Page 97 of Catnip, Claws, and Chaos

“God, you're beautiful,” she murmurs, parroting my words.

“What do you say we leave the sweet nothings for later? I also have more urgent needs right now,” I repeat her response, pointing to my erect cock, which is standing proudly at attention.

“I can see that.” She licks her lips. She really does look like an adorable kitten at times, especially when she eyes me like I'm a bowl of cream. I hook my fingers over the elastic waistband of her sweats and pull them off together with her underwear. I could keep marveling at how beautiful she is, but instead, I decide to show her.

Leaning over her, I kiss her on the lips and slide my tongue into her mouth. She moans and twists underneath me. With every movement we make, the tip of my cock presses against her clit. The sensation is maddening with the slick, warm heat of her against me. I know I'll come even before entering her if I don't stop. Reluctantly, I remove my lips from hers and trace an invisible line from her mouth to her neck and down the center of her chest. But when I reach her flat belly, I stop.

Under this skin, our child is growing. The thought is staggering, a miracle I never thought I'd experience. Valerie was three months along when she died. We had names picked out. Matthew for a boy, Sophia for a girl. I never got to see her belly grow round, never got to feel a kick, never got to hold my baby in my arms. The grief was overwhelming, and I vowed never to put myself in that position again. Now, though, as I look at Emily's still-flat stomach, I feel something I never expected: hope.

Planting a chaste kiss on her belly button, I confess, “I'm scared.” My voice is choked with emotion. “But I'm also... happy.” My throat tightens around the words, but I force them out.

Emily caresses my head, sinking her fingers into my hair. “I'm scared too,” she whispers, “but I know that everything will be okay with you by my side.”

Her trust in me is humbling. She believes in me more than I believe in myself, and somehow, that faith makes me want to be worthy of it. I lift myself off her, resting on my elbows, and look her in the face. Her eyes are bright, her lips slightly parted.

“I love you,” I say, the words finally finding their way out. Without waiting for her answer, I reclaim her mouth. I had so many naughty things in mind that I wanted to do to her, but right now, the only thing I want is to make love to her. To show her with my body what I sometimes struggle to express with words, that she is everything to me.

The head of my cock finds her wet opening. I slowly slide inside her, savoring every second, every inch of her warm, tight channel gripping me. I never considered having my own family, but Emily was right. My heart truly smiles when I'm with her. I move my hips faster and harder, and the walls of her pussy clench the length of my cock. I know she's close. Her breathing becomes more erratic, and her nails dig into my shoulders.

“Come with me,” I order her, my voice strained with the effort of holding back my own orgasm. “Now, Emily. Come on my cock.”

I suppress her cry of ecstasy with my mouth as I thrust deeper and harder inside her until my orgasm slams into me like a freight train. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me as I empty myself into her, my hips jerking spasmodically.

“I love you,” I gasp once I catch my breath and can speak again. “I love you so much that?—”

“Emily?” a woman's voice calls from downstairs. “Darling, we're back.”

Emily's eyes fly open. She pushes me off her and sits up on the bed, her face a mask of panic. “We have to get out of here,” she whispers, terrified. “We need to leave before he?—”

An enraged scream interrupts her words, coming from somewhere downstairs.

“Oh no!” She drops her face into her hands, her shoulders slumping.

“What is it? You're scaring me.” I reach for her, wanting to comfort her, but she's already scrambling off the bed.

“We have to go, Logan,” she repeats. Jumping to her feet, she begins to gather up our clothes from the floor.

I stare at her, bewildered, with no idea of what I should do.

“Get dressed,” she orders me, throwing my clothes at me and hopping on one foot as she attempts to pull on her pants. Her breasts bounce enticingly with her movement, but the look of panic on her face quickly sobers me. I follow suit. I have no intention of meeting Emily's parents in my birthday suit.

Once I'm dressed and look halfway presentable again, I notice that Emily has pulled out her suitcase and is tossing all her things into it, haphazardly grabbing items from drawers and tossing them in.

“Kitten, don't misunderstand me, I can't wait to get back to New York and have you at home with me again, but what's the huge rush?” I button my shirt and try to smooth my hair, which is no doubt sticking up from Emily's eager fingers.

She shoots me a look, her eyes wild. “Really? What's the huge rush?” she repeats. “He'll kill me if we don't leave right away, Logan!” Her voice rises. She's becoming hysterical, reminding me of the night we first met when she was nearly run over by that SUV.

“Emily, please, calm down. Talk to me. Who is going to kill you? What's going on?” I place my hands on her shoulders, trying to still her frantic movements. Her skin is warm against my palms, and she trembles slightly.

The answer comes from the other side of the door. An adolescent male voice shouts furiously while fists hammer the door. “Open this door! I swear I'll tell Mom and Dad. I'm going to tell them everything. Everything, Emily! They'll know about that time you ditched school to go to the shopping center with Sarah and Kate! And they're also going to find out how you were caught making out with Scott Bennett in the supply closet at school, and you got two hours of detention!”

Seeing how loud the kid is yelling, I'm sure her parents already know everything.

“Who's Scott Bennett?” I ask Emily, amused, crossing my arms over my chest and raising my eyebrow. A small flame of jealousy flickers in my chest despite my amusement. I've never considered myself the possessive type, but the thought of Emily with anyone else makes my jaw clench.

She rolls her eyes, a hint of her usual spirit returning. “Do you want to stop wasting time and help me finish packing? I don't know if you've noticed, but our time is limited!” She zips the suitcase closed with an emphatic tug.

“You do realize we'll have to leave the room to leave the house, right?” I point out, gesturing toward the door where the pounding continues, punctuated by increasingly creative threats.

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