“I can’t believe it,” she gasps, shaking her head vehemently.
“It’s the truth.”
“No, I don’t mean that I don’t believe what you’re telling me. I just can’t fathom it. How could a mother be so cold?” Tears fall from her eyes so freely that my heart breaks—not for my past, but that I’m hurting my sweet Lydia with the tale of my past.
“She felt I’d become a part of him or that I helped him meet this woman. See, the other woman was the mother of a classmate who I was friends with. If I hadn’t been friends with him, my father wouldn’t have met the mother.” I used to harbor guilt for that, but my father made that choice all on his own.
“That’s nuts.”
“Yes. It is. I just want you to know my family’s dark past before you learn of it from everyone in town.” It’s no secret, and although they’ve moved on from it and I’ve become the central law enforcement figure in the area, many look at me with remorse and sadness when Mother’s and Father’s Day come around.
“I thought my parents were shitty.” I chuckle. “They’re just old and a bit self-absorbed, but they still love us.”
“Well, knowing that, do you still want to see where this goes?” I wanted to get it out of the way because it’s my biggest secret and my greatest shame.
“Why? Are you planning to cheat on me?” I question.
“No. God, no. It’s just…I’ve been insane about you from the second we met, and I’m worried that I could lose it.”
“I’m crazy about you too, and I don’t have killers in my family.”
“That’s because you have no idea how obsessed I am. The short time I worked yesterday felt like an eternity.”
“Well, since you shared that, I’ll share a secret with you. I threaten men, push them as far as I can when they get too close, all because I was almost drugged and raped at a party,” she says, blushing and ducking her head in embarrassment so she can’t see the red-hot rage written on my face and the tension rolling over my bones.
“What?” I snarl. “Please continue.”
“Yes. I got this creepy feeling about the situation I was in, and I called Darcy to get me.”
“Did he hurt you?” Running my hands down her arms, I feel her relax in my hold.
“No, but he left scars on me that I didn’t know could be fixed with just the sound of your voice or the touch of your hand. You’ve broken down my walls without even trying. I feel extremely safe with you, which is saying more than you can even understand. It’s a level of trust that I shouldn’t be giving away since we just met, but I need you to know it can easily be broken.”
“I’ll never do that to you, Lydia. What’s the name of this asshole?”
“It’s not important. He’s in prison for an actual assault. What I’m saying is that I’m crazy about you. It’s so new and I don’t know where this is going, but I’d like to find out.”
“You’re leaving in a couple of days,” I remind her, which sets a terrible pain in my gut.
“Yes. I suppose that does put a damper on this whole thing between us.”
I shake my head because there’s no way our relationship ends like this. I’ve never been so damn sure of anything in my life. “Who says so? Get your shit together in Chicago and in two weeks, I’ll be moving you here to become my wife.”
“Isn’t that a little fast?”
“I’ve waited for you to stroll into my life. Waiting any longer doesn’t feel plausible to me.”
“Wait…are you actually proposing?” Her eyes narrow into slits of confusion.
I smile and bite on her bottom lip gently. “Not yet, but by the end of the two weeks, we’ll figure it out.”
“Yep, starting to think you’ve lost it,” she mutters, running her hands through my thick hair.
“A little.” A lot is more like it, but I’ve waited long enough to be happy.
“Fine. I can agree to heading home and seeing where this goes. Maybe if you’re a really good boy, I’ll marry you.”
“And what constitutes being a good boy? I need to know what I’m up against.”
“Up against me sounds like a great way to be a…very…good…boy,” she says between kisses.
“My little firecracker, I’m about two seconds from taking you up to bed and stripping you down and fucking you until you’re too sore to walk.”
“Are you trying to make sure I can’t leave?”
“I do have handcuffs for that.” She freezes, and when I think I’ve gone too far, she moans and grinds on my lap.
“I’d love to be arrested by you.” She bites down on my earlobe, grinding her pussy down on my tented shorts.
“I’d spread you over the hood of my car, widening your stance so I could run my hand up and down your body, frisking you to make sure you have no weapons, but you’re armed.”