Page 21 of This Reckless Home

“Like everything you want?” His lips curve, and god I want to kiss them again.

“Yes,” I confess, like it’s too precious an idea to speak out loud. “But would they want that? Want me like that? Share me like that? Especially knowing that I can’t⁠—”

He stops me with a single thick finger on my lips. “They’ll want you, trust me, Flower. They’re halfway there already. And the fact you can’t have children won’t matter to them any more than it matters to me.”

My eyes search his, trying to find the lie, the deception. But there is none. “You mean that?”

“I mean that.” His certainty is absolute, and so very Steele. “You’re perfect exactly as you are.”

I let out a shaky breath, my nose and eyes stinging. “Okay.”

“Besides,” his tone turning dark and silky, like midnight. “They’re going to lose their minds when they see these marks.” His fingers brush another hickey along my collarbone. “When they smell me on you.”

I flush. “Steele…”

Even though I’m sore, Steele is a big man everywhere, lust has me clenching my thighs.

He just smiles in that way of his, knowing his affect on me. “They’ll get there. We just need to show them both what they’re missing and that they deserve you too.”

“We?”

“Yes. We.” He pulls me into his arms, my head on his chest. “Now get some sleep, Flower. You’re going to need it.”

“Why?” I try to push up, but he holds me firm, using his stupid man muscles on me. No fair.

“Because if you think I’m done with you for tonight, I clearly haven’t been doing my job properly.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

“CARRY YOU” BY RUELLE, FLEURIE

BLOSSOM

Iwake up in Steele's arms, my body deliciously sore in ways I'd had to work years to be able to feel — the stretch of him, the fullness — things I hadn't been sure I'd ever have. I’m also covered in bite marks that will be hell to hide, though I can’t find it in me to care all that much. The early morning light filters in through my curtains, painting everything in soft gold, including the glorious man in my bed.

He is still asleep, his face relaxed in a way I’ve never seen while he was awake. Without the constant vigilance, the watchful intensity, he looks younger. Still dangerous—those scars make sure of that—but... peaceful.

My room smells like pine and motor oil and sex, and glancing at the clock by my bed, I have approximately twenty minutes before Tina will be up and expecting me to help with breakfast.

Twenty minutes before I have to face the fact that I'd slept with one of my foster son's quasi-brothers and was already thinking about doing it again. Desperate to do it again if I’m being completely honest.

Twenty minutes before I have to figure out how to hide the evidence of what we’ve done from a house full of children and one very perceptive housekeeper.

I am so screwed.

“Stop thinking so loud, Flower,” Steele's deep voice rumbles, his arms tightening around me. “Can hear your brain spinning from here.”

Gods he sounds delicious in the morning. More husky than usual, and it’s an effort not to climb on top of him and lose myself in his touch again.

I watch as his thick eyelashes flutter open, his gaze finding mine immediately and it’s as though the world falls away when he looks at me.

“Morning, beautiful,” he whispers, his large, scarred hand coming up and caressing my cheek. I lean into the touch, unable to resist.

“Good morning, Steele.”

“God I love it when you say my name,” he murmurs, his eyes darting to my lips before he uses his grip to pull me to him.

My breath sighs out of me when our lips meet. It’s like coming home after a day spent in the pouring rain. Like putting on the warmest jumper, getting into pyjamas after a hard day. I allow myself to get lost in Steele. In the way his lips move against mine. The way his tongue teases the seam of my mouth before he deepens the kiss.