Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 87289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
This man doesn’t just take, he gives.
It’s with the subtle drag of his mouth along my jaw and the way his eyes lock on mine, as if I’m the only thing in the room worth looking at.
Heat builds in waves as my legs loop around his waist, drawing him closer. I want all of him. Every inch, every ounce of weight and pressure. I want to feel him deeper, until there’s not a single millimeter of space left between us.
I arch beneath him, chasing the pressure, the orgasm building in my core. But it’s not just the pleasure that undoes me. It’s this man. The way he murmurs my name like a prayer. The way our fingers tangle together. The way his mouth finds mine, as if he’s trying to memorize me with every kiss.
His hand cradles my face. “It’s okay to fall apart, Callie. I’ll always be there to catch you.”
Tears blur my vision as emotion surges through me. With a nod, I draw him closer, my fingers twisting in his hair.
“Don’t stop,” I gasp. “Please, don’t stop.”
“Just let go, baby,” he says against my neck. “I’ve got you.”
And I do.
I surrender to him.
And to us.
To this moment that feels like everything.
My orgasm tears through me. The intensity is both raw and consuming. My body bows beneath him, my cry caught somewhere between a sob and a gasp.
It’s not just a release.
It’s more of a breaking.
A becoming.
A reclaiming of something I’d lost over the years.
He follows moments later, groaning against my skin, his body tensing before he thrusts deeper, shuddering as he lets go inside me.
Afterward, he doesn’t pull away or roll to the side. He stays with me, forehead pressed against mine, our bodies connected, like we’re breathing from the same set of lungs.
“You feel like home.” He kisses my cheek and then my jaw before his lips find the corner of my mouth.
And when he pulls back to look at me, his eyes are steady and clear. They’re full of something I didn’t know I needed.
“You’re mine now,” he says into the darkness. “And I’m yours. For as long as you’ll have me.”
I curl into him, my body warm and loose from the aftershocks of pleasure.
And in that moment, I let myself believe it.
34
River
I wake to find Callie tucked into my side, one hand resting across my chest, her breath warm and even against my skin. Her hair’s a wild mess across the pillow, and her lips are parted in sleep. One bare leg is draped over mine.
And damn if the sight of her doesn’t knock the air from me.
I could stay like this forever. Wrapped up in the quiet, in her, in the feeling that everything I’ve ever wanted is finally within reach.
A faint sound from down the hall pulls me back to reality.
Nora.
I ease carefully from beneath Callie’s arm, trying not to jostle her. She shifts but doesn’t wake. Unable to help myself, I press a kiss to her forehead before reaching for the sweats I dropped on the chair.
The hallway is dim as I beeline for the door to Nora’s room and peek inside. She’s in the center of what can only be described as a stuffed animal battlefield. Plush creatures are strewn in every direction, fallen like tiny soldiers who never stood a chance.
Her face lights up when she sees me. “Rivvy!”
My heart flips as I cross the room in two strides and scoop her up. She giggles, flinging her arms around my neck.
“Want breakfast, ladybug?”
She hums happily against my shoulder as I carry her to the kitchen and settle her in the highchair. Once she’s occupied with a few toys, I pull ingredients from the fridge and cabinets. Eggs, milk, cinnamon, and bread. All the necessary ingredients for French toast. Nora babbles away, mimicking me with her own invisible bowl and spoon.
I want mornings like this forever.
Fifteen minutes later, footsteps pad across the hardwood, and I glance up to find Callie. She’s barefoot, sleepy-eyed, and wearing one of my old T-shirts that hits mid-thigh. Her hair is still tangled, and the sight of her slams into me like a freight train.
She pauses in the doorway like she doesn’t know where she fits in this picture.
But to me, it’s obvious.
She belongs right in the middle of it.
“Morning,” I offer, flipping a slice of toast onto a plate.
“Morning.” She runs her fingers through her messy hair. “You made French toast?”
“Oh, I think you earned it,” I say, unable to stop the slow smile that tugs at my mouth. “Sit down. I’ve got this.”
She hesitates for a beat before lowering herself into a chair. Her smile is small and a little unsure, but there’s something genuine blooming behind it.
Nora’s too busy devouring her breakfast to notice the shift, but then she grins at me with syrup smeared across her cheeks and shouts, “Mo!”