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“Okay. That sounds like a good kind of day.”
Then she kissed me slowly and I couldn’t help but lead her into round six. Gripping our hands together, I pushed inside of her. Every thrust I made was slow and relaxed as I stared into her eyes. It was soft and sweet, nothing like the sex we usually had, but it was perfect for how I was feeling. I didn’t want to be rutting her like an animal. I wanted her to see the reality in my eyes. As I moved in and out, flexing my hips leisurely, her features softened and her grip on my hands tightened. It was like she wanted to make sure I didn’t let go. That I didn’t leave her. If I had my wish I’d never leave her. Six weeks apart had proved to me that she was who I wanted. There were many times we spat poison at each other, but didn’t they say that the line between love and hate was fine?
“This is so good,” Daisy whispered.
“I know.” I dropped my forehead to hers and thrust deeper. “So good.”
Her back arched as she started to match my rhythm, her hard nipples rubbing against my chest. We rarely had sex faceto face, and I wondered why because it was amazing. It felt like every part of me was touching her. Every inch of my skin was against hers. My eyes stared into hers and I could see peace and understanding reflecting back at me. Watching her beautiful face become awash with serenity filled me with hope. It made my chest swell with an unfamiliar feeling, but it was a good one. Like I could succeed at anything.
“I want to spend every day with you,” I growled against Daisy’s ear as I rocked my hips. “Until we both leave, I want you with me every hour of every day.”
Her legs dropped wider, and she arched her tits up higher. “Okay,” she said on a gasp.
“I mean every single hour.” I punctuated the sentence with another thrust.
Daisy gasped and her heels dug into my arse, urging me in deeper. “Every single hour,” she agreed.
The pull started in the pit of my stomach and my heart picked up an extra beat. I unlinked our fingers and put us palm to palm. I wanted the emotions I was feeling to permeate through to her, skin to skin.
I wanted this woman to know how I felt about her.
I wanted this woman.
CHAPTER 33
DESTINY
The last twenty-four hours had been enlightening to say the least. Not least because Joey and I hadn’t had one cross word. I hadn’t cursed at him once or even called him a cunt. In fact, I’d been really nice to him. How could I not? I didn’t normally do sweet, but Joey Farrow had to have been the sweetest man on the planet since he’d carried me up to my bed the night before. Right at that moment he was cooking me my favourite dinner.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” I asked, wrapping my hands around the mug of hot tea. I smiled as he wiped his forehead with the back of his arm, leaving a streak of flour to match the one down the front of the blue and white stripe apron he found in my tea towel drawer.
“Yes. One thing my mum did was teach me how to cook. And Auntie Mo showed me how to make pastry.”
When I’d asked for chicken and leek pie I’d expected him to go and buy one, not make it from scratch.
“It does smell good.” It did but not as good as he looked. My gaze wandered over him, and it made me wonder if the pie could go on a low temperature. The problem was, I was enjoying opening up to him. I liked that I could finally talk about my pastto someone, without me needing to be drunk to do it. I cleared my throat, still finding it a little uncomfortable. “He never even made me a cup of coffee in six years.”
Joey stilled for a moment and then continued to stir the pie filling he’d been making. That was how it had been, me dropping in snippets of information about my time with Vinny. Joey hadn’t asked outright about him but listened intently if I mentioned him, interspersing it with words like wanker, twat, and dick.
“Pillock.”
That was a new one.
“Did he ever treat you right?” he asked after he reached for a pie dish, the fact that I had a proper pie dish was news to me. Joey had found it, though.
“Not really.” I sighed heavily and took a sip of my tea. “Actually, that’s a definite never.”
He turned around and leaned against the cupboard, folding his arms across his broad chest. Looking unsure he dipped his head. “Can I ask you something?”
I didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”
He took a deep breath before blowing out his cheeks. “You don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to.”
“I won’t, don’t worry.” I grinned at how nervous I made him, then remembered I didn’t want him to think like that anymore. “But honestly, I’d like us to be open with each other while we have this time together.”
He nodded slowly and gripped the counter behind him. “Okay, well, I know you said he beat you daily, but did he actually hit you every day?” His lips thinned and his nostrils flared as he waited for my response.
“I wish I could tell you otherwise, Joseppi, but I can’t.” My chest tightened as I recalled the horror of my relationship. How every day was filled with fear and loathing of myself for puttingup with it. “It started with a little pinch here and there, then there were pulls of the hair, always followed by, ‘I was joking’ or ‘it didn’t hurt that much’ so that by the time the first punch came I believed him that it was a joke and that it didn’t hurt that much. Plus,” I said, breathing back the pain, “I’d started to believe I deserved it and was too much of a coward to leave.”
