Carson (Dangerous Doms 4)

And Carson loves being here as well. He doesn’t say much about it, but I know it must make him feel like he belongs here more fully, like he’s a true part of this family. It’s hard to believe only a few months ago he and Breena were nearly alone, and now he’s a full-fledged brother in the Clan.

I yawn so widely my eyes water when he shuts the door. “You go rest,” he says. “I’ll get Breena to bed.” He nods toward the doorway. Breena’s arms are wrapped around his neck, and damn if that doesn’t make my heart go all melty. She’s half asleep, as he holds her to him, but not so tired she doesn’t manage a little wiggle of her fingers to bid me goodnight.

I kiss her cheek. “Good night, sweet girl,” I whisper. She smiles and closes her eyes. I watch him walk toward her room that’s opposite ours for privacy. He opens the door and walks her to bed, and I head to our room.

We wanted to keep things as simple as we could when we moved in together. I brought the majority of the furnishings and the like from my place, and he brought some of his favorite things as well, but we discarded the things we didn’t need. It seemed the right thing to do. Being together gives us so much, it feels like we don’t need more belongings to clutter things up. So our home is simple and classic, a merging of our two lives.

I strip off my clothes and toss them into the hamper. I watch as the silky fabric slides to the bottom, then stretch and yawn. It’s a sort of ritual at the end of the day, stripping out of my clothes and changing into something comfortable. I walk to the bathroom and flick the lights on, remove my makeup, then take out the pins that hold my hair in place. It cascades onto my shoulders, and I lift my hairbrush when Carson enters behind me.

He takes one look at me, and his eyes grow hungry.

“Aren’t you a picture,” he murmurs.

He’s taken off his dress shirt, and leans against the doorframe, watching me.

“Go on,” he says. “Don’t stop on my account.”

I smile at him and brush my hair. “You like this, don’t you?”

“Watching you get ready? I love it.”

“Why?” I ask, while I brush my hair.

He shrugs. “Reckon it’s like you’ve let me into something intimate,” he says. “And because you’re beautiful.”

I smile. “Thank you.” And he honestly makes me feel beautiful. I can’t say that about anybody else, that anyone else has ever made me feel the way he does.

“Breena asleep?”

“Before her head hit the pillow.”

I smile, placing the brush down in a little basket. “Wears herself out, doesn’t she?”

“Her nanny helps.”

“You ought to tip Nessa, then.”

He grins. “Noted.”

I turn to face him, my skin prickling under the intensity of his gaze. Something tells me I’m not going to bed anytime soon.

“Hand me that brush, will you?” he says. He places his hand, palm open, and I slide the brush into his hand, eyeing him thoughtfully.

He slides it into his pocket, takes me by the hand, and leads me to bed. I climb onto my side and plop onto the pillows. The sheets are freshly washed and fragrant, cool and comforting. I yawn again.

He kicks his shoes off, then reaches for his belt buckle. I watch as he slides it out of the loops on his pants, doubles it over, and gives it a good snap before tossing it to a chair. My heartbeat quickens.

He unfastens his trousers and steps out of them, tosses them into the hamper, then joins me in his boxers and t-shirt.

“We aren’t going to bed anytime soon, are we?” I ask him teasingly.

He grins. “Eh, you can close your eyes.”

I almost don’t want to, because I love looking at him, but at his suggestion, my eyes feel suddenly far too heavy.

I feel him come up beside me. He straddles me from behind, and I’m leaning up next to him, when he starts to brush my hair.

I sigh in contentment, it feels that good.

“Half expected you to spank me with it,” I tease.

“Have you been naughty?” he asks in a stern voice, one of his brows quirking up.

I shake my head, as a shiver of delight weaves its way through me.

“Good girl,” he says, and his voice full of pride. “I’m so pleased you said yes, Megan.”

“I had to,” I tell him. “Was meant to be, don’t you know.”

I smile at his low, deep chuckle. “I do know.” My chest warms. It takes me a minute to realize exactly what it is I feel.

Content.

Loved.

Cherished.

“Come here,” he says, in that low, sexy growl that makes my sex clench. He’s giving me that sexy-stern look I’ve come to crave. He crooks a finger at me, and I crawl over to him, my eyes fixed on his. When I reach him, he arranges me over his lap, straddling him.