Page 53 of Forget Me Not

I slide inside her roughly, fucking her just like she asked. She presses against me just as hard, meeting me stroke for stroke. I slide my arm farther up, wrapping my hand gently around her throat. I squeeze, applying the slightest bit of pressure as I continue to slam into her, and she explodes, squirting all over me. This time I don’t hold back, jerking my release into her.

I slowly slide out of her, holding her up as she finds her balance again. I turn her to face me, to watch me as I lower my fingers down to her pussy, coating them in the wetness seepingout of her. A mixture of her and myself. I bring the same fingers to her lips, and she opens, knowing exactly what I want.

“I fucking love you,” I say as she sucks every last drop from my fingers. I pull them out of her mouth, immediately leaning down to kiss her deeply, savoring what she just did.

“I fucking love you too.” She smiles up at me, her bright-green eyes glimmering with satisfaction.

“Turn around.” I reach behind me, grabbing the shampoo bottle she brought here a couple days ago and squirting a dollop into my hand. I massage it into her hair and then my own, allowing her to rinse first. I do the same with the conditioner. I pour out the body wash, lathering it together in my hands and taking my time cleaning every inch of her body. She does the same to me, and it takes everything in me not to bend her over and fuck her a second time.

But I don’t. I shut off the water and grab two towels, wrapping one around Lo before wrapping a second one around myself. I follow her out of the bathroom, leaning against my bedroom door, watching her as she unwraps the towel from her body to dry her hair. She walks over to my drawers, opens the one she has practically deemed her own, and grabs a fresh pair of underwear and pajama shorts. She slides them on, closes the drawers, and walks over to my closet, grabbing one of my T-shirts that fits her more like a dress. She slides it over her head before looking back at me.

“Enjoying the show?” She puts her hands on her hips, amused.

“Always, baby girl.” I walk over, pulling her into me and kissing the top of her head. I hold her there, reveling in the feel of her tucked into me this way.

“Good.” She smiles up at me. “Now get dressed, I’m hungry.” She stands on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek before walking outof the bedroom toward the kitchen. I slide on a pair of gray sweatpants and follow her out.

I walk into the kitchen to find her sitting on a barstool, drinking a glass of water. I’ll never get tired of seeing her in my space, in my clothes, in my life. She crashed into my life when I wasn’t looking, and now, I never want her to leave.

“How can I help?” she asks as I start to take ingredients out of the fridge to cook dinner.

“By keeping your ass sat in that chair and not touching anything.” I laugh while she pouts.

“You and your sister are exactly the same, you know? Neither of you ever let me help with any of the cooking.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a reason for that, baby girl.” I look over at her. “You burn everything you touch.”

“Well, it’s not my fault everything is so easy to burn.” She rolls her eyes. “I just won’t be the mom that bakes cookies for the bake sale. I have Demi for that.” She laughs and I smile at her before going back to chopping vegetables.

“So, you do want kids?” I ask.

“Well, not now. But eventually, with the right person, I think so.” She hesitates. “Do you?”

“Yeah, I’d like a kid or two one day.” I turn around, pausing what I’m doing to look at her. “This right person, you think you’ve met him yet?”

She looks up at me, her eyes locking onto mine. “Yeah, I think I have. Have you?”

“Definitely.” I don’t hesitate and her smile is immediate. I turn back around to continue what I was doing.

I finish chopping vegetables and slicing up some chicken breast, then dump the box of pasta into the boiling pot of water. I pour some canned sauce into a second pot to heat up and put the chicken breast I just sliced into a hot pan. I cook the chickenand add the vegetables once it’s halfway cooked through to cook with it.

I look over to Lo occasionally between stirs, but her attention is focused on her phone, most likely playingCandy Crush, which I’ve learned she’s addicted to. I’d never thought much about having kids before Logan. I’ve never even thought about a long-term relationship before her. I’d had plenty of opportunities to make something more with the women I’d seen in the past, yet when it got to that point, my first instinct was always to end it. She changed everything for me without even meaning to.

I dump the now-cooked pasta and sauce into the pan with the chicken and vegetables, combining them all together. I’ve always liked cooking. Never in the way Demi does, but it calmed me down to have a task to focus on when my mom wasn’t in the right state of mind. She was rarely stable enough to be home to make any sort of meals for me growing up, and when she was stable, she was working. So, with the help of Google, I taught myself. After years of practice, I’m not half-bad at it.

I grab two bowls and split the contents of the pan between the two. I give us each the same amount even though I know she won’t finish and will give her leftovers to me. It’s become our thing, even when we’re out to dinner. Lo is the definition of her eyes being bigger than her stomach. She orders loads of food and finishes about half of it. Not that I mind at all, frankly I think it’s adorable. The girl could order the whole damn menu at a restaurant, and I wouldn’t care. Anything to see her smile.

“Kade, this looks amazing.” She puts her phone down as I set the bowl in front of her. “And smells amazing.”

I put my bowl next to hers and grab us forks and napkins.

“It’s nothing special, just a quick meal.” I set the utensils down and sit down on the barstool next to her.

“You and Demi both always undersell your cooking skills. I mean, obviously, for her, it’s her craft, but you’re great at it too.”She takes a bite of the pasta and makes a noise that sounds a whole lot like a moan. “Damn, this is delicious.”

“I’m happy you think so, but you keep making noises like that, and the food isn’t going to be the only meal I’m looking to eat.” I raise an eyebrow at her, and a blush covers her cheeks as she laughs.

We sit next to each other in comfortable silence, eating our food. Like I assumed, she eats about two-thirds of the bowl before sliding the rest over to me with a smile. I laugh at her, finishing my food and then hers. She demands to do the dishes since I cooked, but I help her anyway.

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