Page 81 of When We Met

And I do in the next second, her plea pushing me over the edge. I stifle the grunt that leaves my lips, pushing into her once more, the purest pleasure imaginable surging through me.

Without a word, she stands up, my cock twitching between us.

I yank her to my chest and hold tight. “You can never leave Texas.”

She laughs. “That good, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

A man who loves his kids is one worth keeping.

KACY

“I not want sauce!” Sev screams at her dad, crying. She’s having a meltdown kind of day. She woke up pissed off and hasn’t recovered.

And Barron, he’s patient with her, but you can tell he’s ready to lose his shit at any minute. “I wasn’t going to put sauce on your damn noodles.” He picks her off the chair she’s standing on, crying. “Now go wash your hands for supper.”

She scowls, crossing her arms over her chest. “No!”

“Sevyn Rae Grady, you do not want to know what happens when I get to three.”

Her arms stiffen at her sides, and she growls at him. “Fine. But I not using soap dis time.”

Rolling his eyes, Barron turns her toward the bathroom. “Go.”

Camdyn holds up her wet hands, having listened to him the first time. “I did it already.”

Hell, his fatherly tone even has me washing my goddamn hands and wanting to rip his clothes off his body.

Lillian, who’s drinking from a bottle of wine, holds it up. “I’m empty. Is there more in the storm cellar?”

You know what I love about Lillian. Her crazy is right up front in your face. You can see it. And I want to be her best friend. I’ve never had a best friend, but I chose her.

Barron nods. “Yeah, I’ll grab a bottle.” And then he reaches my hand. “Morgan, keep an eye on the girls.”

Before I can comprehend what’s happening, I’m being yanked down to a storm cellar I didn’t even know existed. “Is this like a basement?”

“Yeah, kinda, but there’s outside access, and that door is steel.” He motions with a flick of his hand over his shoulder.

“For what?” I glance around as we move down the metal stairs into a dark room. Is this where he murders me?

“We have tornados here. You gotta have someplace to hide.”

The way he says someplace to hide makes me think he comes down here for more than storms.

Before I know it, he pushes me up against a wall and is working on his belt. “Sometimes, they drive me fucking crazy,” he mumbles, his tone off.

Okay, I see what this is. He’s about to lose his shit on the little one, and fucking me is a distraction. Sadly, I’ll take it because I can’t get enough of him. All I’ve thought about today is that blow job I gave him in the parts room, and how desired I felt when he was cradling my head in his hands, coming in my mouth.You’re messed up, Kacy.

Yeah, but this guy wants me.

And believe me, I’m fully aware that I’ll need therapy if I leave here.

Barron and I haven’t stopped fucking. Everywhere. Closets. Parts rooms. His bed, the bathroom shower. Every day, at least twice. It’s clear he’s gone years without sex because he’s like that kid I lost my virginity to that treated me like a pocket pussy anytime he needed to get off. We were sixteen, but come on, four times a day, every day… bit much if you ask me. And I also had what seemed like a permanent bladder infection.

That’s beside the point. Sex with Barron. Addicting. I can’t even look at him wearing Carhartt and that sexy black beanie cap that makes his eyes look exotic without spreading my damn legs for him.

Which would explain my current situation. In a storm cellar, against a cabinet with what he tells me are canned green beans, but look like alien fingers in a jar. Despite the situation and the cellar, I find myself compelled by him. I want every secret, every desire for myself. Sitting on a wooden bench, praying I don’t get splinters, I trace my thoughts down his spine, wishing we weren’t in the storm cellar.

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