“Reid—oh fuck—I need—”
“I know,” I rasp, in love with the way she presses into me for more. “You’re right there, I can feel it. So fucking tight for me.”
“Please,” she begs, nails digging into my forearm. “Please make me come—fuck, I’m so close—”
“Oh, you wanna come?” I growl, losing it right with her. “Say it.”
“Yes—please, I wanna come—”
“Good,” I murmur, giving her clit a wet slap. “Then fucking come, baby. Show me how much you want this cock.”
Her whole body snaps tight, a broken cry ripping from her throat as she comes hard, pussy fluttering around me, and thighs shaking.
“Fuck—that’s it,” I groan, thrusting through it, chasing my own edge. “My filthy girl, making a mess all over me. Christ, I love you.”
I keep fucking her as she shakes in my arms, and she shudders again when I slam in deep and stay there, spilling into her with a long whimper against her neck.
When we finally fall still, she’s still wrapped in my arms. I press a kiss to the top of her shoulder and trail one hand back to her belly, where she covers it with her own.
And just before sleep takes me, with her heartbeat echoing against my ribs, she murmurs into the dark.
“Welcome home.”
I exhale slowly, my other hand smoothing down her spine as I press a kiss to the crown of her head and let the words settle.
“Home's right here, Havoc,” I whisper. “Wrapped in my arms.”
Her fingers tighten slightly on my hand before she threads them through mine, and I feel it—the quiet hum of peace that only exists with her.
Chapter thirty-five
Every cell in me fractured open
Carina
Something’s off.
Not wrong exactly, but I’ve been off all day. Restless and hot and itchy. Vaguely crampy, then not, then again. My lower back has this dull ache like I’ve been standing too long, even though I haven’t.
I kept moving anyway—vacuumed the living room, washed the baseboards, wiped down every surface in the kitchen. Made cookies. Ate four. Told myself I was just nesting and this wasn’t labor.
But then another wave hits, deeper and tighter this time, and I brace both hands against the edge of the kitchen counter with a soft, startled gasp.
“Oh, fuck me,” I mutter, closing my eyes and breathing hard. “Okay. Okay, maybe.”
The front door swings open from the foyer, and I hear a bag hit the mat.
“Hey,” Reid calls, walking through. “You eat all the lemon cookies without me?”
I straighten up fast, trying to look casual. “I didn’t know we were sharing.”
He walks around the dining table, sweat-damp from his gym session, T-shirt tight across his chest, towel around his neck. He eyes me suspiciously.
“You alright?”
“Fine.”
That one word does me in, because his eyes narrow. “Bullshit.”
