There was a long pause while Megan wondered if he was going to say any more. In the end she couldn’t bear it any longer. “Why, Connor?”
“I think...I think I’ve I told you about my mother,” he started.
Megan’s heart began to thump. “She died when you were young.”
A nod. “What I didn’t tell you... What I don’t tell...anyone is that she took her own life.”
Megan sat up in the bed, tucking her knees beneath her as her hand flattened against Connor’s heart. “Oh, Connor. I’m so, so sorry.”
Patting her hand, he gave her an appreciative nod and pulled her back down against his chest. “Thank you, sweetheart. She’d been very unhappy for a long time. And eventually, it was too much for her.”
“But you were only thirteen.”
Her stomach knotted. Suddenly, so many pieces fell into place. Connor’s bond with Jeff. His resentment toward a man who didn’t deserve the title father. Why he understood how difficult it was for her to trust.
There were a lot of ways a person could be left. And her husband had firsthand experience with one of the worst.
“I’ve had a long time to come to terms with it. And like I said, I don’t really talk about it. But you’re putting your faith in me. Trusting me. And you deserve to know that I understand what that means.”
Throat tight, she nodded against his chest. He was talking about her trusting him, but in that moment, all Megan could see was the trust Connor had just put in her.
She was going to be worthy of it.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE HOT SPRAY OF THE SHOWER blasted his face as, hands against the marble wall, Connor tried to pry his thoughts from under the duvet and the sexy little nymph he’d left buried beneath it. Five was too early to wake her with the kind of kiss on his mind. Especially since she’d woken him around two with a custom version of her own.
God help him, she was incredible.
Even better, insatiable.
And the level of compatibility between them—undiluted by vanilla vodka and unfettered by the doubts Megan had finally found her way around this past week—was off the charts. Beyond expectation.
He’d known she was smart. Had been impressed by her ability to intelligently discuss nearly any topic to come up, add her own unique perspective, find the humor in related connections. But now that she’d relaxed into the trial, she’d truly opened up...and that brain of hers blew his mind.
Megan made him want more than he’d imagined he could with a wife. And because of who she was—how she was—he could relax and enjoy...without worrying about leading her on.
Because his sweet, sharp, smoking-hot wife had the very same limitations he did.
Neither one of them fell in love.
Like neither one of them wanted anything more than exactly what they had.
Okay, that wasn’t quite true. Connor wanted more.
He wanted this trial behind them and any lingering doubts that kept Megan from putting it there assuaged.
He wanted her pregnant.
At the idea alone, he groaned. Megan growing big and round with his baby. So damn hot.
Okay, the DNA portion of this merger and acquisition had to wait, but the rest...
Water streaming down his face, he shot a look toward the room they shared. She had woken him first. In his book, turnabout was fair play. His hand was already on the knob for the tap, when he remembered Megan had to work today.
Like he had to work today.
One of them at least should get more than three hours of sleep...eventually.
Wisps of cool air slipped through the steam an instant before Megan’s slender arms wrapped around his waist, and her breasts, warm and hard-tipped, pillowed against his back.
“Good morning, Mr. Reed,” she murmured, pausing for a decadent little lick over his spine. “Thought you could sneak out without my good-morning kiss?”
He turned, taking her in his arms so the water would reach her, as well.
She was sleep ruffled, sexy and soft. Her bare, wet skin a temptation he wondered if he’d ever be able to resist.