Chapter 29 I Wouldn’t Trade Him #2
The bottom of his sleeve is completely soaked with blood now. “Let’s go. We can finish this later.” I tuck myself against his side near his uninjured arm to help support him. “Who’s here?”
Someone is here waiting for him. Lachlan doesn’t do much alone.
“Connal. He’s waiting upstairs.”
“Connal!” I shout.
Lachlan flinches. “Next time, warn me, love.”
I glare both hating and loving that he’s calling me that.
A dark shadow appears at the top of the stairs right when we approach the bottom step.
“Can you help him up?” I ask.
“He’d rather have you tucked to his side than me,” Connal says.
“Is all of this a joke to you? He’s shot.”
“Grazed,” Connal says with a rolling R. “He’s fine.”
I groan. “The two of you.”
“He just wants to keep you close. Trust me.” He walks away, calling out, “I’ll be in the car.”
I stare up at the beast of a man beside me. “Is this an act?”
“I’m not acting. I’m not asking for your help either. You’re treating me like I need it because you care. I’m not about to refuse that.”
I shove him and stomp up the stairs. “That’s the thing with you Lachlan. I never know if I can trust you.”
His footsteps land heavy behind me. I reach the top and round the corner into the big kitchen with Lachlan on my heel.
He grabs my wrist and whirls me around until I collide with his chest. Grabbing my waist, he lifts me onto the island counter and wedges between my legs, his hands anchored to my hips.
It takes me a second to find my voice. “So you are fine?”
“No. It hurt like hell to put you here, but it’s worth it. Everything is when it comes to you.”
“Now I’m worth everything to you?”
“Yes.”
That one word could make me cave. “Is this because you don’t need to leave your castle now? You think you can keep me locked in it?”
“You’ve proven I can’t keep you locked anywhere.” He grins and tucks strands of my hair behind my ear. “Wes was shocked and impressed that you thought to toss your phone so we couldn’t track you.”
“Wes hates me.”
He shakes his head, and rests his hand back on my hip. “Wes hates change. It’s one of the reasons he doesn’t like you—an American invading the trio that has been his life for so many years.”
“You, him, and Rory?”
“Me, him, and Tessa. If it were up to Wes, we’d be moving back to London.”
“What about Rory?”
“Rory’s life has always been here, and it will remain so.
The castle should be his. I don’t disagree with that.
My mum wanted me to have it too, but mostly, she wanted it to stay in the family.
Now it will. My life will be in America with you as it was planned.
Spencer Securities will be ours and passed to our children. ”
“Children? Plural?”
That cocky grin forms at the corner of his mouth again. “One of each of us would be nice.”
“What would you do with two golden princesses?”
The nostalgia on his face shows nothing but adoration. He has no idea what having a daughter would be like. I do. I was one. The poor girl wouldn’t be allowed to do anything. Lachlan would be more protective than my father was. She’d need me to knock him from his high horse.
Suddenly, I’m picturing Lachlan and me as parents with two children running around looking like mini versions of us. It’s not a bad vision.
“You’re imagining it too? Aren’t you?”
I blink the vision away and focus on my disheveled husband. A lock of his dark hair hangs over his eye. I brush it away and trace my finger down his cheek to his jawline.
“Want to make a baby with me?”
“Now?” He can’t be serious.
“That wasn’t a no.”
“Is this your romantic way of hinting you want sex?” Did he forget I’m on birth control—an injection that lasts three months? It was in the legal documents we signed.
“If I wanted sex, I’d lick your beautiful breasts and then your pussy. You’d fall apart for me, and I wouldn’t have to ask for a thing.”
So smug. But also correct. I glance at his arm. “I don’t think we should while you’re bleeding. You probably need stitches.”
“Again, not a no.”
“Lachlan.” I bug my eyes. “I’m being serious.”
“So am I.” He kisses the corner of my mouth and then my lips, his rich, dark taste like an aphrodisiac.
“Lachlan,” I protest weakly, my breath growing heavier.
He slides his hand under my blouse and cups my breasts, his thumbs grazing my nipples.
I moan and am about to protest again. “Make it fast,” comes out instead.
Lachlan yanks off my blouse and tosses it aside. He tugs down my bra, exposing my breasts and licks my nipples. I moan and lie back on the cool counter. My boots are torn off, then my jeans are pulled down and dropped onto the floor.
I can’t believe we’re doing this. He’s injured, bleeding, and we’re having sex on a kitchen counter.
In a house where I was thrown in a basement and a man was killed.
Maybe two. I don’t know what happened to the second guy.
The fact that Lachlan is shot and wants me this badly says a lot about his desire for me.
That was never our problem. The fact that his mouth on my nipple has me soaked in this situation should concern me.
He sets my feet on the edge of the counter and lowers his face between my legs.
“I said fast,” I remind him until he licks my wet core.
Oh god. My head falls onto the counter. I shove my hand in his hair and hold him to me as he devours me with his tongue. My heels are on his shoulders and I’m writhing like crazy. He shoves a finger in me, his mouth now on my clit, and I come.
He waits until I catch my breath and says, “You didn’t faint. That’s a good girl.” Rising above me, he places his cock at my entrance and slides in—slow and deep.
I moan from the pleasure of being stretched and filled completely.
He holds my hips and keeps working in and out of me, taking his time, savoring the moment.
His shirt hangs open, exposing a cut of sculpted chest and the edge of his tattoo.
The beige fabric pulls tight over his bulging biceps.
His mussed dark locks, intense gaze, and the blood on his shirt give him a savage look.
It’s sexy in a way I never imagined I’d like.
“Kiss me,” I beg, needing to feel his chest against my breasts and his lips on mine.
He watches me as he eases his cock in and out. “This is mine, Emery. Mine and yours. No one else can ever have this. Every time I’m inside you, it’s a vow that I belong to you. That I will destroy anyone who dares to take you away. That I will protect you with my dying breath.”
His words, vow, and the measured way he’s fucking me are too much.
“Please, Lachlan.” I reach for him again.
“Tell me only I can have you.” In… out. Sopping. In… out.
My body pulses with pleasure. “Only you can have me.”
“Because you’re mine?”
“Yes.” Pressure builds low in my belly again.
“Tell me you love me. And mean it.”
His gaze locks on mine.
Saying it means giving up the last hold I have on my heart. Saying it means it’s unequivocally his. It makes everything between us real.
“I want to hear you say it, Emery.” He pumps a little faster as if my resistance is getting to him.
“Kiss me, and I’ll tell you.”
His nostrils flare, but amusement flashes in his eyes. “So demanding.”
I almost laugh. I reach for him again. He lowers and finally, his lips meet mine. I shove my fingers into his hair as his tongue invades my mouth. His hips pump faster, and my body prepares for another orgasm.
“Oh god!” I moan.
“Oh Lachlan.” He pins my hands on the counter near my head, his gaze burning into mine. “I’m who you call out to.”
It’s at that moment that I know this man is it for me.
No one else could ever challenge me the way he does.
Push me to my limits, force me to stand up for myself and take what I want.
No one else devotes themselves to me the way he does.
He even agreed to everything I wanted. Easily.
As if he’d already committed to it because he had.
I stare into his penetrating eyes as he pumps in and out of me. “I love you, Lachlan MacReid Ashford. My lord. My savior. I’ll love you until the day I die.”
Reverence and light flood his aqua blues in a way I’ve never seen. “You think I’d let death take you away from me?”
He thrusts harder, faster, his hands pinning mine to the counter.
Our eyes stay connected with an understanding that we know each other’s weaknesses, fears, desires, secrets, insecurities, and we’re staying regardless.
We’ll figure out our relationship through arguing, sex, and eventually compromise with thoughtful gestures thrown in the mix.
Love isn’t a specific plotline that everyone follows.
It can be messy, challenging, frustrating, pleasurable, and as unique as the two people involved.
It can grow and change. It can come from nothing, even from hate.
It’s the acceptance of another person’s flaws and the willingness to cherish that person anyway.
I found that in Lachlan. I found my match when I didn’t think one existed. When I didn’t think he was capable of anything more than driving me crazy. And I wouldn’t trade him for anything.