“Everton,” his name is a keening sound.
His lips find mine as I cling to him and anything else I might have said is swept away by the understanding, the knowing, I taste on his lips.
“You’re going to coat my dick in your juices,” he grunts against my mouth.
His hips slam into me and bliss washes over me when I’m thrown over the edge and flung into my orgasm. I come hard, my pussy walls squeezing his length. But he doesn’t stop.
He powers right through my pleasure, his jaw clenched tightly and his eyes filled with something I’m too far gone to figure out. When his movements stutter, I know he’s close.
And then I feel it.
I feel every jet of his cum as he fills me. The warmth of it soothing the uncertainty of waking up alone.
Everton’s eyes bore into mine, the possession blanketing me as his chest heaves. The high of how good it feels to be with the only man I’ve ever loved—the ghost of that past wrapping around me and begging me to give in—simmers into something manageable, he rolls off me. But he reaches for me and pulls me against his side with an ease which has me letting out a sigh.
His hand trails up and down my arm like he can’t stop touching me.
I know I should move.
I know I might wake up alone again.
None of that matters as my eyes slide closed. Whatever happens next, I’ll deal with it.
But a little bit of hope slides through and whispers that this is real and can last.
CHAPTER 7
COWBOY
The moment my phone alarm goes off, I’m already reaching for it while looking down at Brielle and holding my breath. She shifts but doesn’t wake up. I’m able to slide out from underneath her, but I hate it.
I fucking hate leaving her.
Again.
I saw her eyes when she looked up at me last night. She didn’t try to hide her emotions—the uncertainty, the wariness, the concern that she couldn’t trust me. It gutted me.
But then I erased those feelings.
With my hands sliding along her skin and my mouth kissing her flesh. Then there were my words, my promises I’m bound to because loyalty has never been performative for me.
Hopefully I’m back before she wakes up. Because we need to talk. About a lot of fucking things.
I’m not going to be able to take another night of her dancing at Elysium. I just can’t. Yes, I’m aware feeling that way makes me an asshole.
I don’t fucking care.
It’s not like I would ever strip her dreams from her, but this? My club’s casino? I can’t do it.
Rian told me about my woman’s dream of opening a studio. I have no doubt my smart little girl told me for a reason.
How many times have I told her I’ll always help make her dreams come true if it’s within my power? Yeah, she’s smart all right.
My movements are calm but quick as I pull my clothes on and slip out of my room. The hallway is quiet and I’m sure that the main floor of the clubhouse, which is one floor down, is quiet as well. But I don’t have time to stop there.
I head right to my motorcycle and settle into the few minutes I’m on the road where the traffic is light and easy to navigate on the way home. My shoulders relax slightly the moment I step inside and take in the evidence of the world I share with my daughter.
Mrs. Carpenter is already in the kitchen and looks startled for a moment, her sharp gaze taking me in quickly. The good thing is I know she won’t judge me for walking through the door this early in the morning.