Page 148 of Happily Never After


Font Size:

“You gotta stop,” he breathes, voice thick, head shaking. “You’re wreckin’ me, baby, and I haven’t even gotten to taste you yet.”

He doesn't give me a chance to respond, just grips me by the throat and tugs me forward. Not hard, not enough to hurt, but enough to bring us face to face. His thumb glides over my pulse, drawing sweet circles, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Could have fucking killed that asshole. Nearly did when I saw his hands on you.”

“But you stopped him before he could hurt me,” I whisper, brows tight at the honesty of it all. “You stopped him. Defended me. You were there.”

His eyes flick to mine, holding for one painfully soft moment before he rasps, “Always wanna be there.”

My breath catches when his lips replace his hand, mouth dragging along my jaw and throat, beard scratching deliciously as he licks and nips at my skin.

There’s no bruise—I already checked—and Clint was barely standing long enough to leave an ache, but that’s not why Kade’s doing this. He’s doing it for the same reason I kissed his scar, and God, that hits me deep in my chest.

He’s healing a hurt he couldn’t stop, even though he tried.

And I think…

I think he might be healing me, too.

His mouth and lips and teeth don’t stop moving as his other hand slides across the top of my shirt, cupping my breast, fingers finding my nipple blindly, twisting and pinching in a way that makes me needy all over.

I whimper, head tipping back. My pussy grinds down on his cock, every thrust of my hips dragging the thick ridge of him against my pulsing clit.

“Kade,” I gasp, nails digging into his shoulders. “Please.”

He chuckles darkly, biting down on my throat. I cry out, rocking harder and he hums. “My girl likes it a little rough.”

His girl.

Fuck, I like the sound of that too damn much.

He drags his mouth across my chest, sucking one nipple through the shirt, then the other. Every flick of his tongue sends jolts of heat to my core.

I reach for the hem of my shirt, needing to feel him on my skin like I need my next breath, but he stops me, gripping my wrists and dragging them behind my back in a quick, single handed move that leaves me breathless.

“No,” he growls, eyes burning as he leans back and takes me in. “Sight of you when you walked out here in my fuckin’ shirt, perfect tits bouncing with every step...” Biting his lip, he groans low in his throat. “Almost came in my fuckin’ pants.”

He thrusts his hips up, and I moan, trembling all over.

“Can’t wait to see what’s underneath. Been dreaming about it since I met you. But I wanna see you come while wearin’ my shirtfirst. Can you do that? Be my good girl and come all over my cock just like this—hands behind your back, ridin’ me like I’m yours.”

I whimper at his words and grind down harder, aching for friction, desperate for more.

I want him. All of him. And the thought of him being mine…

Really and trulymine.

It makes something in me crack and cave and burn, all at once.

“Kade,” I breathe, body shaking in his hold. “I need—”

“You’ll get it,” he growls, mouth on my neck again, hands stilling my movements. “But you gotta tell me, baby. You gotta tell me you’re mine.”

I want to.

Fuck, I want to so badly, it hurts. But a few kisses don’t rewrite years of trauma, pain, and fear. They don’t change who I am at my core, as much as I wish they did.

And who I am at my core is someone who desperately wants a family, a forever kind of love, but ispetrifiedto reach out and grab it.