Page 19 of Dirty Lyrics
But now that I have her back, I know I’m not letting her out of my sight.
Still, I have questions.
About her name.
About the sleek black Amex tucked into that little phone wallet.
About the address on her ID—Central Park West.
Maya’s been keeping secrets. Big ones.
And I intend to uncover every single one.
But even with the questions swirling, even with the anger simmering, when I look at her—really look at her—it’s lust that damn near drives me insane.
She’s standing there barefoot in her tiny living room, still wearing her short shorts and an oversized T-shirt that hangs off one shoulder, and all I can think about is dragging it over her head.
She’s thick, curvy, sexy as fuck.
I know she thinks she’s too big, that she hides behind self-deprecating little jokes, but not to me. Never to me.
I love every inch of her.
The soft valleys, the lush curves, the parts of her that make a man want to drop to his knees and thank God for the miracle of her body.
She doesn’t get it yet.
She doesn’t know the lengths I’m willing to go for her.
But she will. We’ve got a few months before my son is born.
A son. Mine. Ours.
The words catch in my throat.
For a split second, fear claws at me.
What if I’m not enough? What if I fuck it up, the way my father did?
But then I shove those harmful thoughts away.
Because I already love him.
My son.
I already want him.
That alone makes me a better man than the one who gave me nothing but his absence.
But can I be the husband I want to be?
The man Maya deserves?
The answer isn’t at all complicated. It’s yes.
Plain. Simple. True.
Music starts to swell inside me, a low ache in my chest that builds and builds until I have to close my eyes and let it play.
