Myra woke slowly, snuggled cozily under the thick blankets of her soft bed. She smiled, listening to the birds singing outside her window, and opened her eyes to the full light of a late morning. She smiled again, thinking about how comforting it had been, falling asleep in Liam's arms. I must have really conked out, she thought, because she didn't remember being put to bed. She especially didn't remember being undressed. That was something she was sure she'd remember. She wondered what Liam was up to as she climbed into the shower and let the steamy water finish waking her up.

Thirty minutes later, Myra’s hair was towel dried and she was feeling fresh and invigorated, excited about what today might hold for the two of them. After pulling on her favorite pair of old sweatpants, she slipped into a fuzzy sweater and padded towards the kitchen in her soft house shoes. When she rounded the corner from the hallway to the big kitchen and dining room, she couldn't stop the shy grin and blush that spread across her cheeks when Liam looked up from the eggs he was stirring and smiled at her. "Good morning, sleepy-head." He went back to stirring the eggs. "How did you sleep?"

"I don't remember anything after I fell asleep on your lap.... Liam?"

"Yes, Love?"

Myra bit her bottom lip, looked at her slippers, and tried desperately to not sound like an insecure child. "Did you... Did you undress me? Uh, last night?" She flicked her eyes to his and, when she saw the amusement twinkling there, climbed onto a barstool and buried her face in her hands.

"Liam!" She groaned. “I don’t… I don’t even know what to say to that!”

She heard him move around the counter to come behind her.

“Love,” He said on a warm chuckle, sliding his hands around her waist, sending tingles through her as his fingers touched the skin just under the hem of her shirt. “I was very careful, despite my deepest desires, to respect your modesty. I promise, you’re still a mystery to me. One I plan to uncover very soon.”

Myra shivered at the way he said that last bit while his warm lips traced a path from her ear, to her jaw, down her neck to the part where it met her shoulder and gave it a little nip, causing goosebumps to break out on her flesh before he stood and moved back to his pan of eggs.

“Ready for breakfast?” He asked, as if he hadn’t nearly reduced her to a quivering mass of need with just a hint of affection. “I have a big day planned for us. You’ll need your energy.”

* * *

A half hour later, Myra and Liam were trekking up the hill behind the cabin, snow sled in tow.

"How far are we going up this hill?" She asked, stopping to catch her breath, bending over with her hands on her knees.

"Just a little further." Liam chuckled, then came back to her, started pushing her up the hill with his hand on her back. A few minutes later however, she was screaming with glee as they flew down the hill. The flat area behind the cabin came up fast, Liam steered into a small snowbank and they came to an abrupt halt, head-first into the soft powder.

"Are you ok?" He asked with concern, pulling her up from the snow.

"I'm fine." She laughed. "That was so fun! Thank you, Liam."

She pulled his head down for a brief kiss that quickly became heated.

"We should go inside." He said, pulling back from her, his eyes aflame.

Myra slipped her eyes from his to look back up the hill. "Can we do that again?” She asked innocently. “Come down the hill?"

Liam sighed with restrained frustration. "For you, I'll climb that hill a hundred times."

* * *

An hour later, Liam was regretting his words. Myra was definitely avoiding him. The question was, why? He had to admit she was adorable with her pink cheeks and red nose, grinning from ear to ear each time they hit the bottom of the hill, but they’d gone past the point of fun twenty-minutes ago. "Alright, Love." He said at last. "You've worn me out thoroughly. We're going inside now."

"Okay.” She sighed, recognizing his tone as one that brokered no argument.

Liam took Myra’s hand and led her up the back steps, in through the mud room, helped her get her boots off, then removed his own. He stood looking at her for a long moment while she removed her gloves, hat, scarf, and jacket. When she stopped for a second, saw him standing there with his hip cocked against the washing machine. The sheepish slide of her eyes to her feet, the ringing of her hands, told him part of what he needed to know.

"Myra."

At the tone of his voice, she stopped fidgeting, but kept her eyes downcast, hands clasped together in front of her. He placed two fingers under her chin, lifting her head so she had to look at him.

"What's wrong, Love? You've been avoiding me all morning."

* * *

Myra blinked, trying her best to keep her eyes on Liam's, but the way he looked at her, all tenderness and concern, made her even more uncomfortable. How did she tell him her fears without sounding like an inexperienced child? Would it be better to just jump into bed with him and get it over with? She was sure she could play along with whatever he wanted to do – unless he wanted to pee on her – that was a line she just couldn’t cross, but he didn’t seem like that type, so she’d probably be ok. Would he be able to tell that she'd never been with a man? Probably. Liam wasn't the type of guy who wouldn't know. She wanted desperately to please him, to be good for him, and she was terrified that she would be a great disappointment.

"Myra." Her name was no more than a whisper in his lips. "Do you want to be with me? I mean, in a relationship? I want you. I want to help you understand the things I enjoy, the things I think you’ll enjoy, but we can leave that off the table if it’s too much for you. Because it’s you I want, not what you can give me or what I think I can get from you. I need you to tell me though, if you want me the way I want you."

Myra kicked herself at the cautious look on his face.

"Liam..." How could he doubt her feelings for him? "Of course I do. It's all I've wanted since I was fourteen." Because saying she'd wanted him since she was fourteen sounded a whole lot better than eleven.

"Are you nervous, then? Is it because of my lifestyle?"

She bit her lip, dropping her eyes to the floor again, nearly blurting out her fears, but choking on them instead.

"Myra, come here."

In one swift move, Liam had his hands on her waist, lifting and spinning to set her atop the washing machine. He cupped her cheek with one hand, placed the other on her knee and pressed his body between her legs. She couldn't have taken her eyes from his if she'd tried. The heat of his hand on her knee, the strangely intimate feel of him standing between her legs while she sat there, it brought the butterflies to life low in her belly. Her mouth suddenly felt bone dry, her heart beat like it would fly out of her chest.

“I want you to listen to me very carefully, little one.” He took a breath while stroking her cheek with his thumb, leaving a sizzling trail in its path. "Myra Valentine, you are my sun, my moon and my stars. You make everyday sweeter just by being in it. I can't... I don't want to, imagine a life where you're not here, right beside me." He let out a small laugh, then looked remorseful. "I had planned on doing this another way, but it seems this is the time. I love you. I've loved you all these years, but you needed time. You needed to grow up, and I needed to know if you would have feelings for me when you did. I want to spend the rest of my days with you and only you, if you'll have me." He paused and she noticed the slight tremble in the hand that still cupped her cheek. "If you want me the way I want you, Myra. Marry me.” The last words were no more than a husky whisper.

Liam Anderson was nervous, and she was the one making him feel it. Myra swallowed hard, fighting back tears, but it was a losing battle.

"You love me?" She asked on a feeble laugh.

* * *

Liam looked at the woman sitting between his legs and thought about how to best answer that question. A simple “yes” was preposterously insufficient. How head over heels for a woman could a man be?

"Myra," He began, cupping her face in his hands. "You are the spot of color in my grey world. I love you more than pitiful words can express. If you don't feel the same, it's ok, you can tell me. Please, tell me. But I think you do."

He touched the baby-soft skin just under her jaw with his pinky. "I feel your pulse racing. I know your heart beats with mine." Liam leaned in, brushing his lips across hers, then slid his tongue across the seam of her lips, asking for entrance to that sweet mouth. When she parted, his tongue swept into her mouth, tasting all of her and loving every bit of it. They'd danced this dance before, her little hands coming around his shoulders, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair. She was so sweet, so responsive. He needed more, needed to show her what his words couldn't express, needed to make her his in every way. He slid his hands down her legs, drew them around his waist, then lifted her, one hand on each deliciously round globe of her bottom and she buried her face in his neck, her arms wrapped around his shoulders while he walked to the bedroom at the end of the hall.

"Liam?"

His name was so quiet on her lips, he barely heard it.

"I have to tell you something."

He lay her down on the big bed in the middle of the room that had become his over the years, then stilled at the nervous, doubtful expression on her face. So, Myra didn’t share his feelings after all, but he schooled his features to keep the disappointment from showing.

"What is it, Love?" He asked gently, praying he was wrong.

He watched as she pushed herself up, scooted away from him into a sitting position, then stared hard at him with those big blue eyes. She started to chew on that plump lower lip, was quiet long enough to concern him, the fidgeting she was doing with the bedspread only adding to his frustration.

"Myra, Love. Just say it."

She raised worried eyes to his, and everything inside him wanted to reach out, gather her up and hold her, but he didn't. He forced himself to remain steady on his feet, waiting for her.

"Liam," She started with a slight tremble in her voice. "Will you still love me? After..." she trailed off, her eyes dropping to stare at nothing on the bed. "If it's not good, if I’m not good, I mean. Will you still love me then?"

With a deep breath, Liam did climb onto the bed then, gathered her into his arms, and stroked her hair gently. "Tell me." He urged her quietly. “Why in the world would you think you wouldn’t be good?”

Myra felt him take a deep breath, was just about to answer when he spoke. “It’s because I’m such a big oaf. Isn’t it?”