Because she tasted good, because he was falling in love with her and because she’d earned it, he kissed her deep and wet and he did it for a fucking long time.

He released her mouth after she released his cock and wrapped her arm around his ribcage.

He opened his eyes to see her looking at him.

“So, did that earn me cinnamon French toast?” she asked.

Nick stared at her.

Then he burst out laughing.

* * * * *

9:02 – The Same Sunday Morning

Standing at his kitchen counter with Livvie next to him, close, in the curve of his arm, he lifted to her mouth a fork full of the crunch coated, cinnamon French toast smothered in maple syrup that he’d made his girl.

When her lips closed around it, he slid the fork out. She chewed. He watched her eyes get big with happiness and wonder and she again meant more to him than she did the previous day…hell, the previous moment.

And she did this in a way that he knew every moment with her would give him that same feeling.

He wasn’t falling in love.

She had him.

He was hers.

She swallowed and instantly asked, “Can I blow you and jack you every morning for French toast?”

“Absolutely,” he answered just as instantly.

She pressed deep and dissolved into laughter.

Yeah.

Definitely.

Every moment with Livvie.

She gave him that same feeling.

In a way he knew.

He knew.

He knew she’d give him that now…

And forever.

Chapter Twenty-One

Who Do You Belong To?

Nick

5:45 – That Next Friday Evening

Nick sat in the aisle seat, staring ahead of him, only the stragglers that were sitting back in coach coming up the gangway.

Liv was not beside him.

An hour ago, she’d texted that she was on her way.

It did not take an hour to get from DTC to DIA.

From taking his seat in the waiting area prior to boarding to right then, having been sitting in his seat in first class for the last twenty minutes, he’d texted her three times and phoned once.

He got nothing.

His neck was not itching.

He was coming out of his skin.

They’d made their plans together, bought their tickets separately, and had chosen their adjoining seats on their respective laptops pressed up next to each other at his bar twenty-three hours and forty-nine minutes ago.

Now he was getting nothing.

He looked back to his phone in his hand when it beeped with a text. He pulled it up immediately.

It wasn’t a text from Liv. It was a text from Sylvie.

Knight’s men clean. Not a surprise. Your boys clean. Again no surprise. Focus now is on the Feds.

As he suspected.

It was good to have it confirmed. It would be fucking great to know, finally, who fucked him and Hettie from the inside.