Page 69 of Filthy Devil

He shuffles toward me and only stops when he’s directly in front of me. His tired blue eyes meet mine as one hand rests against the side of the house, likely propping up his tired and sore body. The other lifts, cupping my cheek, and his thumb slides across my bottom lip.

“Do you understand why I was initially pissed off?” he asks, his voice deceptively calm, but his eyes are alight with barely controlled anger.

“No,” I whisper.

He inhales, then exhales slowly. Then he dips his chin ever so slightly, his gaze still focused on my own. “First of all, I wanted you out of my sight because I didn’t want to say something out of anger that I would regret.”

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I stay quiet as I wait for whatever he’s going to say next, and he does continue. He moves just a slight bit closer to me, and I can feel the heat from his body against mine. I want to feel his weight, too. His naked weight. And I want to feel him inside of me, stretching me, consuming me—fucking me.

“I’ve had a bit to cool off, to stop seeing red, and now I want you to know that it pissed me off that you were going to make a decision for me. I’m not a man who likes having decisions made for him.”

“How?” I ask.

He shifts his face even closer, his mouth touching mine, but he doesn’t deepen the kiss. Then he speaks in a barely-there whisper that sends goose bumps up and down my whole body. “You were going to take this from me. You were going to take you from me. That’s not fucking okay with me, sweetheart.”

My breath hitches at his words.

Then, before I can respond, his tongue slips into my mouth, and he tastes me.

Consuming me.

Owning me.

All of me.

This man owns me, mind, body, and soul.

I kiss him back, my tongue tangling with his, and he shifts closer, his body pressing against mine. I feel his hard length against my belly, and I can’t hold back the moan that crawls up my throat.

“Papa,” a little voice calls out. “It’s time for dinner.”

Nash breaks the kiss with a grunt, then lifts his head, looks to the side, and lets out a heavy sigh. “We’ll be right in.”

I hear loud little footsteps run away from us and then the door to the house opens and closes. Then Nash turns to me, his eyes find mine, and he holds my gaze for a long moment. Wordlessly, he takes a step backward, extending his arm out to me, his palm facing up.

“Come inside, James.”

My teeth sink into my bottom lip. There is nowhere else I would ever want to be than with him. So, slipping my hand inside his as he tugs me behind him toward the door is exactly where I not only want to be but need to be.

We go inside the house together and sit down at the small dinner table to a beautiful meal made by Shawn. A meal that is shared as a family. Because that’s what we are, the six of us—a family. And it’s the most beautiful moment I’ve ever been part of.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-SEVEN

JAMES

With each day that passes,Nash grows stronger. I can’t believe how fast he’s healing. In fact, he’s decided to take a ride to the clubhouse today to check everything out. Bugsy came to follow behind him, just in case. I’m not sure how I feel about Bugsy, but I like that he does seem to care about Nash.

Elvis and Shawn left two days ago, taking the kids back home. They made us promise that we would be in town for Chase’s birthday in a few weeks.

Nash assured them that we will.

We.

Together.

I like the sound of that—a lot.

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