by Lewis, R. J.
When they reached the house, Darlene opened the door. She smiled brightly at her daughter and glared resentfully back at him.
“Borden,” she snarled, glancing at his feet, “take your shoes off before you enter my home.”
Before it was take your shoes off at the door, and now it had migrated to take your shoes off outside the door. Soon enough she would ask him to leave it at the edge of the sidewalk, or he’d just ditch them altogether. He clenched his jaw, finally having come to terms with the Warne women bossing him around, and took his shoes off outside the fucking door.
They came in and had dinner, and he watched Emma cheerfully converse with Darlene. The old lady didn’t bat him an eye, and he couldn’t be fucked caring. He spent that dinner staring at his wife. The mother of his child. A child he had suddenly started to wonder about. Would it be a girl or a boy? Would they have her eyes? Her hair? Her smile? Please, he thought, let that child have that smile.
What would be better than having Emma? Another small Emma, and just that thought made him breathe a little harder. He took a large gulp of his water, fighting the sudden emotion circling behind his eyes. Fucking hell, was he going to cry? Fuck no. No, no, no, Borden did not cry.
“Why are you crying?” Emma suddenly asked him, having turned her attention to him.
“I’m not crying,” he answered on a shrug. “My eyes hurt.”
“Your eyes hurt?”
“Clearly your grandmother cut onions for this pasta.” This fucking pasta she made and knew he hated.
“There are no onions in this pasta,” Darlene said. “Emma, why is your husband crying? Isn’t he meant to be a criminal?”
Emma smiled widely as she stared into his misted eyes. She knew exactly what he was thinking.
“He’s going to be a father,” she whispered as they stared each other in the eyes, hearts beating as one.
“You’re going to be a mother,” Borden whispered back.
Darlene gasped and choked on a cry. “You’re pregnant.”
Emma didn’t reply. She stared at her husband and mouthed “I love you.”
“I fucking love you more, doll,” he replied.
Epilogue
Emma
“Look at his eyes,” Borden whispered, staring down at our baby asleep in his crib. “They’re changing colour. Turning brown.”
“A very light brown,” I noted as we gawked at our three month old monster.
Lincoln was a handful. Everyone kept telling us he would get easier, but I begged to differ. Lincoln never got easier. He was a never ending cycle of screams, tears and – just recently – giggles. He was also extremely attached to his father.
And Borden was a good father.
He stared at Lincoln like he was his world, and he was. They were both attached to each other. I was only good for the boob and then it was the Borden and Lincoln show. I didn’t mind it at all. I was actually relieved. Borden had been borderline crazy throughout the pregnancy. His self-doubt and worries had escalated to a point I couldn’t help him rest easy. But then, Lincoln came, and the second I took that last push and they rested him on my chest, Borden stopped his questioning. Everything just…clicked together. He held our son and his world suddenly made sense, and he never worried about a thing again.
“Do you think we’ll have a night to ourselves?” Borden asked me, finally moving his lovesick eyes from Link to me.
“Oh, you’re looking at me for once,” I remarked dryly. “I thought I stopped existing.”
He smiled broadly, and I swooned. “For real, doll, you think he’ll stay down?”
“Why?”
“I’ve got blue balls.”
I laughed and stepped out of Link’s bedroom and down the hallway of our brand new house. Borden followed after me, shutting the door only halfway outside of Link’s bedroom. He paced quickly behind me and I picked up my pace, hurrying into our master bedroom. I nearly tripped over an unpacked box, but he caught me around the waist and pulled my back to his front.
“Baby,” he murmured, kissing me along my neck, “I need to be inside you. The doctor gave you the green light. Don’t think I didn’t know about that.”
“You know everything.”
“Damn straight.”
His hand ran down my front, grabbing at my breast before trailing his fingers beneath my pyjama bottoms. He rubbed me urgently, and I moaned against him, already feeling the flutters.
“You’re already wet, you little skank,” he remarked.
“And you’re hard.”
“I’ve been hard for three months.”
“I’ve sucked you off plenty of times, asshole.”
“This is a kind of hard your mouth can’t soften.”
I laughed again as he picked me up and hurried me to the bed. His movements were quick and desperate. He stripped me in less than a few seconds and then worked on himself. I moaned just at the sight of him, my sexy bad man, looking ridiculously good while I was still in my post-baby body.
He took my lips with his own and ravaged me, tongue swirling against tongue. I was hot in no time and needy.
“Condom,” I told him just as I felt the head of his length against my entrance. “I don’t have the shot in.”
He groaned in frustration and hurriedly opened the night table. He removed a brand new box of condoms I didn’t even know was there and tore it open. Condoms flew out by the dozen and I giggled watching him sit up to open one. He quickly slid it over his cock, and then rested back on top of me, his forearms on either side of my head.
“Spread those legs, baby,” he told me, “I can’t wait any longer.”
I spread my legs and he thrusted into me, slowly, inch by precious inch. My arms wrapped around him, and I tensed at the invasion.
“Relax, doll,” he told me, kissing me. “I got you.”
He rocked into me, acquainting me to his size again. I felt him everywhere and my eyes rolled to the back of my head as I gasped at the pleasure. He didn’t move faster or harder, he took his time, breath against breath, kiss after kiss. I met him with every thrust, so cock-deprived of him, I got close in no time.
“Holy fuck,” he panted out.
We came together, him clutching my face, me clutching his ass.
“That was quick,” I remarked with a smile.
He glanced at the clock on the night table. “Perfect. I had to finish fast.”
“Why?”
“Because Lincoln gets up every twenty five minutes after six o’clock at night.”
Before I could respond, a cry sounded out and my husband was gone.
“I’m coming, Link.”
*
People looked at me like I was crazy.
I could see the question bleeding out of their eyes.
How could you be with a bad man?
How could you love him?
I didn’t have a simple answer.
Love isn’t simple. It’s a mind-fuck, filled with irrational reason, driven purely by some possessive animalistic need that sits in the core of all of us. This need to be loved and wanted and…accepted. This desperate need to be entwined with another soul, until you can’t tell yourself apart from them.
I wracked my brain around the question every day. I knew he was a killer. I knew he was selfish. I knew he was an arrogant asshole that needed power like his next breath.
But I also knew the other parts to Marcus Borden.
The gentle part.
The part I fell in love with.
The father. The husband. The lover.
Nobody would ever come to know these parts. It was mine, and mine alone…
And I would go to the grave with his secrets if I had to.
THE END
Thank You!
Thank you so much for reading! Reviews and ratings are welcome and so appreciated! For news of upcoming books and giveaways, you can find me here: www.facebook.com/rj.lewis13
I was very overwhelmed with the response of Book 1. The mes
sages were out of this world, and I couldn’t believe that a book I’d written and didn’t ever think would see the light of day would be enjoyed by so many.
I’ve received many questions by readers asking me why I did what I did to Kate, that I could have easily fast forwarded the story to Borden and Emma.
But the thing is, you can tell a reader the hero is hurting, or you could show them, and I wanted to show you the story between Borden and Kate and why Borden became so bitter and hurt. I don’t think glazing over it would have done their story justice.
Anyway, thank you so much for giving me a chance time and time again. <3