Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 170878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 170878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
I felt like I belonged.
Which should’ve been comforting, the ease in which this had happened. Instead, it was terrifying. My delicious breakfast felt as if it were curdling in my stomach.
Hence me getting dressed and putting on my running shoes, despite the ache in my muscles.
“I’m going for a run,” I announced to the kitchen.
Normally, I didn’t broadcast that I was going for a run. I didn’t know why I did it that morning. Maybe because Beau had spent a decent amount of time the previous night with his mouth between my legs. Maybe because my clothes were now in his closet, and he’d made it clear that he cared about my comings and goings. Maybe it was because he loved me.
“Have fun!” Clara called from her spot at the breakfast bar. She was coloring. Beau was tending to his sourdough, which he made weekly. Something incredibly endearing and also delicious.
I grinned at her before noting a large form had entered my space.
Beau was standing in front of me, his hands going to my hips.
My breath caught in my throat as I looked up at him.
He was touching me, in the kitchen. It felt surreal and perfect all at once. My body reveled at the simple contact.
“Don’t like you running,” Beau said softly, rubbing my hip bone over the top of my leggings.
He looked me up and down.
It was still chilly, so I was wearing leggings, thick socks, and about three layers of thermals underneath my puffy vest.
“I especially don’t like you running in that,” he added in a growl as if my running attire were akin to lingerie.
I looked up at him, feeling tingles down my spine. “You don’t like what I’m wearing?” I teased.
“I love what you’re wearing.” He leaned in so his lips brushed my ears, so his words would not be heard by a five-year-old. “I love that I can see the perfect heart shape of your ass, the muscles in your thighs, the curve of your hips…” His hands lightly skimmed over those areas. It was an outwardly PG touch, but it felt beyond R-rated.
“I love what you’re wearing too,” Clara added, jerking me out of my fantasy.
I blinked in a haze to see Beau smiling wickedly, as if he knew where my mind had gone. He should’ve. He took it there.
“Daddy, didn’t you just say boyfriends don’t tell girlfriends what to do?” she continued sweetly.
Now it was my turn to grin.
Beau’s eyes danced playfully, his hand remaining on my hip as he turned to his daughter. “That I did, Bug.”
“And Hannah is your girlfriend,” she said smugly.
My smile stretched as Beau’s hand flexed at my hip. “She is,” he ground out, decidedly less amused.
“She can go running in that if she wants, then,” she said happily, looking at me. “Do you want to go running in that, Banana?”
No. I didn’t even want to run anymore. I wanted to stay there, in that moment, in that home, in that family forever.
“Yes, Blueberry, I do.” I gave her a smile that was only half forced.
“Then it’s settled,” Clara declared. “Hannah will go running, and Daddy and I will make bracelets in my room.”
This time my smile was genuine as I looked up at Beau. “The boss has spoken.”
He wasn’t smiling as he looked from Hannah to me, his expression so serious and reverent that it almost leveled me.
“That she has.” He leaned into my ear again. “I’ll be sure to make my mark on that ass tonight, so when you run tomorrow, you’ll feel the brand of my handprint.”
He kissed me hard on the mouth.
“Be careful,” he added. “Love you.”
Before I could even consider saying it back, he was holding on to Clara, extending her to lay a kiss on my cheek, then carting her in the direction of her bedroom.
With a swelling heart, I didn’t have much else to do except go for a run.
twenty-five
HANNAH
“Want to go grocery shopping, Bug?” Beau asked, emerging from his office.
He’d only been in there thirty minutes and had come out three different times to grab a pen, kiss us both, and get a cup of tea. He’d also kissed us both when he got the pen and cup of tea.
Beau was never in and out of his office so much, or in there for so short a time. In the past, he’d be in there for hours, working. He’d rarely come out, and when he did, it was when I was out of the room he wanted to be in. He’d been pointedly avoiding me.
Not anymore.
Even during the short time he was “working,” I missed him. There was a thread between us now, pulled taut when he was only a couple of rooms away.
My run had been torture. Not just because it was bitterly cold, but because every one of my limbs felt claimed by Beau. My body had an awareness of him. A craving that should’ve been sated last night.