Page 71 of Claiming Becca

“Hey, Bec. How are you?” she asks. I shake my head. She’s the one being stalked by her crazy stepfather, but she’s asking how I am.

“I’m doing good. I was calling to check on you.”

She lets out a sigh. “I’m doing okay. I feel like I’m imposing on Victor and miss my flowers, but I feel safe.”

“I could go by your place and pick some flowers for you,” I offer.

She lets out a small laugh. “No, you don’t have to do that. Victor has someone going over there to make sure they stay watered. He built me a greenhouse to plant flowers and a huge flower bed to have a flower garden here,” she says excitedly.

My jaw drops at that piece of information. Maybe Victor does have feelings for Liv. That doesn’t seem like something you’d do for someone you didn’t care for. Turning onto my street, I shake my head; not my street, Connor’s street.

My stomach swoops at seeing Connor waiting outside in the driveway for me. “Well, I’ll have to stop by and see it.”

“I would love that. What about this weekend?”

“Absolutely.” I turn into the driveway.

“Bring Connor. He and Victor can hang out while I show you the greenhouse.” I smile to myself.

“Sounds perfect. We’ll be there.” We say our goodbyes. I hang up as Connor yanks my car door open. He leans in, unbuckling my seatbelt, and pulls me out of the car and into his arms. My hands shake slightly as I wrap my arms around his neck.

“Hey, Big Man. I’m okay.” I soothe him.

He exhales sharply and pulls back to look at me. “I can’t deal with the thought of anything happening to you. Ever.” He kisses my cheek, my nose, my forehead, and then my lips. Grabbing my hand, he shuts the door and pulls me into the house.

When we get inside, he leads us over to his big comfy chair and sits down, pulling me into his lap. I adjust myself so I sit sideways with my legs across his lap to look at him.

“You know, the day you came home from the hospital, you pulled me into your lap so we could watch a movie together, and I wanted nothing more than for you to claim me that day,” I admit to him.

His hand grips my ankle, rubs my shin to my thigh, and back down. Fall is coming, but it was hot today, so I wore shorts to the gym. Just a few more days until I begin working with Connor.

“Unfortunately.” He starts his hand rubbing up my leg again, causing me to shiver. “I barely remember that day.”

“Really?” I ask.

“I remember bits and pieces. Like mom said, she wanted to stay with me and me talking you into staying with me. But after that, my memory is a bit fuzzy,” he says. I smile and shake my head.

Leaning my head against his shoulder, I shrug. “Well, it all worked out in the end.” A rock settles in my stomach. I don’t want to leave. I want to stay here forever.

“Shortcake?” he whispers. My head lifts from his shoulder. He runs his fingers through my hair.

I sigh with pleasure. “Yeah?” I ask.

He leans forward, placing his forehead against mine. “Stay with me forever,” he whispers. I freeze as his words settle in my brain. “Don’t leave. We can rent your grandpa’s house, and you can stay with me.” The rock that had settled in my stomach turns into butterflies.

I lift myself off his lap and straddle him. “Yes!” I exclaim. I give him a hard kiss. “I never want to leave,” I tell him. He pulls me close, causing me to rock against his hard cock. I make a noise in the back of my throat.

He groans. “I fucking love it when you make that noise,” he says right before he cups the back of my head and pulls my mouth to his. I love kissing Connor. When it was something you wanted to do for years, then you finally get the chance; nothing compares to it.

He breaks the kiss and gently pushes me out of his lap. I stand and stare at him in confusion. He grins at me as he stands, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the hallway.

“The things I want to do to you will break that chair. So, let’s take this to the bedroom,” he rasps out. Heat settles in my core as I swallow. I love this. I love how he’s so open about how much he wants me.

When we enter the bedroom, he yanks his shirt over his head. I start to lift my tank top, but he shakes his head.

“Nope. I’m doing that.” I let go of my tank top and watch as he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, but he doesn’t push them down. Instead, he walks over to me, grabs the hem of my tank top, and pulls it over my head.

But as he does, his hands touch every part of my skin. He throws it somewhere in the room when it clears my head, then grabs my sports bra and pulls it over my head.

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