Page 64

Story: Love Loathe Devotion

“We’ll get him what he needs,” I say quietly. “Whatever it takes.”

And I mean it. Because Joey’s not just Sam and Lucas’ kid. He’s ours now too, because we love him.

She doesn’t say anything right away. Just leans in, slow, deliberate, her gaze flicking between my eyes and my mouth like she’s asking permission even though we’re already past that.

I meet her halfway, brushing my lips over hers once, soft, slow. She exhales into me like she’s been holding her breath all day.

Her hand slides up my chest, fingertips tracing my collarbone, then curling around the back of my neck. I deepen the kiss, pulling her closer, shifting so she’s half in my lap. Her thighs straddle mine, the flannel shirt falling open just enough to reveal a sliver of warm, bare skin.

Goddamn.

Kissing her feels like coming up for air after holding my breath too long—intense and slow and necessary. I slide my hands beneath the fabric, feeling the heat of her back, the soft curve of her waist. She sighs against my lips, her body melting into mine like we were sculpted to fit together.

I nip at her lower lip and she lets out the softest sound, almost a whimper, and it damn near undoes me.

“I could kiss you for hours,” I murmur against her mouth.

“Then maybe you should,” she whispers back, breath hitching as I trail my lips down her jaw, her throat, kissing the pulse point that beats fast beneath her skin.

I press my palm flat against her lower back, grounding us both as she leans into me, head tilted, her fingers threadingthrough my hair. Her body rocks against mine just enough to stoke the fire simmering between us.

And just when it starts to slip into something deeper—something hungrier—her phone buzzes sharply against the coffee table.

We both freeze.

She leans back just enough to glance at the screen.

Her body goes still.

Randy.

I see the name flash across the screen before she flips the phone face-down and lets out a slow breath.

I try to keep my voice even. “He’s been calling you?”

“A few times,” she says quietly. “I haven’t answered.”

I sit up a little, my hand still resting at the small of her back, my thumb moving in slow circles. “Is he bothering you? Like—really bothering you?”

Her eyes meet mine. “Not exactly. He’s just… persistent. But I’m not letting him back in, Eddie. I’m not even tempted.”

That should soothe me. And it does, mostly. But something inside me still knots at the thought of him intruding on her peace. On this. On us.

I shake my head. “I swear to God, if I ever see that asshole again—”

She laughs, cutting me off with a kiss. “You don’t have to kick his ass.”

“I want to.”

“You don’t need to.”

“I still want to,” I growl, and she laughs again, softer this time, but her eyes are warm. She presses her forehead to mine.

“You getting protective on me?” she teases.

“Damn right I am.”

Her expression shifts just slightly, a softness creeping in. “I like it.”