Page 65 of Stepson

Fuck, I’ll never grow tired of hearing her say those perfect words with my name at the end of them.

“I love you, baby.” I run my thumb across her bottom lip. “Now let’s get the fuck out of here, shall we?”

She giggles, nodding her head. “Let’s go.”

We make our way from her bedroom, careful not to be seen. My heart is nearly beating out of my chest as we slither along the wall toward the stairs that lead to the kitchen. The hall is quiet and I'm thankful there aren't any cameras in here or we'd be screwed.

Descending the stairs, I hear dishes clanking in the kitchen and halt Bentley with my arm. I wait to hear other voices and peek around the wall when none are heard. A breath leaves my lungs when I only see Maggie there rolling dough.

Her eyes catch mine immediately before she gives me a single nod, letting me know the coast is clear. But she's surprised to find Bentley with me and her gaze falls to the bag in my hand as fear takes over her gaze.

"She's coming with me, Maggie. She isn't safe here right now. I need the keys to the Jeep. Can you get them?"

Her nervous gaze moves to the locked wall box that holds some of the keys before she walks over and opens it. The familiar Jeep keys come into view, and I grab them before Maggie can.

"We need to talk, but for now, we're leaving."

She nods, not saying a word as she goes back to rolling the dough. We have to make a run for it as I see a few of the gardeners making their way back toward the basement door. There is no way out besides through the back kitchen door, through the pool area, and straight for the garages.

I turn to look at Bentley and grab her face. "We have to run. You okay?"

She vigorously nods before she looks over at Maggie. "Thank you, Maggie. I owe you my life."

I grip Bentley’s hand before I pull her toward the doors. After a deep breath, I shove the door open and take off running with Bentley in tow.

We make it to the garages unseen, slipping behind the luxurious vehicles my father probably gets through screwing people over and seeing the Jeep. I toss her bag in the back and help her in before I get behind the familiar wheel. I start it and take off like a bat out of hell.

The mansion comes into my rearview mirror, and I let out a breath, reaching over to grab Bentley's delicate hand. It’s shaking as I bring it up to my lips and kiss her knuckles.

"We're good, babe. We'll get a motel room for the night so he won't know where to look. We can do this."

"I know. I trust you."

Those words almost mean more to me than the other three words I love to hear, kissing her knuckles again before I bring our hands down to my lap and continue to drive.

One of the hardest parts is over, now we just have to get through taking my father down legally.

Chapter thirty-four

Bentley

Riding away from the mansion with Gabe by my side in the Jeep that forever changed my heart, is the most exhilarating feeling in the world. We made it out together and are now driving hand-in-hand to our unknown future. I've wanted this for as long as I could remember, and it’s finally here.

The man who never called is back, and I’m so in love with him that it almost hurts. If anything happens to him physically, or he’s put back in jail because of Marcus, I'll spend the rest of my life destroying my husband while trying to free Gabe. He’s it for me. He always has been.

"We're almost there. Are you hungry?" Gabe asks before he brings my hand up to kiss again.

I’m mesmerized by his mouth on my hand, knowing I’m hungry for something and a drive thru burger won't cut it. Gabe is the only man who can satisfy me in every shape or form.

"What I'm hungry for isn't buyable," I tease.

His eyes darken when he looks over at me before a low growl reverberates from his chest.

"You're hungry for a cock-sandwhich?"

I giggle, slightly nodding my head.

The Jeep revs up, and I know he’s trying to get to the motel as quickly as he can. An uncontrollable ache pulses between my legs at the thought of having Gabe all to myself tonight and hopefully for the rest of our lives.

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