Grief of missing out, of what I’ll eventually lose, chokes me up. “I can’t do this, Eight. I have Henri to think of. She needs stability, not some guy that comes, makes promises, then bails.”
He sees through me. “So Henri’s the only reason? That’s fuckin’ bullshit.”
I nod, then shake my head. “Guys break up with me eventually. It hurts. And you, when you walk away, it’ll break my heart.”
He presses his forehead against mine. “I thought you were a risk-taker.”
“No. Not where my heart is concerned. Not where Henri’s concerned.”
The shift of air as he slides off me and presses himself against the headboard makes me want to cry. He’s separated our bodies by a foot and I feel betrayal that I shouldn’t, which is why the end of this relationship is going to destroy me.
Then he grips my hand, laces his fingers through mine, shifts so he’s facing me. “You’re mine, Selkie. You’re not fuckin’ walking away from me. You’re unapologetic, nothing but the real deal. You say what’s on your mind, do what you want without thinking of the consequences. You drive me bat-shit crazy. Which is why I can’t be without you. You’ve made me feel alive for the first time in a decade, maybe forever.”
Shit. I can’t stem the flow of tears, but truly, no man has ever said anything like that to me before in my life. With any other guy, they act like they’re doing me a favor, but Eight is looking at me like I’m betraying him.
I take a deep breath as I swipe at my face. “I believe you.” And I do because Eight isn’t a smooth talker. He doesn’t know how to flirt or pretend. If he says something, he truly means it. “But all men walk away from me eventually. They get tired of who I am. Can’t handle Henri, can’t handle that I choose her over them.”
“They’re fuckers,” he says dismissively. “This,” he waves his hand between us. “Would never have happened if you didn’t turn mama bear on me in Mrs. Summer’s office.”
“I’m not the best mom in the world,” I interrupt because I’m also not a liar. “But at the end of the day, Henri is my life.”
He snorts a laugh. “Oscar is mine. I’m not doin’ this lightly, Selkie. My heart hasn’t got involved with another woman since Chloe died. You’re the first. You get me?”
I nod and because his words affect me so deeply, I start to cry again. He reaches over and catches a tear with his thumb, then kisses it. “And I doubt you’ve cried in front of any of the men in your life.”
“I haven’t,” I choke.
“Because this matters and you feel safe with me.”
My mouth is dry as I say words I’ve never said before. “If we do this, it has to last. At least until Oscar and Henri are grown up.”
He shakes his head as he sits back against the headboard again. “You are so fuckin’ feeble, Fleming. Already putting a timeline on us. But I can live with those terms because we’re gonna grow old together whether you believe it or not.”
“Does that mean we love each other?” I say, embarrassment seeping through me at how needy I sound.
“Fuck that. We know we love each other.” He grabs my arms and pulls me onto his lap, so I’m straddling his thighs. “We’re not gonna seal the deal with words.”
Eight shoves his cock inside me and I squirm to take it all. Part of me is scared as hell, the other part is excited that I’m the only one from this day forward who gets to feel his big cock inside me. I know this without a doubt, because he’s Eight and he will keep his vows to me. That’s who he is.
After I’ve ridden him like a jaguar in heat, after two more orgasms for me and one more from him, I lay in his arms which are tightly wrapped around me. We’re fully naked by now, sweaty from the workout, need showers, but neither of us has the energy to move. Also, I don’t want him to ever stop touching me.
“You want to talk about Chloe?” I ask as I tease the hair on his chest.
Silence makes me wish I’d kept my mouth shut, but my baggage fits in a backpack compared to his. I need to know everything about him so I can understand him better. Me, I’m pretty much an open book, but he keeps everything inside him.
Finally, he starts talking.
“Chloe and I met when we were in care. Placed in the same home. We were still kids, 17 years old.” I feel his heart pound harder and lay my ear on it. I want to share his pain, lighten the load for him.
“We hooked up, took off. The state didn’t give a shit, which was fine with us. No lookin’ over our shoulders. My older brother, Liam, took us in. He had a harder time then me in the system. Ended up on the streets for a while, then bought a shithole house when he started making money by selling drugs. Made a lot of enemies. Eventually, went down for first degree murder. Died in the joint. Killed.”
I don’t interrupt. This is part of his history and I want to hear it all.
“Chloe and I stayed in the house…”
“This house?”
“No,” he replies, the rumble deep in his chest. “Liam’s. He sold it while he was in prison and gave us the money because he was never getting out. After Chloe got pregnant, we got married. Got a place of our own.” He looks at me. “This house.”
