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Cadence spasms around me, just the way I knew she would. Then she flicks my nipple causing me to thrust deeper into her. “And you’re mine.”
We come together, a sweaty mess. But I don’t care. Everything is right now that my girl is in my arms again with my come dripping between her legs. I’ll keep her nice and full of it until I get that first baby pumped into her.
She snuggles into my chest and lets out a contented sigh. “I’m really glad you came to your brother’s wedding.”
I chuckle and press a kiss to her hair. She’s not the only one. I’ll always be glad that I punched my brother in the face and took his bride for my own. Because Cadence? She belongs to me and only me. She will for the rest of her life.
12
CADENCE
“Are you sure about this?” Dad asks Brennon again.
Brennon holds open his truck door. It’s the early morning hours at the hospital and dad has just been released after a three week stay. He was driving the nurse crazy by week two. He was healthy enough to be discharged then, but Brennon pulled some strings to keep him in there longer. That’s because our lives are a media circus right now.
I can’t even buy lemons at the grocery store without a reporter sticking a camera in my face and asking me how I feel about the Abernathy family. That didn’t go over very well with Brennon. He ruined the man’s camera and threatened him if he ever came near me again. Yeah, my burly mountain man makes for an excellent bodyguard.
After the press conference, it made national headlines when it was discovered that Brennon and I are married. We’re apparently considered the Romeo and Juliet of Asheville, which just makes me roll my eyes. Our story has a much better ending.
Brennon reaches for my dad and helps him into the truck with ease. My dad is still weak from the pneumonia and the doctor estimates it may take him another week or two before he finally beats it. He has a nebulizer, and I’ve been given strict instructions on symptoms to watch for. But I don’t expect to see any of those. He’s out of the woods and at this point, it’s all just a waiting game.
Once he’s in the car, Brennon helps me into the passenger seat, pausing to press a kiss to my forehead. He’s so affectionate, no matter who we’re in front of. I love the way he’s never ashamed to show his love for me.
I look up in time to see my father beaming in the backseat. As soon as Brennon and I left the coliseum that day, he insisted on coming to the hospital to meet my father. With tears in his eyes, he apologized in his halting speech.
My dad just threw his arms around Brennon and asked, “How can I hate my new son?”
Just like that, everything was fine between them. They actually share a few hobbies and when Dad is well again, they plan on going fishing together.
Brennon’s family is in jail. He’s not upset about it, but sometimes, it makes me sad for him. I want him to have a big, loving family. Although with how often Brennon and I make love, it wouldn’t surprise me if we build that big, loving family pretty fast.
As Brennon starts the drive back to his cabin—well, our cabin now—he threads his fingers through mine. Just his touch is enough to have me squeezing my thighs together. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of this gruff man or the way he loves me so completely.
When we arrive at the cabin, Brennon’s friends are already inside. Nash brought a cake and there are decorations and party hats. I smile at what they’ve done. While he was in the hospital, they adopted my dad. The three of them visited him daily, sneaking him treats and playing card games with him. After eight weeks of being isolated from everyone he knew, it was good for my dad to be welcomed back to society so warmly.
He grins at the celebration and enjoys talking with the guys. But eventually, I can tell he’s getting tired. His energy levels still aren’t quite where they should be. The doctor said to expect him to be tired and need extra rest for the following month.
Nash seems to be the first to notice his exhaustion. He stretches his own neck and says, “It’s getting late. I have to get home. Something ain’t quite right there.”
“What’s wrong with your place?” Dad asks as he pushes away his plate of celebratory cake.
Nash shrugs, his head turned in my father’s direction. “Seems like someone is watching my place. Staking it out or something.”
Trace snorts. “At least, it’s better than Roman. He knows who’s coming and going at his place. Just won’t do nothing about it.”
