Page 80 of Second Draft

I’d thought he’d gotten his head straightened out. Or at least that’s what it seemed. He was always good at pretending with me.

Hit with a wave of sorrow, my chest clenches painfully.

“You’re thinking about him?” Layla straddles me and places her palms on my cheeks.

I give a small nod, my throat tightening with the memories.

“I’m sorry,” she says, brown eyes filled with sympathy and regret.

Pressing my forehead against hers, I inhale her scent, focusing on the good that’s in front of me.

And it is good.

My life is everything I never knew I wanted.

Husband.

Father.

Those two things have completed me, made me whole.

I kiss her hard. Needing her touch. Always amazed at how we can both draw strength from each other with the simplest of gestures.

“Have you thought of a title yet?” I ask, going back to the manuscript she’s been working so hard on.

“I was thinking about Second Draft.” Her hands comb through my hair, a small smile playing on her lips. “The book is all about second chances, rewriting mistakes, and turning them into something positive and beautiful, even if the world doesn’t understand it.”

“Like us.” I trace my thumb over her bottom lip.

“Like us,” she agrees.

We’re bound in a way that defies even my own understanding. Every pain, every happiness we experience, we experience together. Maybe it’s all the things we’ve already been through together, or maybe there really is something in the whole soulmate claim.

I don’t know. I just know that my heart and soul are tangled with hers. And there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t send up a prayer of thanks that she wasn’t taken from me the day Joshua was born.

“Joshua’s sleeping,” she whispers, fingers curling under my shirt, my cock going instantly hard the minute her hands brush against my lower abs.

“And?” I ask, knowing full well her meaning.

Her touch skims up my chest, tugging the t-shirt over my head. “AndI want my husband to make love to me.”

I flip her on her back and she lets out a small squeal. “After those steamy scenes you made me read, I was hoping you were going to say that.”

She chuckles lightly, helping me remove her shirt, then wiggles out of her pants.

I have my own pants off in seconds, the need to be inside of her overwhelming. Her hands begin their frantic dance across my chest, down my hips, wrapping around the length of my cock and guiding it towards her entrance.

“Patience, sweetheart,” I growl against her lips, reaching between her legs to make sure she’s ready for me, which she is. I sink one finger into her wet folds, and circle her clit until she’s mewling in pleasure.

“Carter,” she moans, gripping my hips, and squirming beneath me, begging me for my cock with her body.

A wild cry falls from her lips as I sink into her.

Feeling her slick heat wrapped tight around me is like being immersed in a vortex of all consuming rapture. There’s no better feeling in the world. Not when those light brown eyes stare up at me with more love than any man could ever deserve.

I draw back, then thrust hard, making her cry out again.

My movements are slow, controlled, needing to keep my head, long enough to make her come, before spilling myself inside of her.

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