“She did what she could,” I mumble, even though I know that’s a lie. I’m too lost in the way his nose is skimming my shoulder and neck, my skin erupting with goosebumps. The hand that was in my hair now trailing down my naked arm and wrist and back up. He’s a clever one with all his seductive ways. Lulling me into a sense of soft security, teasing my body so I’ll open up to him. I don’t have the energy to fight it, I’m his captive when he touches me this way.
“She didn’t stop bringing men around her child, Miele.” His voice takes on a hoarseness and I stiffen. I’ve told myself this, a million times over and over. He’s not saying anything I don’t already know, yet, it still hurts like he’s thrust a knife into my chest; to hear someone else say it.
“Why did you leave Chicago? Leave her?
