Page 28 of One Kill

“Did you do all the work yourself?” I can’t deny I’m impressed. Not because he’s a single dad—women have been taking on the role of provider and nurturer since the beginning of time—but because he does it so naturally and so effortlessly. At least, that’s how it seems from the outside looking in.

“God no. I had a lot of help. My parents took care of Hallie while I got the house fixed enough that we could live here. The plumbing was in bad shape and the electrical system was downright dangerous. But it was already a big house, I just broke down a wall upstairs to give Hallie a room that’s the size of two.” The kettle whistles just as Murphy hands me a cup and a spoon. It’s been so long since someone, anyone, actually took care of me that I’m having a hard time just being and enjoying the calm. Just letting him do this one thing. Filling the pot with hot water, we wait for a few minutes for the tea to darken before pouring just over three quarters into our cups then adding a splash of milk. It’s like riding a bicycle, it’s shit you don’t forget.

Once he’s finished, my brain goes back to what he was saying earlier.

“You did the plumbing and electrical work yourself?” Murphy is about five months older than me so we were the same age when Hallie was born… sixteen.

“Nah. I bought the house once I got my first stable job at the garage, working during the day and taking night courses at the community college. On the weekends I’d fix her up with my uncles and their friends.” My spine tingles, and not in the best way, as I bring my cup to my lips and look up at him above the rim.

“Uncles and friends, huh?” He’s being vague and I fucking know why.

“Yeah, Jaybear. I had help because doing it alone wasn’t possible. And yes, it was a non-bloodline family that made sure we had a roof over our heads. Gave me a job, helped me with college.” On the outside, I’m calm and collected, but on the inside I’m thinking of a thousand ways to grab Hallie and Murphy and get the fuck away from everyone here.

“Murph…” My voice is barely a whisper, like just thinking about the repercussions might manifest them in this very kitchen.

Putting his cup down, he’s by my side with his hands on my cheeks, forcing me to look up at him and only him.

“You’re not in danger here. The Irish? Their beef was with your father, not you and certainly not Hallie, so you can’t go there.” The sincerity in his deep, soulful brown eyes does things to me. Gives me hope, somehow.

Until I remember.

“No, Murph. They kno—” In one quick move, his lips are on mine and his tongue is sweeping inside my mouth, tasting and licking and fucking like he owns a part of me. The part that rules my libido and my heart.

My hands latch onto his t-shirt, fingers curling until the fabric is imprisoned inside my fist as I pull him closer, closer, closer. My ass is on the counter, my legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he palms the back of my head with one hand and digs his fingers into the flesh of my thighs like my leather pants aren’t even there.

“Come upstairs with me, J. I need you.” A better person would have hesitated. A better person would have put everyone’s safety before her pussy’s needs.

It’s clear to say, I’m not that better person because I don’t even answer, just grunt like words are too much to deal with and the only thing I’m aware of right now is him and all of these clothes between us.

Stepping back, Murphy guides me to my feet as we make our way out of the kitchen, down the hall, and up the stairs without an ounce of shame or an inch to separate us. We’re back to our teenage selves, our libidos dictating every one of our moves. Our mouths hungry for the taste of the other, our bodies starved.

We’re losing clothes as we walk, my sweater, his t-shirt… gone. My leathers and his jeans, which are gaping open at the crotch as his dick tries to pop out, are the only things left between us as my pussy begs for attention. Murphy has the sense to slow down as we pass Hallie’s room, but I swear our breathing is loud enough to wake the dead.

As soon as we close the door to his bedroom on the opposite side of the floor, we’re back to being teenagers, searching out ways to touch each other.

“Fuck, J. I’ve missed everything about you.”

I push him away, smirking as he stumbles back with surprise etched all over his face.

I’m not letting him go but I need my clothes off and there’s no way he can be faster than me. It doesn’t take him long to realize that I’m all in tonight as he lets himself fall on the bed before propping himself up on his elbows and watching every move I make.

I don’t make it a habit to strip down as a method of seduction but this is Murphy Gallagher, the love of my life, the father of my child. I’m not J the Shadow, right now. I’m Jordyn O’Neill and my only goal is to please the man in front of me.

That’s what he is. Gone is the teen with the strong-yet-lanky features. Gone is the smooth surface of a boy’s jaw and chest. Gone are the insecure gestures of innocence.

Murphy is all man. Strong. Confident. Virile.

Mine.

My leathers are now somewhere behind me, my bra could be hanging from the ceiling fan for all I know, and the only thing I have on are my panties, which sit low on my hips as my pussy increasingly wets them with my need.

As my gaze falls on his dick, I lick my lips, watching the head peek out with interest and curiosity.

“Back then, you were my gift. Right here and now? You’re my salvation.” Too deep into my lust to register his words, I drop to my knees, right between his thighs with my hands on the waistband of his jeans, urging him to lift his hips so I can pull off his clothes. It’s not like he’s going to fight me on this.

Thirty seconds later, his dick is in my hand, my lips sucking at the head, and I’m loving the sounds coming from his mouth. They’re desperate, filthy words that make me want to force the orgasm right out of him. Take it for myself, taste him in the most basic of ways.

With my fingers wrapped around the base of his cock, I lift my gaze to his as he watches, awe clear in his soulful eyes.

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