The echoed words from the first night she’d given herself to me raged against the walls of the tiny room.
“Shea,” I murmured low, somehow her name coming off like a command, every part of me demanding this.
Outside, branches beat at the eaves, and a howl of wind screamed through the cracks of the old house.
Shea dragged her attention up to me. “Do you want to be with me, Sebastian? Really be with me?”
On the phone the other night, she’d asked me to promise her that it was only going to be her. I hadn’t hesitated. But I knew tonight she was asking for more. That she was asking me if this was going to be worth it.
Slowly, I pushed over the threshold.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Matching her.
Matching me.
Every essential part of her tugged at me. Sucked me in, pulled me deeper.
Deeper.
Deeper.
Deeper.
I stopped a fraction away. Slowly I reached out to touch Shea’s face. My thumb traced along the curve of her trembling bottom lip as I set my palm on her cheek. She leaned into it, and something inside me tripped.
Overthrown.
My gaze slid to Kallie, her expression lax and soft, glowing innocence, wild, wild curls.
About as wild as what I was feeling inside.
Watching Shea’s face for resistance, I leaned down and gently scooped Kallie into my arms.
The child weighed next to nothing, but God, if she didn’t feel like everything.
A sigh expended from her as she snuggled into my hold. Inhaling, I hugged her to me before I carefully nestled her in her bed. She released a jumble of tiny, unintelligible sounds, before she rolled onto her side with her fists pressed to her face. I brushed back her hair and pressed a tender kiss to her temple. One of those little hands came to my cheek as I did, chubby fingers scratching at the rough stubble of my jaw.
“My Baz.” The mumble of words distinct. Powerful. Shooting straight through me.
It was staggering—the overwhelming feeling that swept through me—like grief coated in the greatest joy.
I choked back a cry.
Kallie needed a daddy, didn’t she?
Someone to protect her. Someone to shelter and defend. Someone to stand for her through every bend and roadblock this life took her through.
Someone to take out any asshole who dared to stand against her.
My mouth went to her forehead, affection pressing full, words like gravel as they ground from my throat. “My Little Bug.”
I tugged the covers up to Kallie’s chin, dragging in a breath before I turned to Shea who was watching us with the hope I’d always thought she shouldn’t be hoping for.
It flamed in the air.
Provoking.
Urging.
God, I was so thankful that hope was still there.
I stretched out my hand, heat clawing up my arm when she touched me. I helped her to stand.
Tears kept up a constant stream down her face as we exited Kallie’s room, because I knew Shea wasn’t immune to this, either.
We paused just long enough to pull Kallie’s door mostly closed, leaving it open just a crack.
Staying a step ahead of Shea, I led her across the landing, my hand firm where it was wrapped around hers.
Sure.
Our breaths filled the air, shallow and labored, our footsteps slowed as we moved toward her bedroom, fire threatening to burn us up.
My body raged with the desire to get lost in her. In the sweetest flesh and caramel and honey. To fuck and taste and adore.
To completely let go.
That was intensified by the anger that had hounded me throughout the day—the fear that my lifestyle might steal them away.
Kallie.
Kallie.
Kallie.
This. Girl.
All of it just added another layer to the insanity Shea yielded over me like power.
More.
Fuck, I wanted more.
My heart slipped into overdrive the second I pulled her into the quiet of her room and clicked the door shut behind us.
Shea stood there in the middle of her room, peeking over at me, timid, yet still simmering sex and lust and everything I thought I could never have.
Thunder rolled in the distance.
That and the rapid fire of our panted breaths were the only sounds.
But my thoughts were deafening. Careening out of control as my gaze traveled over her. She was wearing a long-sleeved button-down satiny sleep shirt, a pair of pale pink shorts to match, those legs and that body and her heart demanding me. Tears still streaked down her cheeks as she struggled to break through the confusion and questions that had always acted as a barrier between us.
And I could feel all of those walls fracturing.
Disintegrating.
She whimpered in anticipation, just as much a prisoner to this as I. “What have you done to me?” she asked into the disorder.
I moved to her, doing my best to keep my composure as my fingertips fluttered along the sharp angle of her jaw, dragging down the delicate slope of her neck.
“Shea,” I whispered, drawing nearer. Her mouth parted on a breath, my own mimicking the action just so I could breathe her in.