I wished I could touch her and not feel what was happening in my chest. I wished I could look at her and know that it would be easy to let her go at some point.
But as she sat there feeding me with her fingers, wearing my T-shirt, sporting her pigtails, her legs spread over my thighs, and her feet dangling six inches above the floor, I knew that I was completely at the mercy of someone nearly half my size.
I was hers.
She fed me another bite and leaned into my hand when I caressed her face.
“Do the police know about what you did?” She spoke softly.
I nodded. “Yes. It’s been taken care of,” I assured her. “I didn’t want that hanging over my head.”
That was the perk of having connections. Ciaran—a gunrunner and drug dealer with resources. Madoc’s dad—one of the best defensive attorneys in the state. And the police—whom I’d worked with supplying favors and getting them in return. No one was going to come after a kid who did what he had to do in a horrific situation.
Of course, my father thought the bodies were still buried in an unmarked grave. And for now, I’d let him think that.
“Will your father come here when he gets out?” she asked, and I ran my hands up and down her thighs, understanding her worry.
“It’s possible,” I said. “Very possible.”
She put the bowl down, and I pulled her into me, kissing her beautiful soft lips. I couldn’t let my father show up here. Now I understood what Jared’s worry was. He wasn’t concerned about himself. He needed to protect Tate and me. The people he loved.
And I needed to protect Juliet. Even the idea of my father seeing her …
I wrapped my arms around her waist, squeezing tight.
“They mean nothing, you know?” she said into my neck. “They don’t deserve us.”
Meaning, our parents.
“Nothing,” I repeated.
Her arms circled my neck, and I dived into the kiss, wanting to get happily lost. She rolled her hips into me, and I grabbed her ass as I ate up her taste and smell. God, she was incredible.
Breathing hard, I lifted the shirt over her head and dumped it on the floor. I kissed my way up her warm neck and splayed my hands across her back. My fingertips touched the silkiest skin I’d ever felt.
But I sucked in air, trying to calm down.
I hadn’t made love to her properly yet. In a bed. But fuck … She was irresistible on this chair, moving on top of me, her skin against mine.
She’d moved her hands, holding them clasped under her chin, keeping her arms up to cover her breasts. When I brought my hands around to open her up, she tore away from the kiss, shaking her head. “Mmm, nope. Sorry,” she insisted. “You have to do the dishes.”
Huh?
She pried herself free from my grasp and stood up, still holding her arms over her chest for modesty’s sake.
I pinched my eyebrows together in disbelief. “Dishes?”
She nodded, biting back a smile. “Dishes,” she repeated, and turned to walk out of the kitchen.
Her round little ass had my handprints on it, and I shifted, in pain, at that lacy black thong I wanted to rip off her.
“I pay someone to do the dishes,” I growled.
She stopped in the doorway, peering back at me with humor in her eyes. “I cooked. You clean. Fair’s fair. I’ll be upstairs.”
She left the room.
And I had never cleaned anything so fucking fast in my entire life.