Doc Martens, brown and shiny, often polished, but scratched and well-worn. Despite his wealth, he was a man of simple tastes, and was dedicated to comfortable, familiar clothing.
Dressed, he stood up, settled a deep sigh, and just stood there a moment, not realizing I was behind him. I stepped carefully closer, and I noted the moment he realized my presence—his shoulders straightened, his head lifted. I pressed up against him from behind, slid my hands up his belly over his shirt. “You look every inch the country star, Mr. North.”
He chuckled. “I was going for average Joe.”
“You couldn’t pass for an average Joe if you tried, Myles. You just exude star power. It’s just in your DNA.”
He twisted his head, sniffed at me, inhaling deeply. “God, Lex, you smell so fuckin’ good.”
I leaned closer, so his nose slid along my throat. “Lavender and vanilla perfume.”
He inhaled deeply, and my skin pebbled. “Been driving me crazy, tryin’ to figure out what the scent was.” He inhaled again. “Fuckin’ love the way you smell, Lex.”
I shivered. “I’ll wear this scent more often, if you love it that much.”
He growled. “Best be careful, wearin’ it around me. Makes me fuckin’ horny as hell.”
“Myles, seriously, whatdoesn’tmake you horny?”
He nipped my throat. “About you? Not much.”
I shivered again, laughing as his hot breath and sharp teeth moved down my throat to the hollow where my throat met my breastbone. “Stop, Myles, or we won’t make the get-together.”
“Well damn, what a shame that would be.”
I felt my hand lift, slide along his cheek, tracing his rough three-day stubble. “We have to go, Myles. Mom really wants me to meet them all.”
He sighed in resignation, kissed my shoulder. Straightened. “Fine, fine. I’ll be good.” Another unexpected nip to the side of my neck. “For now.”
“You be good now andI’llbe good later.”
“Sexy Lexie, you’realwaysgood.”
Two words, one a compliment that I valued under most circumstances and the other simply my name—together, said as a nickname, were like being doused with cold water. Worse, like having acid thrown on me. I writhed away, shuddering convulsively, nearly gagging; instant panic attack.
“Do not ever—fuckingEVERcall me…that…again.” I whirled, and I knew he saw the deadly serious venom in my eyes, in every line of my expression. “Never. Do you understand me?”
He blinked, eyes wide, hands up in surrender. “Jesus fuck, Lex, yeah, I got it. I apologize. I didn’t know.”
I swallowed hard. Turned away to blink the hot salty mist away. “Thank you,” I whispered. “I can’t explain, I just…”
He was behind me, hands gingerly resting on my shoulders. “It’s okay, Lex. You’ve got triggers. It’s okay. We’ll uncover ’em as we go along and I’ll learn them. Breathe, okay? It’s all right, Lex.”
I shook my head. “You had no way of knowing. Just please don’t say that again.”
“I won’t.”
I tried to steady my breathing. Waited for the questions with shoulders hunched as if waiting for a blow. They never came. I turned and stared up at him. My eyes were still damp. “You’re not going to ask?”
