“You are utterly amazing, you know that?”
I brought my hand up to his cheek and held it there. “Why am I?”
“Because of everything you’ve given to me. Of what you can do.” He turned his eyes down again, framing my belly with both of his palms. “Creating life inside here.” He flipped his eyes back up to me. “For loving me as I am.”
My heart hitched in a small stab of pain at the last part he mentioned. Ethan was struggling still, with what he’d revealed to me about Mike’s horrific torture when he was a prisoner. I hated to think about it, but I could only imagine how exponentially more painful it was for Ethan to remember, than it was for me to hear about and imagine. Ethan had lived it. And couldn’t forget, because his subconscious forced him to relive the terror at its whim. But I was working on finding a therapy placement for him through Dr. Roswell—something he felt comfortable with, and could lead him through helpful techniques and methods to ease some of his torment. I refused to accept any other alternative for him. Ethan was going to find some relief, I was bound and determined.
“I don’t want you any other way than how you are. You are just what you are supposed to be.” I leaned down to kiss him on the lips, but he met me first, engulfing me in a deep kiss that left me breathless when he finally pulled away.
“Now, if little lettuce wasn’t insisting upon food right now, I would have to carry you off somewhere, missus, and show you a really good time.” He raised his brows at me saucily before restoring my leggings and shirt back to their original state with determined efficiency. “But, alas, that is not the case.” He stood first, then helped me up by the hand, and then bringing it to his mouth for a soft kiss. “After you, my lady.”
“Such the gentleman right now, Mr. Blackstone,” I said as I went ahead of him. “What’s the occasion?”
He smacked me sharply on the ass as an answer.
“Oh!” I squealed, “You did not just spank my ass, Blackstone!”
He laughed the deep laugh I loved to hear and leapt out of my reach. “I am afraid I did, baby, now move that spectacular American ass of yours down to the kitchen so we can feed you.”
“Payback’s gonna be fun for me,” I said, looking back over my shoulder and narrowing my eyes.
“Promise?” he said at my ear. “What are you going to do?”
“Oh…I don’t know. Maybe something…like this—” I spun around and grabbed his crotch, finding my target easily, giving a little squeeze to his prized possessions. “A tug on your balls for a slap to my ass sounds about fair.”
The look on his face was priceless. And the very surprised open mouth.
“I have you by the balls, Blackstone,” I reminded him.
He laughed and leaned down to kiss me. “This is not new information to me, my beauty.”
“IT’S a surprise, I told you. You have to trust me.” I led her along carefully, a silk scarf over her eyes serving as a blindfold. “I want to show you before everyone begins swarming down upon us for your Thanksgiving.”
My girl had decided that she wanted to do a Thanksgiving dinner at our place and invite everyone to join in the US holiday we didn’t officially celebrate in England, but with such strong influence from our American friends across the pond, was certainly gaining momentum in the UK. Brynne wanted a nice house party to serve as a housewarming of sorts, so we were hosting—and would be circled in another half day. My dad and Marie were traveling up together, as were Neil and Elaina. Fred, Hannah and the kids of course, plus Clarkson and Gabrielle. We’d have a house crammed with guests and I would have to share my girl with everyone else for a few days.
I never wanted to share her.
She sniffed the air. “I smell cloves so we must be near your office?”
No more smokes in the house.
I was back to my once-a-day habit after my slip the night of the Senator’s—cocksucking bloody serpent—ultimatum. Make that, Vice-President of the United States of America. Or he would be come January, once the new president was installed in the White House. Colt-Oakley had indeed won the US election earlier in the month by a sweeping margin. Having a hideously wounded soldier for a son was a helluva way to stir patriotism and win votes. And apparently, it was inconsequential if the same son abused young girls with his friends at parties, and made videos of it happening. The landslide was no surprise for any of us.
Brynne seemed resigned to putting her past behind her for good, and for that I was very grateful. She didn’t offer much about Oakley, nor of their meeting, to me. She had said she’d felt less troubled by the visit than expected, but I hoped she’d worked through it with Dr. Roswell, because I couldn’t bear the idea of her suffering anymore because of his problems. That hospital visit was hard enough on me, so I couldn’t imagine how she felt having to see him, speak to him…and touch him. I closed my eyes and shoved the thoughts of Lance Oakley down and away. I breathed in my girl’s intoxicating scent in front of me and focused on what I wanted to show her instead.
“You are relentless right now. I forget sometimes just how competitive you are.” Which was straight-up truth. Brynne was a scrapper at her core. A girl who went in with her fists up—ready to deal a blow, or take a hit on the chin. I loved it, and thought it made her just that much hotter. “And I think it’s f**king hot, baby.”
She laughed softly at my last comment, the sexy sound of her making my c**k bone hard and my mind race with possibilities.
“All right, we’re here,” I said at her ear, positioning her body exactly how I wanted so the view would be the best it could be when she saw the surprise. “And I think you should know that I’ve been waiting for this for six months. Six long months I’ve thought about this moment,” I said dramatically.
“That is a long time, Ethan, I agree with you. Kinda feels like I’ve been waiting six months to get this blindfold off.”
I tapped her lips with a finger, and then traced around them slowly. “Such a smart mouth, baby, and I have busy plans for it later…but right now I want you to see the surprise, so I suppose I’ll take this blindfold off you now.” I began unknotting the scarf as her breathing picked up the pace. My words had turned her on. “This silk scarf is sexy as hell on you, by the way. I think I should remember to use it again sometime,” I whispered at her neck.