Page 15 of Sex & Cigarettes

“Can I?”

“Of course.”

“Hey, little man. Welcome to the family.” She shifts from foot-to-foot gazing at him with nothing but love radiating from her and I relax.

Axel and Coralie leave.

Abel puts our sleeping son in his bed on wheels at least that’s what I call it. “Steph will be at the house tomorrow straightening up. You want her to bring Petunia or keep her a few more days?”

“No way. I need her home with me. With us.”

“Alright. I’ll let her know.”

“There’s one thing I need.”

“What’s that?”

I scoot over the best I can. “Get in this bed and hold me.”

“They might try to kick me out,” he muses but does as I want. His arm goes around me, and his lips touch my temple.

And for the first time since Raul’s goons kidnapped me peace washes over me. It’s really over. I’m back where I belong with my husband. Though there are a few things still bugging me.

“Question and I swear I won’t be mad. Were you the one sending me those little presents?”

“What presents?” he murmurs, kissing my jaw.

“The pictures of my father’s death and that other stuff.”

“No. Why you asking?”

“Raul mentioned it was you. I didn’t believe him, but I don’t know I got this inkling it wasn’t him.”

“His cunt of a sister trying to torture you no doubt. Bitch was fucking crazy.”

“Joke was on her then because it brought us together.”

“I woulda worn you down eventually.” I feel his smile before he tips my chin towards him. His intense gaze threatens to swallow me whole, but I still have questions.

I pull back slightly.

“Did you...what happened to her?”

His eyes darken and his face goes hard. “You really want to know?” Abel’s voice is deep and gritty with a dangerous edge that should scare me.

I’ve not known him to be truly violent, but I also know he’d do anything for me. I shake my head deciding I don’t need to know. Abel did what he thought he had to for us. For our son. I curl into him, relishing in his warmth and comfort only he can provide me. His mouth touches mine a little hard at first, but I trace the seam with my tongue. My man opens to me. His palm slides down my throat as he thrusts his tongue into my mouth kissing me all hot and possessive.

His hand squeezes my hip, and I wish I wasn’t sore and unable to be with him right now.

I slide my hand into his jeans needing to touch him. Wanting to give him a small amount of pleasure and remind him that he’s mine.

“You don’t need to.” he moves my hand, but I go right back to what I was doing.

He kisses me again, and I wrap my fingers around his length.

The second we really start to get into it, Smith cries.

We both pull away and glance at our son.

---