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“Good morning.”
He kissed her forehead, and wondered what the hell kind of man he was pretending to be, kissing her forehead like that and smiling down at her. He wasn’t a relationship sort of guy. He never had been.
He’d never had the chance.
He went and made some coffee using a tin pot on the stove and then brought a mug back for her into the bedroom.
She sat up, the blankets clutched to her chest in a belated display of modesty.
“I’ve seen all that,” he said, leaning against the door frame and sipping his coffee slowly. “Hell, honey, I’ve licked all that.”
She turned red, and he loved it.
“Well. Sure.”
“You’re cute. Do you know that?” he asked.
She smiled and looked down. “No. I don’t. I’ve always felt like I was horribly, terribly plain.”
“Who made you feel that way?”
“I’m invisible,” she said. “Wallpaper. Nothing special or pretty. No one ever wanted me, or was interested in me or anything like that.”
“Or maybe they were afraid of your father. If not the preacher one, the heavenly father one. I don’t worry much about all that and even I probably would have been deterred if you hadn’t flung yourself into my arms.” He shifted his weight, staring at her. “Or maybe, Shayna, there was never anyone who deserved to know you. Maybe there was no one you wanted to share with, because they couldn’t give you what you needed and you knew it. You knew yourself better than most people who’ve been having sex for years. Maybe you had the good sense to know the people around you weren’t what you needed.”
She shrugged. “Well. Maybe.”
“No maybe about it. It certainly isn’t because you aren’t pretty, Shayna.”
She looked like she had to think about that. And hard. “I guess I’ve never given a lot of thought to my looks either way.”
“Liar.”
She took a sip of coffee. “This is a bit much for such an early hour, Zane. But okay. I maybe wished that I was beautiful sometimes.”
“Tell me about it. You said you had a lot of fantasies. Tell me about them.” His body went sharp and hard with interest.
“Um. Well, I’ve never really talked about them before. But I read a lot of...books that fire up the imagination.”
“Smut?”
She sniffed. “I wouldn’t call them that, no. But I’ve always been fascinated by the idea of being swept off my feet. Of...men who are strong and powerful. Being seen. For who I am. Not as the boring pastor’s daughter.”
“I see you. Believe me.”
She smiled again, down into her coffee cup, and took another sip. “I confess, my tastes have strayed into being a little bit more outside the box of late.”
“Yes?”
“Well, you know. I told you. I always liked the idea of...rough. I started reading books that took it further. Showed pain and domination being pleasurable and it... I like the idea of a powerful man, but that isn’t about wealth or status.”
Interest fired his blood. “Yeah?”
“No. It’s about...” She met his gaze. “I love how strong you are. I knew I would.”
He knew she was talking about sex. And hell, the sex was fantastic. But he couldn’t remember anyone ever loving a damn thing about him ever. And ever saying it.
“I love how soft you are.”
