Chapter 7

Seven

Missy

When we get home, there are dozens of luxury cars parked outside of my house.

I sputter at the sight, positive I’m seeing things.

There are football players in sweatpants mingling on my porch. Music is blaring from a third-story window. A pizza delivery guy is balancing at least ten pizzas in his hands while the coach counts out money from his wallet to pay. What is going on here?

My plan was to wait until Turk and I were sitting in my driveway to tell him…I don’t want us to be temporary. I’m not sure what love feels like, but I think…yes, I think I’m in it.

Definitely in it. One hundred percent.

My pulse is unruly and I can’t stop staring at his incredible jawline and eyes. He has the kindest eyes. Soulful and sweet. Unless he’s on top of me—and then, those eyes are a lot smokier. Heavy lidded and possessive. I love them both ways. Right now, my legs are itching to be back around his waist. I want to kiss him. I want his hands all over my skin and I want to spend a million years in bed with this man, being silly and telling him every one of my secrets. Learning all of his. I don’t want this to end.

If I’d had any experience with the opposite sex, maybe I would have known in the beginning that this man was going to be more important to me than anyone else. The feelings he inspired in me were unfamiliar, but they aren’t anymore. I can see now that I loved him almost immediately. Sensed my soul mate. And now I regret our agreement. I don’t want him to get me pregnant and end our association there. No. It’s unthinkable.

But does he feel the same way?

What if he doesn’t?

How can I expect a man—as perfect and wonderful as this one—to dive into parenthood with someone he’s only known such a short time? Based on popular movies and television shows, men often have to be dragged into such arrangements. What if he’s not interested? How am I going to survive the heartbreak?

I glance over at Turk where he sits in the driver’s seat, surprised to find him staring back at me, chewing the inside of his cheek. His chest rises and falls quickly. What is he thinking about? I don’t get a chance to find out before he’s shaking himself, the line disappearing from between his brows. “You said you wanted to fill this house with people.” He nods at the mayhem taking place in my driveway. “So I threw a party. I hope you don’t mind.”

When his words register, a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob leaves my mouth, my hands flying up and pressing to my cheeks. Love so thick I can barely breathe around it floods my chest, my middle. All of me. All for him. “You…did?” The backs of my eyes are burning, along with the tip of my nose. “When?”

“I sent a few texts on our way out of the stadium. Sorry, they were supposed to stay outside. Looks like someone found your spare key.”

“I don’t mind,” I whisper, awestruck.

“You should know…” A line jumps in his cheek. “I threatened to murder anyone who I decide is being too friendly toward you. Just in case you’re wondering why a bunch of foul-mouthed athletes are acting like polite gentlemen.”

My giggle catches me off guard. I’ve never heard myself laugh like this.

Turk swallows audibly, his hand turning to a fist on the steering wheel. “That has to be the most incredible sound on the planet.”

As if realizing he’d said too much, Turk drops his hand from the wheel, pushing open the driver’s side door. He does all of this while I’m melting into a puddle of goo not three feet away. Can’t he tell? Are we going to have that chance to talk now? These feelings are threatening to burst out of me at any moment. Watching him cross the front bumper on his way to open my door has my thighs cinching together, my fingertips curling into the seat.

Need him.

He reaches my side and pulls open the door, unbuckling me while making close eye contact, his knuckles brushing my nipples once, then twice to let me know it wasn’t an accident. While I struggle to keep my breathing under control, he leans in and speaks directly into my ear. “You’re going to hold Daddy’s hand the entire time. Have a good time and enjoy yourself, but don’t leave my side until every last male has gone home. It’s the only way I’ll be able to stay calm.”

How did I ever live without this?

Was I half alive all along?

I love being obedient to this man. Turk. Only Turk. Because I know with total confidence that he cares about and respects me. I’m the one who called him Daddy first. I asked him to play this role because something on my inside was unmoored. Until now.

Without a word, I hold out my hand and Turk takes it, winding our fingers together and lifting me out of the truck with the opposite forearm, holding me close for several seconds, kissing my forehead and swaying, before finally leading me toward the house.

A loud cheer goes up and I stumble backward, caught off guard. Thankfully, Turk must have anticipated my surprise, because he moves just in time, my back landing against his chest.

“There she is,” shouts the coach, holding up a bottle of beer. “The MVP of today’s game. They didn’t know what hit them in the second half.” More cheers and whistles. “If being an heiress doesn’t pan out, you’ve always got a job as an assistant coach.” Everyone laughs at this, including Turk, amusement rumbling in his chest. “To Missy,” the couch barks, holding his beer higher—and while I watch in astonishment, everyone does the same, repeating the toast.

My eyes flood with tears and I turn, burying my face in Turk’s powerful chest, his arms enfolding me instantly. He kisses the crown of my head and holds me close without saying anything. The party resumes as loudly and raucously as before—and it’s the most glorious thing.

Having some life within my walls.

Having life surround me at all.

I took a chance by approaching this man and the reward is impossible to put into words. He’s a miracle. A wonder. And I have to find the courage to ask him to stay.

Obviously now is not the time, since an entire football team and coaching staff are partying in my house. But it has to be today. I can’t sleep another night without him.

Turk takes a firm grip of my hand that translates to a deep twist in my tummy. Kissing my knuckles once, he walks me into the house where we are immediately surrounded by football players and music. Someone hands me a beer and I start to tell them I’m not twenty-one yet, but stop short of outing myself and take a long sip, grimacing over the taste. Thankfully, I don’t have to imbibe any further, thanks to so many of the players peppering me with questions, wanting to know how I recognized the correct strategy to win the game.

Is this really happening? They’re actually asking for my input?

Yes. They’re not intimidated or annoyed by what I’m saying—and that makes me wonder if I just came into contact with the wrong people too young. People who resented my brain instead of welcoming how it worked…and because of those reactions, I retreated into myself. Locked myself away.

Until this man came and turned the key. Let me out.

Made the world feel alive.

Encouraged me to be unafraid to make my voice heard.

Oh my God, I love him so much.

I look up at Turk and find him snarling at a member of the coaching staff for standing too close to me. His face softens when I squeeze his hand and lean into his side. “Not a fan of beer, huh, cutie?” he says gruffly, his nose moving in my hair.

“It’s fire water.” He laughs while I scrunch my nose. “It’s odd, though. I only took one sip and I already need the restroom.”

He nods. Takes a long gulp from his bottle. “Let’s go, then.”

A finger of lust tickles my belly, just knowing I’ll be alone with him soon.

I find myself being led through the animated throng of guests, up the stairs. Somehow Turk locates one of the bathrooms after only trying two doors and instead of waiting in the hallway, he guides me inside. Leaving the light off, he closes the door and presses me up against it, breathing hard against my mouth while wrenching my skirt down to my trembling knees, his thickness prominent between us. Impossible to ignore.

“You don’t really need to use the bathroom,” he says hoarsely. “Do you?”

“No,” I whisper, no longer surprised how easily he reads me.

And immediately I’m carried across the bathroom to the toilet. Turk sits down, using his foot to kick my skirt the rest of the way off and yanks me down onto his lap, his breathing shallow and out of control.

“I need to be inside of you again.” His mouth is flush to mine, his fingers yanking at the button and zipper of his pants, hips lifting—and then I’m being elevated quickly and brought down hard on his thickness, the raw length of it filling the entirety of me in one swift invasion and I scream into the wild kiss he initiates. At first I’m not even sure why I’m screaming. Because I’m surprised? Because it hurts? But…no, it’s none of those things. My body knows it before my brain. I’m screaming because I’m anxious. Turned on to the point of pain. My stiff nipples electrify a path down to my clitoris and I begin rutting Turk from above, my hoarse whines muffled against his sculpted mouth, my hips working furiously to drag his shaft in, out, inoutinoutinout, my butt held in the tight clutch of his huge hands.

“You never have to lie if you want to get me alone.” He says these words through his teeth, in between rushed breaths. “Just smile at me. That’s all it’ll take and I’ll be looking for the nearest closet. I’ll get you on this dick as fast as I can. Trust me.”

I’m riding him so hard and fast that my back teeth clack together. “You mean…in the future? I…I love you talking like that, Turk. Like there will be more of us.”

“Why?” He searches my eyes. “Tell me.”

How can I be anything but truthful when he is giving me a place to rub the most sensitive part of my body, encouraging me with his rolling hips and feverish eyes to be free and uninhibited? How can I lie to this person who reminded me in the space of twenty-four hours that I’m alive? “Because I don’t want to be alone ever again,” I whisper against his mouth. “Not after you showed me how good it feels to have you.” Needing to be as close as possible to him, I draw my shirt up over my head, drop it behind me, baring myself in more ways than one. “Stay. Please, stay?”

We slow the frantic mating of our bodies down and stare at each other, pelting one another’s mouth with halting breaths. “You mean that?”

Is that hope in his eyes? It’s hard to tell in the mostly dark bathroom, but I rely on instinct. On my gut. And I fling myself into the unknown with my trust in him as my only parachute. “Yes. I mean it. I don’t want to be without you.”

“Oh cutie,” he says thickly, standing up while still inside me, my thighs perched on his hips. Crossing the bathroom slowly, he presses me into the door with a hoarse sound. Presses me so tight that no human could detect where he ends and I begin—a position that makes my soul rejoice. “I never want to be away from you. Not for a second for the rest of my life.”

There is so much truth and conviction in his tone, I’m not sure why I detect a but coming. All I know is I don’t want to hear it. I want my heart to continue overflowing with the proof that he wants to be with me. So I pull his mouth down to mine and delve my tongue inside, sweeping the cavern thoroughly, all while whimpering, flexing my womanhood around his sex. How far I’ve come in only two intimate experiences—I’m already using my body to get what I want. I won’t get used to doing so, but this time, it seems vital. “Please, I want to be taken hard,” I breathe, tugging on his bottom lip with my teeth. “As hard as you can.”

His chest is rising up and shuddering down, the smell of male sweat and testosterone teasing my nose. And when he hits me with a jarring upthrust, I gasp in relief, knowing there will only be this for a while. We have oblivion ahead of us, before I dig for the source of what’s holding him back. Something is. I can sense it.

But not right now.

He’s looking me square in the eye and ramming his obscenely large appendage up between my thighs, his mouth dropping to suck and lick at my breasts with beastly noises, the sound of smacking flesh filling the bathroom.

“Come as deep as you can, Daddy,” I hiccup in his ear. “Make us a baby.”

He roars into my neck and punches his hips faster, the door rattling in its frame. “Yes,” he grunts. “I’ll give my little girl a baby. I’ll give you anything you want when I’m nuts deep in this hot young pussy. Ask me to walk barefoot to Egypt and back. I’ll do it. Just don’t ask me to pull out. Just let me fuck it until I bust.” His head falls back on a long, halting groan. “You make me bust so fucking good, baby. So slick and tight. Goddamn. No sweeter hole, is there? No, there’s only this one. Only Missy’s.”

We aren’t in control. His teeth rake all over me, marking me. I twist his hair in my fists, pulling him toward my breasts one second, fighting him off the next, if only so he’ll dominate me back. Shove me harder against the door and punish my flesh with rougher strokes, his teeth bared to my throat. We’re kind of twisted, but we’re twisted together and that, somehow, is beautiful.

Those muscles, the tiny, female ones that I never knew existed before Turk…they start to lock up and I heave a rendition of his name, my back arching off the door. And he knows what I’m trying to communicate. He must, because he angles his hips for maximum friction to my sensitive nub and grinds on it gently, then harder and harder until tears fill my eyes and I erupt like a volcano, crying out, shaking violently, pleasure and sin and relief cutting through me like a velvet blade. “Turk. Turk. Turk.”

“Christ. You’re fucking sweet, Missy. Making my dick so sticky.” He looks down at our joined bodies and moans, bouncing me in quick succession on his hardness. “Going to paint the walls of this pretty little thing now. Can’t even believe I lasted this long. It’s like you were designed to make me come fast.”

“Let me do it,” I say, still wrapped securely in lust. Responsibility to make this man feel pleasure like he gives me. “Let me finish you.”

“Anything. Anything you ask me for.” Breath racing in and out, Turk slaps his palms to the door above my head, his lower body easing back slightly from trapping me—and holding on to his broad shoulders, I begin to work my hips, ticking back and squeezing forward. Circling around on his throbbing shaft. Locking my ankles behind his back and using the leverage to ride up and down, lifting up and smacking down with a wet sound, our groans echoing in the bathroom. “Ohhhhh fuck, Missy. Oh Jesus, I can’t stand how good it feels.” A tremor goes through him and he sucks in a breath. “Fuck! I’m coming.”

I’m slammed to the door so swiftly, the wind is knocked out of me and Turk lodges himself deep inside of me with a broken sound, shuddering, hips spasming, his open mouth wet on my neck. The bloom of liquid heat inside of me is so satisfying and welcome that I almost have another orgasm, just knowing we’re connecting in such an intimate way. Turk all but smothers me while the relief rips through him, seeming to go on for long minutes, his muscles rippling, jaw clenched, eyes glassy.

Finally, the tension deserts him completely and he holds me close, allowing me to settle my feet on the floor while he kisses my face, my mouth, the crown of my head. “Missy…”

He swallows hard, looking stricken.

And I brace for bad news. It’s coming. I can feel it.

“You don’t want to stay?” I whisper.

His blue eyes shoot to mine, incredulous. “How can you ask me that?” Looking concerned beyond belief, he cradles my face in his hands. “Life isn’t going to be worth living unless it’s with you, Missy. I can’t breathe just thinking about waking up tomorrow without you. Or no plans to see you. I’d rather go to hell and sit beside the devil.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

His hands drop away from my face. “What’s wrong is…I lied to you. From the beginning.” He takes a few steps away, fixes his jeans and rakes agitated fingers through his hair. “And you deserve far better than a liar.”

My mind races trying to find the lie. Or anything suspicious. Have I been so dazzled by Turk and how he makes me feel that I missed something important? “You’re not m-married, are you?”

“What? Jesus no.” He lunges toward me, stroking my hair back from my face. “No, of course I’m not married, cutie. I’ve never felt enough for anyone else to even consider it. I’m all fucking yours. Inside and out. Top to bottom. There will never be another as long as I live.”

Tears press against the backs of my eyes. It’s everything I could ever hope to hear, so what is the problem? “How did you lie to me?”

A brief hesitation. And then, “I told you that your body would trust mine more, that you would have a better chance of getting pregnant, if we spent time together. But I took advantage of your lack of experience, because that’s not true.” He shakes his head miserably. “I just…I wanted to squeeze as much time with you out of our agreement as possible.”

I stare at him in disbelief.

That’sthe lie?

That’s it?

In that moment, I know this man will never, ever hurt me. He isn’t capable of it. He is honest and wonderful and I’m so relieved I looked out my window and spotted him. A diamond in the rough. A man who looks positively tortured over the best lie that has ever been told.

“I’m sorry, Missy,” he rasps, reaching past me for the bathroom doorknob, giving me a look rife with longing. “I’ll see myself out.”

I’m so dumbfounded that I don’t realize he’s leaving until I’m standing alone in the bathroom. Urgency finally licks at my senses, though, and I start to run after him, only to realize I am fully naked. As fast as humanly possible, I get dressed, with my heart beating in my mouth, and I sprint after him. Down the stairs, through the now-dancing party guests and out the front door. When my feet touch down on the driveway, Turk has halfway climbed into his truck.

No.

“Turk!” I cry out, running toward him.

He stops on a dime, ducking back out of the vehicle and standing stock-still, hands balled into fists at his sides, his expression ravaged. But when I continue running, closer and closer, hope starts to transform his features. And then he’s in pure awe by the time I leap into his arms, wrapping my arms as tightly as possible around his neck.

“Missy?” he chokes out.

“You’re not going anywhere, you silly man.” Tears fall from my eyes and soak into the shoulder of his shirt. “Do you know how incredible it makes me feel to know you wanted as much time with me as possible? You can lie about that any time you want.” I rain kisses all over his face. “If you didn’t tell that lie, I might not have realized that what I was feeling for you was love. I love you. I love you.”

Turk stumbles sideways into the side of his truck, still holding me securely against his chest. “You love me?” I nod vigorously, kissing his mouth, his jaw, his cheeks, all while he visibly reels at my declaration. “You can’t possibly love me a fraction of how much I love you, cutie,” he says raggedly, his own eyes suspiciously wet, throat working furiously. “I’ll only tell you one more lie, then there won’t be another one as long as I live.”

“Let’s hear it,” I whisper, trusting him completely. With my whole heart.

His lips twitch. “I’m leaving.”

In other words, he’s staying. Forever. The resounding truth is shining in his eyes.

“I love that lie,” I manage around the knot in my throat.

He carries me toward the house, his mouth roaming over mine, adoration in his every touch. “We should probably discuss baby names…”

Our mutual laughter carries off on the breeze.