Page 45 of Merciful Lies

Fucking adorable.

“I like being home, too.”

“Here, you were floating before, right? How does this feel?” I ask, moving to stand behind her.

I tuck my arms around her, supporting her weight on my chest while the rest of her just floats freely. Anna smiles, and my heart almost stops beating.

Goddamn.

I’ve never been the cause of anyone’s smiles.

Screams? Sure. But not smiles. Not like hers.

The woman has a smile that knocked the sun right out of the sky. I like making her smile. I want to do it more.

Her palms press down on the tops of my hands, and I think she’s going to push me away, but she doesn’t.

She is clinging to me. To me. Like I am something worthy of her.

Fuck, I want to be.

I am humbled. I am in awe. And suddenly, I have a new addiction.

Fucking Anna is an addiction I know I have. I mean, for months before I saw her in person, I obsessed over her. Then I touched her, and I was ruined for anyone else.

I just can't get enough of her. The taste of Anna. The sound of her. Goddamn, her moans call to me. I replay them in my mind.

And I imagine her tight, sweet heat squeezing me. My fingers flex against her flesh, and she sighs and nuzzles my arm with her face.

The pool water is at a comfortable temperature. Cooling from all the stifling heat, but not cold.

But I don’t care about the water. I only care about her. How she feels in my arms as I rock with her in the pool. I have a natural slat filter, so I know there aren’t any chemicals that could harm her or the baby.

“This is nice,” I say, and she hums her agreement.

Truthfully, it’s as close to relaxing as a guy like me can get. Anna does that for me. She gives me peace.

This woman is everything. She's the home I didn't know I needed. That missing piece of me I wasn't sure I'd ever find.

But I did find her. Here she is, and I need her, and I want her. I covet her and our baby boy. She makes me want to be better for the both of them.

She makes me want a life beyond the dark. It’s a dream I have had seldom in my life. But I have had it.

Only, with her, it doesn’t feel so far away. With her, it feels possible.

“What are you thinking about so loud over there?” she asks, and I can see by the glint in her whiskey eyes that she’s teasing me.

“I’m thinking I got everything I want right here,” I tell her, holding her gaze.

I see surprise, shock even, then something else. Something rare and beautiful. I see hope, and my chest feels tight.

“What is it, Rosebud?”

“Nothing, I mean, well, I just wasn’t sure if this was something you wanted or something I forced on you.”

Forced on me? Is she serious?

Does this sweet beauty feel guilty?

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