Youngermommy 22 12 02 Kenzie Love In Mommys Bed... Page

She pulled back just enough to unbutton the first two buttons of her sweater. A hint of lace. A slow, deliberate invitation.

"You are." She padded across the thick carpet, barefoot, holding two mugs of chamomile tea. Steam curled up between us. "You’ve got that wrinkle between your eyebrows. The one that makes you look like your dad." YoungerMommy 22 12 02 Kenzie Love In Mommys Bed...

I did. In the low lamplight, she looked impossibly young. But her eyes—those were ancient. Tired. Hungry. She pulled back just enough to unbutton the

"Good." She leaned in, her forehead pressing against mine. Her breath was sweet and warm. "That’s exactly where I want you. In over your head. In my bed. In my life." "You are

At twenty-two, Kenzie Love was barely older than the babysitters I’d had in high school. But the way she moved through the house told a different story. She had traded her usual going-out crop tops for a soft, oversized cashmere sweater that kept slipping off one shoulder. Her hair, usually wild and bleached, was pulled back in a loose, damp bun.

I blinked. "I’m not."