Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 55608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
“I don’t understand that,” I say. “If that was my son… Heck, I’d swim across the ocean if I had to.”
Duke reaches across the table and takes my hand. “I know you would,” he says warmly. “That’s why you’re going to be the perfect mother. You’re always going to put them first.”
“Always,” I say fiercely, squeezing his hand. Our eye contact is so steamy and full of meaning that I think he must be talking about us. There’s no way, with all this children talk, it’s just some theoretical conversation.
“How long have you wanted children?” he asks.
“Ever since I was one,” I tell him. “I think it was watching Mom and Dad. I want to do better.”
“I wanted to do better, too,” he replies.
“It’s never too late.” Nerves try to turn my gaze away from him when I say this, but I don’t let them. “You can always find somebody else—”
“There’s nobody else,” he cuts in, seeming angry at the very idea of it. “There’s only you.”
I try to tell myself he doesn’t mean this in the way I wish he did, but he’s looking at me with so much passion and meaning, with so much love? Commitment?
I decide to be sassy. I can always play it off as a joke afterward. “What, you’re saying you want kids with me?” I force my lips into the shape of a smile.
He’s not smiling anymore. He takes my hand and holds it tightly. It’s like—no, not like—he never wants to let go, and I don’t want to either. I need to be close to him. What if something terrible happens later? What if he dies? What if I never see him again?
“Yes,” he growls. “I need to have a family with you. I need to have a future with you. I need you, Molly. Forever.”
Forever. The word bounces around my mind, taunting and seeming borderline impossible. I’m sure I must’ve misheard him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Duke
I hold her hand tightly, never wanting to let go. I shouldn’t have told her I wanted a family with her, but she asked. The idea of lying made me sick. I can’t lie to my woman even if I should, even if, when this is all over, I might wish I had. If Ryan doesn’t make it out alive…
“Are you serious?” she whispers, an uneasy smile on her face like she half expects this to be a joke. “I mean, if there’s a punchline, go ahead. Lay it on me.”
I shake my head, my throat getting tight. “I mean it. You’re going to think I’m a madman.”
“Maybe I already think that.”
“Come here, Molly.” I let her hand go and push my chair out. “I need to be close with you.”
She stands, looking so unbelievably beautiful in her hoodie and jeans, her hair tied up, highlighting her features. She slides into my lap. Guilt drives into me as my cock gets hard, but it’s like my body is urging me to unload my seed into her as quickly as possible. I might die tonight, but at least I’ll live on inside my woman. Wrapping my arms around her, I hold her tightly, savoring her warmth.
“What did you mean I’d think you’re a madman? About what?”
I think she knows what. Is that hope I see in her youthful eyes? I don’t have the luxury of holding this back anymore. When midnight comes, if it’s the worst-case scenario, I’ll regret not telling her the truth. Or maybe I’ll regret being honest, leaving her with this burden before I go. It doesn’t matter, anyway. I can’t stop myself now. Kissing her gently on the lips, I stay close to her. I can feel her breath, her heat.
“When you approached me in that bar,” I say, “I knew right away I wanted you. I knew right away I wanted a family with you. I knew I had to have you. I didn’t know who you were. I didn’t know about you and Ryan. I saw you, and hell, Molly, you were mine already. In my mind, you already belonged to me. See? How crazy is that?”
She kisses me, making a cute, breathy noise as her hands glide up my arms and press firmly against my shoulders. My manhood does unfair things, flooding with more tension, the base solid, and the shaft aching with hot seed as the kiss gets deeper. This must be a good sign, though. She’s not running. She’s not laughing.
“Is this real?” she says, gasping, breaking off the kiss.
“I meant every word,” I say fiercely. “Every. Single. One.”
“If you’re a madman, I’m a madwoman,” she murmurs. “I felt the same.”
I squeeze my hands into her hips, addicted to her thickness. It’s like my claiming impulse controls my movements, keeping her here, never letting her go. She’s mine and always will be. Forever.