Page 67 of Destroyed With You

“You never loved me, Winston. It’s not calculus. It’s a simple, basic truth.”

“The hell I didn’t,” he snapped. “And don’t try to say that you didn’t love me.”

“How could you have? You didn’t even know the Linda back then.”

She held up a hand to cut off his protest, and he closed his mouth, his jaw aching with the need to argue.

“You didn’t,” she stressed. “Not really. And someday, you’ll realize that. Maybe it won’t be right away, but you will, and then everything will be pulled out from under us again.”

A single tear rolled down her cheek, and she slapped at it, as if angry at her own traitorous emotions.

“You’re wrong,” he said. “I loved you. Not a shadow.” He reached out to cup her cheek. “I still do.”

She shook her head, her expression sad. “That’s not love. It’s sentimentality and regret. You don’t know me, Winston. You never did. You knew a woman pretending to be a bad guy pretending to be a good guy. Hell, I didn’t even know myself.”

“Linda—”

“You know it’s true. And I didn’t know you, either. Sleepy small town sheriff? That was bullshit.”

He wanted to protest that she was wrong, but she wasn’t. Every fact was exactly true. It was just the conclusions she drew that didn’t match his reality.

“We’re not—”

She cut him off with a raised hand. “No. Wait. Let me finish. We’ve been given this amazing gift to reconcile. To heal the wounds I inflicted on you. That’s an incredible thing. And—and I think that maybe it’s enough.”

“It’s not,” he said.

She let her shoulders rise and fall. “Well, it’s going to have to be.” She drew a breath, then stood up straighter, looking suddenly businesslike. “But we’re together until this Collins-Seagrave thing plays out. And we both know the attraction is real. Whatever you want, Winston. Whatever. However.”

A chill cut through him and for a moment he simply stood there, studying her, his mind whirling. Then he took a step closer, letting his gaze roam over her. “Anything I want. Any desire. Any demand. Whatever I ask, you’ll agree to?”

She nodded, and he noticed the way her nipples had tightened visibly beneath the threadbare tee. “Yes,” she said, then licked her lips. “The chemistry is real—I don’t doubt that at all. And—well, I think I owe you this. No strings, Winston. But also no plans about a future we both know can’t happen.”

He drew in a breath, then moved closer. He put his hands on her waist, then slid them up beneath the shirt, feeling the weight of her breasts before he pinched her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.

She gasped, the sound a mixture of surprise and pleasure. Her eyes closed, and her head tilted back. And when he slid one hand down her belly then beneath the waistband, and then lower still until he was cupping her sex, she was biting her lip.

“Anything?” he whispered. “Anything at all?”

“Yes. Oh, please, yes.”

He withdrew his hand, releasing her nipple at the same time.

Her eyes fluttered open.

“I appreciate the offer, darlin’,” he said. “But you don’t owe me a thing.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

I’m in a pissy mood when I leave the bedroom, and it only gets worse when I see Emily—I mean, Emma—laughing with Miriam and Dale in the kitchen.

She turns to me, her face alight with pleasure, and I watch the smile die as she sees my face. She covers well, though, I’ll give her that. “Hey!” she says. “I was just about to tell Dale and Miriam that you and I should walk to the bakery. Bring back kolaches for breakfast.”

“Great idea.” I flash them a bright smile before Emma and I head for the door.

“So, this isn’t turning out to be the warm and fuzzy reunion of old friends I’d hoped for,” she says after we’re most of the way down the block. “Is it because I seduced your husband in the backyard?”

I stop cold, look at her face, and then burst out laughing, all the tension easing out of me as my shoulders sag with apology. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I—we—I just had a thing with Winston.”