Page 19 of Butcher's Honor

Something fierce and protective flashes in his eyes. "Rent won't be a problem anymore."

"Joey—"

"Let me do this," he interrupts. "Let me take care of you both. Not because you need it, but because I want to."

"I can't be your charity case."

"Trust me, charity is the last thing on my mind when I look at you."

Heat floods my face at his tone. "Oh."

His thumb traces my lower lip, and my breath catches.

"Tell me to stop," he murmurs. "Tell me this is crazy and send me away."

Instead, I rise up on my tiptoes and press my lips to his.

For a moment, he's completely still.

Then his control snaps, and suddenly, I'm being pulled against him, one hand tangling in my hair while the other tightens at my waist. He kisses like a man starved, and I melt into him, my hands gripping his leather cut to stay upright.

When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard. His forehead rests against mine, and I can feel him trying to reign himself back in.

"Fuck," he mutters. "You're going to be the death of me."

"Too old?" I tease, though my voice is shaky.

He growls low in his throat. "Don't tempt me…"

A small noise from down the hall makes us both freeze. Tommy's standing there in his dinosaur pajamas, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"Mr. Joey came back?" he asks, a smile spreading across his face.

Joey steps back slightly but keeps one hand at my waist. "Yeah, kid. Hope that's okay."

Tommy runs forward, wrapping himself around Joey's leg. "Does this mean you'll have breakfast with us tomorrow? Mommy makes really good pancakes."

I watch Joey's face soften as he looks down at my son. "That so?"

"Uh-huh. With chocolate chips!"

"Tommy," I say gently, "Mr. Joey might be busy tomorrow—"

"Actually," Joey cuts in, "pancakes sound perfect. If that's alright with your mom?"

The hope in Tommy's eyes as he looks up at me is impossible to resist. "I suppose we could manage that."

"Yes!" Tommy bounces excitedly. "Can we watch cartoons too?"

"Back to bed first," I tell him firmly. "It's way past your bedtime."

"Will you both tuck me in?"

Joey looks at me uncertainly, and I nod in encouragement.

"Sure, kid," he says. "Lead the way."

I watch as my son practically drags Joey down the hall, chattering about his favorite cartoons and what kinds ofpancakes we should make. Something warm and tender unfurls in my chest at the sight.

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