Page 134 of The Locksmith's Promise

I ground into her, my groin teasing her clit.

She bucked her hips and dug her heels into my ass.

Voice shaking, I promised, “I’m going to build you and Corwin a house on that land and we’re going to eradicate the past.”

She gazed up at me, eyes heavy with desire. “We’ll do it together.”

I squeezed her wrists. “Are you with me?”

Breathless, she promised, “I’m with you.”

I released her wrists and cupped the nape of her neck, pushing up on one hand as I thrust inside her.

Pleasure coiled deep and threatened to spiral through me. My voice shook. “Come with me, baby.”

She huffed out a breath and nodded, breathing my name, “Baxter.”

There was no sweeter sound.

“Yes, baby. Let it happen. Come with me, sweetheart,” I begged.

Her muscles tightened and she stilled, balanced on the precipice for a moment frozen in time, one I would remember always.

Then she tumbled over.

And she took me with her.

31

You and Me

Maggie

Two weeks later, Baxter and I, wrapped up head to toe against the cold, stood in front of the now empty lot with Miller.

“I can’t stand it anymore,” Miller griped. Squinting against the winter sun, he shifted from one foot to the other. “You need to teach them faster.”

I laughed at the thought of Miller, who’d been a total hell-raiser in his day, sitting in his house with his hands over his ears while his son and ours mutilated one rock song after another.

“Are they that bad?” I quirked an eyebrow.

“They’re fucking horrible,” Baxter admitted, then laughed. “It’ll come.”

It had taken a couple of weekends, but Baxter, Miller, John, and Eric had cleared the lot of all the debris from Baxter’s past. All that lay before us now was a pristine acre of land, sleeping soundly under a blanket of sun-kissed white.

As for Baxter moving into the apartment with me, Corwin, and of course, Jeff, that only took one afternoon.

Which was good because between giving music lessons at the school, his contract work, and being the only certified locksmith an hour in every direction, Baxter was working forty to fifty hours a week.

But every night, he came home to us.

He teared up then fucked me into the mattress when I gave him a key, and I wished I’d given it to him sooner.

I still caught Corwin staring, wide-eyed and slightly awe-struck, when Baxter made all of us breakfast on the weekends.

Family dinners were sacred, but there was nothing holy about what went on in our bedroom when the lights went down.

I shivered and it wasn’t from the brisk November air.

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