“Open your legs, baby,” he murmured.
I did as commanded and grew wet at the hitch in his breathing. “Come inside me, Joe.”
“First, I’m gonna kiss you.” He lowered to his knees, pushing mine apart, and then he buried his head between my legs.
My gasps of pleasure filled the cabin as he licked and sucked until the tension was too much and I shattered into a million blissful pieces. I was tight and swollen from my climax as he pushed inside me, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was being connected to this man in every way possible. I wrapped my arms around him as he moved over me, in me, our eyes locked in passion.
“I love you so fucking much,” he groaned.
“I love you too.”
“I’m never letting you go.” His thrusts grew harder, his words catching on his pleasure, “You’re not going back to that apartment.”
I moaned, gripping my thighs to his hips, rocking into his throbbing drives. “You’re not the boss of me.”
“Ryan,” he warned, grabbing my hands to pin them to the floor.
I couldn’t think past the heat building deep inside me. “Joe—”
“You’re moving in with me.”
“Ask nicely!” I managed to bite out.
He slowed his thrusts, laughing softly. “Okay, baby, move in with me. Please?”
“Yes, yes, yes …” I pushed my hips against him. “Just make me come, Joe. Don’t stop.”
“Ask nicely,” he murmured against my mouth.
I grinned, pushing against his hold. He released me and I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him closer. “Please fuck me to orgasm, my darling Joe.”
Dark desire saturated his expression. “Say it again.”
Knowing exactly what he wanted, I brushed my lips against his and whispered hoarsely, “Fuck me, Joe. Fuck me, hard.”
My words shattered his control and soon I was coming around his powerful thrusts.
“Ryan!” Joe roared as he flooded inside me.
His chest heaved against mine as he tried not to crush me with his weight. I held him to me, loving the feel of him over me, inside me. Face suffused with wonder and satisfaction, he shook his head. “It’s never been like this. Never.”
“For me either,” I promised.
Joe grinned, his obvious happiness filling me with joy too. Then his eyes flickered up to above the fireplace where a clock was mounted on the wall. “It’s past midnight. We missed bringing in the new year.”
I laughed, caressing his face, drawing his gaze back to mine. “I think we brought in the new year perfectly. After all, we should always start the new year the way we mean to go on.”
His deep chuckles filled my ears as he rolled to his side, pulling me with him. I rested my cheek on his chest, my leg curled over his, keeping him inside me.
“I meant what I said.” He broke our pleasurable silence a few minutes later. “I don’t want you going back to that apartment. It doesn’t make you weak to lean on me a little. And I want you with me. I want to wake up every morning to see you sleeping beside me.”
I smiled against his chest, dizzy at the thought. “Isn’t it too soon?”
He tipped my head back. “I don’t care. All I care about is you.”
“Okay,” I agreed, excited and nervous at the prospect. “I want that too.”
“You want babies?” he asked abruptly.
More people to love and worry over? The fear almost caused me to lie, but I stopped myself. “I do.”
“Do you care I’ll be an older dad?”
“Not if you don’t care. Joe, you know our age difference doesn’t matter to me. I don’t see your age. I just see you. I just … I just love you.”
“Then that’s all I care about.” His expression was serious. “I’m going to make you so fucking happy, you won’t be able to stand it.”
I grinned, already so happy I couldn’t stand it. “I believe you.”
“Happy New Year, baby.”
“Happy New Year, Joe.”
Loving Valentine
Chapter One
MICAH
AGE 16
I was heating soup on the electric hob when the electricity went out.
Dread filled me because I knew it wasn’t a power cut.
My mom hadn’t paid the bill.
Cursing under my breath, I waited for my eyes to adjust to the dark before moving through the room toward the window. Upon peeking out, sure enough, I saw lights on in the apartments on the opposite side of the building.
Resentment and aggravation built inside me, but I forced it down and found the camping lantern I had buried in the back of my closet. Once it was on, I poured my lukewarm soup into a bowl and tried not to hate my mom.
Two weeks ago, she took off with some guy she’d met online. Some shithead who didn’t care that my mom was an alcoholic addicted to painkillers so long as she gave him what he wanted. Mom said he was taking her to Florida to the beach, and they’d be back in three days.
She hadn’t returned.
And she wasn’t picking up her phone.
My job at Billy’s Burgers would barely pay even half the bills now, never mind when school started in two weeks and I returned to part time. I was determined not to quit school.
But if Mom didn’t come back soon, I might not have a choice.
A knock at the door made my stomach lurch. If it was our landlord, I was screwed. Another knock followed it. Harder this time.
Then, “Molly? Micah?” a familiar voice called.
It was Mrs. Fairchild. Relief and embarrassment filled me in equal measure. Getting up off the couch, I wavered over answering the door.
“Micah?” She sounded really worried.
Mrs. Fairchild was Mom’s childhood best friend. They grew up together in South Glastonbury. Both girls’ parents were moneyed, so Mom and Mrs. Fairchild attended a private school. But when my grandfather died, it turned out he’d hidden that he was in debt up to his eyeballs. They took everything. My grandmother couldn’t handle it. Turned to drink.
While Mrs. Fairchild went off to college, Mom moved into her own place and worked in a fast-food joint, just like I was now. I never met my grandmother, and I didn’t even know if she was still alive. All I knew was that not long after the sperm donor responsible for impregnating my mother took off, I was born. Mom’s dependency on alcohol was a gradual thing. I’d been dealing with the worst of it since I was ten.
Last year, Mom hurt her back on a cleaning job and got addicted to the painkillers her doc gave her.
Things had gone downhill between us.
Then, three months ago, Mrs. Fairchild, now a lawyer, moved back to South Glastonbury with her lawyer husband and their daughter. She wanted to check on Mom. Our situation shocked her. She’d been coming around a lot and even gave Mom money.
Little did she know Mom would use it to take off on me.
I was humiliated that Mom didn’t love me enough to stick around. It took Mrs. Fairchild calling my name in rising concern for me to open the door.
Relief flooded her pretty face. “Micah. Thank God. Are you okay? I’ve been calling your mom …” Her voice trailed off as she looked beyond me into the dark apartment, lit only by my camping lantern. She pushed inside—she was nosy like that. “What is going on here?” she asked, her voice tight. Concerned. Annoyed.