Redeeming 6 (Boys of Tommen, #4)

by Chloe Walsh

“It’s not my business who Joey gets with,” I replied, achingly aware of how close he was standing behind me. “He’s a free agent, and so am I.” “Like fuck we are.” His hand came around my waist, fingers flexing against my flesh as he pulled me backwards into his embrace. “Pack it in.”

“Well, that’s bad fucking luck on my account, because you sure as shit own me!”

“Since I was twelve.”

“There’s no decision to make,” he blew my mind by saying, green eyes blazing with heat. “You already know it’s you.”

“I’m not your mother or your sister. I’m not another girl who needs something from you. I’m the girl who wholeheartedly wants you. I’m the girl who wholeheartedly loves you. The hurler. The mechanic. The boy. The protector. The asshole. The lover. The addict.” Sniffling, I added, “All of your versions. All of your shapes and colors. I accept them all. So, I don’t care how fucked up in the head you get, or how bad of an idea you decide you are for me. If you can’t be with me, warts and all, then walk away now, because I won’t go through this again with you.”

“She’s my intended,” he came right out and said, without a hint of embarrassment. “The fuck?” “It’s true,” he urged, eyes wide and full of sincerity. “We’re betrothed.” “Since when?” “Since she was four and I was six, and I promised her that I would marry her.”

“I’ve loved your daughter for six years,” Joey finally broke his silence by saying. “I can easily love her for another eighteen.”

“And she’s the mother of my kid. So, don’t even think about pulling that card,” he sneered. “Because she wins. Every damn time.”

“Maybe before they moved on, someone wanted to make sure his first love had a fighting chance with her first love.”

“I’m surprised you remembered my number.” “Are you kidding? I memorized your number when I was twelve.”

“I’m going to take care of you,” I told her. “Because I love you.” She shivered violently when I pressed a kiss to her head. “Because I think you’re sexy as fuck.” Carefully reaching for the hem of her disposable underwear, I guided them off. “Because you’re my queen.” Disposing of everything she was wearing, I switched on the shower and held on to her trembling frame as she stood under the hot spray of water, not giving a damn that I was getting wet in the process. My entire focus was on the girl still looking at me like I hung the moon. “And because everything I have, everything I am, I owe to you.”