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I’m wriggling, but inwardly, my body’s on fire.

This is filthy, beyond dirty, and the risk only makes it that much more delicious. It’s like he can’t help himself—the moment we’re anywhere near a bed, he has to have me. His lips feel like heaven as he kisses me, getting closer and closer to my pussy, and my hips wriggle, writhing in his grip, still trying in vain to escape but we both know what’s going to happen.

“I want to take care of you,” he whispers as he laps me up, bottom to top, tongue rolling around my clit. “I want to please you, my wife, for as long as you’ll let me. I know you’re nervous, you’re afraid of who I am and what my family does, but you have to know none of that matters.” He sucks me, licks me faster, sinking his fingers deep inside.

“Matters to me,” I gasp, moaning as my back arches. “Seriously, Nolan, this is crazy. You can’t just—Oh my god.” His fingers do their magic work as they fuck me, in and out, his lips and tongue sucking and lapping, working my clit, driving me wild. “You can’t justtakeme.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” He stares into my eyes, fingers curling inside of me. I’m panting, gasping with bliss. “I can and I will. But I care about you, my lovely something. I want you to be happy, to be content, and that won’t happen if I force myself on you. That means you have to want this too.”

“I don’t mindthis,” I say, grinding my hips against his mouth. He smirks as his fingers slide in and out. “But I don’t know—all of this—the house—the family, the dream—I don’t know.”

“Picture us together.” He licks me, sucks me. Fucks me with his fingers. “Picture me making you come like this whenever you want it. I’ll make you feel so good.”

“Fuck,” I moan, shuddering. “I want it. I want it so bad.”

“Then stop fighting and take it.”

“Yes,” I gasp, back arching. “Oh, god, yes. Oh my god,yes.”

“That’s right, my lovely wife,” he growls. “Come for me.” Then he dives onto my clit, sucking it, rolling his tongue around as his fingers fuck me faster, and I can’t take it anymore. I’m so overwhelmed, so beyond crazy, as my back arches and my legs stiffen, and I come in a strange bed, in a strange house, while this crazy man sucks and licks and fucks me, staring up into my eyes with an absolutely adoring gaze the whole time. I come and come, so hard I feel like I might burst, and when it finally ends, he crawls up onto the bed beside me, kisses me gently, and pulls me tight against him, holding me in those big, muscular arms.

“All mine,” he whispers.

“Mostly yours,” I correct, grinning to myself. “Although if you keep doing that…” I trail off aware of what I’m saying, but too dizzy with post-orgasm bliss to care.

“I can do that whenever you want it.” He kisses my neck, then my lips. I’m so hungry for him that I moan into his mouth. “I want this life with you. I don’t care if I’m coming on too strong or if I’m scaring you away. I want it.”

I close my eyes. I can see it all: our children running around the back yard, swimming, playing, laughing. I can see him in the morning, dressing for work, kissing me, fucking me in the bathroom, getting me off. I can see him cooking breakfast, laughing at some joke. I can see him wrestling with the kids, watching movies with them in the evenings, cuddling with them at night.

I can see a life together.

And it terrifies me how badly I want it.

“I have to think,” I manage to say, tears in my eyes. “I just need to think, okay?”

“Okay,” he whispers, kissing me one more time.

We stay like that for a little while, until finally, we get up and I dress myself. As we’re leaving, I notice a picture hanging on the wall: two nice-looking people wearing casual outfits, standing on a beach, with three kids at their feet and another baby in the woman’s arms.

A vision of the life I might have.

If I can take it.

If I can bring myself to accept Nolan’s family for what they are.

Monsters. Killers. Thieves.

I’m so close to making a world-changing decision, and I’m terrified I’m doing the wrong thing.

Chapter35

Keely

Ishow up at the donut shop before Roger and his crew. They’re not coming for another hour, and I spend a few minutes looking around at their progress. But mostly I’m trying to psych myself up, trying to banish the nerves jangling down into my core. Right on cue, about ten minutes after I turn on the lights, there’s a knock at the door, and that spike of nervous energy peaks.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” I say to Jamila. She’s standing outside with two coffees and a brown paper bag from a pastry shop a couple blocks over. She’s not smiling, but the breakfast offering is a good sign.

Instead of replying, she holds up the bag. “Figured we can sample the enemy’s goods.”

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