six
. . .
Julia
He carriesme like I weigh nothing, my legs wrapped around his waist, his massive hands supporting my thighs. My heart hammers against my ribs so hard I worry he can feel it where our chests press together. Seventy-two hours ago, Butch Hale was just the gruff security installer. Now he's claiming me as his, carrying me to the back office with possession burning in his eyes, and God help me—I want him to.
The small office feels even smaller with him in it. He kicks the door shut behind us, the sound making me jump. Rain continues to lash against the single window, creating a cocoon of sound around us. Isolated. Cut off from the world.
He lowers me onto the small couch, but doesn't join me. Instead, he stands back, those intense eyes raking over me from head to toe. I should feel exposed, scrutinized. Instead, I feel…cherished.
"Look at you," he murmurs, voice rough like gravel. "Fucking perfect."
Heat floods my cheeks. No one has ever looked at me this way—like I'm precious and rare. My whole life I've been ordinaryJulia Carter, the quiet girl who loves books more than people. But in Butch's eyes, I'm something else entirely.
"I'm not," I whisper, unable to hold his gaze.
He's beside me in an instant, one large hand tilting my chin up. "Don't do that. Don't contradict me when I tell you how perfect you are."
The command in his voice sends a shiver through me. This is nothing like the fumbling boys I've kissed before, with their uncertain touches and awkward compliments. Butch speaks with absolute conviction.
"You have no idea what you do to me," he continues, his thumb brushing my lower lip. "How hard it's been not to take you, claim you, since the first moment I saw you on that ladder."
My breath catches. "Why didn't you?"
A smile crosses his face—predatory, possessive. "Because I want you willing. Want you begging for it. Want you so desperate for me you forget every other man exists."
His words should offend me. Should sound controlling, domineering. Instead, they ignite something in my core, something hot and needy I've never felt before.
"Such a good girl," he murmurs, leaning in to brush his lips against my neck. "So sweet. So innocent. Going to ruin you for anyone else."
Good girl.The praise washes over me like warm honey, making me melt against him. His large hand spans my waist, fingers nearly meeting around me.
"So tiny," he growls against my skin. "Going to look so beautiful swollen with my baby."
The words should shock me. Should remind me how fast this is moving, how little I know him. Instead, they send a flood of heat between my legs, a primal response I don't understand.
"Butch," I gasp, not knowing what else to say.
"Say it again." His teeth graze my pulse point. "Say my name."
"Butch," I repeat, my voice breathier this time.
He rewards me with a low groan, his hand sliding up to cup my breast through my cardigan. Even through layers of fabric, his touch burns.
"Perfect," he murmurs. "So responsive. So good for me."
Each praise unravels me further. I've never thought of myself as beautiful or desirable, but the way he looks at me, touches me, makes me feel like the most gorgeous woman alive.
"You're trembling," he observes, pulling back slightly to look at me. “Don’t you know Daddy is going to take care of that little virgin pussy for you?”
I whimper and press my legs together at the sudden heat there.
"I'll make it good for you," he promises, his hand moving to cradle my face. "Make you feel things you never knew existed. But we don't have to rush."
The tenderness in his voice surprises me. This massive, intense man who growled about breeding me minutes ago now touches me like I'm made of glass.
Outside, the storm rages on, rain beating against the window in sheets. The world beyond this room feels distant, unreal. It's just us, suspended in this strange bubble of time.
