Raze’s bathroom is huge. It’s equipped with twin sinks and a long glass-encased shower. It’s almost like a sanctuary up here, where he looks down on his kingdom through all the windows that surround his room. Opening the door, I slip on one of his shirts. Pulling my hair out from underneath, my eyes catch him sitting on his bed.
“Hey,” I whisper hoarsely, rounding the bed. He smiles as I stand in front of him. He leans back on his elbows and spreads his legs wide, and I lower myself until I’m straddling his waist and his erection is pressing into my sex. Grinning, he lays flat on his back as his fingertips trail up my hips and come up to my ribcage. He presses my body weight down harder while sucking his bottom lip into his mouth.
“You miss me?” he groans.
The question throws me off. It’s so… unlike Raze.
“A little,” I confess. “But I have to admit, the thought of you pressing a knife against my throat sort of turns me…” I pause and think over what I’m about to say. I was supposed to say “off,” because I actually thought he wanted to kill me. But now… now that I know he wasn’t actually going to kill me, it doesn’t turn me off at all. Quite the opposite.
Whore.
Oh, there they are. I’d been wondering what happened to my voices.
He flips me over onto my back and stretches my legs wide with his. “Turns you… what?” He runs his slick tongue over my bottom lip. “What?” he repeats, his eyes darkening. “The knife excite you?”
Oh boy. Can I handle Raze’s bedroom games while I’m five months pregnant? I grin. Absolutely.
His hips roll into me and I close my eyes, relishing the feeling of his heavy body weighing me down, but also a little uncomfortable because of the bump.
Tapping his shoulder, I say, “On your back.”
He lets me go, his hands coming up in surrender while he shuffles back against the headboard, and I get to my feet. I search the room for what I’m looking for, and my eyes fall on his drawer, which houses so many of his toys. I grin, walking toward the drawer, and his eyes follow.
“Fuck no, baby. There is no way you’re getting your hands on—”
I pull out the heavy silver metal. “Handcuffs?” I grin, fluttering my lashes at him. “I’ll tell you what,” I say, climbing back onto the soft bed until my knees sink under my weight. I crawl up toward him and then slowly make my way up his body. “You let me do this,” I tease, “and I’ll forget you almost ganked me in my sleep.”
“First of all,” he begins, “don’t ever say ‘gank.’ That term reminds me of the twit downstairs. And second of all.” His features darken and a smile invades his face. “Deal.”
I latch the silver cuffs around his wrists, and he growls softly.
“Nuh-uh.” I shake my finger in front of his face. “My turn to play.”
After hooking the cuffs onto the little poles on the headboard, I grin, looking down at Raze’s body. Each bulging muscle is tensing from his arms being above his head. I run my nails down his torso, grinding them over each embossed muscle. He hisses, and I pull his jeans down until his cock springs free. Grasping it in my hand, I pump him a couple times until a bead of cum slides out the tip, and I rub the cushion of my thumb over it. I massage him softly and then stand, removing his T-shirt which catches where his hands are cuffed, before looming over him in all my naked glory.
He yanks on the handcuffs with a soft growl. “Don’t test my strength, babe.”
I giggle, dropping back down to him and gripping his cock in my hand. Leaning forward, I suck him into my mouth slowly, peeking up at him from under my lashes. His eyebrows are drawn in, his bottom lip sucked into his mouth, and damn if it isn’t the hottest sight I’ve ever seen. Both his arms spread as his wrists are cuffed above his head. I’m in complete control of him.
I like this game.
Running my tongue down his massive length, I suck, kiss, and lick all the way down to his balls, pulling one into my mouth and running my tongue around him in circles before coming back up then slipping him back inside my mouth. My hand follows my mouth’s movements, and I continue my torture, sucking him harder as my tongue circles him. “Fuck, baby, I’m—”
Yeah, that’s right you are.
Hot cum shoots to the back of my throat, and I swallow each drop before moving back to his tip and licking the remnants of his pleasure off, wanting every little bit of him. I grin, getting to my knees and sucking the bead of cum off that was on my thumb. His eyes narrow before he yanks at the handcuffs roughly. I squeal out in shock when he breaks the little poles the handcuffs were attached to, his grasp coming straight to my hips. He lifts me up quickly and then lies on his back, dropping me down onto his face so I’m straddling him.
“Ride me, baby,” he growls against my folds. Spreading my ass cheeks, he moves my hips just as his tongue flicks over my clit. I gasp, throwing my head back as his tongue explores every inch of my sex. His expert tongue slips and licks, and he nibbles on my clit as his fingers slip inside me, circling me roughly and smashing against my G-spot with every thrust. My stomach tightens, my legs quiver, and just when I’m about to explode, he slips his tongue inside my channel and I’m done for. Spasms shake through my nerves as I jerk against his mouth.
Coming down, I slide off his face and wiggle down to his stomach, our bodies slipping over each other, and I lay my head on his chest, catching my breath while listening to the hard beating of his heart. He rolls me onto my back, widening my legs with his own. He doesn’t talk; he just looks down at me as he slides into me, filling me up.
I bring my hands up to the back of his neck as he draws back slowly and then pushes in, circling his pelvic bone each time he plunges. This time is different. It’s slow, sensual. Our bodies move together, slipping over each other with nothing but our sweat between us. His mouth drops down onto mine, kissing me. His lips taking me in slow licks, moving over mine softly. He doesn’t break away.
For the next two hours, he kisses me and doesn’t stop. Even when I’m screaming his name into his mouth and he’s groaning mine, he doesn’t stop kissing me. Even when our hair is dripping wet and our bodies are drained, he doesn’t stop diving into me softly until our bodies shake. We slowly fall asleep wrapped in each other’s embrace, with him still inside me.
“I GUESS I SHOULD CALL Melissa and tell her I’m back,” I say to Angel, shutting the fridge door and pouring milk into my bowl.
He laughs. “Yeah, you should.” He walks up to me and points down to my belly. “Girl, huh?”
I smile, spooning granola into my mouth. “Mmm-hmm.”
His eyes haven’t moved, so I roll my eyes. “Want to feel the belly?”
He looks up at me. “Can I?” It’s cute, the wonder in his voice. I place his hand over my belly and he grins slowly. “That’s insane.”
“Oh!” I smile, my eyes widening as I look up to him.
“Did she just kick?” He looks down, stunned.
“She did!”
“Damn, that’s cool as hell.”
I smile up at him. “Did you not feel this with Summer?”
His smile drops. “Her mom was a junkie. Summer was three months premature. She barely made it into this world with her life because of her own mother.”
“Oh,” I whisper sadly. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugs, a smile beaming from him again. “Make her do it again!”
We’re both laughing and feeling around for her to kick again, when Raze walks in from his daily run. He pauses, swiping the sweat off his forehead, then looks down to Angel’s hand on my bump. Angel quickly retreats and walks out of the kitchen, with Raze watching him leave.
Spooning another mouthful of granola into my mouth, I say, “You don’t have to do that. I’m glad he’s interested. They’re going to be a big part of her life, Raze.”
He doesn’t say anything, stepping toward the fridge and pulling out a fresh bottle of water, twisting the cap off, and gulping it down. I watch as his Adam’s apple bobs past his swal
lowing, his eyes remaining on me. Pulling the bottle down, he swipes his mouth with the back of his hand and places the water on the bench.
“What?” I ask. “You’re going to need to talk to me about this one of these days, Raze, and I’d rather you do it before she comes into this world.”
His eyes stay on mine and I cringe inwardly; he’s so damn intense. The ringing doorbell breaks our epic stare-down and he looks toward the front door, pushing off the breakfast bar and walking away in silence.
Going back to my granola, I mutter, “Asshole.” I silently ignore the hushed tones coming from the front door—that is, until I hear a female voice. Sliding off the bar stool, I walk to the threshold of the kitchen and lean on the archway with my arms crossed. The woman on the other side of the door peers around Raze’s frame and catches my eye. I square my shoulders, my body stiffening. Her eyes narrow, and Raze turns his head to look over his shoulder, seeing me there.
I scoff, pushing off the doorjamb. “Seriously?” When Raze doesn’t move and the woman smirks at me, my scowl deepens. She’s wearing a white, ironed suit with her blood red lace bra showing slightly from beneath her jacket, and her perky, but obviously fake, boobs press up to the high heavens. Her platinum blonde hair is pulled back in a high, tight ponytail, tugging her almond eyes back severely. “Really, Raze? Why am I not fucking surprised?”
I walk away from them and start stomping up the stairs. I don’t know why my mind jumped the way it did, but maybe it has something to do with Raze’s track record with me. It didn’t take him long though, and I feel sick. So while I was slumming it in my rundown apartment, worrying about our kid, he was getting his dick wet with Miss Prim and Proper downstairs? I make down the hallway, and when I hear the front door close, I duck into Miles’ room quickly. The morning sun always hits Miles’ room first. Leaning on the door with my hand still on the doorknob, I flick the lock and walk toward his bed. It’s still so untouched, and still has Miles’ scent everywhere. I love it.
Sinking onto the soft mattress, I lie down on my back and rub my belly, glancing up at the ceiling. This was what Miles woke up to every morning. I miss him so much it consumes me at times. Turning onto my side, I feel my eyes grow heavy and a yawn slipping past my lips.
“You cannot do that!” Miles scolded, as I threw back another shot of vodka.
“Oh yeah?” I grinned. “Says who?”
He looked horrified. “Says me! You can’t do that, puddin’. Put it back. That’s cheating.” I stood from the other side of the chessboard and rounded it, wrapping my fingers around the back of his neck and lowering myself down onto his lap. He groaned, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.
“You’re gonna get us both killed one day,” he murmured, his eyes heavy and eyebrows pulled in.
I ran the tip of my nose down his jaw. “You’d be worth it.”
Thud thud thud. “Millie, open this fucking door before I smash it down.”
Climbing off the bed, I look at the alarm clock on the bedside table to see I must have drifted off for half an hour. Thud thud. “Millie!”
“All right! I’m coming.” I walk to the door, unlock it, and pull it open to a seething Raze.
“What the fuck is your problem?” he asks.
I shove past him, only he doesn’t let me through. I cross my arms in front of myself. “You’re my problem! Who the fuck was that, and why can’t you keep your fucking dick in your pants?”
“That,” he throws back at me, pointing toward the front door, “was before you!”
I exhale, lowering my arms to my sides. Truth is, in my hormonal state, I’m hyperaware. I feel like any little thing could either piss me off or get me horny.
“Why was she here?”
Raze watches me carefully, his eyes eating up the space between us. “Come on,” he says, nudging his head over his shoulder. As he takes my hand in his, I follow him out of Miles’ room and down the hallway until we reach the top of the stairs.
“Where are we going?” I ask, taking one step at a time.
“I need to show you something.” Tugging me out the front door, he beeps the Range Rover and pauses. The loud crunching of the gravel under my feet silences and my chest almost collides with his back. Turning around, he grins before flinging the keys toward me. “Here, you may as well get used to driving it.”
“What?” I palm the keys in my hand.
He gestures toward the shiny black Range Rover I’m so familiar with driving. “Family car. Since I don’t do vans, this will have to do.”
“You’re going to let me use this full time?” I ask, cocking my head. His face falls briefly.
“Just until I get you a car, yeah.” He pulls open the passenger door, unaware of the effect he’s just had on me.
“Raze!” I laugh under my breath, while still being completely serious. “I can’t use this, and I can buy my own car.”
He growls, pushing open the passenger door and walking toward me. Running the backs of his coarse knuckles over my cheek, he says, “Babe, you’re going to accept anything I buy for you, and this is the last time we ever mention it.”
Why is this the last time we ever mention it? Being my stubborn self, I ask, “Why?”
His eyes drop to my belly and then come back to mine. Understanding sets in and I nod, squeezing his hand reassuringly. He needs this. “Let’s go.” Raze is a man of few words—I know this—so when he drops any sort of hint, I’ve learned to pick them up and shove them into my pocket for safe keeping. Sliding into the driver’s side, I clip my seatbelt and push the start button.
“Where to?” I ask, watching his features harden the way I’ve seen them do so many times before. I’ve always wondered why I feel so drawn to Raze—aside from him being beautiful—but there’s just something about him. The way he carries his exquisitely dark shadows around. And at times, at the smallest of times, he’s let me see those shadows lurking in his eyes, feel them through his touch, or hear them through his words, but our connection goes deeper than that. He can deny it all he wants, but I know him. As cheesy as this may sound, it’s as though he is made for me and only me. It’s like he’s been cooked up using the ingredients to my soul, and that’s how he feeds me.
“Drive.” He clears his throat. “I’ll direct you as we go.”
The drive across town was a little longer than expected. That’s probably due to the time and it being peak hour traffic. “Here.” He points, one hand hanging off the armrest, and the other resting in his lap.
I look toward the front of the car, and whisper, “Okay.”
Yanking up the emergency brake, I look outside to see old rusted metal all bound together by what I’m assuming are equally rusted nails. There’s no sign of people around, and I’m not sure how long ago there would have been anyone here. Taking my eyes off the abandoned building, I look back toward him. “Why are we here, Raze?” From the look on his face, I want to reach out and take his hand, tell him it’s going to be okay, but I know he’s going to be. I mean, this is Raze, right?
Clearing his throat, he tilts his head and pushes open the door. “Come on.”
Getting out of the driver’s side, I walk—or is that a waddle I feel?—around to the hood of the car, watching Raze glare at the building in front of us.
Instincts win and I take his hand in mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze. His eyes falter and then come down to me, where they morph into something a little more approachable. Lacing our fingers together, he starts to lead us toward the building and through the smell of cold, old metal and untouched dust, until we’re standing at the front of two washed out red metal doors. He pushes me behind him, and with a heavy creak, he opens them until the inky interior is split from the setting sun.
He takes my hand again and I follow, ignoring the silence and just hoping he will trust me enough to open up to me about why we’re here, what this place is, or what it means to him. Letting go of my hand, he walks toward the center of the musky industrial shed and loo
ks up to the ceiling. His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows, before he says, “Took my first life here.” And then he looks back at me, his eyes darkening and his face changing. This is the executioner talking right now, not Raze. “I was five.” I suck in a breath and he grins darkly. “You still want a kid with me?”
Chills break out over my body and I clear my throat. “That will never change. And besides, it’s a little late to be asking that, don’t you think?” I attempt to lighten the mood with my own small smile. His doesn’t falter, but he doesn’t find me funny. Instead, he steps toward me, and I have this terrifying urge to step back, or hell, run? This is where the dumb girl gets murdered in the movies, right?
His head cocks as he saunters toward me, every sway of his shoulders threatening and every twitch of his eye unnerving. A bead of sweat trickles down my temple, and I fight the urge to rub it off. “Why?” he whispers, walking up to me until his chest is a mere breath away from mine. “Why have you never been afraid of me? Why would you want to have a kid with me, Millie?” His head dips into my neck and his nose brushes over my earlobe. “Hmm? Why me?” he growls so deep it shakes the hairs on my skin.
Swallowing down my fear, because, as cocky and as stupid as it may sound, I now know he’d never hurt me. He had every reason to when he found me, so why do it now? I know he hasn’t said he loves me, and I know I’m riding on a whole lot of hope, but what can I say? I’ve always been an optimist.
“Why not?” I answer truthfully. His chuckles quiver through the air.
“Because I just told you that I took my first fucking life in this very spot when I was five, Millie!” he yells. “Do you wanna know who handed me the knife to slit the man’s throat?” He pauses. “Hmm?” When I don’t answer but shake my head, he continues, “My fucking dad. The only fucking father figure I’ve ever had. So what the fuck makes you think I’m cut out for this?”
He walks toward me, and this time, I do step backward, my ass bouncing off the creaking wooden stair rail. When he notices the fear in my eyes, he chuckles again. His voice drops to a deadly tone as his lips brush over my collarbone. He cages me in, his hands slamming up against the stairs on either side of my head.