Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
“Arch up, Chef,” he ordered.
I did as he asked so he could quickly slide off my panties before stepping between my legs, freeing himself.
His touches in our bed had been slow, unhurried, almost lazy.
Now he was moving much in the same way I ate my food—rushed, trying to get it done before Mabel started crying.
The urgency was strong within me too, knowing Mabel could awaken at any moment, and as desperate I was to connect with Kane, I knew I couldn’t continue through that.
I clutched either side of his head. “Slow.”
His ice-blue eyes found mine as I felt his breathing even somewhat, the frantic energy melting off him. He gave me a lopsided yet horny smile. “In case you were doubting how fuckin’ desperate I am to get inside you, Chef, it’s very fuckin’ hard to heed your command.” I watched the cords of his neck tighten.
“If it feels different—” I whispered.
“Stop right fuckin’ there,” he growled, pressing his cock against my entrance.
I gasped.
“It’s not gonna feel any different,” Kane continued. “Because it’s you, Chef. It’s my woman. Warm, wet, welcoming. My. Fuckin’. Home.” As he spoke, he slowly pushed into me.
I mewled at the intrusion, taut in preparation for pain.
That area had basically been beaten up recently. So I’d been afraid of this. Kane was not small.
The simple act of taking steps or using the bathroom had been painful. Sex felt dicey.
But beyond a slight tug of discomfort, there was nothing but soul-wrenching pleasure.
Kane’s forehead laid against mine once he was fully seated inside me.
“Are you okay?” He didn’t move straight away. “Does this hurt?”
“No,” I hissed. “Move.”
He made eye contact with me. “Yes, Chef.”
Then he did as I’d instructed.
Not as hard and furious as he had in the past. Instead, he gave me slow, deep, powerful thrusts.
I sank my nails into the skin of his back.
It felt like coming back. To a different part of myself. The sexual part. The desirable part. The part that was Kane’s. That deserved pleasure. Coupling.
It was exquisite.
It wasn’t the earth-shattering, erotic fireworks of before. It was something deeper than that. My orgasm didn’t take me apart and put me back together. It was warm, washing over me, melting all the tension in my body.
It was coming home.
And Mabel was kind enough to wait until we were done to wake.
Twenty-Six
I’d told Kane that I was fine with Mabel on my own. I’d lied. Obviously.
He had a life to get back to. There were pressing matters, meetings with lawyers, figuring out what his future looked like. There were contracts he’d already signed, sponsorships to discuss. And media to pander to.
I’d convinced him to do an interview in Portland with a magazine in order to quell the craziness and hopefully buy us more time. We knew our luck was going to run out. Soon. I could feel it. And maybe if he did an interview, it would help feed those hungry, desperate people scouring the earth for Kane.
Firstly, because if they found Kane, they found Mabel. And my fear, my anxiety was only just starting to dissipate. I no longer thought she’d died in the night if she slept too long—granted, it was only because I had a device on her foot that monitored her heart rate. I was slowly able to do things without bone-rattling terror. The mere thought of a world of people swarming to catch a glimpse of our daughter… I knew that was the driving force behind Kane leaving. He would move heaven and earth to protect her.
Secondly, I needed to prove to him that I was capable of caring for her without him. So he didn’t have to look at me with such concern when he ran out to get milk.
And thirdly, I needed to prove to myself that I was capable of being with Mabel on my own because it was destroying my ego that when Kane was out getting milk, I was fighting for my life.
Kane had only left an hour ago yet had sent me countless text messages. As had my mother. And Maisie. And Kiera. Because, apparently, Kane had all of their numbers.
I planned on killing him for highlighting my vulnerability when he got home.
The hour had passed without event … so far. I’d even managed the unthinkable: putting Mabel down for her nap in her bassinet. There were many things to do, yet I’d just wandered around the house, jaw tight, unable to think about what to do with myself.
I’d been staring at the monitor on and off. Partly to check on Mabel, also to check on Blanche. We’d tried, unsuccessfully, to get her from the room when Mabel was sleeping, in whispered commands, but even Kane couldn’t make her budge.
He had done what the dog trainer couldn’t, there was no more barking, no more pulling the leash. But where Mabel was concerned, all bets were off.