Page 60 of The (Maybe) Murderer Who Knocked Me Up

“Sorry,” I say, yanking it off.

He sinks his fingers into my hair. “Don’t be sorry.”

I lean into his touch. It feels so good. “What if I just want you? I mean, all these coupons are nice, and Chime is going to go apeshit for all that candy, but what I really want is more time with you. I’ve already started my collection, Slade.”

His eyes widen. “You have? How? Why? I left last night, and I lied to you?—”

“I think it was your brother. He was the one who made me realize that I was never wrong about you. That’s what really tripped me up before. I thought you were this great guy, and then I found out you killed someone. Only you never did. I was right about you all along.”

He bends down, pressing his forehead to mine. “Oh, Quin. I’m so sorry.”

I’m sorry too. I wish he could have told me all those years ago, but how could he? There was never any time. He had to take care of his brother, and I never told him he had a daughter.

“We both kept our own secrets,” I say.

He kisses me again. This time slow and sweet. We’ve never had time for a kiss like that before. He lifts me up by my hips and sets me on the metal counter, so I no longer have to stand on tiptoe. It’s so easy to love him like this. He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth and pleasure sings through me.

I think I could be happy for the rest of my life if I could just have this. Ever since I was in high school, I knew I didn’t want a fancy life. I just wanted to be with my family and bake.

Slade holds me close while he kisses me. I’m a little overwhelmed, as usual, but there’s also a familiarity to his tongue and lips. I love the grit of his stubble against my cheekand the bulk of his big arms around my body. I hook my ankle around his back and pull him in closer.

The kiss switches from slow and sweet to desperate. He grabs the back of my head and devours my mouth with a heat that’s familiar, too. This is how it is between us. I burn for him between my legs, my cock hard and trapped in my jeans. I grind against him, eager for more friction.

“Quin, if you don’t stop that, I’m going to break some kind of food handler law in your bakery.”

I press kisses down his neck, nipping at the lobe of his ear. “And what law is that?”

“I don’t know. There must be a law to protect the bread.”

I throw back my head and laugh.

“Is there not a law?” he asks.

“Why don’t you let me worry about that?”

He seems absolutely mortified at that prospect. At least he respects my career.

“Would it help if we went to my bedroom?” I ask him.

“Could I taste you there? I never got to taste you before. I wondered what you tasted like for six whole years.”

Damn. That is a romantic way of asking to give someone a blowjob.

“Yes, you can taste me. If I can taste you.”

“Deal.” Before I can jump down, Slade picks me up and throws me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He starts walking out the door. It’s wild to be carried aloft like this, but his grip on me is solid. I feel safe.

“Is there a reason why you’re carrying me?” I ask.

“Because I want to,” he says, opening the door.

“Is this some kind of possessive alpha thing?”

He pauses in the doorway. “Yes. Does that bother you?”

“No,” I answer honestly. My inner omega emerges, eager to be claimed. For once, that doesn’t worry me. At some point, his alpha will claim me. It’s only a matter of time.

He carries me to the back door of my house. The door is unlocked because we’re out here in the middle of nowhere. Slade steps into the back of my kitchen and stops in front of the glass cabinet full of goblets. They sparkle so bright in the morning sunlight.

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