Haunt (Bayonet Scars #6) by JC Emery Page A

to find some indication that she gets me. That she believes me. I need her to trust in me again. Amber’s eyes fall closed for a moment before she opens them again and looks up at me with a fear I haven’t seen since we stared at that pregnancy test that told us our entire world was changing. There’s so much I want to say, but I can’t find my voice.
    With slow movements, she reaches up and places her hands on my chest, trailing them up to my shoulders. She reaches up to my neck, and just like a dance we’ve performed a thousand times, I know what this means. I wrap my hands around the backs of her legs and lift her up. She’s still so light in my arms compared to the enormity of her presence in my life. With her legs wrapped around my hips, she presses herself against me as tight as she can and leans in so close that our noses touch.
    “You can’t hurt him.” It’s a plea on the tail end of a whisper. “He’s so much like you, all big mouth and attitude, but inside, he’s just a little boy who’s scared his dad won’t love him.”
    A tear falls from her eyes. She pulls the others back quickly, but it’s enough. I don’t ruin the moment by telling her that he sounds like his momma, even though he does. God, I bet he’s fucking beautiful. I’ve spent hours thinking about what he looks like. I hope I see some of me in him. I just want to know what that looks like. Before he was even born I used to wish for him to be a certain way. I wanted him to be tall and have his mother’s nose. I wanted so much for him. But now, I don’t even have to wish because whatever he looks like, however he talks . . . none of it matters. He’s perfect. I already know it because he’s ours.
    He’s mine.
    “Tell me more,” I say.
    “He was born on time. Only time in his life he’s not been late.” Her eyes are closed and she’s smiling. She’s fucking smiling. It shatters me.
    “His first word was something close to damn . My fault. He never got sick, still doesn’t, even though he’d spend hours playing out in the cold. He doesn’t have a lot of friends at school. His mouth pisses a lot of kids off, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. Girls are a problem. I’ve been doing more target practice since he had his growth spurt. Unfortunately, the kid loves guns. He’s addicted to video games and pepperoni pizza. His full name is Zander Wyatt Strand, and he’s the most infuriating, lovable boy on the planet.”
    She named him after me.
    “More,” I demand. I’m greedy. I need everything I can get. The more I hear, the more I crumble in her arms. Very slowly, I lower us to the floor. She tells me his favorite color is red, followed closely by black, because they’re Forsaken’s colors. She tells me how she’s never hidden anything from him, that she doesn’t believe in babying children. She tells me all these little things about him that still aren’t enough. And when she takes a breath to think, I kiss her.
    My lips slide against hers slowly. She nips at my lips hungrily. Her back is on the dirty floor now, and she’s bucking her hips into me. My already hard dick aches from behind the confines of my jeans. Everything about this moment feels right. Everything is perfect. Even in this dirty-ass room, it couldn’t be anything less than perfect. Using one arm to prop myself up, I slip a hand inside her yoga pants right under her panties. She’s natural—always has been—and it’s fucking glorious. I’m damn tired of the prissy bitches who are always so perfectly shaven or waxed. I always want to tell them that real men don’t give a fuck about that kind of shit. If your pussy’s wet and your legs are spread, we’ll hit it. And if we don’t, it’s not because you didn’t wax. But that would require me to talk to them, which tends to confuse things.
    But not with Amber.
    Never with Amber.
    She bucks underneath me, greedy for more. I slide my fingers through her soft, curly hair, and finally,