He swept her in his arms, drawing her higher and closer so he could better avail himself of her mouth.

Coaxing her lips open, he swept inside, tasting of that moist cavern, delving in, deeper and deeper, over and over again, until his body trembled against hers with the force of his need for her, this woman.

With a hungering to explore more of her, all of her.

It was only because he’d been without a woman for years.

And yet, even those assurances felt hollow.

Myrtle’s legs went weak, and he caught her about the waist, anchoring her to him.

And Myrtle, bold in every way, and even in this, touched her tongue to his in impatient little strokes and slashes.

That boldness was part of who she was in life, and it was a part of who she would be when making love.

Only, that is a right that doesn’t belong to you, a voice jeered, and he sought to slay his conscience.

Val’s fingers curled sharply into the small of her back, and he immediately relaxed his grip and gentled the kiss, tamping down the tide of passion threatening to overwhelm him and begging to be slaked. And then he dropped a final, tender kiss upon her lips.

Her body still soft and pliant in his arms, Myrtle’s thick, dark lashes fluttered slowly, and then with a seeming effort, she opened her eyes. Passion had left those brown depths hazy, her gaze unfocused. She blinked several times.

He released his hold upon her, and she instantly sank a fraction. “Good night, Myrtle,” he said. How was his voice so steady? How, when his pulse still pounded in his ears and his heart thumped against his chest and his body still burned for her.

“Good night, Val.” She moved her eyes over his face, and some of that sadness of before had returned. Did she want him to stay? Why should she? He was miserable company.

His gaze slipped over to the dog, who hovered just beyond Myrtle’s shoulder, glaring at Val with canine disapproval, of which Val was decidedly deserving. “He should stay with you.”

As soon as the offer left him, Val went motionless. Surely he hadn’t said that aloud. Surely he hadn’t made the offer he had.

Myrtle shook her head, confused. “I don’t . . . ?”

“Horace.”

Myrtle fluttered a hand about her chest before her fingers found purchase at that place her heart beat. “You are . . . giving me your dog?” she whispered.

“Not forever,” he said gruffly. “Just . . . until your family returns.” If those miserable blighters ever returned.

It would be the first time he’d ever been apart from the dog, and the thought of doing so left him queasy and unnerved . . . And yet, those sentiments were somehow preferable to even thinking of Myrtle alone as she was this night and these past nights.

Myrtle’s features softened. “I cannot accept that, Val.”