I shake my head as I watch Rose slam the fourth drawer shut. “She’s lost it.”
“Shut up, Loren!” Rose shouts.
I flinch. I honestly didn’t think she was listening to me either. And then in the fifth drawer, she finds a packet of matches.
“Rose!” Daisy and Lily scream in unison, but Connor is beside his wife before her sisters can swarm her. She’s already lit a match and holds it to the paper.
The flame eats the document quickly, and Connor steals it out of her hand and tosses it in the sink. He holds her from behind, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, and as he murmurs in her ear, her rigid body starts to uncoil, like he’s expelling every volatile, toxic emotion and leaving her bare.
My face is stuck in a permanent cringe again. Her breakdowns happen more often since her pregnancy.
Connor spins her around and then presses her head into his shoulder. His eyes flit up to mine and I read them well enough. He needs privacy.
Daisy hops off the counter, and she leaves to the living room with Ryke. Lily and I follow close behind, my hand in hers. There’s no way anyone is finding out the sex of Rose’s baby. We’re not going to know until the day he or she is born.
When we’re out of earshot from the kitchen, Daisy walks backwards and she says, “Maximoff Hale. He’s going to have the coolest parents alive.” She holds her fist out to Lily, who actually smiles brightly now. It falters only a little when she glances at me—to make sure it’s okay.
I hate that she worries about upsetting me. For smiling. I nod to her and try to relax.
Lily fist-bumps her sister.
Then Daisy raises her fist to me with a sunny expression that makes my life seem better than it is. I look up at my brother who meets my eyes. I get it. Why he loves her.
She’s a light in a dark place. Even when she’s going through deep shit too. Daisy and Ryke are the definition of selfless. In comparison, I’m the monster, the asshole, the villain. But in Lily Calloway’s eyes I’m the hero.
That has to count for something.
{ 6 }
LOREN HALE
My best friend, my girlfriend, my someday wife is insatiable.
I’m drenched in sweat, my hair slick while I push inside of Lily, my hands gripping her wrists above her head on our mattress. I kiss her deeply and rock my pelvis harder. She tears away from my lips to cry out, her mouth permanently open, gasping. I watch her eyes shut, her limbs trembling for release, and my body lights on fire. My cock screams to come.
Right now.
I ignore its demand. With shallow breaths and a groan aching my throat, I thrust rhythmically against Lil and try to make this good enough for her. I let go of her wrist to reach down between our bodies, my fingers brushing her swollen clit.
She loses it, her back arching, her pelvis digging right into mine. “Lo!” she screams.
Don’t come, I force myself in my head. Even as I feel her pulse around my dick as she hits a climax. I don’t want to peak. Not yet.
Still hard and full inside Lil, I keep moving, and her free hand massages her tender breast, her chest much larger since her pregnancy. I lightly push her hand aside and pinch her erect nipple with my fingers. She buries her cheek into the pillow. “Yes,” I hear her breathe.
Christ. I’m going to come soon. I press my lips to her temple. I hit a spot that blinds me for a second, and I grunt, “Lil.”
She whimpers, her legs vibrating around my waist.
My body is welded against hers. No separation between us. At fourteen, we had sex together and it felt wrong, even if I begged for it to be right.
Ten years later, I fit inside of her like we’ve never been apart. And maybe it’s still not the “right” that every other couple has—but this isn’t a wrong kind of love. It’s just the kind that belongs to us.
I push hard, and I come, my nerves firing and my skin blazing. I keep her full while my chest falls and rises for air. She stretches her arms across my shoulders and squeezes her thighs tighter around my waist. I’m almost rock hard again. I stifle a groan and study her expression. The only exhaustion lies in her eyelids that sag. Just slightly.
“Again,” she whispers, trying to thrust up against me with what energy she has left.
Pregnant Lily is the horniest Lily I’ve ever encountered. She was hard to please before. But I always managed to. Now it’s literally impossible.
I roll onto my side while she’s still tucked against me. I don’t pull out. I comb her damp hair away from her face, and she eyes my lips like they’re calling out to her. And then she kisses me hungrily, rocking her hips while we lie on our sides together. The sheets are bunched at the foot of the bed, the comforter hanging off. The dim lights illuminate her features perfectly for me, and every inch of her skin is just flooded with arousal that I can’t squash.