“You have to stop talking,” I whispered back, my heart swelling so big, it felt like it would explode out of my chest. A chest that was so warm, it was burning, hot and fierce.

“I’m not gonna stop talkin’ until I know you get what I’m sayin’ to you and don’t sweep it aside, determined to believe what that bitch wanted you to believe.”

“You have to stop talking,” I repeated in a whisper.

“Mara, I’m not –”

My hand went from his shoulder to press my fingers against his lips.

Then I told him quietly, “I’m not sweeping it aside.” I slid my fingers from his lips across his cheek and back into his hair as I lifted up and replaced my fingers with my mouth and whispered, “I get what you’re saying to me.” I brushed my lips against his and kept whispering when I said, “Now, you have to make me oatmeal. Because my estimate is we have eight hours for you to convince me I’m the Mara of your world before everything crashes back in on us, I get scared and/or freak out and/or panic and/or another calamity happens I’m certain I won’t survive. Until I survive it with, obviously, your help and all you said to me is less easy to believe.”

I stopped talking (finally), bearing my soul (finally) and held my breath as Mitch’s fathomless eyes stared deep into mine.

Then he asked, “Eight hours?”

“Until we pick up the kids,” I answered.

His neck twisted, his eyes going to his alarm clock then they came back to me and when they did I liked the teasing light in them because it was mixed with something way sexy.

“That’s gonna take a lot of work,” he whispered.

God, I hoped so.

I smiled at him, lifted up again and brushed my lips against his before I said softly, “That’s why we need oatmeal.”

His weight hit me and my head hit the pillows when he muttered against my mouth, “I’ll get it in a minute.”

“I need stamina,” I muttered back.

His hands glided up my sides, taking my nightie with it as he kept muttering, “I’ll get it for you in a minute, baby.”

“But –” He rolled his h*ps which were between my legs and I felt why he needed a minute which meant, suddenly, I needed a minute so I gave in, “’Kay, we’ll get it in a minute.”

He smiled against my mouth. I smiled against his.

Then he kissed me.

Then he did a lot of other things to me while I did things to him.

In the end, we had oatmeal for lunch.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Mornin’

Six weeks later…

I came hard, so hard my back arched and my hands flew behind me to grip Mitch’s thighs as I gasped for breath, rolled my h*ps at the same time I ground down on his rock-hard cock.

I was still coming when his thumb left my sweet spot and his hand moved to my hip, his other hand already at my other hip. They slid up and curled around my ribcage, pulling me down to him. His lips captured mine, his tongue drove inside my mouth, his arms wrapped around me and he rolled us then started thrusting, hard and deep. I lifted my knees and h*ps to give him more, my arms circling his shoulders.

Holding him close, my fingers gliding into his thick, soft hair, I took his thrusts in my mouth and between my legs. I took his grunts in my mouth then I finally took his deep, hard drives between my legs as his ragged groan tore down my throat.

Coming down, his lips slid to my neck where he nuzzled me as his c**k moved gently inside me and the fingers of one of my hands glided through his hair as the other one drifted across the warm skin of his back.

My soul sighed but my heart took flight.

Then his head came up, his sated, sexy eyes caught mine and he muttered, “Mornin’.”

I stared at him a second, pressed my head in the pillow, my thighs to his sides, my arms tightened around him and I burst out laughing.

This was because he’d woken me with his hands then his mouth and, until he’d said that word, neither of us had spoken any others.

When I quit laughing, tipped my chin down and opened my eyes to look at him, he’d stopped moving inside me, was planted deep but his hand was up. The tips of his fingers were moving along my temple and hairline and he was smiling at me.

“Morning,” I whispered and felt the humor slide from my features as a memory came to me.

Mitch saw it, I knew it because his smile died, his face softened with curiosity and his fabulous lips whispered, “What?”

“Remember that night when Billie got sick?” I asked quietly.

His fingers drifted down my hairline to curl around my neck and his thumb came out to stroke my jaw when he answered, “Yeah.”

“Remember the next morning when you came into the kitchen and wrapped your arms around me?” I asked and his thumb stalled as his eyes grew intense.

“Yeah,” he whispered.

“You said, ‘mornin’’ then, against my neck, with your arms around me and I thought then that I wanted you to say that to me like that every morning for forever.”

His fingers tensed on my neck, his face got closer, his eyes got more intense and his voice was gruff when he murmured, “Mara.”

I grinned at him then informed him, “This one was way better.”

His body started shaking then his hand left my neck so both arms could wrap around me and he gave me an open-mouthed kiss (while laughing, by the way, which made it fabulous) as he rolled us, unfortunately disengaging our bodies, fortunately taking me with him while kissing me and settling on his back with me on top.

When he ended the kiss, my head came up and I looked down at my man who had his arms around me, laughter still in his eyes and again my soul sighed.

Then he started talking.

“Right, baby, this mornin’ the play is, I get the bathroom first then I get Bud up and in the shower while you shower and I make coffee and breakfast. You get outta the shower, get Billie up, we have breakfast, you get Billie in the shower and do your thing and help her do her thing while I shower then we go. You with me?”

“Yeah,” I replied.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said on a grin, used to this, liking this, we did it every morning.

“Break,” he whispered, lifted his head, kissed me quickly then rolled me off him and rolled the other way while flicking up the covers.

I watched as he walked into my bathroom.