Kristen Ashley

“Woulda made a deal with the devil to get my wife and daughter back.” He was still whispering and my breath stilled. “Don’t have that chance so nothin’ I can do about that. But I darkened your door, baby, and you lit up my life again, so I’m not lettin’ that go.”

“I’d do just about anything to make you look at me like that, Gwen. And I’ll keep doin’ it as long as I can surprise you and know, from that look, you like me spoilin’ you, it means somethin’ to you and I’m gonna keep doin’ it and only stop when I don’t get that in return.”

“Yeah?” he asked distractedly, and I slid my hand way.

He stopped looking left and right, his head turned to me and his hand shot out and grabbed mine, bringing it back and pressing it against his thigh.

His voice was soft when he explained, “I like your touch, honey.”

“I might have been willing to allow that had you not called him ‘honey’ right… in… front… of… me. Now you’ll get one over my cold, dead body,” I retorted.

“Baby, calm down,” Max said on another squeeze.

“Heard the knock, honey, expected to see your dad at the door. Damn better sight seein’ your mom smilin’ and wavin’ and jumpin’ up and down.”

“See I got mostly Nina Zombie,” Max said, his lips at my hair. “Get yourself sorted out, darlin’. I’ll go down and see that your mother doesn’t move into the barn.”

“Not a big fan of my woman running herself down, not even doin’ it as a joke. You got an unbelievably pretty face, fantastic fuckin’ eyes, and a spectacular body.”

“Max, I—”

His hands squeezed my bottom and he interrupted me. “And I hear you say different again, Duchess, I’m not gonna like it.”

“You love me,” he stated.

Oh God, it was happening, all of it, everything.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Say it,” he ordered.

He held my eyes and I said it. “I love you, Max.”

Her clear blue eyes skittered to him when he was five feet away and he felt the touch of them like it was real. A hand curled around his neck. Fingers gliding into his hair. Soft, light, sweet.

That kind of real.

Fuck.

She just had to look at him, that was it, and he reacted.

“I’m not…” I shook my head in disbelief. “Tate, baby,” I was still whispering, “when you’re here, I don’t wake up.” I felt the sting of tears in my eyes and kept whispering. “It’s only when you’re gone that I –”