Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
“Kayden.” She gasps between kisses. “We can’t… not here.”
I lean back, stare down at her, beautiful strands of hair spiraling messily from her bun.
“I know.”
Then her eyes widen in that telltale way. It’s like our minds know we should stop, but our bodies are far too obsessed. I kiss her again, finding her tongue, clashing sensations fueling the need as I massage her ass cheeks. I could spend hours caressing her curvy ass, hours indulging in every inch of her body.
A knock at the door.
I stop, step away, heaving in breaths. She pants, causing her breasts to rise and fall, making my hands twitch.
“Hello?”
“It’s me,” Marty calls. “I’ve run out of sanitary wipes. Could I borrow some?”
“Uh, yeah, sure.”
Luna gives me a look.
It says, Be good. I promise myself I will.
Even if it’s going to be insanely difficult.
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
Luna
I work slower than I usually do, moving the tattoo gun carefully over his bulging back.
On his other shoulder, his first service dog watches me, eyes as intense as his owner’s, but it’s not the tattoo which distracts me. It’s the shape of my man’s muscles, the tightness of them as they stretch from shoulder to shoulder, every inch of him rippling.
I think about the kissing before Marty interrupted, my body still alight with the sensations of his touch. He caressed my ass like it belonged to him, like he was as obsessed as my heart is.
“How’s Buckie doing?” he asks, as the gun makes its buzzing noise.
I breathe like I’m meditating, unwilling to sacrifice the quality of my work simply because my body is telling me to grip onto his muscles, to savor the feel of him.
“Still as crazy as ever,” I answer.
“I’m still going to train him,” Kayden replies. “I didn’t mean to leave you in the lurch like that.”
During the dark period, when I was left wondering if he ever wanted to see me again. That part goes unspoken.
“That means a lot,” I say, dabbing at his shoulder when a drop of blood appears. “I’ve been doing what you said with his bed, and that seems to work. He’s been going there a lot on his own whenever he feels stressed. It’s such a simple thing, but it’s like a miracle.”
“Dogs are like children,” Kayden says. “They just need some direction, and they’re good to go.”
At the mention of children, I raise the gun away from his skin. My hand is trembling. Sweat slides down my forehead, and I quickly wipe it away.
He lies with his head turned, so I can see one eye and half of his mouth, tilted into an unreadable smirk. His bare arms rest above him, each sinew of his muscular form straining.
“You’ve got kids?” I ask.
“No,” he replies, “but I imagine the concept is the same. Or who knows… maybe I’m dead wrong. Maybe I’d have to learn a lot if I ever had kids.”
Okay, this is the time to calm down. To not let my dreams for the future run away into silly places.
“Do you want kids?” I ask, returning to the tattoo.
I tell myself it’s a casual conversation, with no implications for us.
“I always thought I would,” Kayden replies, “but I don’t know. It’s like my time away put me on a track.”
His voice hitches when he says time away, and I know he’s talking about his service.
“When I retired, it’s like I had to develop tunnel vision.”
I say nothing, not wanting to shatter the mood when he feels willing to share with me. It means a lot, especially after the blunder I made in my bedroom.
“I focused on my work and working out, and that’s it. I didn’t let myself think about anything else.”
“Past tense,” I murmur. “Has something changed?”
His back muscles tighten. I raise the gun away. Usually, I’d tell the client to relax, but I don’t want to break this spell.
“I want kids,” he says. “I want to raise a family. I want to support them, guide them, give them a good life, the sort of life I never had. I want them to have a family, a real one… the sort you see in the movies, where they eat around the table together, make memories, laugh a lot.”
I’m shimmering on the inside, the passion in his voice infecting me, but I have to remind myself he’s speaking vaguely. Not about us.
“That sounds wonderful,” I say, somehow containing my tone. “I think you’d make an excellent father.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” I say firmly.
“Sometimes I wonder…”
“What, Kayden?”
“I’m thinking about what you said, what you implied.”
“I shouldn’t have brought that up—”
“No,” he cuts in fiercely. “You were right. It’s not like I’m broken. To give myself some credit, I’ve built a business, given myself time to even do some charity work with my dog training. I’m not an alcoholic. But sometimes, yeah, the…”
I say nothing as his mouth tightens, his body going taut.