It would serve him right if I did. But he’s too good, and he knows it. Even so, I grab a handful of his hair and gently tug him up. Green eyes find mine. They’re slightly unfocused, slumberous. And I know he’s as affected as I am.

“I’d rather you polish my pearl.” I wiggle my brows. “Canoodle with my kitty.”

A laugh trips from his lips, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I love you.”

He says it so simply, so easily, like it burst forth with utter purity. Yet his body jerks, his eyes going wide. Everything halts, the words hanging between us, this living, breathing thing that takes hold of my heart and grips it tight. He doesn’t speak, but looks at me, his gaze darting over my face as if to gauge my reaction. In truth, he appears slightly horrified. We’re pressed so tightly together I feel every frantic thud of his heart.

“You didn’t mean to say that, did you?” I whisper.

“No.” The confession is a thread of sound.

But I wince as though he’d shouted and duck my head so I don’t have to face him. But he reaches out and cups my cheek, gently lifting my chin. Solemn green eyes hold mine. “But I do.”

Heat prickles over my skin. I can’t breathe. “You love me?”

He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t blink. “Yeah. For a while now.”

I try to believe it, but I’m afraid to. “You said you wouldn’t fall in love.”

John’s lips curl wryly as his thumb slowly caresses the corner of my mouth. “Stella Button, the moment you ripped that ice cream out of my hand, you knocked me off-balance. All I could do was fall.”

Hope swells within me, surging up like a warm wave. I touch the crest of his cheek, the edge of his jaw, just to feel him. My throat threatens to close in on me. “I love you too.”

John sucks in a sharp breath through his nose, his exhale just as swift but shaking. “I was kind of hoping you did.” His smile is tremulous. “Never been in love.”

I see the uncertainty in his eyes, the fear. It matches my own. “Me either.”

His smile grows stronger. “I didn’t think it would feel this good.” A laugh trips out of him. “Or this terrifying.”

My answering grin is so wide I feel it in my cheeks. “I thought I was the only one.”

John hums deep within his throat and ducks his head to kiss his way down my neck. “I’m with you, Button. Whatever happens, I’m always with you.” He places a soft kiss on the tip of my nipple before leering up at me. “Now spread those thighs wider and let me fuck you right.”

“So romantic.” But I do as he asks, and he does me right.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

John

* * *

“Baby.” Stella nudges my arm that’s curled around her waist, pulling me out of a deep sleep. “The door.”

I’m spooned against her succulent little body so close that we’ve melded, and I don’t want to move. How did I ever sleep without her? My hand cups a full breast and the bead of her nipple hardens against my palm. “Mmm. You want more?” I give her a squeeze. “I can give you more.”

“Not more. Door.”

A grunt leaves me as she wiggles her ass, jostling my dick. “You want back door, babe?” I nudge her with now horny and seriously interested dick. “I’m willing if you are.”

Her voice lightens with humor. “Someone is knocking on the front door, you perv.”

The sound of knocking finally registers, and I lift my head to scowl. We’ve been staying at Killian’s place to keep Stevens company, since the hellcat refuses to enter my apartment. Stella claims it’s because he doesn’t like me. I’m no longer buying that since the fur ball is currently perched on my hip like he’s claimed himself king of the bed. His yellow eyes narrow with a look of disdain as another knock rings out. Apparently, he’s not amused at being disturbed either.

I run a hand over my morning scruff. “Who the hell knocks on the door at …” A glance at the clock has my frown growing. “Nine in the morning? No one I know would visit this early and expect to live.”

She laughs, all warm and husky from sleep. Her hair is a wild nimbus around her face as she turns and smiles up at me from her spot on the pillow. “Hey, I’m just the pet sitter. It’s probably someone looking for Killian?”

“Whoever it is, they aren’t going to like me.” Dislodging the cat, who yowls his annoyance, I reach for my sweats and haul them on. My dick tents out the front and, with a grimace, I tuck it against the waistband. “I was about to get some.”

Stella snorts with amusement. “Sure you were, big guy.”

I grab a shirt as I walk toward the bedroom door, but pause at the threshold to look back. Stella lies twisted in the gray sheet, not bothering to hide her breasts—those perfect, plump tits with nipples now perked up like ripe berries. My dick throbs in protest. I empathize. “Oh, babe, I’ll get some and give it back with interest, and you’ll love it.”

Her gaze lowers to my hard-on, and she hums low in her throat. Damn, it sounds like a purr. “If you get rid of whoever it is fast enough, we can talk about that whole back-door suggestion.”

Heat licks up my spine, and I almost crawl back into bed. Gripping the doorframe to keep from doing just that, I give her a long look. “Have I mentioned today how much I love you? Like really, really love you. Enough to get on my knees behind you and …”

She laughs and chucks a pillow my way. “Men. Hint at offering up some ass and look how willing you are to get on your knees.”

Grinning, I pull on my shirt. “You already have me on my knees, Stella Button. Giving me some of that fine ass only sweetens the deal.” I blow her a kiss and head to the front door. Truth is, I don’t need anything more than what she’s given me to be completely content.

Then again, the thought of her peach ass … I shake my head and focus. A peek through the keyhole has me pausing. I don’t know the guy standing on the other side, but he doesn’t look like a stalker fan. More like an accountant. Shorter than me, with dark curly hair and wearing thin gold wire-rimmed glasses, he’s also dressed in a bland gray suit on a Sunday—and he’s clutching a small jewelry box.

Hell, maybe he’s one of Stella’s clients coming to profess his love for her.

I open the door with a little more force than necessary. “Can I help you?”

The man blinks as though he’s forgotten why he’s here, and I notice his eyes are red and puffy.

“I’m looking for Jax Blackwood. I believe he lives in one of the penthouses but I wasn’t certain which one.”

The hell?

“I’m Jax,” I say, glancing at the box in his hand, then back to his face. This is getting weird, and the part of me who has been groomed to be leery of all strangers wants to back away and shut the door. But there’s a sadness to the guy that makes me unsure. Behind me, I hear Stella coming down the stairs, and a feeling of protectiveness hits me so hard, I nearly jolt. My hackles rise, and I brace my feet, put my body between her and the stranger at the door.

The guy doesn’t seem to notice her, though, and pulls himself straighter. “Oh, good. I’m Leo, Madeline’s son.”

“Maddy?” I say, as Stella stops at my side. “Is she okay?”

Every pained line of Leo’s face tells me she’s not.