Carver smirked and went to the side of the bed, sat down, and pulled her towards him. She spilled into his lap, a look of uncertainty on her face, but when he slipped one possessive hand up her left thigh, a small smile played on her lips.
“I can warm you right up, although I can promise you that these,” Carver began, tracing the underside of one bra before trailing his fingers lower, down the curve of her belly to the hem of her sexy underwear. She shivered. He continued, “Wouldn’t stay on you long.”
Carver’s dick thickened, straining against the zipper of his jeans as he closed one hand over the back of her neck and kissed her, enjoying the familiar taste of her. Yasmin planted her hands over his chest and kissed him back with a passion that rivaled his own. Carver reeled in the urge to rip that fragile black piece of cloth covering her cunt and sink his dick inside her, remind her who she belonged to.
Conversation came first. Sex didn’t solve everything, and while he was new at this, he wanted to learn, to grow with the woman he planned on spending the rest of his life with.
“You visited a cemetery,” he stated.
She groaned. “You want to start with that?”
He closed one hand over her waist, pulled her close, and pressed a kiss to her pulse. “Talk to me, angel.”
She shifted on his lap. “I did. I visited my mother. I hadn’t done that in ages. I guess I was just scared.”
“Scared, you?” he asked with a laugh. “You’re the exact opposite of that.”
The smile she wore seemed to light up her entire face. She circled her arms around his shoulders and sighed. “Before she passed away, she made me promise to look after my dad. I screwed that job up.”
“It’s not your responsibility to look after a drunk, a gambler who gives two fucks about you. You did your best, angel. Your mom would be proud.”
“I get that now, that only my father can help himself. I kept pushing him to go to his AA meetings, to see a therapist, but he’d always just use the money to buy more booze or skip out on those expensive sessions. You really think so? My mom—”
“Yes,” he answered, tightening his embrace when she laid her head against his chest. “Any mother would be fucking glad to have you as a daughter, but, angel, don’t you think it’s about time you focus on your own happiness?”
She bit her lower lip. “When I was there at her grave, I remembered she used to tell me one thing. When you find that one special person in the entire world, you don’t let go. If she were alive, she’d tell me to stick with my man, for better or worse.”
“Sounds like a marriage proposal to me,” he drawled, unable to keep the cockiness in his voice.
“Maybe,” she blurted. “Maybe it is.”
Pleasure filled him at her words, but it seemed she wasn’t done.
“Last night scared the hell out of me,” she admitted. “Not because I could’ve died but because I could have lost you, and that scares me more than anything else.”
“I want you to know that situations like these might happen, but I can take care of myself and I trust my men to have my back.”
“Carver, what’s our future going to be like?”
Fuck, but Carver never imagined someone showing so much concern for him. He didn’t like seeing her hurting. He’d always known Yasmin was too good for him, but he could spend the rest of his life making her happy. Whatever she wanted, he’d give it to her, even if meant slowly abandoning the only way of life he knew. With time, he could do it. For her, he’d do anything.