Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
“There were big explosions, and I killed eleven guys, and…” He kisses me again, but it shifts as I direct it into something softer. I’m just grateful he’s back in one piece. That he came back home as promised. Someone like Hawke needs a reward system to ensure he’s not reckless, not that I think I can or want to ever change that about him. But I want him to always come back like this, and the way we’ve been able to best communicate is through touch.
He follows my lead as he lifts me and hovers me over his cock. He leans back to scan my eyes. “Did you miss me, lover?” he purrs with a cocky grin.
I line his cock up with my greedy, wet pussy, needing to remind him of what home feels like, as I say, “You took your fucking time.”
He chuckles as he slams me down onto his cock and begins thrusting into me against the tiled wall as hot water runs between us, rinsing away his adventures of the day. I never thought I’d love this man so irrevocably, but the truth is, it’s hard not to.
He continues pounding into me, dispersing all of that jittery, excitable energy he walked in with. I let him use my body, abusing me so he can expel his carnal urges. He sucks, bites, and curses as he jerks into me, filling me with his cum. I sigh, relieved, the moment I feel it hitting inside of me. My own body crumbles as I break into pieces, my pussy squeezing around his cock and milking him for every last drop.
Home.
Hawke.
Peace.
Our breaths are shaky as he continues to lazily kiss me like we have all the time in the world. I cup his jaw as I look up at him, realizing I’m a sucker for him.
“I love you too, Hawke,” I tell him, and he breaks out in a shit-eating grin as he spins me, almost slipping on the wet tiles as if forgetting where we are.
Images of him being in this very shower, slipping in oil, come to mind, and I throw my head back laughing. I’ll never not love this man because he’s entertaining, at the very least.
“You better not be thinking about the oil incident,” he growls as he places me gently on my tippy-toes and I wrap my arms around his neck, looking up at him sweetly. It’s answer enough, and he rolls his eyes, trying to hide his smirk.
He leans down to press a kiss on my lips and he says, “It took you long enough, lover. I love you, too. More than you’ll ever know.”
CHAPTER 48
Ivy
“You’re dating who?” my father demands the next day as he storms into my apartment, acting as if he’s been betrayed. The object of his anger is currently asleep in my bed, but I don’t think my father is ready to hear that news.
“Who told you?” I ask, letting out a huff as my mother comes in and presses a kiss to my cheek. My father is acting like a diva, throwing his hands up in the air.
“Word gets around, Ivy. You kids suck at keeping secrets. Especially when you’re sitting on that ape of a man’s lap every chance you get.” I roll my eyes, and my mother seems to find it amusing. “So, were you planning on telling me?” he asks as my mother places down the plate of food she brought in. I can see bacon, pancakes, and bread, and there are more than likely other options as well. My parents often drop by with food when they’re in town. It’s finally registered that almost everyone around me has been supplying me with food. Even Hawke’s gotten into the habit. I don’t notice it myself in the moment, but when I get hyper fixated on something, I lose my appetite and sense of time.
Not that I don’t eat; I love to eat.
“I was planning on telling you when I saw you next,” I tell him, helping my mother with the food. The corner of her mouth turns up when she notices I grab four plates instead of three.
“So, what are you?” he demands.
“A thing,” I say cryptically, just to mess with him. I chuckle, as the term has the same effect on him as it did when Hawke kept saying it to Ford.
My father licks his lips and runs his hands through his hair as if in panic. I get he never liked Hawke, but this is dramatic even for him. But I guess there’s something in it when they say Daddy’s little girl.
“Okay. Is it serious?” he asks at the same time Hawke walks out of my bedroom without a shirt on, his chest on full display, including all the cuts and bruises from yesterday.
“It’s serious,” Hawke says with a smirk, and my father swings around to face him, gobsmacked that the devil should appear when summoned. I’m just thankful he has pants on.