Mine (Real, #2)

“All right, but don’t tell my dad I agreed so easily . . .” I rub his shoulders, and he frames my face and settles down over me. If I thought he looked smug before, he gives a new meaning to the word now.

“Brooke Dumas pregnant with my baby,” he says slyly. His hair is standing up so much, I shove my hand in and watch my fingers play with it. A ripple of joy rushes over me. “My head is reeling. Kiss me.”

He lowers his head and tenderly mates his tongue with mine, tracing the flesh of my lips first, and then stroking my tongue with his so deliciously, all my taste buds awaken. He eases back to caress the back of one curled finger down the side of my face. “Make it look like you.”

“You’re the one who gave this to me.”

“No, you’re giving this to me.”

“All right, we’re both such giving souls.”

His laugh is so marvelous, it’s catching as he rolls to his side and gathers me in his arms and starts raining a bunch of slow kisses on me. “You’re mine now, from the top of your pretty dark head to the soles of your little feet.” He caresses my face with his callused thumb as he kisses the tops of my eyelids. “Don’t even think about leaving me again or I’ll come after you and so help me god, I’m going to tie you to where I am, and where I sleep, and where I eat. Do you hear me, Brooke Dumas?”

My already sensitive breasts bead under my bra, and I nod breathlessly. Shit, I love how possessive he is—and he’s doubly so whenever he’s black. I feel myself grow wet between my legs. “There isn’t a single part of me that doesn’t know I’m yours,” I assure him, and I take his hand and set it on my heart.

He clamps his jaw, and a spark of primitive awareness flashes in his eyes as he clenches his fingers around my breast. We start kissing. We start hard, and then go softer. We both slide closer at the same time, needing the contact like oxygen. He whispers in my ear, “I’m so crazy about you,” and as he nuzzles the top of my head, I clutch him close and gasp, “I love you so much.”

Looking extremely satisfied, almost like he does when he’s given me several multiple orgasms in a row, he turns me over and adjusts me, holding my stomach as he starts nuzzling the back of my neck while my mind continues reeling, and I imagine a little Remy running the way little boys run, clumsy and stumbling, and I touch my stomach as I let my lion pet me.





SEVEN


SIN CITY


We’re in Sin City now, and his eyes are back to his usual electric, piercing blue.

He woke up fully blue after he found out we’re expecting. We. Are. Expecting. We didn’t sleep that night. Remy was hard, and having his way with me, all night. He fucked me, sucked me, made me suck him, fondled me with his fingers, put his hand over mine so that I fondled him while he fingered me.

The next day, we were both well-fucked and sleepless when we ended up with the doctor who removed my contraceptive capsule. The kind man reminded me that after five years, any “arm thingy” needs to be changed. Mine was going on five and a half years, embarrassingly, and I admit I felt completely stupid for having completely forgotten to count, especially when I’d assured Remy I was on birth control.

But then I catch a glimpse of his twinkling, and smug, blue eyes as they silently tease me that I did it on purpose.

“Well, you could’ve used a condom,” I whispered with a scowl.

“With you?” he scoffed. Then he poked my ribs. “You’re mine.”

“Your birth control hasn’t been working for some time now, and it takes time for the body to increase its own hormonal production, although you seem to be doing just fine,” the doctor had said, and then he told us my due date. Which was thankfully almost two months after the season was to end.

I swear Remy looked so adorable at the doctor’s office, strong and athletic in his sports attire, sitting in a chair by mine, listening attentively to what the doctor said. A lot of the terms could have been Chinese to both of us. But he looked curious and concerned about me being able to run. And about how much should I eat? How many grams of protein? How many carbs? The doctor seemed confused at his need for specific gram counts, and I wanted to kiss my guy just for going to the appointment with me.

Lie. I didn’t want to just kiss him. I wanted to press my breasts against his chest until my nipples stopped aching and I wanted to blend my mouth to his, impale me down on his cock, and ride him to Australia and back.

Katy Evans 's books