Page 6 of A Killer's Heart

Returning to the central yard, I’m surprised Poppy still isn’t in the sunroom. She was a bit miffed at losing the ability to go outside, but the glass installed on the place is bulletproof. Which means she’s safer behind it. The mere thought of her getting hurt eats me alive, so it’s also for my sanity. I want a life with her and her daughter. To have them both be mine, to have more children with Poppy. Who would’ve thought domesticity would suit me? Whenever she kisses me, I’m putty in her hands. The woman could tempt me to do anything.

Since her appointment, her whole perspective on her pregnancy has changed. She’s now excited about the baby, eager to meet her. Keeping them both alive is obviously my main goal. My second is to find us a permanent place to live, and I hope that’ll be New Orleans.

Gathering the e-reader, sunglasses, and lotion she left behind, I set it on the kitchen counter. When I hear the water running, I figure she’s taking a shower to cool off. While she’s doing that, I decide to do some further planning on our upcoming trip and try not to imagine Poppy’s naked body in the shower. However, the second I sit in front of my laptop, there’s a loud crash from the master bedroom, my breath stops as I race toward her. Bursting in, I see Poppy through the glass door standing under the spray, staring at me as if I was crazy. I push it open, walking under the wet spray unable to think clearly as I inspect her for injuries.

"What happened? Are you all right?" She assures me she’s fine, explaining that the shelf in the stall fell. That’s when she indicates the mess around her feet that consists of the soap, shampoo, and so on. Taking a deep breath, I rest my forehead against hers, my palms on her belly, and try to calm my frantically beating heart. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever been this scared before, what power does this angle have over me. “Thank god you’re okay,” I whisper.

Poppy cups my face, her thumbs caressing my cheeks, and says, “You’re so sweet.” Then she kisses me. I react instantly, my arms pulling her tight to my body, my now soaked clothes annoying me because they’re in the way of feeling her skin on mine. We work together to remove them, tossing them in a pile at the opposite end of the enclosure and I move until her back hits the tile.

"If you don't want this, tell me now and I'll stop. I need you to know, if we continue, I’m claiming you, Poppy,” I vow running my hands over her naked soft skin.

"I want you, Smith. Please don't make me beg." I lean down and pull her nipple into my mouth, then suck on it, causing her to moan.

"Let me wash you,” I suggest, loving how responsive she is.

“I’m already clean.” she giggles then once more presses her lips to mine. With that, I help her out, lingering over every inch of her as I dry her off. She’s so gorgeous and I love that she isn’t shy about letting me see her naked pregnant body. I can’t believe this goddess is letting me touch her. Placing her on the mattress, I take the time to explore her, paying extra attention to her breasts since they seem to be so sensitive. As my fingers test her, I curse at how wet she is, the evidence of her desire for me. “You really do want me,” I mutter.

"So much," she declares as her hands comb through my hair. "Please," she begs. “I need you.”

"Not yet. I want to taste you first." After giving her belly a gentle kiss, I spread her legs and swipe my tongue over her, knowing if I hadn’t already been addicted to her, I sure as hell would be after her orgasm fills my mouth. It takes all my control not blow my load right then and there as she sighs with pleasure. I kiss a path on my way back up, teasing her that we aren’t finished yet as her eyes close.

"I’d hope not," she grins.

"I promise I’ll be gentle." She lets me know it won’t hurt the baby and settle my cock at her core. When I slide in, her walls enveloping me so perfectly, I know I won’t be able to go a day without feeling her like this now that I’ve had her. I start slowly, intending to stay that way, but the temptation is too much to resist. With one deep thrust I seat myself fully inside her, watching as her breasts bounce from the impact. When her hair falls out of the bun, the length falling around her, I become an animal, commanding that she come, needing her to. As her second climax hits, it triggers my own and I pump her full of my seed. Resting above her on my forearms, I stare at her beautiful face, knowing I should say something flowery. Women like that shit, right? But that isn’t me. What she gets instead is the caveman she brings out in me. "You're mine." Her smile eases the worries that I said the wrong thing, as does her instant response that I’m hers as well.

Reluctantly leaving her, I shift on my side and move her to hers, my hands protectively holding her stomach where our daughter grows. My life has changed so much since meeting her, and while one might assume I’d blame her for that, I can’t. I thank my lucky stars for it for one simple reason.

I love her.

Chapter 7

Poppy

Istir in my sleep, my eyes fluttering open as I feel the baby move, somehow making me hungry and in desperate need to relieve my bladder at the same time. Smith's handsome face is on the pillow next to mine, his massive arm holding me close. We made love two more times before succumbing to our exhaustion. His obvious desire for me, even as big and awkward as I am being six months pregnant, showed me more than words could say how beautiful he finds me. I carefully slip from the bed, the act taking longer than it used to, then make quick use of the bathroom prior to heading to the kitchen. What follows is a massive snack fest, appeasing both me and my daughter. With both needs now taken care of, I return to Smith and crawl back under the covers. An hour later, a noise jolts me awake and I notice Smith is getting dressed in a rush, his expression dark with rage.

"Grab your clothes and hide in the closet. Get dressed in there," he says, his voice hard as steel. Trusting him, I don’t hesitate to do as he says. Scooping up a pair of sweatpants, a sweater with a zipper, and my own shoes, I get in the closet and shut the door, though not all the way as I want to see what’s going on. Not only because Smith is still out there, but it could very well give me an advantage.

Smith removes a gun from the nightstand and tucks another in the back of his waistband that had been in a dresser drawer. With the lights off, the imminent sunrise allowing him to see where he’s going, I watch in horror as three men slowly turn the knob and sneak in. Smith lets them, his gaze trailing them as they head toward the mattress, the lumps easily making it appear that we’re still sound asleep. With a speed that’s almost too fast to follow, he creeps up on one and snaps his neck as effortlessly as if it was a twig. Then, with a knife I didn’t know he had, he proceeds to stab the second. The last is dealt with by a bullet to the head. I’m shocked to my core at witnessing the sweet, caring man I’ve fallen for easily dispatch these guys. But the only fear running through me is at the thought of what could’ve happened to me.

So focused on that, I don’t realize Smith is now in front of me until he takes my arms and helps me to my feet. I glance at the material covering my arms, the blood now staining it, and begin to shake. “Poppy! Pack quickly. You have two minutes.” Then he grabs his cell, dials a number, and starts yelling at Enzo. “Now!” When he looks at me, I can tell he regrets how harshly he just spoke to me, but it does the trick, helping me get my head on straight in order to do what needs to be done. I stuff whatever I can reach in my bag and we take off.

The next few hours fly by, the two of us not exchanging a word as he’s too busy continuing to speak to Enzo as well as Foster. The latter is to plan our emergency evacuation and subsequent trip to New Orleans. Once we’re on the private plane, I sit down, buckling in as I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. Everything happened so fast I’m just now able to try to process it. Resting my hand on my belly, needing that contact, I close my eyes and hope things will be better when I open them.

* * *

Two days later,we’ve finally made reached our destination and I’m worse. Now, we’re going to Boden’s. We’re supposed to be safe there, but that’s what we thought about the villa, too. Smith and I haven’t spoken unless he’s giving me instructions on what to do. I feel horrible for my reaction to how he dealt with those thugs. I know he thinks I’m scared of him because of the speed and ease with which he dispatched them, but I’m not. It was the situation, never him and I’m ashamed I haven’t corrected his assumption yet.

Hours later, we stop at a gate that’s blocking our entrance to a massive white house. The security I see as I glance around rivals that of the President’s. Once we’re given permission to continue, we pass armed guards before Smith parks and turns the car off. Smith comes to my side and helps me out, then places his hand on the small of my back as we walk toward the front. I expected him to knock, so I’m shocked when he opens the door and encourages me to go inside as if he owns the property. He then leads me to a living room and braces my weight as I sit down.

"How was the trip?" A deep voice with a French accent asks, causing me to turn as a large man with a well-groomed thick beard joins us. He’s wearing dark jeans and a white long-sleeve shirt. dressed in dark jeans and a simple white long sleeve shirt.

"Long,” Smith mutters. “Foster sure is cautious when he’s smuggling people.”

They shake hands before who I assume is Boden shifts to me. “You must be Poppy. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” As is the case with Smith, both have the appearance of someone you wouldn’t want to cross paths with in a dark alley, yet they have the ability to put you at ease if they so choose. I thank him for helping us, sounding weak and rough to my own ears, which is no doubt why Smith is frowning as well. “You must be exhausted,” Boden says. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your room.” I struggle to stand, Smith instantly moving to my side to offer his assistance, then I trail after Boden, not even looking back at Smith. I hate the distance I’ve put between us, but I’m too tired to fix it now. Once I’m alone, I sit on the bed, the realization that I’ve worn the same clothes the entire trip sinking in and having me rise to take a shower. I cry the whole time I’m in there, letting the water muffle my tears. Upon exiting the luxurious bathroom, I discover a plush robe, my clothes, and a tray of food waiting for me. I have a feeling this is Smith’s doing, though I’m sure he’s hoping I might feel up to doing back downstairs. However, all I want to do is sleep. Long after the sun has set, I wake a bit more refreshed when I feel Smith crawl in beside me and wrap his arms around me.

"Poppy," he says, his tone full of the strength I desperately need, "we're going to get through this. I'll protect you both with my life," he vows as he gently cups my belly.

I shift to face him, needing to make things right, then he says the words I didn’t know I longed for him to say to me, “I love you,” and the ability to speak disappears. I know he means it, and not only for me, but for my little girl as well. What more could a woman ask for?

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