Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Stella was jumpier than a virgin at a prison rodeo. We’d been back at our rental house for nearly an hour and she’d yet to stop moving.
“You know Leo and Olivia would never let anything happen to Cara, right?”
“Of course,” Stella said, not looking up from the dish she was obsessively rinsing.
This was the first night we’d been away from Cara. She was spending the night with her besties as she called them, Frankie and Gia. I wanted time alone with Stella but not if the cost was her looking like she was going to jump out of her skin.
Maybe it was too soon for sleepovers. Hell, the only reason I’d said yes was because I knew Leo would lay down his life in protection of one of the kids. Someone outside of our circle—no fucking way would my girl be sleeping over.
I’d give Stella another hour to adjust. If she was still struggling, I’d suggest we let Cara have dinner with her friends but then go pick her up.
“I’m gonna go up and change.”
“Okay.”
Still rinsing the same dish. No eye contact.
Yeah, thirty minutes tops, then I’d make my suggestion.
I took the stairs two at a time happy that our time was limited before we were back to a one-story.
A few more weeks and we’d be in our new house, and my heart wouldn’t plummet every time Cara skipped down the stairs in her socks, or worse when she slid down them on her butt. Stella thought it was hilarious and encouraged this behavior by joining her.
All I could think about were the bones she could possibly break.
Being a dad was going to be the death of me.
Being a girl dad was going to put me in an early grave.
There had been a time in my life when I didn’t think I’d see my fortieth birthday and my body would be left to rot in the sand. Never had I thought that my death would be the result of a heart attack caused by a pint-sized menace who had me painting fingernails and braiding hair.
I passed Cara’s room, the third bedroom—counting the bedroom at the safehouse she’d used for a night— that she’d had since the day I pulled her out of the saferoom.
I vowed her next move would be her last. Not that she complained.
I’d found that children who were loved and given ample amounts of attention thrived.
All Cara cared about were the people around her.
I’d never seen a child with so much love to give.
When she walked into a room it exploded out of her.
Like I did every time I entered mine and Stella bedroom, I ignored the ugly-as-fuck furniture and even uglier comforter that came with the house, and went straight into the closet.
I tossed my shirt in the direction of the hamper and decided a shower would wait until I could get Stella up here with me, and reached for a clean shirt.
Movement in my periphery caught my attention and my hand dropped to my sidearm.
“Too slow, Captain,” Stella crowed. “I would’ve already had you in my sights and gotten a shot off.”
Christ. Sometimes it was easy to forget who she used to be until she did something that reminded me she could easily sneak up on her prey and take them out.
“I think I’m safe. If you shot me who would—”
“I love you.”
I sucked in a breath—the first one I’d ever taken into my lungs that felt clean.
“Say it again.”
“I love you.”
I exhaled—free and easy.
“Again.”
“I love you.”
Three words. Three times. And finally, fucking finally, I felt my heart sync to the perfect rhythm.
“No lip. No delay. Clothes off on the bed.”
Stella rushed to obey.
I quickly shucked my clothes, left them where they were, and walked out of the closet just as Stella was crawling onto the bed, ass on display.
Christ, she was beautiful. My dick went from hardening to rock hard and pulsing.
“On your back, legs spread,” I ordered.
She dropped to her hip, rolled to her back, and spread.
It had taken me a week and twice as many orgasms to earn her fledgling trust. Another week before she started to believe in me, in us.
It took another week before she’d initiated affection in sweet yet heartbreaking ways.
A tip of her chin back so I could give her a kiss.
Or she’d turn her back to me in bed and shove her ass at my hip so I’d roll and hold her from behind.
A nudge when she wanted to hold my hand or put my arm around her when we were on the couch.
It was as though she was so afraid of being rejected she couldn’t take what she wanted.
From the moment I’d laid eyes on Lore, I knew three things—she was deadly, beautiful, and I wanted to fuck her. Then there was Stella—she was no less fuckable, deadly, and beautiful, but I wanted to possess, protect, and love her.
For going on five excruciating weeks, I hadn’t taken—I gave, but not once had I allowed myself to take anything in return. It had started as a way to gain her trust. To show her if she yielded, I would worship her. But the truth was, I didn’t want to simply fuck her.
I stopped in front of the bed and demanded, “Say it again.”
“I love you.”
Jesus.
Stella’s gaze dipped down, and like he sensed his mistress was close, my dick twitched and one side of her lips hitched up.
“You like that, baby girl, my dick hard and leaking for you?”
“Yes.”
I wrapped my hand around my dick and stroked.
“Lady’s choice—you want me to eat you or fuck you?”
“Fuck me.”
I love you. With those words echoing in my head, I put a knee on the bed, leaned deep, kissed the inside on her thigh, and since I was already there and I could smell her excitement, I buried my face in Stella’s pussy.
“Cash,” she groaned.
I ate my fill until Stella bucked her hips, followed by a low whimper.
I pulled off her clit and warned, “Don’t come.”
“Cash,” she whined.
I knew her sounds, every twitch, shudder, and quiver. She was so close it wouldn’t take much and she’d fall over the edge.
“You want my cock, you’re gonna wait.”
I kissed her clit. Moved up to kiss her stomach. Stopped long enough to tease a nipple, then the other before I looked up and found her glaring at me.
“I thought you said it was lady’s choice,” she bitched.
I shifted to my elbow, reached between us, guided the head of my dick to her clit and rubbed my hoop over the sensitive bundle of nerves.
“Tell me again.”
The glare faded.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
With one thrust, I sank into heaven.
Stella’s eyes closed and her head tipped back.
“Open your eyes, baby girl, I wanna watch.”
Her eyes came open and I saw it.
What I’d been seeing for weeks, hoping I was reading her right, knowing now I was wrong.
It wasn’t love, at least not the normal kind. It went far beyond adoration. Straight from the soul—reverence, peace, home.
“Wrap me up tight and hold on.”
Her legs went around my hips. One hand went to my shoulder, but the other one cupped my face.
“You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, Cash Phillips,” she whispered. “And it has nothing to do with how hot you are.”
“Stella—”
“Thank you, honey.”
My first instinct was to close my eyes so she wouldn’t see my emotions. Or employee my go-to Cash is King bullshit. But this was Stella. My Stella. And she not only deserved my emotions, she needed them.
Hell, she fucking owned them.
“I don’t know what you’re thanking me for.”
Instead of answering, she moved her hand to tap my lips with her fingers. Another one of her signals she wanted a kiss.
It was sweet as hell.
“You want me to kiss you, baby girl?”
“No.”
“No?”
“I want you to kiss me while you fuck—”
I dropped my mouth on hers, pulled out, making sure she felt every inch of my barbell drag, drove back in, and gave my woman what she wanted—fucking her rough while kissing soft.
I shoved my hand between us and worked her clit, needing her with me.
“Cash.”
I didn’t need the whimpered warning, I could feel her pussy grasping.
“Almost, Stella. Wait for me.”
“Cash.”
“Christ, you feel like heaven,” I groaned. “You ready to come for me?”
“Yes.”
Her pussy clutched tight and that was all I could take.
I dove in deep and followed her over and exploded.
“Fuck,” I groaned as aftershocks rocked through me.
I felt Stella’s hands roaming my back. Her legs still wrapped tight around me. The smell of her.
Surrounded by her.
“Soul deep,” I whispered.
“What, honey?”
That was the second time she’d called me ‘honey.’ I got an occasional ‘Captain’ when she was feeling sassy. But no pet names. No, baby, babe, sweetheart. I was Cash.
“That’s how much I love you,” I told her. “Soul deep.”
“Soul deep,” she whispered back.
Exquisite pain tore through me. The kind that comes from the deepest wounds being stitched together, stemming a lifetime of rejection, rebuking the notion that I wasn’t worthy of love.
The baby by the dumpster.
Finally loved.
Soul deep.
Healed.
I dropped my forehead to hers and closed my eyes.
I wasn’t hiding.
My nervous system was recalibrating.