Page 60 of Before This Ends (Before)

Her gaze that was on the door of Winter’s bedroom jumps to me, and she blinks. “Umm, yeah.”

“Is it a romance?”

“It depends on your definition of romance,” she mutters, the small smile playing at the corners of her mouth erasing some of the tension sitting in my muscles. Chuckling, I touch my lips to hers.

The microwave beeps, letting me know the popcorn I put in is done, so I take her hand and lead her to the kitchen. When Hazel and Winter come back out, I don’t want her standing alone across the room from me. Not that I don’t think she can take care of herself—I know she can. I watched her put Tucker’s ex in her place, and she’s gone toe-to-toe with me on more than one occasion. I just have a feeling she won’t do the same with Hazel. She’s too nervous around her.

“Will you grab a bowl, baby?” I ask, taking the hot bag out of the microwave, and since she knows where everything is in the kitchen—probably even better than I do—she grabs one from the cupboard under the coffee pot. I start to dump the contents of the bag into the bowl, and she grabs a handful.

“Are you moving out?” Emma asks, laughing, and I look toward Winter’s bedroom door and find her clutching her pillow and a multitude of stuffies.

“No.” Winter giggles, dropping the stuff in her arms on the floor before skipping toward us. “Can I have some popcorn?”

“Sure.” I step aside so she can get to the bowl in front of Emma, and I glance over at Hazel, who has come out of the bedroom and is now standing in the middle of the living room, watching us with a look on her face that I recognize easily.

I’m sure I wore that exact look more than once.

As annoyed as I am with her, I know what she’s feeling in this moment, because I felt the same when she started dating her now husband, and I would watch him and her with my daughter. I wasn’t jealous that she was with another man or that she had fallen in love with someone else. I despised that they acted and looked like a family I wasn’t a part of.

“You want some popcorn?” I ask, and she startles, shaking her head.

“No, thanks.” Her eyes go to Winter. “Let’s go, Win. You still have to shower.”

“Can I have ice cream after?” she asks her mom.

“Sure.” She shrugs, and Winter grabs another handful of popcorn, shoving it in her mouth, then gives Emma and me a hug.

“See you tomorrow,” she mumbles around her mouthful, then runs to where she dropped her things in the middle of the floor. Leaving Emma in the kitchen, I walk to the door and open it up.

“Love you.” I kiss the top of Win’s head and say goodnight to Hazel, then close and lock the door behind them when they leave. When I turn back to Emma, I soak in the sight of her in my kitchen and wearing my clothes, then walk over to join her.

CHAPTER21

emma

It’s not the streetlight shining through the open windows, nor the heavy weight of Miles’s arm around my waist—like in his sleep he was afraid I’d slip away—that wakes me. It’s the dream I had of a young kid losing his mom and repeating over and over that he wasn’t home to save her.

The story he told me last night in the bath caught me off guard. I didn’t expect his brutal honesty, but him trusting me with that part of his history sealed my fate, and whatever walls I had left to protect myself came crumbling down as I cried against his chest, my tears washing over his skin and mixing with the bath water.

With no clock on the nightstand, I have no idea what time it is, but it must be early, since I know he set his alarm for six before we started the movie, and normally the sun is up around five. I slide my hand down his arm and cover his hand on my stomach as I stare out the window at the sliver of night sky I can see from where I’m lying.

“You’re awake?” his sleepy, gruff voice asks. I nod, as his hand moves to my hip and he rubs his scruff-covered jaw against my neck before kissing me there making me shiver.

I must have fallen asleep while we were watchingMurder Mysterywith Adam Sandler and Jennifer Aniston. A comedy with a little mystery and some romance that even Miles seemed to enjoy while we laid in his bed, my head resting on his chest, my arm around his waist, and my belly full of buttery popcorn. He never made a move, and I didn’t either. The conversation from earlier still felt like it hung over us, even after it was long over. But not now, not with the early light of dawn beginning to erase the darkness, evaporating the cloud of his confession and the remnants of my dream.

The feel of his warm hand as it slides up my hip causes my breath to catch in the back of my throat. Then his fingers move under the bunched material of his shirt I wore to bed and stroke the skin on my stomach.

My muscles dance in response to his touch, and the space between my legs throbs. We’ve been in this position before—not this exact one, but similar, where he’s taken his time to touch me and waited until I’m almost ready to beg him to give me what I need. But no matter the torture, it’s always paid off for me in the end.

So, I wait as his fingers lazily move up my stomach, and he cups my breast. Wait as he rolls my nipple and skims his teeth over my pulse, then sucks the skin there, likely leaving a mark. Wait as he gets me so primed I wonder if I might come out of my skin. Then, his skilled fingers slide down my stomach and veer at the last moment, right before I’m sure he will put me out of my misery.

His palm moves to my thigh, and he grasps it tightly, dragging my leg up to rest over his hip. I didn’t bother with putting on anything underneath his shirt last night, so in this position, I’m at his mercy and completely exposed.

Pulse now fluttering, I dig my nails into my palms and wait. I’m soaked and so turned on that I know one touch from him will likely send me over the edge.

“You’re being very good, baby.” The whispered praise against my ear has my eyes squeezing closed and a whimper of need crawling up the back of my throat.

Cupping me with his big hand, two fingers enter me in a single thrust, stroking my inner walls once, twice, three times before sliding out and moving up to circle my clit, then going back to fill me again. My head spins, and my back arches my ass into his lap, but then his hand is gone. Yet before I’ve even had a second to mourn the loss of his fingers, the wide head of his cock notches at my entrance.

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