Her Silent Revenge novel Chapter 97

His excitement is short-lived, though.

We're less than half an hour in when the exhaustion hits, and his eyelids start drooping. His little head drops against my side and he's out cold.

That's where he stays until after the credits roll and Salem's fingers tighten in mine.

We share a silent, knowing smile.

I never knew how warm and suggestive a human hand could be until I held hers for the last hour.

I'm not sure how I haven't combusted into bits.

In the flickering light from the screen and Arlo's soft snore, it all feels half like a fever dream. So surreal I'm half worried I'll blink and wake up in my boring old life.

Am I really here with my son sleeping away, holding the hand of the woman who gave birth to him?

Yes. Fucking yes.

And it doesn't make a lick of sense why a joker like me should be this lucky.

That beat in my chest gets stronger, though, like my heart wants to break through my ribs and escape.

"I hope he isn't drooling on you," Salem says as she stretches, gently easing Arlo away from me. "I'd better get this little boy to bed."

"Let me." I scoop him up, catching his head against my shoulder, using a softness I never knew I had not to wake him.

He stirs and mumbles—something about an octopus, I think—and we pad upstairs slowly. I'm walking him toward the guest room with a big enough bed for the boy and his mother, a perfect place for them to—

I catch myself mid-thought. No, shit.

This is too new, too delicate for assumptions.

Still, it feels right as I carry him into the room. Salem sets his little backpack down in the corner.

That might be a good sign.

When I decided which room they should have, I picked this one deliberately.

Right now, it's decorated in earthy browns and off-white. Modern and cozy without being too bright or intimidating.

If I close my eyes, I can see into the future, the walls plastered with movie posters. The bathroom is right next door, and he could have a bunk bed against the wall.

The next room over, a small walk down the hall, that's my master bedroom.

Danger.

It's scary, having thoughts like this when we haven't even made the decision to be a family yet, but I can't fucking help it.

They crowd my head more by the second.

"Patton, you have no idea how happy I am to hear it." She rests her hand against my chest, flexing her fingers as she glances down at the contact. "This evening has been so special."

I kiss her then, my animal hunger taking over, deeply enough so she comes back up for air with a messy whisper of, "We need to be quiet."

Luckily for us, my bedroom is only a heartbeat away. The walls are thick enough to avoid too many worries about sound, considering what I paid for this place. Before we head out, she leaves an old baby monitor on the nightstand next to Arlo.

A minute later, she's all mine.

I'm growling, taking her to the bathroom, stripping off her clothes before our feet even touch the tile.

I don't give her time to admire the walk-in shower with its heated bench or the double rainfall heads ready to amplify the steam that's already so thick around us. She can do that later, preferably when I'm buried in her.

I barely switch the shower on before she's against the wall. Fuck yes, she's ready.

I know she's soaked before my fingers even open her pussy. They don't play long before my greedy cock demands attention.

We're two strumming hearts and all friction under the hot spray, and again in the bed.

We make our own violent music from instruments of need denied for far too long.

I fuck her with a raging fury that rips me in two.

Soon, she's exploding on my cock, grinding my name into the pillow and then my hand, hounding me to come inside her.