I was so disgusted with her I didn’t even bother arguing.
Sometimes I think about calling the authorities, but I know there isn’t much they can do. Becca always leaves him with a capable adult when she’s gone—i.e., me or Charlotte—and as far as I know she doesn’t bring the partying around her son. Something I’m grateful for.
That said, even if they removed him from her care, I’m not sure the alternative would be much better. He’d be stuck in the system…a system that wouldn’t give me any rights to see him or find out if he’s okay.
I want to adopt him, this way I know he’ll always be taken care of, but Becca would never go for it because then she’d lose her bargaining chip against me…her financier.
Unless I one-upped her and cut her a check for two million.
I’d like to think no amount of money would ever make a mother give up her child, but I know that’s not the case.
Bottom line, Becca’s not cut out for motherhood.
Jameson needs someone who’s willing to put him first.
I trek up the staircase, wondering what story I can spin to explain why I’m home so late.
When I enter the bedroom—a bedroom we now share since I moved my stuff into it last week—I find her curled up in a ball in the middle of our bed.
Lola’s lying on the floor beside her, snoring loud enough to wake the dead.
The muscles in my chest draw tight with regret as I approach her. She’s wearing some lacy pink lingerie getup, and there’s makeup on her face. Her loose hair is fanned out over the mattress, the pink tips the same color as her sexy bra and panties.
She looks like a goddamn wet dream come to life, but knowing she did all this for me only makes me feel like an even bigger dick.
I’m not worthy of that beautiful, pure heart of hers.
The heart that still wants to believe the best in everyone, even after they’ve hurt her. The heart that refuses to give up on those she cares about, even when she should. The heart that makes this fucked-up world a much better place.
She’s everything I’m not. Kind to my cruel. Forgiving to my vindictive. Honest to my deceptive.
She stirs when I pick her up, but not enough to wake. Tossing back the covers, I place her back into bed. I get in behind her and my arms find her waist, tugging her closer.
Because I’m selfish.
A beam of sunlight peeking through a crack in the curtain—and the sound of Kit’s off-pitch singing in the connecting bathroom—rouses me from sleep.
I’m about to get up, but then she enters the bedroom. Her hair is still damp from the shower and she’s wearing a baggy T-shirt and sweatpants. Even though she looked hot as fuck in the lingerie she was in last night, she looks even more beautiful now.
Her pretty face scrunches with concern as she peers down at me. “Is everything okay? You got in so late I didn’t hear you come in.”
Fuck.
“No…yeah.” That only makes her more confused. “It is now.”
She’s clearly waiting for me to follow that vague statement up with something else, so I add, “My mom’s car trouble turned out to be a car accident.”
She clutches her chest. “Oh, my God. Is she okay?”
“She’s a little banged up, but otherwise fine. We were in the hospital for a while, though.”
Crawling into bed, she lays her head on my chest. “I wish you would have called me. I could have met you up there.”
I breathe in her fruity scent and run my fingers down her arm. “Most of our time was spent waiting for the doctor to check her out. There was no point making you come up there just to sit around with us.”
She kisses my chest, her pouty lips landing right above the organ beating wildly for her. “You’re a good son.” Something passes in her gaze. “Asher said she was in town for a short time to visit some friends. She’s been here for a while now.”
Fucking Asher.
“Yeah. That was the plan. But she decided to stay a little longer. Especially now that she has a broken leg.”
Her mouth drops open. “That’s awful. You said her injuries were minor?”
“Compared to the possibility of dying, they are. The doctor said she’ll make a full recovery.”
Wanting to switch topics, I roll us over so she’s pinned underneath me. “You dressed up for me last night.” Burying my head in the crook of her neck, I kiss her there. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to enjoy it.” Lifting her T-shirt, I make my way down her body. “I’ll make it up to you.”
With my fingers and mouth.
Her eyes close and a small whimper leaves her when I pull her shirt and bra over her head and stick my face between her tits. However, when I try to take it further than that, she stops me. “Aunt flow is in town.” She averts her gaze. “For real this time.”
I want to question why she lied to begin with, but I’m pretty sure it had something to do with feeling overwhelmed by the physical direction our relationship took. Something she appears to no longer be struggling with.
Thank fuck.
I’m about to suggest we jump in the shower, but then she says, “Doesn’t mean I can’t take care of you, though.”
I should say no, but my cock jumps in and makes the decision for me.
“No argument here.”
Switching places, we move so she’s on top. I squeeze her tits as she runs her palms down my stomach. I’m so hard that when she pulls on the waistband of my boxers, my cock eagerly springs out. Ready to get the party started.
After pulling my boxers off, she wraps her hand around me. The first stroke has me groaning. I wasn’t kidding when I told her she was getting good at giving hand jobs. I never thought I’d look forward to one past high school, but I ardently welcome Kit’s touch.
Especially when she starts planting open-mouth kisses down my stomach. White-hot lust rushes through me, but I tell my dick to chill the fuck out and be grateful that the hand jerking him is hers instead of mine.
The idea of giving a blow job had Kit looking utterly petrified yesterday and I’m not about to insist she do something she’s clearly not comfortable with.
But that all changes when her movements come to a stop and she grabs her pillow…
Then kneels on the floor.
Unless she suddenly feels the urge to pray, it’s clear what she’s gearing up to do.
And if I had any doubt about her intentions, I don’t when she removes the elastic band from her wrist and ties her hair back.
Yup. I definitely know that move.
Sitting up in bed, I shift to face her. “Kit.”
I can sense she’s nervous, and although endearing, I don’t want to make her feel like she has to do this.
Not only will it ruin the experience for her…one wrong move on my part will ensure she never has the impulse to do it again.
Reaching down, I cup her cheek, forcing her to look at me. “Don’t do something you don’t want to.”
Determination shines in her eyes as she wraps her hand around my cock. “I want to.”
Fuck. If I were a stronger man, I would put up more of a resistance.
But I’m not.
I’ve wanted this girl ever since she scowled and tried to kick me off her bridge.