Page 39 of Too Good for Words (Silverberry Seduction Seasoned Romance)

Before she could decide, he returned and stretched out beside her.

“I’m sorry.”

She blinked and turned her head toward him, her hair rasping on the pillow. “What?” Icy hands clutched her throat. Was he already regretting what they’d done?

His profile was limned by the indirect glow of the streetlight outside the window—heavy brow, pugnacious nose, jutting beard. “I should have taken more time. Shouldn’t have rushed things.”

She wasn’t sure how to interpret that. “Was it me? Did I force you to...finish...too soon?”

He propped himself up on his elbow, grey eyes black in the dimness. “I told you to ask for what you wanted. And when you did? Fuck.” His tone was reverent. “I couldn’t say no. Still, I should have taken the time to make sure you were ready.”

Her grinding sense of insecurity vanished. Mirth burbled in to replace it. “Oh, I was ready. I’ve been ready all evening.”

“It’s lucky I didn’t know that.” His attention sharpened, lasering in on her and her alone. “Do you have any idea what it does to me, to hear you say you want me?”

“I think I do.” She gripped the back of his neck and levered herself up so she could kiss the tip of his nose. “Because I feel the same way about you. Knowing I made you lose your head—” She didn’t hold back her confident grin.

He lay back, snaked an arm under her, and tugged her close. She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed long and luxuriously.

“What’s that for?”

Too many answers came to mind. She chose the simplest, his chest hair tickling her lips as she spoke. “Just comfy. I like your bed.”

“I like having you in it.”

The words seemed to surprise him as much as they surprised her if the sudden stiffening of his body was anything to go by.

Afraid of the emotions yawing through her heart, the precipice of desire she clung to, she remained quiet. For several minutes, there was nothing but Cash’s fingers toying with her hair, her palm registering the thud of his heart, and the silence humming through the room.

Reluctant to outstay her welcome, she whispered into his skin, “I suppose I should go.”

“No.” She yipped as he surged off the mattress and loomed over her. “You have more than an hour before you promised the kids you’d be home. I may not be as young as I used to be, but I’ve been saving up for a long time.”

She didn’t think biology worked that way, but couldn’t help the burst of affectionate lust. “Are you saying you’re ready for a second course?”

“Not yet.” He crawled down her body and spread her legs. “But an appetizer will take care of that.”

Chapter Nineteen

Cash wasn’t sure what to expect after Saturday night. He knew what he wanted—more time alone with Penta—but he wouldn’t presume that’s what she wanted too.

His desire for her hadn’t waned. In fact, it grew with every day that passed—every frustrating, cock-blocked day.

It wasn’t just that she was occupied by the busyness of her family’s life. It was the logistics of having an affair with a mother of four. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to get it up at her place, knowing Abra and Delilah were across the hall. And she couldn’t be continually coming to his place for a quick fuck. What he felt for her was more honest than that, more sincere.

They saw each other daily. Now it was summer break, Cyril was spending most of his time completing the last hours of his penance. Penta often came in for a few minutes during drop off and pick up, but they’d managed to sneak no more than hurried, breathless kisses. By the time Friday rolled around, Cash was itching to get her out of her clothes again.

He left the storeroom where he’d been conducting inventory while distracted by a daydream about a naked Penta bent over the arm of his sofa, and braked to a sudden stop one stride inside the main room. Elle and Cyril stood near the front window, heads close together in an attitude of conspiracy. The sight banished the remnants of his fantasy and he took a half-step back into the shadows of the hall.

When Linda hadn’t stormed into his shop in the days following his apology to Elle, he’d begun to hope she’d accepted his presence in their daughter’s life. It was a fragile, tentative hope, but stronger than any he’d had before and nourished by Elle’s new habit of dropping by the shop several days a week. They’d even exchanged phone numbers so they no longer had to depend on her mother to relay messages.

Elle giggled, stared shyly at the floor, and tucked her hair behind her ear. Cash frowned. Was she flirting with Cyril? What about the kid he’d thrown against the fence?

He couldn’t hear what they were saying. They stood in profile on the far side of the shop where Cyril was supposed to be restocking shelves. The boy’s scrawny shoulders were straight and square, unlike his usual slumped, slothful stance and he couldn’t take his eyes off Elle.

Driven by protective instinct, he strode forward. “Elle. When did you get here?” He hadn’t meant to speak loudly, but his voice boomed against the concrete walls.

The teenagers jerked apart as if pulled by strings. Cyril flushed bright red, the whiteheads of acne showing up sharp on his cheeks.

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