Page 65 of Sweet Escape
I kiss the spot where our baby is growing as her fingers brush against my scalp in soothing patterns. “Mmm, that feels nice.”
Her breathing evens out, movements slowing until her hand drops away. I glance up to find her fast asleep on my pillow, her cheeks rosy and lips parted. I crawl out of bed and grab an extra blanket from the armoire, draping it over her sleeping form before nestling under and pulling her against me.
I don’t know when the storm ended, but a more potent one still rages inside me, one I fear I’m going to be swept up in the longer I try to deny this connection. This isn’t just our bodies connecting anymore, and I’m not sure it ever was.
She burrows into my chest, sighing contentedly. Before long, I’m fast asleep and she’s right here with me. Safe and whole, and maybe a little bit mine.
Chapter 17
Not forever, but for now
?Am I Okay - Megan Moroney
Olivia
The potent scentof fresh coffee wafts in through a crack in the door, coaxing me from a delicious dream about a familiar-looking cowboy and a heated moment in the barn. I follow my nose down a narrow hallway, taking in the details I missed the night before, now that I’m seeing it in the light of day.
The sight that greets me is better than anything I could’ve dreamed up as Wilder leans against his counter in nothing but those sinful grey sweats, his bare feet on full display, ankles crossed as he holds a #1 dad mug up to his lips.
“Mornin’,” he says.
I stifle a yawn, stretching my arms over my head. The shirt I borrowed rides up my legs, and his eyes snag on my exposed thighs.
“Fucking hell,” he says, adjusting the visible bulge in his sweats. “I could get used to waking up like this.”
He stalks toward me, and I mirror his movements, my palm landing against his chest. “Slow down, Big Guy. I’m still a little sore.”
“Mmm. Is my cowgirl having regrets?” His fingertips brush against my cheek in an achingly tender way that has my heart leaping inside my chest, begging me to let him take me right here and right now.
“No. But my thighs feel like jelly, and I’m pretty sure I can still feel you inside me.”
He groans, pinching his eyes shut and angling his head to the ceiling. “If you’re trying to convince menotto fuck you again, it ain’t workin’.” His drawl is a little more pronounced this morning, and it’s doing crazy things to my libido.
Maybe I’m not too sore to go another round with the hot cowboy.
“It’s too early for this. I need coffee.”I push past him into the kitchen, spinning back around with my hands planted firmly on my hips when I realize I don’t know my way around, and I don’t have a clue where he keeps the mugs. “Little help?”
“You’re feisty in the morning. I like it.” He grips my hips and walks me backward, caging me against the counter as he reaches over my head to grab a Rosie’s Diner mug.
“Tell me you didn’t steal that,” I say, teasing. “I didn’t take you for an outlaw.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “This ain’t the old west, Cupcake. Rosie sold these for the diner’s anniversary a while back.”
“Oh. Gotta say, I’m a little disappointed.”
“You want me to be a criminal?”
“Maybe I like the idea of being with a bad boy.”
“If I recall correctly, you’re the one who wanted to be bad.” His nose grazes down my cheek in a featherlight touch that feels both achingly sweet and filthy all at once. “But if you want meto show you just how wicked I can be, say the word,” he murmurs against my temple.
Each word sends a jolt of energy through my veins, a hit of something better than any cup of coffee.
Before I can respond, Wilder’s phone vibrates against the island, dousing the fire that was building between us. His brow furrows, and he swipes to answer the call. I take the opportunity to fill my cup, opening the fridge to search out some form of creamer while Wilder’s one-sided conversation carries on in my periphery.
“Hello? Yeah, she’s right here. Is everything okay? Yeah. Yeah. No, that's fine. I’ll put her on.” He holds out his phone. “It’s Ro.”
I place the half-and-half on the counter long enough to tuck the device between my shoulder and chin, balancing it as I make my coffee somewhat palatable. What I wouldn’t give for some hazelnut creamer. “Hey, Grammy.”
