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I followed close behind, unable to stop myself from grinning when I saw his room.

Decorated in everything comics. From Marvel to Conan to the completely obscure.

It so utterly, completely fit this adorable kid that my heart was thumping again.

Mind spinning with impossibilities.

I laid him on his bed and stepped back so Hope could pull his covers over him. She pressed a kiss to his temple and then ran her fingers through his hair. Neither of us said anything as we tiptoed out of his room, back down the hall, and through the living room.

For a flash, my gaze darted to the far back of the living space. To the double doors I knew had to lead to Hope’s bedroom.

I wanted to take her there. Lay her out. Treat her right.

Lust curled my guts. Almost painfully. No question, Hope knew exactly where my thoughts had gone. Hers right there with mine.

Desire a flood in the room. Rising so high that there was no doubt we were getting ready to drown.

Both of us going deeper and deeper into that territory where it was so abundantly clear we couldn’t go.

Fisting my hands in restraint, I forced my feet to move the rest of the way across the room, back through the foyer, and out the front door.

When I stepped out onto the porch, I inhaled the cool air that brushed my heated skin and prayed it might stand a chance of dousing the fire.

I pulled in a couple deep breaths, letting the sounds of the night calm my racing heart, the bugs trilling in the trees and the leaves that rustled in the light breeze.

I turned around when Hope came out behind me and quietly snapped the door shut behind her.

Moonlight poured down on her face. Milky skin a translucent glow.

“Thank you so much for helping out tonight,” she whispered, her arms crossed over her chest like she didn’t know how else to protect herself.

“No, Hope, thank you. For dinner. For taking the time to make all those lollipops. For letting me experience the best night I’ve had in a long time.”

For being you.

Her head shook, and her brow pinched. “I don’t know what to make of you, Kale Bryant.”

I let out the tiny huff of a laugh. “When I’m around you, I don’t know what to make of myself, either.” I smiled at her. “Good night, Harley Hope. Tell your little man I had the best time tonight. And you tell his mom that he’s lucky he has her, just as lucky as she is to have him.”

Her expression turned almost pleading.

Want and desire and that unbridled hope that radiated from her like it was a second skin.

It took everything I had to force myself to turn away and start across her porch. My footsteps echoing on the dense night.

She retreated, standing in the doorway. I could feel her staring back at me.

“Kale.” I heard it at the same time that intensity swept through the air.

A bolt of lightning.

Combustion.

I turned around just as the girl spun in the doorway, coming for me.

I was already moving back that direction.

We collided.

Fire.

I hoisted her up, and her legs wrapped around my waist as our mouths crashed together.

Her tongue swept against mine.

That sweet, sweet tongue.

Frantic.

Needy.

Desperate.

Laps and licks and frenzied strokes.

Winding a hand in her hair, I kissed her just as wildly as she was kissing me. Without breaking it, I carried her back across the porch and into the foyer. Held in the protective shadows of the short hall, I pressed her against the wall.

Ground my hard-on against her center, her skirt riding up, just her underwear and my jeans separating us.

Her pussy as hot as her fingers that sank into my shoulders.

As hot as her tongue that tangled with mine.

I had no idea how I was going to make it back from this. How I was ever going to stop craving it.

“Fuck, Hope. One touch, and you are already killing me. I want to disappear in you. Sink deep inside. Get lost in your body. Tell me you want that.”

God. What the fuck was I saying?

I rocked again.

Hope moaned. “Kale. Yes. Please.”

“What do you need?” I mumbled against her mouth, and she was mumbling back, “Make me feel good. You make me feel good. How is it possible you make me feel so good?”

“Because I know how to take care of you. You deserve a man who will treat you right.”

And I pressed myself harder against her, rubbing and rocking and driving her mad.

Which was the best kind of torture.

Complete, utter torture as she writhed and pitched and begged, the urgent thrust of her hips against my jeans and the delicious sounds from her mouth as she kissed and begged, bringing me to the edge.

That greedy, selfish place inside me roared, telling me it would be fine if I ripped open my fly and sank right in.


Tags: A.L. Jackson Fight for Me Romance