Cooper

“Hold on,” I weep, untangling myself from his arms and the sheets, running to the bathroom to clean myself up.

His arms close around me while I’m bent over the sink, washing my face. His lips climb up my exposed back, kissing each bump of my spine. His lips blaze a trail of fire until he reaches the base of my neck, stopping to breathe me in. His strong arms wrap protectively around my body. I straighten and meet his eyes in the mirror. My head comes to his collarbone, his striking, blue eyes gazing into my brown ones—begging me silently to let him in. I break our connection and trace the line of his arms to where they are lying against my stomach, his tan hands standing out against my fair skin. He cradles my bump—my child—within his strong hold. He holds me within his strong arms. And it’s painfully clear to me that if I don’t act on this, don’t let him and his strength in, I will live each day regretting it.

I turn, bringing my hands up his arms, and curl them around his neck. His hands move from my stomach when I turn and lie heavily against my hips, his fingers digging in when I move to stand on my toes, gaining as much height as I can to reach his lips.

“I need you,” I whisper against his lips, loving the way his eyes flash and his face goes soft seconds before he claims my mouth.

And with that kiss, that claiming of my soul, I know without a shadow of a doubt that I’m forever ruined for anyone else.

With that one kiss, that one moment in time, it feels as if I’ve come home.

Chapter 17 – Asher

Her lips are the drug I’ve been craving.

The feel of her body against mine, the heat that is coming off her smooth skin when I trail my hands up her back, drags me under, and it’s like everything around us just vanishes.

I’ve never, in all of my thirty-three years, known a feeling like this before. I’m a complete stranger when it comes to relationships; the one time I tried was a disaster of epic proportions. But every instinct I have is telling me to hold on to this woman and never let go.

I knew before that I needed to make her mine, but right now, in this moment, I know I could never let her go.

As corny as it sounds, as much of a pussy as it makes me, I need her.

She moans and it’s like I’ve been shocked. My balls tighten and my cock throbs.

Fuck me, I can smell how much she wants me.

I pull back, a feral smile curling my lips when I see how dazed she is by our kiss. Her skin is flushed, her breathing is rushed, and her eyes are barely open. She just stands there and continues to play with my hair. Her fingers run through the longer pieces I’ve been too lazy to go get shaped up at the barber, and I make a note to keep it longer if she loves it. Fuck, it feels good.

“Sunshine,” I murmur, “once I take you—make you mine—I won’t ever let you go. You’re mine, baby. This body, this heart, and damn sure this pussy. I won’t take you until I know you understand what I’m saying to you.”

“I thought you didn’t do relationships, Ash?” she mocks.

“I didn’t. You’re a game changer.”

“So what are you saying? I’m your girlfriend?” Her thin brows crease, and I bring my hand off her hip and slowly rub the skin above her nose that has one hell of a cute wrinkle.

“Call it whatever you need to, Chelcie, but just know you are mine.”

She’s silent for a while. I move my hand and curl it around her neck, adding a little pressure so she knows to come closer. My lips kiss her forehead, her eyes, her nose, and finally, her mouth.

“I won’t share you. I wouldn’t be able to handle seeing you with one of those sluts, Asher. If we’re going to do this, I need to know that, if I give myself to you, you’re doing the same. I need complete trust and honesty.”

“And it’s yours,” I whisper against her lips.

Her eyes flash, the need that I feel burning through my body shining through those remarkable eyes of hers. This close, I can see the amber color that usually only shows when she’s mad overtaking the brown.

Burning for me.

“There’s no turning back,” I reiterate.

“One-way street, baby.”

I close my eyes and let that word, that endearment, wash over me. I’ve never had that. My mother damn sure never called us anything other than shit. And the only other attempt at a relationship never produced anything like that.

It’s almost pathetic how one little word can bring me to my knees, but her hushed baby does. I open my eyes and move the distance needed to feel her lips against mine again. She opens immediately and our tongues roll and dance together. Even though every part of my body is screaming to take her hard, to claim her now, I want to savor every second of this.

Running my hands down her back, into her panties, and taking her firm ass in my hands has my cock straining the fabric of my boxer briefs. I haven’t been this hard since I saw my first Playboy and wondered where the hell they had been my whole life. I fucking crave her. Digging my fingers in the tight muscles, I lift and groan when she wraps her legs around my waist. The feeling of her heat against me makes me feel like I’m seconds from coming.

I don’t break the kiss for a second, walking blindly towards the bed. Reaching back, I deftly unsnap her bra, easing each strap down her arms before pulling and throwing it over my shoulder. I slowly lower her down. Her back hits the mattress, but I quickly move my hands from her ass to her hips, letting her know not to move her long legs from my waist. Words aren’t needed—not when our bodies are screaming at each other.

Taking my time, I run my fingertips from shoulder to shoulder, tracing the delicate line of her collarbone. I trail my path with my eyes, lazily drinking her in. My hand moves from her collarbone, down the center of her chest before running along the curve of her heavy breast. Her tits are perfect. Heavy and firm. Pink nipples beg for my lips and my teeth. I bring my other hand into play and cup her in my hands, rubbing my thumb across each nipple and loving every second of her eyes widening before she bites her lip and shudders.

I move my hands farther down, the goose bumps following their path. Her chest is starting to heave with her effort at keeping still. I can tell how badly she wants me. The evidence is soaking through both of our underwear.

“I want you so badly,” she moans.

“Shh,” I have no words for her, no reassurances that I’ll move quicker because I don’t want to. I plan on taking my time with her.

When my hands get to her stomach, the stomach that holds my family, I’m momentarily overcome with emotion. I’ve never been one to believe in second chances, at something bigger at play with my life, but knowing that this baby is a part of my brother makes me want to weep. I don’t think that Chelcie will ever know what this means to me.