Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
And yes, sex like that is fine.
But this is different, swirling with emotions that tug my heart. Every time he touches me, I’m lost in the moment.
Happily lost with him.
And when I twist around to meet his gaze, dark with desire and that heady purple mark he’s left on my neck that I know I’ll need to cover up, I know he sees the same thing mirrored back.
Right now, nothing exists but us.
And he’s still not done. The man is part machine.
His fingers tighten on my hips. His other hand works my clit, rubbing, slowly tracing circles meant to rile me up for another round.
“Again? So soon?”
“Woman, I’m still hard as a brick. I could stay in bed with you all day,” he growls. Another half confession.
Seems like that’s how we speak these days.
These careful, half-formed thoughts and near confessions and little hints that come out loudest when we’re most unfiltered. What we don’t say is that this insanity is more than we ever could’ve dreamed.
That our red thread of fate already feels like a knot—and pulling it apart would mean brutally slashing the cord, dropping us on our heads.
It’s a terrifying thought, but so is how hard and fast I’ve fallen.
“Arlo will be up soon,” I whisper.
“Humor a man.”
Smiling, I close my eyes and lean back into him, enjoying the feeling of his hand splayed across my belly. “Good morning to you, too.”
“The best,” he agrees, reluctantly moving his hand away.
We lay together until the morning sun streams through the blinds. It’s getting brighter and earlier with spring closing in.
A second later, a not-so-distant thud tells me Arlo’s awake.
Patton’s arm falls away as I sit up quickly, trying to ignore the heavy sense of doubt about what’s ahead.
“What’s wrong, Lady Bug?”
“…are you sure today’s a good idea? I mean, are you certain?”
“Why would I not be sure?” He blinks as I look back at him, watching as the laziness fades from his face.
“Because it’s your mom and your family and I’m…” I hesitate. We’ve never given it a name even though it’s pretty clear. “I’m with you,” I finish lamely.
“Dexter already knows. If Archer’s brain wasn’t mixed up with a moose at birth, he’ll know it too.”
I slap his shoulder, laughing, but he’s right.
Dexter Rory has been dropping hints lately.
Dropping by The Cardinal to compliment me on the way things are going. Just happening to arrive at the same time Patton does and annoying his little brother to death.
The comments, too.
Sly remarks about how well we work together and how much we seem to enjoy each other’s company. Last time he was around, he even invited me to a dinner with him and his wife. That’s definitely not something you do for a random employee.
“They won’t be angry, I promise. What has you so worried?” Patton sits up and brushes my hair back from my face.
“Archer might be…”
“Then Archer will realize he’s an idiot for not seeing what’s happening right under his nose.”
“And your mother?” I swallow thickly. That’s the part that really scares me.
I burned my bridges with my family ages ago, and Arlo never knew them.
Until now, the thought of adopting more relatives through Patton never occurred to me. And what will they really think when they figure out Arlo’s a Rory and I’ve kept him hidden for five years?
If they don’t approve of me—
Yeah, I’m cooked.
“Stop it. Mom already loves you. You know that. Nothing that’s happened will change her mind one bit,” Patton says, folding an arm around my waist. Maybe it’s weakness, but I lean into him. “She’s only going to love you more.”
I so wish I shared his confidence.
“She likes me just fine as your employee, you mean. But not as your—” I stop cold.
I don’t want to say the word.
“My girlfriend?” he says firmly.
I watch his eyes flash, so bright and confident it scares me.
“Is that what we are, Patton? Boyfriend-girlfriend?”
“Why wouldn’t we be?” His grip tightens, holding me in place, though I know if I tried to move, he’d release me. That’s what’s so addictive about this man. He wants me enough to hold me close, but he respects me enough to let go.
“You saying you don’t want to be?” he demands when I don’t answer.
“We just never talked about it.”
“This is us talking. Now.”
He sounds so serious it makes me laugh, loving the moody scowl on his face.
“Thanks, Captain Obvious. Where would I be without you spelling out the conversation?”
I twist to face him completely and put my hands on his face.
Slowly, he takes my hand and raises it to his lips.
It’s incredible how the rake of his morning scruff and his lips take me apart.
“You’d still be mine,” he answers.
“Yours,” I echo, trying not to tear up.
And he kisses me after he kisses my hand, a dangerous edge to his mouth as he claims mine.