It’s unreal. It’s addictive.
Jessica Brown is more dangerous for me than any drug.
“Okay, I have a confession.”
Every time my bride speaks, it takes a moment for her words to sink in. I’m too busy listening to the velvet tone of her voice, too busy watching her plump, pink lips form the words and thinking thoughts I have no business with.
“Murray.”
I jolt, gripping the rests of my armchair. It’s mid afternoon, and we’ve got a small fire going. A rickety table rests between us on the living room rug, and Jessica’s currently kicking my ass at checkers. She’s relaxed since this morning at the beach, chatting happily whenever I sink into silence and prodding me when she wants me to join in again.
I like that. I’m no good at this stuff without prompting, and I’d much rather hear her talk anyways.
I clear my throat, because I’ve missed a cue. “Uh. A confession?”
Whatever she’s done, I don’t care. I’ll still want her. I’ll stand by her side. And she must sense my thoughts, because Jessica stares at me, eyes widening behind those cute little glasses, and then she’s nothing but a pile of giggles.
“Calm down, Mr MacGregor. You’re not harboring a fugitive.”
I shift in my armchair, the frame creaking. The warm flush on my cheeks is permanent now. “All good, then. So what’s your confession?”
Jessica wets her bottom lip and leans closer over the checkers board. The corner of her mouth is already curled up in a smile, and it’s like she’s telling me a secret. I shift forward, chest tight.
“I want to go see the big lantern.”
I frown. That’s a confession? “Okay…”
Jessica huffs out a breath and keeps going. “But I’m a big chicken about heights. The cliffs were bad enough, so you might never get me up that tower.”
Ah. Yeah, it’s high up there. Exposed to the rough winds, too, and there are those crashing waves and sharp rocks down below. I roll my head on my neck, fighting the urge to touch my scars. They’re itching again.
If I don’t touch them, don’t draw attention, she might not fixate on them too much.
“It’s safe. There’s a railing, and we can clip you onto a safety line. I’ll take care of you.” Ain’t that the truth. It’sallI want to do with Jessica—keep her warm and safe and happy and well fed. I want to make her pretty gifts and go on walks with her along the beach and, god help me, I want to make her wail like a banshee in my bed.
No man ever had less business yearning for a woman. She’s an angel and I’m—well. Me. I look more like something that crawled up from the deep than the handsome prince.
“You promise?” Jessica’s voice is all husky again. She’s watching me from beneath lowered lashes, smiling shyly from where she’s cross-legged on the rug, and I grip my armrests until they creak.
Heat coils in my chest and ripples down my spine. My blood’s thumping through my veins. I want her. Fuck, I want her.
But I nod my pounding head, forcing my brain back to her question. Will I keep her safe? “I promise.”
* * *
Jessica sucks in a sharp breath when I pull at her harness. It’s wrapped around her waist and over her shoulders, and I clip her safety line between her shoulder blades.
“You’re not wearing one,” she says, so accusatory. “Now I’m the only one who looks like an ass.”
I grin behind her back, spinning the carabina shut. “Yeah, well. It’d take more than a gust of wind to blow me away.”
Fully strapped in, Jessica turns around, still grumbling at the injustice of it all. She stops, startled by my smile.
My grin drops. I don’t look good smiling, and I know it. My scars go all warped and bunched, and my ruined eye squints. Not something I want this girl to see.
Avoiding her eyes, I shove the door to the tower walkway open. “C’mon. It all looks better out there.”
Jessica pauses for a moment, but then she steps past me, her shoulder brushing my front as she goes. That split second of contact sends sparks racing over my skin.