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He grins, even though his eyes are still stormy, and my heart misses about three beats. I know what he looks like with his dark hair, high cheekbones, dimple in his chin, and those killer amber eyes, but he still takes me by surprise.
Christian is the hottest, most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, and he knows it. That’s in everything he does, the way he takes having sex with me as no big deal. It’s in how he just acts like we’ll be doing it again, and I’m going to beg for his gorgeous, thick cock.
And worst of all? He’s right.
I really, really hate him.
He makes me feel almost normal at times.
Like a woman desired.
Like I’m beautiful.
I turn from him, knees a little wobbly as I open the back door and pull out a couple of the bags. He’s on the other side, getting the ones there.
“A nice, sexy little spanking, sweetness. You’ll love it.”
My cheeks burn, and I don’t denigrate myself with an answer. Just slam the door with my ass, right on his words of “yeah, that fucking hot ass, baby.”
I’m not going to let myself laugh. I bite down on my lip.
The door bursts open, and a little towheaded rocket speeds down the path and attaches itself to my leg, and now I’m going to cry.
Pete’s grip is hard, desperate, his little skinny body shaking. “Mommy’s sick, Mia.”
“I know, Sweetie. She’ll get better,” I say to Ellie’s young son. “Come on, my friend and I have some gifts.”
“Is one a toy?”
I laugh softly. “One’s a toy.”
We start walking, and he still clings to my leg, making it hard to do that. He’s silent a moment.
Then he says, “I’d rather have Mommy.”
“Pete! Stop that.” A tired voice calls from the step, and I look up at Ellie’s mom, Jayne.
The kid peels away and takes off up the path as Christian joins me. “Jesus,” he says, clearly doing some mental math in his head, “just how old was she when she had him?”
“Old enough to get pregnant.”
He doesn’t say anything else. Pete’s seven, and Ellie’s mother isn’t that old, even though life hasn’t exactly been kind to her, she’s still a pretty woman. And her eyes, when they latch on to Christian, light up.
Just like pretty much every other breathing woman not related to him on the planet does.
And he just takes it as normal.
I mutter some unkind things under my breath as we go up. “I’m sorry, I—”
“Did you do it?”
“No, Jayne, of course not.”
She takes the bags from me. “Then you have nothing to apologize for. They say she’ll heal and come through fine. I-I don’t know what happened. Bring your man inside, please.”
* * *
Pete’s dragged Christian off to show him his room. He’s clearly a kid in love and Christian, for a hard man, one who really doesn’t show much emotion except anger and lust and a terrifying hardness when it comes to most, smiles and ruffles the kid’s hair and is happy to listen to the constant chatting.
