Page 72 of Tide Over

Heat flushes through me as I try to hang on longer, and I bite my lip. The sight of him, the feel of him… He’s consuming every inch of me, and I’m afraid to even blink in case I miss something.

But his hand reaches forward, and his thumb pulls my lip from between my teeth. Then he leans forward and pulls it into his mouth, biting it himself.

“You need to come?” he mutters against my lips.

I shake my head, not trusting my words right now as I attempt to hold back a moan while he slowly slides his cock in and out of my ass.

“Looks like you do…” he says in a low voice, his lips dropping to my neck. He slowly licks up my neck to my ear with a low hum. “Tilg a-mach air mo shon, mo chridhe. Tha feum agam ort.”

I have no fucking idea what he says… but I can’t hold back any longer.

I fuckingcome.

The beautiful sounds of his Gaelic words rattle around in my mind as he fucks and strokes me, and I let everything out. I groan loudly as the pressure releases and pleasure crashes over me, and I come harder than I ever have before.

Liam looks down at me with a look of awe as he fucks me through my orgasm, and I can’t take my eyes off him either. When I finally catch my breath, I look into his eyes and run my hand over his abs.

“Come inside me,” I say.

His eyes flash with intense need as he pauses for a moment, then releases a breath and slams into me again. His face is flushed and his muscles tense as his hands grip my hips tight.

“Oh, fuck,” he moans as he drops his head and his hips stutter in their movement.

As I watch him come inside me, his abs contracting, his hold on me tight… I ask myself a question I’ve been wondering a lot lately.

How the fuck did I manage to get a man like him?

His eyes lift to meet mine as he takes in a deep breath, a dark strand of hair falling over one eye as we hold each other’s gaze.

And now that I have him, how am I supposed to manage when he leaves for work again this week?

I’m fucking obsessed.

TWENTY-SEVEN

I swipethe sponge over the last of the grout on the kitchen backsplash and stand back to inspect my work. The soft blue, nearly white, tiles give the kitchen a soft coastal feel against the off-white cabinets, and I smile as I sweep my gaze over the space. Theo did a great job picking these out, and I’m happy I was able to finish the last of the grouting this afternoon.

As I drop the sponge into the bucket at my feet, Miss Bobber trots over, her front paws resting on the edge as she peers into the murky water.

“You don’t want to go in there,” I chuckle, bending down to grab the bucket.

She follows me as I head for the bathroom to dump the dirty water, but darts away as I flush the toilet. Only to reappear moments later when I exit the bathroom, attacking my feet in playful fury.

“Ferocious beast,” I mutter, wiggling my toes as she dramatically pounces on them.

As I head back into the kitchen, I let my gaze wander around the space and take it all in. Theo already had quite a bit of the kitchen done before I moved in, but now that the backsplash is in, it’s finished.

And it feels like home.

Our home.

My eyes drift to the fridge, landing on the drawings from Isla and Mason. The ones I saw when I first arrived still hang there… but new ones have been added from their visit with us yesterday.

And scrawled across the top of one, in wobbly handwriting, is, “To Uncle Theo and Liam.”

My chest tightens as I stare at Mason’s drawing of me, him, and Theo on the dock fishing. And the sense of belonging I’ve been feeling, being accepted into this family, settles over me. This strong, loving family that has weathered so much yet still has so much love to give. Even to strangers who show up needing a place to call home.

Even though I do have a home.

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