After she shrieks, she wraps her arms around my neck and presses her lips to my neck again. “Holt, your foot?—”
Hurts like a bitch as I put weight on it for the first time in weeks, and I’m limping as I carry her out of the bathroom, but ask me if I care. I have Ziggy in my arms and a raging erection. The foot will be fine. “What foot? I don’t have feet.”
Ziggy snort-giggles. “If you hurt yourself?—”
“Can’t hear you over the beauty of your naked body.”
Jessica snorts at me—some guard dog, letting us battle a spider on our own—but she doesn’t get up out of her doggie bed and she doesn’t try to stop me from manhandling her favorite person.
Smart dog.
She’d find out what a doghouse is if she tried.
Ziggy’s fingers brush the back of my neck, and she nestles closer in my arms.
My dick aches. My balls are so tight they’re on fire. I can still taste her on my tongue, and I fucking love it.
She licks my jawline. Considering how hard and ready and desperate I am after tasting her pussy, the feel of her tongue on my face makes me nearly cross-eyed.
I want this woman.
I want her in my bed. I want her in my house. I want her in my life.
Her and her baby.
The dog. With another dog who likes me.
Family.
She doesn’t ask where we’re going as I carry her acrossthe hall to my room. Doesn’t object when I settle her in the center of my bed amongst the twisted sheets.
Not Ziggy.
No, she’s cradling my face again and kissing me before I can get into bed myself.
I crawl onto the mattress, the fucking boot catching on the edge.
“Your foot—okay?” she says between kisses.
I grunt in response and capture her mouth so she can’t ask any more questions.
I love kissing this woman. Her eager tongue, her possessive hands, the little noises she makes when I stroke her ass—there’s no chance in hell this is the last time I’ll ever kiss her.
She feels too good.
Tooright.
But my fucking foot is stuck on the edge of the bed and I can’t get closer.
I try lifting the boot, and it takes the crumpled sheets with it.
“Holt?” Ziggy whispers.
“It’s fine.”
She blinks at me, lit only by the moonlight coming in the window and the light from her room filtering across the hall. I can’t tell if her gaze is addled with lust or fully aware of something not being right.
“What’s not fine?” she asks.
