Series: Sean Moriarty
Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 113805 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113805 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
As much as I would love to stand here all day and watch him struggle, Abel needs that medicine now.
I thrust my hand out. “Give it here.”
Reluctantly, he hands the dropper over. I check the line then lightly squeeze the bulb into the bottle, closely watching the pink liquid go down.
Once it’s at the right dosage, I shift Abel again and lift the dropper to his mouth. “Here, sweetie. Here’s some yummy medicine to make you feel better.”
Abel takes one look at the dropper and turns his face away.
Sighing, I shift him again until I can reach his mouth.
“Please, Abel…” I plead.
I swear he cries out, “No!” as he pushes my hand away and turns his face in the other direction.
Of course today of all days he would decide to fight me on this.
Rolling my eyes up at the ceiling, I bounce him a couple of times before trying again.
“It tastes really yummy, I promise,” I say more desperately.
If he doesn’t take this and his fever rises, we’ll probably end up in the ER.
“Is that cherry flavored?” Jude asks, coming up behind Abel.
“Yes.” I frown at him, wondering why he even cares.
Abel begins to settle down a little. His cries quieting as he looks up at Jude.
Jude grins at Abel. “I love cherry. Give it to me.”
Hoping Jude is truly acting and doesn’t actually want the medicine for some weird reason, I hold the dropper out to him.
The second Jude reaches for it, Abel grabs my hand and pulls it to his mouth.
I blink in surprise.
I can’t believe that worked…
Jude frowns at Abel. “Hey, that was mine.”
Turning away from Jude with his prize, Abel sucks every drop of medicine out of the dropper.
Amused, I smirk at Jude. “I guess he doesn’t like to share.”
Without missing a beat, Jude grins a mischievous grin. “He’s bright, he’ll learn.”
Shaking my head, I try to pull the empty dropper away from Abel but he fights me. Wanting to chew on the plastic.
When I do finally jerk the dropper away from him, he starts crying again in earnest.
My nerves fried, I start bouncing and rocking him to calm him down.
Walking out of the kitchen, I sway from side to side around the living room.
Finding the rhythm that usually soothes him.
But if anything, it only seems to upset him more.
He’s tired, but for some reason he’s fighting it.
Turning at the couch, I look over at Jude and catch him watching us. Jaw clenched tight, there’s this look in his eyes…
A look of pure hunger and longing.
I have no idea why he’s looking at me right now like he wants to fucking devour me, but it causes so many butterflies inside me to take flight I miss a step and almost fall on my face.
Jude jolts, straightening away from the wall as if he’s going to rush over and catch me.
I manage to get my balance in time and do a complete about-face.
Not wanting him to see my flaming cheeks.
The last thing I need to be thinking about right now is him and the way he makes me feel.
He’s messed with my head so much I feel as if I’m the one who is crazy.
For the sake of my own sanity, I wish he would leave.
7
Jude
The swaying of Eden’s hips causes my eyes to gravitate to her luscious ass. Each movement back and forth as she whispers quietly to her son lulls my brain into a fog of lust.
Having had no time to change before she rushed out of the club, she’s still wearing that filmy lingerie they call a dress. It’s not entirely see-through, but there’s the vaguest outlines of a white thong.
Like a snake charmer, she moves without thought.
Controlling my eyes.
Controlling my brain.
Fuck.
I want to bite her ass suddenly. I want to bite it so fucking hard it leaves a scar. I want to mark her somewhere intimate. Somewhere that whenever I see it, I’ll know she’s forever mine.
The littlest of things are driving me fucking crazy. The way her calf muscles flex, the way her stockings encase her upper inner thighs. I want to caress her skin delicately like those stockings with my tongue.
It’s a shame she must have been rushed into dressing. The wings, wig, and halo must have been pushed aside in her rush. She no longer has the accoutrements of an angel, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t my angel.
Of mercy or death?
Maybe both, since anything with her will surely bring my mind to utter madness or destruction.
“You’re exhausted,” I say quietly to Eden. “Sit on the couch, there’s no need to fall asleep on your feet.”
“I’m fine,” Eden almost growls at me. “Just go.”
“That won’t be happening,” I say and finally allow myself to look around her home.
It’s warm and inviting, to a degree. But it’s also apparent that she’s living on a very fixed income. There’s a threadbare couch, a small television, and toys. That’s it.