Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81581 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81581 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
But he’s not like Vaughn.
Gray is good to me.
He loves me.
And I love him too.
Six months later…
“Here?” Gwen asks, her nose scrunched in question.
I frown and shake my head. “Over just a bit.” My back aches from all the work we’ve been doing. My sister-in-law made good on her vow to deal with her hoarding problems. With intense therapy and help from not only Gray and I, but my mother as well, she’s been able to clear out all her rooms. The church near her mom’s house has been helping us with the donations. It’s been a lot of work, but I’m happy to see Gwen working through her issues.
“You think he’ll notice?” she questions once the picture is hung.
I laugh. “He notices everything.”
We both admire the painting she’s been working on for weeks. It matches the décor of the room perfectly.
“I love it,” I tell her with a sigh. “What’s next on our list?”
She shakes her head. “Not so fast, missy. You need to rest. I promised Gray I wouldn’t work you to death. You know how he worries.”
“He worries way too much,” I say with a faux pout. Truth is, though, his worrying makes me feel safe. If it weren’t for him obsessing over my well-being, we wouldn’t be here today. I’d probably be drugged out of my mind in some warehouse once again under Vaughn’s thumb.
“I have two to worry about now,” a deep voice rumbles from behind me just as his strong arms wrap around my middle. I lean back against his solid chest. He palms my swollen stomach and kisses the side of my neck.
“How’d painting go?” I question.
“Bull can’t paint for shit,” he gripes. Our son rolls in my belly. “Oops, I think I woke little man up.”
I laugh and Gwen lets out a huff. “Umm, hello? Notice anything?”
“What? Did you cut your hair?” Gray teases her. I know he sees the painting on the wall but he likes to razz her.
“You’re an ass,” she gripes and points in exaggeration to the hawk painting.
“Looks good,” he tells her in an absent tone. “I’ll come inspect it more later once I’ve seen to it that my wife is taken care of.”
Gwen pretends to gag. “Gross. Go away. Bye.”
I’m scooped into Gray’s strong arms and finally get a good look at his face. White paint speckles cover his forehead and cheeks. There are even flecks all in his hair. He looks downright adorable.
“You’re a mess,” I tease as he carries me to our bedroom.
He smirks and kicks the door shut. “And you’re beautiful.”
When he sets me on the bed, he doesn’t waste any time stripping me out of my clothes. Once I’m naked, he steps back and lets out a groan.
“Goddamn you’re hot when your belly is rounded with my kid,” he observes, flashing me a smoldering grin.
I lie back so he can enjoy the view. He was right about everything. Being his wife fills one of those holes I had deep inside me. Carrying his child fills another hole. This life he forged for us is one I don’t ever want to lose.
“So beautiful,” he praises as he kneels on the floor and starts kissing my thighs. Gray is so thorough. He hardly misses a day where he isn’t worshipping every part of my body. His breath tickles along my flesh as he makes his way to the part of me that throbs for him. Once he reaches his destination, he kisses my clit. Softly at first. Then, he begins sucking and tonguing me until I’m writhing in pleasure.
I barely have time to recover before he’s pulling my hips to the end of the bed. He enters me gently at first but then thrusts into me raggedly as if he’ll die if he doesn’t get enough of me.
Don’t worry, honey, I’ll give you everything.
It isn’t until he comes with a loud groan and falls on his side beside me that my gaze falls on the chest across the room. My question is always the same. His answer is always the same.
“What’s in the chest?”
His palm finds my cheek and he turns my head to look at him. His mouth hovers over mine. “It doesn’t matter.”
And honestly, it doesn’t matter.
What matters is the man who’s now kissing me and the boy rolling around in my belly.
What matters is us. They are what I notice.
Everything else is out of focus.
Fifteen years later…
Thomas is different than most kids his age. Brooding and introspective. He harbors dark thoughts but never acts on them. I don’t miss the storm that brews in his icy blue eyes that match mine exactly. A storm he needs to gain control of.
His three younger sisters are all loud, playful, and funny.
It’s as if he stands out like a sore thumb in his own family with his frowns and sulking.