His hands knead up my spine, gripping with protective intensity, pushing me hard so I arch into him. It feels a lot like sadness and vulnerability.
It feels a lot like goodbye.
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
clay
Madonna Mia.
This damn girl.
With her eccentric, teenage tantrum, screaming about making her accountable for her lack of manners, for her disrespectful attitude, all the while she remindsmeto be damn accountable for my promises… I made thedamnpromises! The assurances!
Were anything to happen to me, my brothers would give her their protection, my sisters-in-law give her company, my wife—fuck—would love, touch, and keep her supple body warm at night…I am sure…
My teeth lock together.
I treated this order of business with Dustin, with her father, like any other—with minimal sentiment. Impartial. Measured. Controlled.
But Fawn ismine.
And no one will care for her with the diligence I will.
Yes, little deer.
You've proven your point.
Christ. It's on me.
It's not until now, while she sobs in my lap at the premiseImay die, that the concept of my own mortality becomes unbearable in the light of her sweet existence.
She ismyresponsibility.
Pushing off the floor with one hand, I stand with her supported by the other. She kisses my face with wet, tear-soaked lips, trailing across my cheek to find my mouth as I walk her to the bed.
Bracing myself on one arm, I carry her to the head and lay her down gently. Our lips stay connected, and I consume her moans for more love. More treatment of gentleness. More affection. My sweet, affection-hungry girl. I've never kissed a woman as much as I kiss her—
My cock stiffens in my pants as she slides her pelvis along the bruising length.
So needy, my little deer.
She believes she can keep me here with her body. With her tears. With her love.
Christ…She can.
Irritation growls from me.
She is.
Brat.
I wanted to leave while she slept. Peacefully. Hopefully, growing my baby inside her young womb. After having heard and been satisfied with my explanation, accepting it like a good girl, she should have let me leave.
Her arms tighten around me. "Don't go."
The concern now shifting through me is distracting. Not that this is the most dangerous thing we have conducted. Well, perhaps it is, but—Fuck.
For the first time in my entire thirty-five years of life, I have a reason to live.