AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He laughs before taking my mouth in a fierce kiss, and soon the water is sloshing all over the floor.
ChapterNine
Micah
Tuesday morning, before the suneven yawns into the sky, I celebrate another peaceful sleep by kissing my way up Dee’s supple body—my favorite way to wake her up.
“Mm.” She stirs. “Didn’t you get enough last night?”
“It’s never enough with you.” I nuzzle her breasts. “You’re soft and warm. Fuckable.”
On a sound caught between amusement and arousal, Dee shoves at my shoulders, rolling until she’s bestriding me. Lust fires my blood. She looks good up there—drowsy eyes, hair, a tangle of curls, chocolaty hard nipples that beg to be sucked. I grasp her hips and guide her down until she’s sheathing me like a glove.
“Ohh.” She leans forward, bracing her hands on either side of my head, her breath hot on my mouth. “I love waking up to you.”
There’s nothing like tossing thesheets with Dee to kick off the day. After she drifts back to sleep, I put on my jogging clothes and head out for a run.
The fallen leaves crunch beneath my feet as the crisp autumn breeze sings in the air. I feel good—loose and energized. Charged by the burning passion between us. It’s addictive the way Dee loses her insecurities with me, how trusting she is. How uninhibited. I can’t get enough of watching her arousal, of getting her off, or feeling the spellbinding strength of my own desire—all the more staggering because it’s attached to deep and profound emotions.
I run ten miles, along the waterfront and then back through our neighborhood. I slide my cap back on and lower the bill. Day-to-day activities surround me—a woman walks her dog, a couple loads two toddlers into car seats, another jogger passes me with a wave. I see a man get into a van as the cozy bungalow we now share comes into view.
It had taken an abundance of persuasion, but Dee had finally signed the papers, only agreeing to the purchase agreement if it was amended to have us as co-owners.
Eventually we’ll need something bigger. Perhaps on the lake with a huge backyard, like we talked about all those years ago when we would lie under the stars, dreaming of our future together. I want to give Dee that and more. I want to give her everything.
I’m still smiling as I jog up the stairs, whistling when I reach the top. Then shocked panic slams into my chest. An envelope waits on the welcome mat addressed toM. Peters. Recalling the van from moments ago, my gaze swings back to the street. It’s gone. And Hilton, Dee’s bodyguard, isn’t set to arrive for another fifteen minutes.
I stare at the familiar handwriting with a vicious sense of foreboding. My breaths rush. I rip open the envelope and pull out a square piece of white note paper—like rat poison, toxic in its impact.
No name. None needed.
Rage swamps me. My old man had this delivered here. ToDee’s house. Deliberately taunting me with the knowledge that he knows about her. Knows where she lives. Knows about us.
Shit, shit, shit. Worse than any fucking nightmare.
I haven’t seen Malcolm Peters in years. Haven’t spoken to him either. I’d made my deal with the devil long ago. He was to stay out of my life and away from what’s mine.
Now he’s back.
I should have anticipated this. People could have seen Dee in Springvale, certainly Mama T would have gladly told her friends about her foster daughter’s return. Although my family knows not to discuss our relationship, Malcolm, aware of our past, had obviously put one plus one together and came up with Dee and me.
Son of a bitch. Pacing, the violence chasing me, I drag a hand through my hair, feeling the weight of Dee’s ring on my scalp, trying to keep calm, trying to keep my head on straight.
If I thought all he wanted was more money, I wouldn’t give a damn. But it’s never just money with Malcolm. He wanted to gouge at me, to bleed me of every drop of happiness for his own sick revenge.
Balling the note in my fist, I go inside the garage and bury it, and the envelope, in the trash can, battling anger and that sense of powerlessness that I hate the most.
I should have killed him. Every time he passed out with his loaded revolver dropped carelessly on the table or nightstand, I eyed the black metal. Imagined the weight in my hand…lifting…aiming…
That’s not who you are, meu bem. You have too much good in you.
I wasn’t sure my mother was right. But I never picked up that gun. Not even after she died. Maybe I was afraid of disappointing her. Or maybe I was just too damned gutless.
But dwelling on regret isn’t going to change a fucking thing. Malcolm is alive and kicking, and as usual, has an agenda. I grab my phone from out of the armband, my fingers quick on the buttons.
“Stiles,” he answers.
“It’s Mick. I need 24/7 security for Dee.”
