by May Gordon
Mine? When did I start thinking that? Well, we have sort of settled into a routine. And I have been reading the same baby books as Poppy. As well as talking to that little girl and rubbing this cream shit on Poppy’s belly. Enzo really through in providing this haven for us. However, I did help him get to where he is, so some could say he owed me.
The past week, I've been on the phone with the Crime Kings stationed all over the world, making contingency plans and traps for the other assassins the Donalds have surely hired by now. The guys are creating false trails that’ll lead them anywhere else but here. Anywhere but where we are. Of course, they had a great time at my expense after they got over the shock of my feelings where Poppy is concerned. I acted pissed, but it felt good knowing they’re comfortable enough to tease me like that. I’m so used to having people scared of me that it was a pleasant switch.
Regardless of how well things have gone at the villa, we’ve been here too long. Foster agreed to smuggle us into the States, specifically New Orleans, Louisiana, where Boden is located. If it were just me, I could easily remain unnoticed as it’s not me they want. Poppy, at almost six months along, is who they’re looking for. Boden will ensure her safety, even more so than Enzo because of our history.
Boden and I have known each other a long time. Back when I was in my early twenties, I played a part in him forming his empire, doing the dirty work necessary to get him to the top and killing any who stood in his way. It was a huge fucking mess, one that hurt Boden the most. There isn’t anyone I trust more than him, and that’s saying a hell of a lot.
Returning to the central yard, I’m surprised Poppy still isn’t in the sunroom. She was a bit miffed at losing the ability to go outside, but the glass installed on the place is bulletproof. Which means she’s safer behind it. The mere thought of her getting hurt eats me alive, so it’s also for my sanity. I want a life with her and her daughter. To have them both be mine, to have more children with Poppy. Who would’ve thought domesticity would suit me? Whenever she kisses me, I’m putty in her hands. The woman could tempt me to do anything.
Since her appointment, her whole perspective on her pregnancy has changed. She’s now excited about the baby, eager to meet her. Keeping them both alive is obviously my main goal. My second is to find us a permanent place to live, and I hope that’ll be New Orleans.
Gathering the e-reader, sunglasses, and lotion she left behind, I set it on the kitchen counter. When I hear the water running, I figure she’s taking a shower to cool off. While she’s doing that, I decide to do some further planning on our upcoming trip and try not to imagine Poppy’s naked body in the shower. However, the second I sit in front of my laptop, there’s a loud crash from the master bedroom, my breath stops as I race toward her. Bursting in, I see Poppy through the glass door standing under the spray, staring at me as if I was crazy. I push it open, walking under the wet spray unable to think clearly as I inspect her for injuries.
"What happened? Are you all right?" She assures me she’s fine, explaining that the shelf in the stall fell. That’s when she indicates the mess around her feet that consists of the soap, shampoo, and so on. Taking a deep breath, I rest my forehead against hers, my palms on her belly, and try to calm my frantically beating heart. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever been this scared before, what power does this angle have over me. “Thank god you’re okay,” I whisper.
Poppy cups my face, her thumbs caressing my cheeks, and says, “You’re so sweet.” Then she kisses me. I react instantly, my arms pulling her tight to my body, my now soaked clothes annoying me because they’re in the way of feeling her skin on mine. We work together to remove them, tossing them in a pile at the opposite end of the enclosure and I move until her back hits the tile.
"If you don't want this, tell me now and I'll stop. I need you to know, if we continue, I’m claiming you, Poppy,” I vow running my hands over her naked soft skin.
"I want you, Smith. Please don't make me beg." I lean down and pull her nipple into my mouth, then suck on it, causing her to moan.
"Let me wash you,” I suggest, loving how responsive she is.
“I’m already clean.” she giggles then once more presses her lips to mine. With that, I help her out, lingering over every inch of her as I dry her off. She’s so gorgeous and I love that she isn’t shy about letting me see her naked pregnant body. I can’t believe this goddess is letting me touch her. Placing her on the mattress, I take the time to explore her, paying extra attention to her breasts since they seem to be so sensitive. As my fingers test her, I curse at how wet she is, the evidence of her desire for me. “You really do want me,” I mutter.
"So much," she declares as her hands comb through my hair. "Please," she begs. “I need you.”
"Not yet. I want to taste you first." After giving her belly a gentle kiss, I spread her legs and swipe my tongue over her, knowing if I hadn’t already been addicted to her, I sure as hell would be after her orgasm fills my mouth. It takes all my control not blow my load right then and there as she sighs with pleasure. I kiss a path on my way back up, teasing her that we aren’t finished yet as her eyes close.
"I’d hope not," she grins.
"I promise I’ll be gentle." She lets me know it won’t hurt the baby and settle my cock at her core. When I slide in, her walls enveloping me so perfectly, I know I won’t be able to go a day without feeling her like this now that I’ve had her. I start slowly, intending to stay that way, but the temptation is too much to resist. With one deep thrust I seat myself fully inside her, watching as her breasts bounce from the impact. When her hair falls out of the bun, the length falling around her, I become an animal, commanding that she come, needing her to. As her second climax hits, it triggers my own and I pump her full of my seed. Resting above her on my forearms, I stare at her beautiful face, knowing I should say something flowery. Women like that shit, right? But that isn’t me. What she gets instead is the caveman she brings out in me. "You're mine." Her smile eases the worries that I said the wrong thing, as does her instant response that I’m hers as well.
Reluctantly leaving her, I shift on my side and move her to hers, my hands protectively holding her stomach where our daughter grows. My life has changed so much since meeting her, and while one might assume I’d blame her for that, I can’t. I thank my lucky stars for it for one simple reason.
I love her.
Chapter 7
Poppy
I stir in my sleep, my eyes fluttering open as I feel the baby move, somehow making me hungry and in desperate need to relieve my bladder at the same time. Smith's handsome face is on the pillow next to mine, his massive arm holding me close. We made love two more times before succumbing to our exhaustion. His obvious desire for me, even as big and awkward as I am being six months pregnant, showed me more than words could say how beautiful he finds me. I carefully slip from the bed, the act taking longer than it used to, then make quick use of the bathroom prior to heading to the kitchen. What follows is a massive snack fest, appeasing both me and my daughter. With both needs now taken care of, I return to Smith and crawl back under the covers. An hour later, a noise jolts me awake and I notice Smith is getting dressed in a rush, his expression dark with rage.
"Grab your clothes and hide in the closet. Get dressed in there," he says, his voice hard as steel. Trusting him, I don’t hesitate to do as he says. Scooping up a pair of sweatpants, a sweater with a zipper, and my own shoes, I get in the closet and shut the door, though not all the way as I want to see what’s going on. Not only because Smith is still out there, but it could very well give me an advantage.
Smith removes a gun from the nightstand and tucks another in the back of his waistband that had been in a dresser drawer. With the lights off, the imminent sunrise allowing him to see where he’s going, I watch in horror as three men slowly turn the knob and sneak in. Smith lets them, his gaze trailing them as they head toward the mattress, the lumps easily making it appear that we’re still sound asleep. With a sp
eed that’s almost too fast to follow, he creeps up on one and snaps his neck as effortlessly as if it was a twig. Then, with a knife I didn’t know he had, he proceeds to stab the second. The last is dealt with by a bullet to the head. I’m shocked to my core at witnessing the sweet, caring man I’ve fallen for easily dispatch these guys. But the only fear running through me is at the thought of what could’ve happened to me.
So focused on that, I don’t realize Smith is now in front of me until he takes my arms and helps me to my feet. I glance at the material covering my arms, the blood now staining it, and begin to shake. “Poppy! Pack quickly. You have two minutes.” Then he grabs his cell, dials a number, and starts yelling at Enzo. “Now!” When he looks at me, I can tell he regrets how harshly he just spoke to me, but it does the trick, helping me get my head on straight in order to do what needs to be done. I stuff whatever I can reach in my bag and we take off.
The next few hours fly by, the two of us not exchanging a word as he’s too busy continuing to speak to Enzo as well as Foster. The latter is to plan our emergency evacuation and subsequent trip to New Orleans. Once we’re on the private plane, I sit down, buckling in as I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. Everything happened so fast I’m just now able to try to process it. Resting my hand on my belly, needing that contact, I close my eyes and hope things will be better when I open them.
Two days later, we’ve finally made reached our destination and I’m worse. Now, we’re going to Boden’s. We’re supposed to be safe there, but that’s what we thought about the villa, too. Smith and I haven’t spoken unless he’s giving me instructions on what to do. I feel horrible for my reaction to how he dealt with those thugs. I know he thinks I’m scared of him because of the speed and ease with which he dispatched them, but I’m not. It was the situation, never him and I’m ashamed I haven’t corrected his assumption yet.
Hours later, we stop at a gate that’s blocking our entrance to a massive white house. The security I see as I glance around rivals that of the President’s. Once we’re given permission to continue, we pass armed guards before Smith parks and turns the car off. Smith comes to my side and helps me out, then places his hand on the small of my back as we walk toward the front. I expected him to knock, so I’m shocked when he opens the door and encourages me to go inside as if he owns the property. He then leads me to a living room and braces my weight as I sit down.
"How was the trip?" A deep voice with a French accent asks, causing me to turn as a large man with a well-groomed thick beard joins us. He’s wearing dark jeans and a white long-sleeve shirt. dressed in dark jeans and a simple white long sleeve shirt.
"Long,” Smith mutters. “Foster sure is cautious when he’s smuggling people.”
They shake hands before who I assume is Boden shifts to me. “You must be Poppy. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” As is the case with Smith, both have the appearance of someone you wouldn’t want to cross paths with in a dark alley, yet they have the ability to put you at ease if they so choose. I thank him for helping us, sounding weak and rough to my own ears, which is no doubt why Smith is frowning as well. “You must be exhausted,” Boden says. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your room.” I struggle to stand, Smith instantly moving to my side to offer his assistance, then I trail after Boden, not even looking back at Smith. I hate the distance I’ve put between us, but I’m too tired to fix it now. Once I’m alone, I sit on the bed, the realization that I’ve worn the same clothes the entire trip sinking in and having me rise to take a shower. I cry the whole time I’m in there, letting the water muffle my tears. Upon exiting the luxurious bathroom, I discover a plush robe, my clothes, and a tray of food waiting for me. I have a feeling this is Smith’s doing, though I’m sure he’s hoping I might feel up to doing back downstairs. However, all I want to do is sleep. Long after the sun has set, I wake a bit more refreshed when I feel Smith crawl in beside me and wrap his arms around me.
"Poppy," he says, his tone full of the strength I desperately need, "we're going to get through this. I'll protect you both with my life," he vows as he gently cups my belly.
I shift to face him, needing to make things right, then he says the words I didn’t know I longed for him to say to me, “I love you,” and the ability to speak disappears. I know he means it, and not only for me, but for my little girl as well. What more could a woman ask for?
All my fear and anxiety melts as I admit, "I love you, too." I can taste the alcohol on his breath as he kisses me, but I don’t care. As we lose ourselves in each other, the nightmare I felt trapped in only hours prior fades, and I know I’ll be okay as long as I have Smith.
"This isn’t over yet, but I want you to know when it is, I'll give you the life you’ve always wanted." Honestly, I’m not even sure what that would be, I just know that it has Smith in it.
Chapter 8
Smith
Lawson calls from Seattle, letting me know they took out someone that fell for the fake trail. I let him know Quinn did as well. "You’ll be hearing from Duke, Porter, and Griffin soon, too. They’ve texted the past week to inform me of the same thing."
"They all dead?" I ask, though I’m sure of the answer.
"Fewer assassins in the world couldn't hurt," he responds in confirmation. This news, along with Novak and Maddox getting rid of their own, shows me how desperate the Donald family is to have Poppy dealt with. I thank him for the update and he warns me Foster is coming to offer assistance, and bringing Annabelle as she wants to help Poppy. I’m tempted to deny that I need Foster, but having a brawler like him isn’t a bad idea. And his wife would keep Poppy focused on anything other than the shit show surrounding us.
"I'll let Boden know."
"Have you heard from Luka?"
I shrug, though he can’t see it, and remind him, "He has his country under control. Nobody would take the bid at the risk of getting on his bad side."
"We'll continue to keep our eyes open. Call if you need anything." And with that, he hangs up and I lean back in my chair to glance around Boden’s office. We’ve been here a month and things have been quiet. Which bothers me, the whole calm before the storm thing. It gives you a false sense of security, making you relax, and that’s when they strike.
Poppy’s due date is getting closer, and she grows more beautiful every day. With each ultrasound we see, my eagerness to meet our daughter strengthens. She looks so perfect in the sonograms, and I just know she’s going to take after her mom and the thought of boys being interested in her already terrifies me.
"Still slumming it in here I see," Boden says from the doorway.
I retort that it’s too pompous for my tastes. "What happened to the man that’d give orders out of a Bourbon Bar? You traded that for this hideous monstrosity?"
"I rather like it. I've never lived in a place larger than six hundred square feet."
"And now you have five thousand," I state as he sits across from me. Flicking me off, he asks how Poppy’s doctor appointment went yesterday.
"It went well,” I assure him. “The baby is strong and healthy. I can’t thank you enough for putting us up. She’s enjoying it here despite the circumstances.”
"It's a beautiful thing you have. Don't lose it," he warns me, voice thick from the pain of his own experience as he glances at the photo on his desk of Finley that’s almost a decade old. Finley is wearing a white dress with long sleeves and made of lace. It’s from their wedding when she was just eighteen. Her death tore Boden up and he’s never been the same. He doesn’t speak of her, shutting down if anyone else tries. It’s too hard for him. I promise that I’ll do everything within my power to ensure that I don’t. "You love her," he declares, not even bothering to phrase it as a question, though I answer as if it is.
"More than anything."
"Took you by surprise, huh?” He whispers. “Life has a way of doing that.” I nod in agreement, then exchange goodbyes as he leaves for a meeting. As I haven’t seen Poppy since early this mornin
g, I go in search of her, feeling bad that she’s been cooped up in the house. I find her in the living room, hand resting on her belly while she reads. She peeks up when she hears me and gives me a smile, asking how it went. Before her, I never had anyone to talk about my day with. I tell her everything, knowing she’s truly interested, she doesn’t judge me, and she’s always honest with me.
When I tell her about some of the killers that were after us, and Lawson’s sentiment on it, she reminds me that not all assassins are bad men. That makes me laugh as I rub her feet, knowing they’ve been hurting her lately, and declare, “You’re the only person who thinks that.”
"Doesn't make me wrong," she retorts as she sets her e-reader down and stares at me. I know what that means. She wants something. When I ask what she needs, she admits, “I want to explore New Orleans. I’ve never been here before and haven’t left the house since we arrived.”
"It's not safe."
She pouts, pointing out, "Even with all of Boden's firepower and him controlling the city? We could wear disguises." That makes me smirk, then she pleads with me and I can’t say no.
"Okay," I agree and she squeals in delight as I help her stand. “Go get ready. We leave soon,” I tell her, needing time to inform Boden’s men. Poppy gives me a quick kiss and goes to our room. I know I’m going to regret this, and two hours later, I am. Thankfully, it’s not because she’s in danger, but due to the fact I am. She’s dragged me to every baby store we see. I urged her to get whatever she wanted, telling her I’d pay for it. That upset her at first, but I reassured her I had more than enough and have hardly used any of it. Hell, she can have it all if she wants it. When she’s finally done, I arrange for the bigger purchases to be delivered and pack the rest in the SUV we’re using. We’ll more than likely still be here when the baby is born, so we do need to prepare for that. After depositing the bags, we proceed, where I promptly take her into a jewelry store and tell her to choose. Clearly, I suck at romantic gestures.