Chapter 7 Kayley #2
“Because you’re… you,” I whisper.
A low sound leaves him, like he’s fighting a smile. “That’s not an explanation.”
“It’s the whole explanation.”
He laughs softly—brief, like it surprises him too—then dips his mouth to my neck.
I gasp, head tipping back before I can stop it. His lips are warm on my skin, and when his teeth graze lightly, my brain short-circuits.
My hands slide into his hair, and the sensation of gripping him—of anchoring him—feels wildly intimate.
He kisses along my throat, then pauses and looks up at me, eyes bright and dark all at once.
“This okay?” he asks, voice rough.
I nod, barely able to speak. “Yes.”
He presses one more kiss just below my ear, then pulls back again, restraint snapping into place like a lock.
I blink at him, dazed.
“What—” I start.
He exhales slowly, eyes flicking toward the bassinet. “He’s right there.”
“And?” The word slips out, half breathless, half bold, and I can’t believe it came from me.
Gavin’s gaze swings back to mine, sharp.
“Kayley,” he warns softly, like my name is a prayer and a threat at the same time.
My cheeks burn, but I lift my chin. “I’m not asking you to do something you don’t want to do.”
His jaw flexes. “You have no idea what I want.”
I can feel how hard he’s holding himself back. It’s in the tension of his arms, the way he’s breathing like he just ran a mile, the way his hands still grip my waist like he’s afraid if he lets go, he’ll lose control.
I whisper, “Then tell me.”
He closes his eyes for a second, like he’s gathering himself. When he opens them again, his voice is low and steady.
“I want to take you to bed and keep you there until the snow melts.”
My breath catches hard.
“I want to make you forget every man who ever made you feel unsafe.” His thumb strokes my hip again.
My breath catches. “Okay,” is all I say as I follow Gavin down the hallway to his master suite.
He turns to face me, filling the doorway. His flannel is still half-unbuttoned from earlier, sleeves rolled to his elbows, forearms corded and dusted with dark hair. Those dark eyes lock on mine, steady, patient, but burning.
“You sure about this, little one?” His voice is gravel and honey. “Once we start, I’m gonna take real good care of you. But you say stop, we stop. Always.”
I nod, throat too tight for words at first. Then I manage, “I want it. I want… you.”
A slow smile curves his mouth. “That’s my good girl.”
He steps closer, big hands gentle as they cup my face.
His thumbs brush my cheekbones, then slide down to tilt my chin up.
When he kisses me it’s deep and unhurried, like he’s memorizing every shape of my mouth.
I melt against his chest, fingers curling into the open edges of his shirt.
He tastes like coffee and smoke and safety.
He walks me backward until the backs of my knees hit the mattress. “Sit,” he murmurs against my lips.
I do. He kneels between my thighs—actually kneels, this giant of a man—and runs his palms up the outsides of my legs, pushing the hem of my borrowed T-shirt higher. The fabric belongs to him; it smells like him. I’m already trembling when his fingers find the elastic of my underwear.
“Look at me, baby.” His voice is low, commanding in the gentlest way. I do. “You’re shaking. You scared?”
“A little,” I whisper. “But I want this so bad.”
“I know you do.” He hooks his fingers under the cotton and tugs slowly, so slowly, down my thighs.
Cool air hits me and I gasp. He groans, low in his throat.
“Fuck, Kayley. Look at this pretty little pussy. All pink and wet for me already. You been thinking about Daddy’s cock while I kept you safe out there? ”
Heat floods my face. “Yes,” I breathe.
He spreads me gently with his thumbs, just enough to see. “Gonna take such good care of her. Gonna make sure my girl feels every inch, nice and slow. You’re gonna be so full of me you won’t remember what empty feels like.”
He leans in and kisses the inside of my thigh, then higher, soft open-mouthed kisses that make my hips jerk. When his tongue finally drags through my wetness I cry out, hands flying to his hair. He growls against me, the vibration making me clench.
“Easy, sweetheart. Let Daddy taste you.” He licks again, slow circles around my clit, then lower, dipping inside just enough to make me whine. “So fucking sweet. Gonna ruin me for anything else.”
I’m panting, thighs shaking around his shoulders. He works me with his mouth until I’m right there, right on the edge, then pulls back. I whimper in protest.
“Shh.” He rises, shedding his shirt, then his jeans. His cock springs free—heavy, thick, flushed dark—and my mouth goes dry. He strokes himself once, eyes never leaving mine. “See how hard you make me? That’s all for you, baby girl.”
He climbs onto the bed, settling between my legs. One big hand wraps around my ankle, guiding it high around his hip. The other fists the base of his cock, nudging the head against my entrance.
“Breathe for me,” he says, voice rough. “Gonna go slow. Tell me if it hurts too much.”
I nod, clutching his shoulders. He pushes in—barely an inch—and I gasp at the stretch. It burns, but it’s a good burn, the kind that makes me want more.
“Good girl,” he praises, thumb circling my clit in lazy strokes. “Taking the tip so pretty. Look at that—your little pussy opening up for Daddy.”
Another inch. I moan, nails digging into his back. He keeps talking, filthy and tender all at once.
“That’s it. Fuck, you’re tight. So warm and wet and perfect. Made for me, weren’t you?” He rocks gently, working himself deeper with every shallow thrust. “Gonna fill you up so good, baby. Gonna take care of this sweet cunt every damn night if you let me.”
When he’s finally seated all the way, hips flush to mine, we both go still. I feel every thick inch of him, pulsing inside me. My eyes sting with how full I am, how safe I feel pinned beneath him.
“You okay?” he asks, forehead pressed to mine.
I nod frantically. “Don’t stop. Please.”
He kisses me slow and dirty, then starts to move—long, careful strokes that drag against every sensitive place inside me. His hand stays between us, thumb rubbing tight circles on my clit.
“Come for me, little one,” he growls against my ear. “Come on Daddy’s cock like a good girl. Let me feel you.”
The pressure builds fast, too fast. I shatter with a broken cry, clenching hard around him. He groans, hips stuttering, but he doesn’t stop moving—keeps fucking me through it, slow and deep, drawing it out until I’m trembling and boneless.
“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, voice wrecked. “So fucking beautiful when you come.”
He picks up the pace just enough, chasing his own release now. His grip tightens on my hip, possessive.
“Gonna come inside you, baby. Fill you up. You want that? Want Daddy’s cum deep where you’re still fluttering around me?”
“Yes—please—” I gasp.
He buries himself to the hilt with a guttural sound, cock pulsing as he spills inside me. I feel every hot spurt, the warmth spreading, claiming. He shudders, face buried in my neck, breathing hard.
For long minutes we stay locked together, his weight comforting instead of heavy. He kisses my temple, my cheek, the corner of my mouth.
“You did so good,” he whispers. “My perfect girl.”
I smile against his skin, sleepy and sated and utterly his.
“I’m safe here,” I murmur.
He tightens his arms around me. “Always, baby. Always.”
My heart feels too big for my chest.
“And right now,” he continues, softer, “I want to hold you until you can breathe again.”
The tenderness in that almost wrecks me more than anything else.
I blink fast. “Okay.”
He pulls me into his arms, folding me against him.
His hand slides up my back, firm and protective. My cheek rests against his chest, and his heartbeat is steady—strong.
For a moment, I let myself imagine a life where this is normal. Where I wake up warm. Where Aidan grows up safe. Where Sophie isn’t gone.
Where I get to keep Gavin.
But reality nudges in, sharp and cold.
“What if they come back?” I whisper.
Gavin’s arms tighten around me. “Then they’ll meet me.”
I pull back just enough to look at him. “You’re really going to do this.”
“Yes,” he says simply. “I already am.”
My throat tightens again, but this time it isn’t just grief.
It’s something else.
Something terrifying.
Something bright.
I rest my hands on his chest and whisper, “I don’t know how to be this… person. The one who wants things.”
Gavin brushes his lips over my forehead. “Then I’ll teach you.”
My breath catches.
The danger outside didn’t go away. It’s still out there, testing fences and watching shadows.
But right now, in Gavin’s arms, with Aidan sleeping safe in the bassinet… I feel something I haven’t felt in weeks. I feel like maybe I’m not just surviving.
Maybe I’m starting to live.
And maybe—God help me—I’m starting to fall.
Fast.