Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 59738 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59738 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
When he squeezes himself into me from behind, a feral sound claws its way out of my throat. He’s breathing hard, kissing my face and my lips and tugging on my hair while he pounds into my flesh, using me like I’m driving him insane too. I want to believe it. I want it desperately. But I can’t give in. I can’t allow myself to fall for him.
It doesn’t stop me from coming for him though. It doesn’t stop me from pleading for him and kissing him back. And it doesn’t make me come to my senses and ask him to pull out. When his cock finally unleashes, flooding me with warmth, there’s a sick satisfaction in me that proves I’m all sorts of fucked up. Because I needed this from him. I wanted it. And I think the worst part is that Conor knows it.
He kisses me again while his dick softens inside of me, but this time it’s sweeter. Deeper. All consuming. He has no reason to kiss me now except that he wants to. And that’s what scares me the most.
“I thought you said—”
“I know what I said.” He pulls out and tucks himself back into his pants. “Now get your arse in the car and put yourself back together. If we’re going to do this, we’re not going to phone it in.”
“What are we doing?” Ivy shifts in the passenger seat and stares out the window as I park in front of her friend’s house.
I turn off the ignition and twirl the keys around my finger. “Go inside and pack your son’s bags. I’ll wait here.”
“What do you mean?” Her head swivels in my direction, eyes wide.
“He’s coming home with us. Tonight.”
“Conor, that’s not a good idea—”
“It’s not up for debate,” I tell her. “Your son should be where you are. And I won’t have ye moping around the house all day wishing ye could be here instead. It makes no sense.”
“This isn’t a decision we can make in a few seconds,” she argues. “There is a lot more involved with having a kid. We need to decide what’s in his best interest and being in a house where—”
“He will never be any safer than he is when he’s with me,” I say. “And I’m not a bleeding idiot. I know what goes into having a kid. But I also know that if you don’t get your arse in that house to pick him up, then I will. So, what’s it going to be?”
Her attention drifts back to the house, equal parts longing and uncertainty in her eyes. I know how much she’s missed him. I also know she’s scared I’m going to let her down or go back on my word or fuck this up somehow. It would be a wasted breath to tell her otherwise. Ivy needs to figure out on her own that she can trust me, the sooner the better.
“How do you think this is going to go down?” she asks. “Who will take care of him while I’m at work?”
“You will take care of him. Ye’re done at the club, I told ye that already.”
“Yes, but I’ll need another job,” she reasons. “Kids cost money and I need to make sure Archer has everything he needs.”
“You’ll have a card linked to my account by the end of the week,” I assure her. “You don’t need to worry about money. Whatever he needs, whatever you need, it’s yours.”
She doesn’t answer because she’s too busy thinking of all the ways this could go wrong, and I don’t have all day. I reach for the door handle, and she turns her wild eyes to me.
“C’mon,” I tell her. “We’ll do it together.”
“I think we wore him out today,” Ivy says.
My eyes move to the rearview mirror. After all the excitement of coming with us, the kid passed out before we made it ten miles from the house. Ivy is quiet again, but it’s a nervous quiet, judging by the incessant fidgeting she’s doing beside me. She lasts for all of two minutes before I feel her eyes on me.
“You’re good with kids.”
I crane my neck to the side, hoping to release some of the tension there. “Like I said, I had some experience.”
“Your little brother?”
I jerk my chin.
“What’s his name?”
A hot flush crawls up my throat, and I don’t want to answer, but it comes out anyway. “Brady.”
“Will we meet him too?”
She’s treading carefully, aware this conversation is breaching dangerous territory, and yet she’s asking anyway. The irrational part of me wants to question her motivations and lash out at her but the logical part of me understands it’s innocent.
She told me her story, and I meant it when I said I didn’t want to phone this in. When I saw her break down today, it occurred to me how much Ivy needs me. She needs someone to be strong for her when she can’t. Someone to do the hard things and take her worries away. And for the first time in my life, I want to be that for someone.