Page 64 of First Time

My man.

God, I loved those two words. Maybe someday I would ask him to be that. And if he agreed? I would put a ring on his hand…

Maybe I ought to leash him.

Snickering, I snuggled back into his bed, breathing in the warm scent of him on the pillow cradling my head.

Chapter 25

Daniel

Chantelle showed up that afternoon. She arrived on my doorstep three hours after I’d called her. Becky had needed more rest after eating the pancakes and sausage I’d made for her, and I assured her I would fill her cousin in on what had gone down so she wouldn’t have to repeat it yet again.

Fuck knew Becky had relived it enough between the cops and spilling all the sickening details over my ears.

But I’d saved the horror for later, simply telling Chantelle over the phone that she was safe—and wasn’t going out of my sight until the cops caught that fucker.

A dozen bags minimum hung off Chantelle’s arms when I pulled open my front door.

She breezed past me, heading straight up the stairs as though already aware of my home’s layout.

“She’s sleeping,” I called out quietly, and Chantelle halted halfway up the stairwell.

“Fuck,” she grumbled. Turning, she maneuvered the bags making her a few too many inches wide to fit between the wall and railing. Still cursing, she managed to right everything and tread back to the entryway.

Humphing, she dropped her loot. “Vodka?”

“Sure thing.” Smirking, I turned and went to the kitchen.

Her heels clacked behind me on the hardwood flooring.

“Looks like you did some shopping,” I stated the obvious.

“Well, seeing as how I don’t want Becky to have anything—anything—from her old life, I had to hit the mall.”

I grabbed a bottle of Grey Goose from the freezer and poured us both a healthy splash in tumblers. Chantelle’s may have had an extra inch above mine, but she would need it for the story I’d promised to share with her once she arrived.

She kicked the drink back in one gulp then poured herself another.

Eyeing her spiked heels, I suggested we head to the living room. I couldn’t imagine having stormed around the mall for her those purchases in a matter of hours.

She sat in my recliner like a queen, tumbler in hand, long legs crossed at the knee, her eyes flint and fire. “Talk. And don’t leave out one goddamned detail, or I’ll flog your ass until you cry like a newborn.”

I held back my snort. Barely. Sipping my ice-cold liquor, I considered the words I had to speak so the woman I loved wouldn’t have to.

Knowing her cousin would want to hear it all, I didn’t leave out a single detail that had been burned into my memory by Becky’s broken voice.

Chantelle seethed, her face flushed. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”

“How about you string him up and we can both beat the shit out of him?” I suggested, only half joking.

One of her eyebrows popped up as though she considered my suggestion.

“Daniel?”

I hopped up at Becky’s call. Chantelle followed me to the entryway. We both loaded our arms and made our way up the stairs.

Becky sat against the headboard like she had earlier to eat. Some color had returned to her pale face. Although purple darkened her cheekbone and one eye swelled half-shut, she appeared a lot better than before her nap.

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