The Ashtons - Cole, Abigail & Megan

damn it.”
    “You gave her more than your mother did.”
    “Yes, and now for my reward, I get to feel as though I’ve betrayed the family.” Oh, and she didn’t even want to think about how Spencer would take the news of her stepping in to help his mistress’s sister and his illegitimate child. Oh yeah. That should be a fun scene.
    On the other hand, she thought, since her fatherstill wasn’t speaking to her, maybe she wouldn’t hear anything from him at all.
    “God, I’m a mess,” she whispered and leaned her forehead on his chest.
    Simon wrapped his arms around her and held her close, pressing her up against him. He’d stayed away from her these last few days, knowing that he was walking a razor’s edge of control. And now tonight, he was holding her, and all he wanted to do was comfort. Thoughts of having her, sliding his body into hers, kissing her, tasting every square inch of her skin were fading, becoming more tender, more caring.
    His heart ached for her, knowing how it felt to be torn between what you saw as your duty and what you knew to be right. He’d been doing his duty by his family ever since his father had died when Simon was seventeen. He’d been lucky enough to actually enjoy what he did for a living, but even if he’d hated it, he would have done it. He understood family loyalty. And knew what it had to have cost her to take a chance on ostracizing herself from those she loved by doing what she thought was right.
    But damn he was proud of her.
    “So,” he said, enjoying the feel of her pressed up against him. “You pretty much had a crappy day.”
    She didn’t even lift her head, but she did sigh heavily. “You could say that.”
    “You did good, Megan.”
    “I hope so,” she admitted, then paused for a longmoment before asking, “What if I’m like my mother, Simon?” Her voice was a whisper and he almost missed the words because of the roar of his own heartbeat. “What if I’m that cold inside? That unfeeling?”
    “You’re not,” he said, and willed her to believe. Grabbing her shoulders, he set her away from him enough that he could look into her eyes. “You’re the warmest woman I’ve ever known. Stubborn, sometimes irritating,” he added with a half smile, “but warm.”
    One eyebrow lifted. “Irritating?”
    He grinned. “Figures that’s the word you latched on to.” Then his smile faded as he watched her worried gaze. “You did the right thing, Megan. You always do the right thing. You should trust your own instincts more.”
    She stared up at him and he felt the power of her green eyes slamming into him. He read the hope shining in their depths—and something else, too. A flash of heat, of desire, and his body jump-started into life.
    “Trust my instincts?” she asked.
    “They’re good instincts,” he said, and smoothed her hair back from her face with a tender touch. Her hair was soft and thick, and her skin as smooth and warm as sunlit glass.
    He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything else in his life.
    “Then I’ll trust them. Starting right now.” Shemoved into him, went up on her toes and, wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him so long and hard and deep, Simon could have sworn his hair caught fire.

Chapter Eight
----
    T he week wasn’t officially over.
    And Megan couldn’t have cared less.
    She wrapped her arms around Simon’s neck and hung on while she kissed him hungrily, desperately. She poured everything she had into that kiss. Heart and soul, hunger and need, she let him know without words just how much she wanted him. Just how frantically she needed him.
    A full minute later, she realized that he wasn’t responding. He hadn’t grabbed hold of her. Hadn’t kissed her back. In fact, he was standing stiff and still, looking—and feeling—pretty much like a wax representation of Simon Pearce.
    When that knowledge finally clicked into her brain, Megan broke the kiss and pulled her head back to look up at him. In the golden lamplight spilling throughout the living room, his smoke-gray eyes looked dark and dangerous. And her stomach jumped in reaction.
    Her breath staggered in and out of her lungs. Her own heartbeat was deafening. Her blood pumped and parts of her body that had been sorely neglected over the last year were alert and ready to party.
    But Simon was staring over her head at the wall behind her, tension etched into his features.
    “Hello?” she said, her voice just a little ragged.