“I’ll let go.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise, Nick.”

He drew in breath.

He let it go.

He felt her body yielding beneath him.

She’d let it go too.

Letting it go, it was time to move on.

And it was Saturday. They had time to move on to good things.

So he moved on, doing it lifting his head and again kissing his Livvie.

* * * * *

8:27 – Sunday Morning

His back and shoulders to his headboard, his knees cocked, feet in the bed, his hand full of Livvie’s hair, holding it back, he thrust up, watching her take his cock with her mouth.

“Fuck,” he grunted.

Twisting her hair gently, he went still so he wouldn’t blow.

She didn’t.

Without him thrusting, she started bobbing.

Fuck.

“Livvie, only warning you’re gonna get,” he growled.

Without breaking her rhythm, on an upward glide, she wrapped her hand around his dick as she released him with her mouth.

Then she gave him her hot, hungry eyes as she jacked him.

Jesus.

Fuck.

“Take me there, baby,” he ordered thickly, his hand still in her hair, gripping tight.

She stayed between his legs but leaned over him, still jacking him, hand in the bed beside his hip, her beautiful face, gorgeous naked body and fist pumping his dick all he could see.

“Fuck,” he grunted, thrusting up, fucking her hand.

She made a noise that was hungrier than the look in her eyes.

“Fuck,” he whispered, and closed his eyes as she took him there and he exploded, shooting on his stomach.

She milked him dry, stroked him sweet and he came down with her pressed to his side, feeling her cheek on his shoulder, his hand still in her hair.

He gave it a gentle tug, dipped his chin and caught her eyes before he took her mouth.

Because she tasted good, because he was falling in love with her and because she’d earned it, he kissed her deep and wet and he did it for a fucking long time.

He released her mouth after she released his cock and wrapped her arm around his ribcage.

He opened his eyes to see her looking at him.

“So, did that earn me cinnamon French toast?” she asked.

Nick stared at her.

Then he burst out laughing.

* * * * *

9:02 – The Same Sunday Morning

Standing at his kitchen counter with Livvie next to him, close, in the curve of his arm, he lifted to her mouth a fork full of the crunch coated, cinnamon French toast smothered in maple syrup that he’d made his girl.

When her lips closed around it, he slid the fork out. She chewed. He watched her eyes get big with happiness and wonder and she again meant more to him than she did the previous day…hell, the previous moment.

And she did this in a way that he knew every moment with her would give him that same feeling.

He wasn’t falling in love.

She had him.

He was hers.

She swallowed and instantly asked, “Can I blow you and jack you every morning for French toast?”

“Absolutely,” he answered just as instantly.

She pressed deep and dissolved into laughter.

Yeah.

Definitely.

Every moment with Livvie.

She gave him that same feeling.

In a way he knew.

He knew.

He knew she’d give him that now…

And forever.

Chapter Twenty-One

Who Do You Belong To?

Nick

5:45 – That Next Friday Evening

Nick sat in the aisle seat, staring ahead of him, only the stragglers that were sitting back in coach coming up the gangway.

Liv was not beside him.

An hour ago, she’d texted that she was on her way.

It did not take an hour to get from DTC to DIA.

From taking his seat in the waiting area prior to boarding to right then, having been sitting in his seat in first class for the last twenty minutes, he’d texted her three times and phoned once.

He got nothing.

His neck was not itching.

He was coming out of his skin.

They’d made their plans together, bought their tickets separately, and had chosen their adjoining seats on their respective laptops pressed up next to each other at his bar twenty-three hours and forty-nine minutes ago.

Now he was getting nothing.

He looked back to his phone in his hand when it beeped with a text. He pulled it up immediately.

It wasn’t a text from Liv. It was a text from Sylvie.

Knight’s men clean. Not a surprise. Your boys clean. Again no surprise. Focus now is on the Feds.

As he suspected.

It was good to have it confirmed. It would be fucking great to know, finally, who fucked him and Hettie from the inside.

He didn’t reply to Sylvie. He also didn’t send another text to Olivia.

He sent one to his boy who was on her.

Where’s my woman?

The reply came quickly.

Peeled off fifteen minutes ago when she hit the door to DIA. She had no tail so I thought she was good. She’s not with you?

His thumb ready to move on his phone, his head snapped up when he heard a soft, delicate, winded, “I made it!”

He saw Olivia, looking flushed and flustered, smiling apologetically at the flight attendant as she rushed around the corner into the aisle.

Her eyes came to him.

Her smile got bigger.

He slid out of his seat and did it frowning at her.

Not only at her, at the fact she was late, smiling like she hadn’t scared the shit out of him, and last, she had no luggage with her.