Page 89 of The Price of Forever

She smirked. “That is great for zeroing out any thoughts you might be having. But I can see how this would pretty much do the same. Unless you intentionally wanted to cut your thumb off, that is.”

I lifted my right hand and wiggled my thumb, which was encased in a mesh thumb protector. “That’s why I’ve got this on.”

“Looks like a tiny medieval hat.” She handed the spoon back to me.

We shared a laugh as I gathered my tools and set them on the leather mat I’d laid on the coffee table. Spoon time was over.

Now it was time for Jordan.

I slung my arm around her, pulling her onto my lap. She giggled, settling against my chest.

“You feeling better?”

She nodded, tracing invisible patterns over my T-shirt. “The sleep helped.”

“I’ve got food for you if you’re hungry.”

“Maybe later. I was still queasy a little bit ago.”

I rested my chin on the top of her head, a pleasant silence settling over us. This felt right. Her in my lap, in my arms. My pint-sized, spitfire brat.

Is she yours, though? The question seared through me, but I pushed it away. I wanted to enjoy this, even if I shouldn’t have. I squeezed my arms around her.

“Does this help?” I asked.

“Mmm.” She nodded, a smile curling at her lips. “It does.” She nestled deeper into my arms, letting out a contented sigh. “Thanks for, you know, being cool with my breakdown earlier.”

“It’s what I’m here for.” For her, at least. Emotional investment during breakdowns—not to mention the slew of other lines I’d crossed—wasn’t a standard interaction between protection officer and client, by any means. In fact, if she’d been a regular client, I’d have drawn the line that night Dustin attacked her. She wouldn’t know my real name. She wouldn’t know a damn thing about me.

But here we are.

She propped her chin against my chest, searching my face with her mesmerizing blue-gray eyes. “It kind of freaks me out how much I like you, Seven.”

I wanted to say the same to her. But I couldn’t. That reservation was the last shred of logic I possessed.

“I don’t think I’ve ever liked anyone more,” she went on. “And it scares the crap out of me, because now I’m worried you’ll just see me as broken or…whatever.”

I was shaking my head before she even finished her sentence. “That’s not how it is. Trust me, I know a thing or two about being broken. I’d never see you that way. I know some of your story. When I look at you, I see someone who has had the shittiest hand dealt to her and still somehow made magic out of it.”

A smile flickered at her lips.

“Besides, I think all you need is a little bit more attention.” Now that, I could give to her all day and all night. I shifted beneath her, which caused her back to fall against my chest, her head propped against my neck. “You need someone who actually wants to make you feel good.”

This time, when she smiled, it stayed. “Yeah, that doesn’t sound half bad.”

I pushed my palms down along the sides of her body, over her thighs. I squeezed the tight muscles there, exhaling low.

“Is it time to play with wood again?” she cracked.

“No.” I nipped at her earlobe, unable to keep myself from getting hard with her body pressed against me. “What did I just say? This is about you feeling good.”

“Oh, right. So, playing with my wood.”

I moved my hands to her inner thighs, dragging up toward her pelvis. She wore the stretchy black boy shorts she always put on before pole practice. My palms glided over the silky texture. I swirled my fingers over her covered pussy, so gently. “Hmm. Not finding any to play with here.”

She rocked her hips toward my hand. “Oh yeah? You better check again.”

I dragged my fingertips over her mons, swirling slowly downward, until I found the heated slit of her pussy. She sucked on her teeth.

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