“Everything was pretty damn near perfect until Emmett was about four months old, and I realized that Anna wanted tohave a baby, but she did not want toraise a child. She wanted the compliments and the cute, snuggly baby who never cries or poops or does anything that real babies do; not the three in the morning feedings and hoping that a store is still open somewhere because you’ve just used the last diaper and there are eight hours left until morning.
“I woke up to a note telling me she was sorry, but she couldn’t be his mom. I was worried about her at first, I thought that maybe she’d developed depression, or gotten sick somehow and just needed time and support, but we were from a small town where everyone knew everyone and there was no such thing as a secret. So I heard pretty quickly when her life went back to normal after she left. She was partying and hanging out with friends like Emmett and I had never existed, and she was fine.”
“Oh, Colt, I’m so sorry.”
“So,” he continues, “there are pictures, and videos. Because you’re right, I am sentimental. But I don’t want to look at them, and I don’t want Emmett to have to see them unless he chooses to.”
“Do you think you would ever forgive her?”
Without hesitation or second thought, he says, “No.”
“I think my mom would feel the same way about dad,” I tell him.
His arm tightens around my shoulders and he shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter who you are, you don’t hurt someone’s kids.”
So many things about him make so much more sense to me, now. The frequent check-ins with his son – who he wants to make sure is always a gentleman, the way he’s so attentive to Macie, even the toy drive at the Christmas party...the way he tenses up any time I mention my dad.
He’s a protector, through and through. No wonder he makes me feel so safe. It’s because heissafety takingphysical form. That must get exhausting; taking care of people all the time. Always being on guard for someone to need saving.
I set down my mug of tea, putting it back on the coaster on the table, and I wrap my arms around his neck to hug him tight.
“Thank you for sharing that with me,” I whisper.
His arms snake around me and he holds me tightly for a minute before patting my back and ordering me to eat my soup, which I do happily, wearing a smile. I don’t know if it’s homemade or from a can, and I don’t care either way. It tastes like being important to someone, and I was starving for so long that I don’t think I’ll ever get full on it.
I must fall asleep at some point, because one minute I’m watching corny reality TV, and the next, I’m opening my eyes to some golf tournament, my head rested firmly on Colt’s shoulder and his arm is wrapped around my waist while he absently rubs circles over my side with his thumb.
“How long was I out?” I groan.
“Not long. Maybe an hour and a half.”
I sit up and wipe the sleep from my eyes, looking down at my empty bowl and mug. Colt uses the opportunity of my sitting up to grab the dishes and take them to the kitchen before he comes back with my water bottle, filled with fresh ice water, and sets it down in their place before getting right back into his seat next to me.
I inch closer to him and wrap the fuzzy blanket over the two of us, then huddle close to him so I can soak in his scent. I don’t know if he means to, but he drapes an arm over me under that blanket and rests his hand on my ass, almost possessively.
“Colt,” I whisper.
“What is it?”
I lean up, just enough to look him in the eye. “You’re just a really good man.”
A smile creeps over his face. “Thank you, Rowan,” he says. “How are you feeling?”
“Much better. Thanks to your excellent doctoring.”
I raise myself up to kiss him on the cheek – once, twice, three times. My hand cups his jaw and turns his head to face me, and I kiss his lips. Soft, buttery lips that send fire through my belly when they touch mine.
He drops the remote and moves his hands to my face, holding me in place while he deepens our kiss, nipping at my lower lip to let him in. When I do, our tongues meet and fireworks explode in my brain, sparks sprinkling down onto every inch of my skin, heat following low in my belly. He tastes like heaven, and I think I might be dying.
“Make me say your name again,” I breathe against him.
My mouth still on his, I slip my shorts off, letting them fall to the floor before I throw a leg over him, settling myself over his lap.
His hand finds the small of my back and he pulls me close, hard, until our bodies are pressed together and my breasts rub against his chest.
I throw my mouth onto his again, desperate for more of his taste, and his cock hardens beneath me in response. I tremble at the feeling, fear and excitement running through me like a riptide. If my mouth wasn’t so busy, I think my teeth would probably be chattering.
I pull off his t-shirt, revealing his broad, strong chest, and I run my fingers through the dark hair there, feeling his heartbeat. It’s fast, pounding hard like mine is. He slips my shirt off, exposing my bare chest before staring to take in every inch of me.
