Page 72 of Craving Carla

“Of course I’m staying,” I say, pressing a kiss against her cheek. I take her hand and pull her up the stairs to her bedroom. Once inside, I look at the bed and smile, the memories of last night, the beauty of our lovemaking, the passion. I want to feel it all over again. Carla clutches my hand, swallowing, looking at me as if she’s unsure what to do next. I lean in, grinning, and place a gentle kiss on her forehead, then take her hand that I’m still holding and pull it to my lips, gently kissing the back of it.

“Go ahead with your bedtime routine,” I say, gesturing toward the bathroom. She does, looking back at me as she goes into the bathroom. I take off my shoes and unbutton my pants, then walk around to the bed and lie down. The bed still smells like our lovemaking. She’s not in there long, brushing her teeth, washing her face, then she steps out and walks over to the bed, climbing in beside me. I pull her into my arms as she rests her head against me, listening to the steady rhythm of my heart while I play in her hair.

“I love the sound of your heart,” she says softly, her ear pressed against me. “How does it feel? Do you feel different now?”

I smile softly, continuing to stroke her soft curls. “Yes, everything feels different. The way my blood flows in my veins to the way I see the world. It’s amazing how much can change in such a short period of time.”

I switch it around, curious about her well-being. “How are you feeling? Are you sore?”

“A little,” she admits, “but it’s manageable.”

Carla sits up and looks into my eyes with a grin that makes my newly beating heart skip. Her playfulness is something I hadn’t expected, and I find myself craving more of it.

“Rain check on the bear shifter style sexy role play,” I tell her with a wink, “but I haven’t forgotten. You’ll see what I have in store for you soon enough.”

“When can we do that again? Make love?” she asks, her voice soft but eager.

I smile and gently stroke her cheek, loving the way she leans into my touch. “As badly as I want to be inside you again, let’s give your body a couple of days to rest.”

Carla pouts her lips playfully, then rests her head back against me. The weight of her feels right, like she was meant to be there.

“I’m afraid to go to sleep,” she whispers, her fingers lightly tracing patterns against me. “That I’ll wake up again and you won’t be there.”

I cup her face and gently lift her so that our eyes meet. I need her to see the truth in mine. “I’m not leaving you again, Carla. Last night, I had to.”

“But you did come back,” she says, her eyebrows drawing together. “You just didn’t stay.”

“Because I came back covered in blood,” I explain. “I didn’t want to scare you.”

“Why did you do that?” she asks, sitting up and glaring at me.

I just grin at her lovingly. She is maddeningly beautiful when she gets angry with me. Her green eyes flash, and her cheeks flush with color. I want to kiss her again, but I know we need to have this conversation.

“What you did was reckless,” she continues. “You could have gotten Tofi, and the other children hurt.”

“I could never—” I start, but she’s already scooting away from me.

I sit up, frowning at the distance between us. A thousand years of longing for a mate, and distance is not something I’m willing to accept or tolerate. I grip her hips firmly, lifting hereffortlessly as if she weighs no more than paper, and place her in my lap so that she’s straddling me. She yelps and gasps, placing her hands against me for balance.

“No, Amari. This is serious. You can’t blow me off.”

“I’m not ignoring you, Carla,” I snap back. “I’ll admit, I shouldn’t have taken our children over the border.”

“Our children?” she questions, raising an eyebrow, and I grin widely at her.

“Yes, our children. They call me Daddy, so that’s who I am. And before you decide to argue this fact, consider Tofi. I think she’s a bit of a Daddy’s girl.”

“You...” she starts to growl, but I quickly cup her face and sit up, pulling her into a sweet kiss that quickly ends our argument.

Her lips are so soft against mine, yielding and warm. I deepen the kiss, my tongue seeking entrance, which she grants with a soft moan. I tangle my tongue with hers, tasting the sweetness of her, like peaches and honey. My heart swells with pride when she grinds against me, her body desperate for some type of friction. I pull my lips away from her, gently stroking her cheek, watching her pout a little from the loss of contact.

“I know what you need, baby,” I say, then lean in and brush my tongue over the claim mark on her neck, a mark she’s going to carry for eternity.

She shudders in my arms, her body responding to me even as her mind might still be uncertain. I lift her off my lap, and she pouts even more. I grin at her reaction.

“Don’t pout, angel,” I say. “Take off your panties.”

Carla stares at me nervously for a moment, but not for long. She complies, lifting her hips and pulling up her nightgown. She pulls her panties down and off her ankles, tossing them off the bed, looking at me, nervously biting her lip. I hate that she bites her lip—it makes me want to bite it for her.

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