If I thought her actions were cute before, this stuttering and rambling version of her takes the cake.

“It’s kind of embarrassing,” she tells me.

“I’ve been inside you. What I mean,” I rush to finish when her eyes narrow, “Is that I’ve seen every inch. Touched, licked and kissed those inches. There is not one thing you should ever feel embarrassed about with me, Megan.”

“Oh,” she breathes.

“Yeah. Give it to me, baby.”

And she does. God, does she. And in that moment I make a note to make sure Izzy Reid gets one hell of a thank you delivery of flowers.

“I might have been a little nervous this morning and blurted out to Izzy that I thought . . . that maybe you had . . . shit, okay, it just slipped out that you were maybe my boyfriend. Or had made me your girlfriend. But now, saying that out loud and to your face makes it sound kind of silly. Boyfriend and girlfriend, I mean. The label, that is.”

I smile and she drops her head to mine.

“I told you it was embarrassing,” she exhales.

“No, it isn’t. The rambling you do when you’re nervous is cute, darlin’, that’s all. So cute that it hits me right between my legs, so I would say that isn’t embarrassing at all. I’m not huge on labels, but if that’s what you need to know you’re mine and I’m yours, then they work for me.”

“Oh, okay,” she says with red cheeks.

“God, you’re cute.”

Her lips curl and I pull my head from the back of the couch to give her a kiss, not deep, but I still feel it just the same and I’m fighting the urge once again to take her.

“And when did bubblegum come into play?” I ask.

“Right,” she breathes. “So Izzy may have told me that you guys—all of you guys—have a history of this.”

I feel my brows pull in and wait, not sure about where this is going.

“I mean . . . this is kind of hard to explain, but she kind of said that all of the guys, your dad, Axel, and all the way down to Cohen, have a way about making someone yours. A way that, when it happens, sticks forever. Molly was curious, having heard that, but not understanding everything else, and asked what it meant to be stuck together forever. So, I told her it was like bubblegum.”

I nod, loving everything she’s said, but still not getting the damn gum.

“Right. So, the best way to explain it to her was to tell her how being stuck together or wanting to be stuck together is a feeling and not really being stuck, but if it wasn’t just a feeling, it would be like wanting to have someone as close as possible and that feeling is like being stuck with chewy, sticky bubblegum.”

“Bubblegum,” I mumble and she closes her eyes.

“Bubblegum,” she echoes.

“Open your eyes, Megan.”

She doesn’t move.

“Darlin’, see me.”

And those brown eyes hit mine.

“I’ve got a brand new pack of spearmint in the truck. Happy as fuck that you would gladly use it to stick yourself to me, but you don’t need the gum. I’m happily stuck and have no plans to become unstuck.”

Her eyes shine and then her head goes back and her laughter hits me like a punch in the gut.

Perfection.

Her happy in my arms, her daughter safe and warm—also happy—in her bed, having the chance at something I’ve known would feel like this, has my hands pushed into her hair and her mouth on mine in seconds.

Only now I have a hard time reminding myself why I need to pull back before I get too lost in her.

Bubblegum, I think to myself as her tongue slides against mine and the mint taste I tasted earlier invades. One that only a slice of gum can leave behind.

I’ve never loved bubblegum more.

MY BODY IS GOING TO burn up from the inside if he keeps this up. These slow kisses that I know will not go a step further with Molly home, boiling my arousal so bright that my veins are on fire.

“You taste good,” he mumbles against my neck.

“Bubblegum,” I wheeze out when his teeth bite down on the sensitive skin between my neck and shoulder.

Then my brain catches up to my mouth when I lose his mouth and I feel his body move in amusement. My eyes open wide and I watch him attempt to stop his laughter, and fail.

“I’m never going to live that down.”

His laughter dies down to a chuckle at my pouting tone.

“I’ll probably never even be able to chew a piece again,” I continue.

His chuckle stops, but his smile stays. His perfectly straight teeth bright against his tan skin.