This kiss isn’t the teeth clashing, brutal one that leads to sex. This is warmth and desire and the need to be connected. This is less lust and more…
I open my eyes, watching her watch me. Her hand moves from my beard to the back of my head, holding me to her.
And I fucking give in. I melt into Lorien Anderson, PhD, whomakes me want things I’ve never considered before. I melt into her embrace, into her perfect pussy, into her quirky nature, into her scientific brain, into the turmoil she’s brought into my life.
Her stomach growls again, breaking my trip down what-the-fuck lane, and I laugh against her lips. “Wifey is hungry. I satisfied that starving pussy. Apparently, I need to feed you more regularly.”
I slide out of her and she mewls in protest.
Fuck, I love that whimper that means she doesn’t want to lose me.
“That bead was… And your… well, you know.”
“One day, you’re going to have the confidence to tell me exactly what you want. And I can’t wait, baby. Because I’ll give you anything you ask for.”
She rubs my chest, exactly where she planted that kiss, and watches her hand as she does.
“Promise?” she asks, never meeting my gaze.
“I promise.”
And it’s a vow. One that might crack my chest in two, but one that I’ll keep.
50
married a thief
Lorien
Over his veal parmigiana, I tell him about my weekend. He’s livid when he hears about the waitress and literally makes me get up, grab my purse—from my house, mind you—and hand over the police report. “You’re not going to ruin her, right?”
“Ruin? Not exactly. Make her next year hell? Definitely.”
Is it wrong that I want him to? Yes. Totally wrong, but there’s a part of me that desperately wants her to get what’s coming to her. If only because she needs to stay away from my brother.
“You’re smiling. Are you coming around to what being with me means?”
I hold his gaze and offer him a smile. “It didn’t take muchcoming aroundwhen I— I mean, yeah.”
He smiles into his pasta in an almost boyish way.
I’m sure he assumes sex. I mean the care he shows me. He’s protective and kind. He’s good for me and good to me.
“Call and check on your mom, Wifey. When you’re done, I’ll tell you about Wyoming.”
I can’t believe I forgot. “Okay. Leave the dishes for me. You cooked.”
I’m sliding away, when he grabs my wrist and tugs me toward him, leveraging me down to his mouth. He kisses me deep, with tongue, and groans as I scrape the back of his head with my nails.
He’s spoiling me. It’s too much.
And I never want it to stop.
Thirty minutes later, I’m done with my pacing. I’ve hung up with Mom and Dad and have the full download on her next steps medically. Surgery this week, rest then rehab for the muscles around the bone. Something about being over fifty.
“Well, it seems everyone I know will be doing the recovery thing.” The word dies on my tongue as I wander back to the living room in time to see Liam with Poe on his chest talking to her as he bottle-feeds her. I swear the man is every girl’s fantasy and he doesn’t have a single clue to that effect.
“Yeah. So surgery then?” His eyes find mine.
