Headstrong Like Us (Like Us, #6)

by Krista Ritchie

Beckett needs you. Eliot needs you. Tom needs you. In another year, Ben might be in New York and need you too.

Really, I’d like to just grab him, shake him and yell at him to grow the fuck up.

I’m going to max-out fast on Cobalt banter,

“Oscar.” That’s all it takes. He’s right outside, and the bathroom door whips open. He assesses. “I have him, Redford.” He takes my place and nods to me. “Go find the Groom. I heard he was looking for you.”

“Be careful, wolf scout,” Farrow whispers, our eyes fastening with a strong jolt of affection. “Your happiness is showing.”

Farrow licks his bottom lip, like he can feel me on them.

Omega bodyguards—Akara, Quinn, Banks, and Donnelly—are rooming in two apartments just three floors below the penthouse. Security is probably way more comfortable living here than in the cramped townhouse.

“It’s just you and me, old chap. Plus, our future husbands, two alpha chicks, and a hellion baby.”

To be in mourning for a time gone by and hopeful for the time yet to come.

I want to ask Farrow, but when I turn to him and see the affection in his eyes. I think I already know the answer. What he’d say to me. It’s called being human.

Farrow looks up from the hardwood and rolls his eyes into an edging smile. “You just had to carry in the biggest box.”

It feels good finally giving Ripley his own room. His own space.

I open my mouth, partially distracted by how Farrow twirls the screwdriver between his fingers—and then Ripley lets out a big yawn and fully distracts us both. Farrow’s smile expands to repulsively attractive levels. “The little man has spoken. You’re boring him to sleep, wolf scout.”

“And while we’re at it, maybe we should recall the day we introduced him to solid food.” Cheerios, to be exact. “I’m pretty sure he spit the cereal back up at you, not me.”

It was a good memory. “He was laughing,” Farrow says matter-of-factly. Like I left out important details. “At you.” He tips his head back and forth, considering for a half second. “Maybe. But I’d rather him laugh than cry.” Yeah, me too.

but he’s more obsessed with the damn parrot with the eye-patch. He chose this. And I haven’t told Farrow, but I love that the whole pirate theme reminds me of him and his sparrow and skull tattoos.

“Come on, man,” I say. “Don’t make me ask.” He leans back on his elbows, amusement spreading across his lips. “Now I definitely want you to ask.”

“It’s the first night.” His heady brown eyes stalk my movements and hang onto my words. “We’re going to have to christen this place.” I pull my shirt up and over my head. Farrow drinks in my cut abs and chiseled build, and my gaze brushes his strong jaw and lip piercing.

“Maximoff.” He eyes me up and down. “You do know that you don’t have to make up reasons to fuck me.” I growl out a load of agitation. “You’re right.” I back away from him, heels hitting the mattress. “Pretty sure I don’t want to fuck you anymore.”

“Why’d you take off your shirt then?” “It’s hot in here. Any other obvious questions?” Farrow lets out a laugh and his gaze drops. “Yeah. Why are your pants still on?”

Farrow, all cool confidence, unbuckles his belt, unbuttons his slacks, unzips, and slips his tattooed fingers under his elastic waistband. Keeping eye contact with me, he pulls off his black slacks and slowly steps out of them.

“Wolf scout.” “Yeah?” I’m breathing too hard. I try to layer on seriousness and wipe off an I’m so fucking attracted to you practically drooling stare. “Your pants are still on.”

“You want me to undress you.” No. Yes. No. Definitely not. Maybe. Jesus Christ. I’m unmovable.

I’m about to use an MMA move he taught me to flip us, but he’s quick.

“You are the most arrogant lay.” “Thank you,” I say with a nod. “You’re welcome.”

“Just because you came fast doesn’t mean you’re bad at sex. It just means you really enjoyed my mouth around your cock.” “Yeah, it’s been a while.”

“It wasn’t bad for you?” I ask. He gives me a look like I’m way younger. Just six years. “Making you come is never bad. It’s one of my favorite things.”

We’re together. Intimately, territorially, domestically, and lovingly.

This is our home, but we’re hanging onto a dreamlike future that could slip through our fingers. Whisked away like a cotton candy cloud. The family we’re building.

In these moments when we’re alone and more vulnerable, I feel this rush up in me. Slight fear, and I just know that being with him has to be enough. In case it all comes crashing down.

He lifts my leg over his shoulder, spreading me. I’m not the most flexible guy ever, but I get the job done.

“Relax for me.” “I am.” I’m not.

“Farrow, I swear to God,” I groan. “Stop edging, man.” Water pricks at the corners of my eyes from being denied a climax. Farrow eases back into a slow pace. “Stop being so impatient. I’m taking my fucking time with you.”

Maximoff wraps his arms around my waist. “At least he has you.” “And you,” I add.

“For a second,” he whispers, “I imagined that was my mom—and everything went black.” That’s why he walked away.

“Your mom is definitely one of a kind.” I smile softly. “Which means Ripley has a really cool grandma.”

Lily calloway stan forever

I shut the terrace door and see Maximoff walking in the shallow end of the pool, his arm wrapped tight around Ripley’s waist. The baby tries to kick his legs in the water, and my lip begins to hike up, then falter.

He’s smiling like he beat me at something. “What?” I detach the radio from my waistband, but I can’t look away from him. “Now you know how it feels to be the prince who wants to be the knight.”

I roll my eyes, and I can’t say he’s wrong. But I’m not about to tell him he’s right.

“More like I’m the knight who has to be a prince.” He licks his lips to hide ...

Arkham tries again, then stops himself. He scuttles backwards, then steps forward, then back. A laugh rumbles out of me. “Looks like we have another overthinker in the family.”

“Are you jealous? He might be a natural swimmer. Not a…” He makes a show of trying to think hard. “What is it that you’re good at again?”

I splash water at him. Droplets land on Ripley’s forehead. He squeals in delight. My smile is fucking killing my face.

Our son. His first swim. Our future. Everything is weighing on me more than I prefer. More than I like.

“Want to get in?” “In a little bit,” I say. “I like watching you.”

“A minute ago, when Arkham got scared of the water, you said ‘we have another overthinker in the family’. In the family…That family is me and you, right?”

“Me and you, obviously. Plus, that furball.” I nod towards the Newfoundland. “And Ripley and however many more kids we have in the future. That’s our family.”

Our baby makes a fart noise with his lips, and we break into soft smiles, despite the sinking feeling in my gut.

Maximoff rubs the black tungsten band on his ring finger, and I glance at the gray titanium wedding band on mine. We’ll be taking these off soon, only to slip them on each other, and I’m making unbreakable vows to him in Capri.

I’ve already vowed to love and protect him long before we even proposed. Shit, if I could’ve, I would’ve been at his side earlier. Before I even became a bodyguard. But that’s no...