Hit the Spot

“I know, baby.”

“I never would’ve given him that if I’d known. I swear.”

“Shh,” I said, pulling her against me and wrapping my arms around her.

Murderous, rip-his-fucking-throat-out rage filled me. It burned in my veins and watered my mouth. I wanted to tear Wes apart. And not just ’cause he’d had Tori the way I was wanting to have her. Yeah, that was part of it. No fucking way could I ignore that right now. But the biggest thing driving me—what I was fighting the urge to hunt his ass down for—was hurting her the way he did. For the pain she was feeling now.

And that feeling had absolutely nothing to do with me. Not a fucking thing.

Tori stayed quiet for a few minutes, just letting me hold her, then her soft, broken voice uttered, “I’m so sorry,” into the hollow dip in my throat.

What was worse than pulling someone’s limbs off and letting them feel it?

Whatever it was, I was there. Sign me up for that.

“Babe.” Hand sliding to her hip, I drew Tori back to look at her. I cupped her jaw. “You don’t need to be sorry for shit that’s got to do with him,” I said. “None of it. Not fuckin’ ever. You hear me?”

“I have to get tested,” she said brokenly. “I’ve never had to do that. I—I don’t even know how to go about doing that. God, I …” She shook her head. She tried lowering it, fighting against my hand. “I’m so embarrassed right now.”

“Baby—”

“I didn’t love him like this.”

I inhaled sharply through my nose. Jesus. That …

Fuck it. I was going to jail for murder.

“I’ll get tested,” I told her, getting her eyes again. “We’ll both do it. It ain’t a big deal.”

Tori stopped trying to drop her chin. “What?” she asked, blinking at me. “But why? You don’t need it.”

“You gettin’ it done?”

“I have to.”

“Makin’ sure I’m only gettin’ you when we do this. You’re givin’ me that?”

Tori nodded gently.

I leaned in, fingers tensing on her jaw. “I want you knowin’ you’re only gettin’ me,” I rasped. “Nothin’ else. No doubts. No wonderin’ or feelin’ shame for you havin’ to do it. None of that shit. Nothin’ but me, babe.”

Tori pulled in a breath through her nose. She blinked. “Really?” she whispered, bottom lip trembling.

“Yeah.” I swiped her cheek with my thumb. “Shit’s settled. I’ll get it done.”

Whimpering soft in her throat, Tori leaned in until our foreheads touched, held my face with her hands, closed her eyes, and breathed deep.

But more importantly, she breathed easy.

Past couple of days with her, she’d been fine. Even three days ago when she went to the doctor, she was smiling and cracking jokes with me later that night. She wasn’t back to looking like this.

“Babe, you don’t need to be embarrassed,” I reminded her, rubbing my hands up and down her arms. “It wasn’t a big deal. Pissed in a cup. Nothin’ to it.”

“No, I …” She licked her lips, eyes slicing to the oven and then meeting mine again. “We only have twelve minutes now until the pork chops are ready.”

I stared at her, brows lifting. “And?”

“And that’s hardly enough time for everything I’m wanting to do.”

I looked between Tori’s anxious eyes and her fidgeting fingers. My hands stilled at her elbows. My nostrils flared as I pulled in a breath.

Oh fuck yeah.

She wasn’t embarrassed. She wasn’t thinking about that cock-sucker and what he’d put her through. Tori was weighing her options: dinner she’d prepared, eating it hot and ready, or blowing off all her hard work and spending the rest of the night fucking bare, nothing between us.

Nothing ever between us again.

I didn’t see the dilemma. Easiest fucking decision I’d ever made.

“We’re fuckin’ right here. Timer goes off and you gotta take shit outta the oven so it doesn’t burn, you do that,” I told her, watching her eyes flicker wider and a flush burn across her cheeks. “Got a microwave for a reason. We’ll use it when we’re ready to eat.”

Tori thought about this plan and she took all of a second to do that, which was lucky for her since that was all the time I was giving her to use.

“Okay, but I gotta put the biscuits and the potatoes in,” she said, moving to turn away.

I grabbed her hips and kept her facing me. “Put ’em in later,” I countered.

She shook her head, arguing, “It’ll just take a minute.”

“That’s a minute I wanna use.” I yanked her against me. “Later,” I repeated, voice firmer this time.

Tori’s mouth twitched. She slid her hands around my neck, turned her head, and checked the oven again. “Ten minutes,” she said, looking up at me, eyes heating and that hot little tongue peeking out.

Jesus.

Fuck those ten minutes.

Cursing, I spun around, prowled to the stove, cut the oven temperature in half, and doubled the time.

“Jamie,” Tori giggled from behind me, watching me do this.

I turned my head and saw her hand covering her mouth and her cheeks lifting and pinked in color. Then I turned fully, back to the stove so I could face her. I reached behind my shoulder and stripped my shirt off, tossing it next to the sink. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">