Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 39250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 196(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 196(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
The amusement faded from James’s expression, leaving behind the affection. And some of the heat.
“I’d say you deserve more than a date.”
Hint, hint. So, ask me!
I sucked him in again, waiting for his elaboration, and he cupped my cheek and brushed his thumb over the corner of my mouth.
“Don’t think I haven’t considered it,” he murmured. “Despite my history with bad relationships, it would be the easiest thing in the world to ask you out. But you—” He paused and shifted in his seat. “Can you maybe do that later?”
I shook my head and tightened my lips around him.
He huffed and ran a hand through his hair. “You said it yourself, Kiera. You spent six months wondering if you were ever coming home again. You weren’t just uncertain. You were scared for your life. That shit leaves scars. You haven’t even begun to process everything you went through. You’re in survival mode.”
There was a lot of you, you, you, you in that speech and very little “This is why I can’t date you.”
I wasn’t saying he was completely wrong. He knew what he was talking about, and I was prepared for nightmares and grief. On the other hand, he didn’t know how much of a support Noura had been. I actually had processed a lot of what I’d gone through. And coming home, finally feeling safe again, might bring all that up again. To which I said, Come at me.
I was ready to heal.
“To be honest, I want you to come talk to our shrink at work,” he continued. “Doc specializes in trauma. He helps operators process shit from conflict areas every day.”
This was officially the weirdest blow job ever. How was he managing to stay hard?
“That’s sweet of you,” I said, running my tongue up the underside of his cock. “I’ll consider it if you get back to the topic.”
He chuckled and scrubbed his hands over his face. “My point is, you’ll need time to recover. And then you’re gonna go on your husband search and pop out a few kids…”
A few was a stretch. “One or two, yes.”
He flashed me a warm grin and touched my cheek. “He’ll be the luckiest fucker on the planet, and I already wanna punch him in the face. I know, very toxic of me.”
I smiled around his cock, and he narrowed his eyes and made a picture-frame gesture with his hands, as if he wanted to take a photo of me right then and there.
But then the humor disappeared, and it was the first time I saw hesitation from him.
“You don’t want me to be that guy, sweetheart. I’ll be forty-eight this summer.”
Was that the problem? His age?
I eased back and tucked him into his boxer briefs, because I wanted to settle this before things got unnecessarily complicated. What we’d started was too new for complications.
“Have you ever wanted children?” I wondered. “If the answer is no, I respect that. It’s not for everyone.”
He weighed his response. “Sure. But I’ve told you about how much I’m gone for work.”
I nodded. “You also told me you’re looking at retirement from fieldwork in the next year or two.”
“True,” he said slowly. “Doesn’t the age thing bother you, though? If we have a kid in two years, I’ll be over seventy by the time they graduate college.”
I’d heard that argument as recently as last year when a friend of mine married an older guy, and it just made me smile. Because while I took the concern seriously and understood his point of view, his age wasn’t advanced enough for me to worry much.
“That’s one way to look at it,” I murmured. “You know what I would see? That you’d be fifty-one when they turn one. Fifty-two when they turn two. Fifty-six when they start school. We’re talking about so many years of milestones and family moments before you start feeling old for real.”
It was easy to see he hadn’t considered my point of view, ’cause he looked like he was trying to hide a smile.
“I feel old now,” he half joked.
I leaned forward and gripped the armrests so I could kiss him. Just a quick peck.
“James Hyatt, do you reject the sheer notion of having a baby in the future?” I asked.
He deflated with a sigh and tugged on a lock of my hair. “No, ma’am.”
I grinned. “Do you like me so far?”
He shook his head, amused. “I think I’ve made that clear, hellcat.”
We were totally flight ready.
“Then ask me out on a fucking date, pilot,” I said and kissed him. “I’m not predicting the future. I’m not demanding anything other than a chance to see if there’s more.”
He finally unleashed his smile on me, and he pulled me onto his lap and kissed me—
I squeezed my eyes shut as the chair squeaked and protested, and a second later, the whole thing crashed to the ground. “Gah!” My stomach did a somersault as we went down.