Gentleman Sinner

by Jodi Ellen Malpas

  “Oh…my…God.” I surrender to the feeling and melt into the mattress, the gradual sensation of him filling me, taking me off into a blissful state of appreciation. He gives me time, lets me gradually become accustomed to his girth again, circling and easing his way to filling me completely. Our eyes are glued together, his mouth nearly touching mine. The love and need passing between us is potent. So powerful. So needed.

  “Okay?” he whispers.

  “Perfect,” I reply, absorbing his first plunge on an inhale. “You?”

  “Better than perfect.” His forehead meets mine, slippery across my skin. “You’re a miracle cure, sweetheart.”

  He starts a tender rock into me, his grinding slow and his momentum steady. Pleasure is licking up and down my spine, my body rolling in waves to match Theo’s moves flawlessly. The friction is divine. The pressure delicious. Having him taking me so worshipfully and lovingly is needed. My condition has nothing to do with his pace and handling of me. And I can’t help thinking that Theo’s condition doesn’t, either, though it’s an obvious handicap. This is a reunion, not just of our more fragile bodies, but of our souls, too. It’s slow, it’s careful, and it’s devoted. He’s refusing to break our eye contact as he works us both into a calm fever. He’s growing within me, and the pressure is building in my core. He nods at me, pushing his lips to mine and kissing me achingly slowly, taking us both to the pinnacle of pleasure. My world goes hazy as my climax ripples through me, and Theo starts to groan, increasing the pressure of his mouth on mine when he joins me. Our wet bodies rub and slip, hardening in unison as we strive together to maintain our kiss.

  And the flow of pleasure subsides only when Theo’s body softens, his rolling tongue leading the way and slowing to a stop. “Wow,” he whispers against my lips, brushing from side to side.

  I sigh my reply, feeling utterly replete. “Are you hurting?”

  “I’ve never felt more alive.” His eyes close and his face disappears into my neck. “Thank you.”

  “What for?”

  “For not giving up hope. For never deserting me, even when I wasn’t here.” He kisses his way up my cheek to my nose, pulling back a fraction to be sure he has my eyes. I wish I could stop them from welling up, but it’s a battle I would never win if I tried, so I don’t bother trying. He smiles, taking a fingertip and gently wiping under my eye. “You’re stronger than me, Izzy.”

  I frown, not grasping how he’s come to that conclusion. He’s a beast. “But—”

  Lips press to mine quickly, quieting me. “Let me finish,” he mumbles, biting my bottom lip in light warning. “I’m not talking about physical strength; I’d crush you.”

  “Please don’t,” I beg jokingly, encouraging a beam of epic proportions to break out, his dimple raging. His dark blue eyes shimmer beautifully.

  “I’m man enough to admit that I’m nothing without you. I’m man enough to admit that I’m so frightened that I’ll hurt you again.” He flicks his eyes up to my restraints, misery replacing the happiness of a moment ago. “I’ll get past this,” he vows. “There will be a day when you can have free rein over me.” His eyes come down to mine, pleading with me unnecessarily. “For you and our baby, I can do it.”

  “I believe you.” I wish now more than ever that I could throw my arms around his shoulders. “Release me,” I order, pulling at the cuffs. He obeys my command, working quickly, and a few moments later, I’m wrapped around him tightly, squeezing my love and faith into him. I know he can do this. We’ll figure it out together.

  “I have a gift for you,” he tells me, forcing me away from him. Leaving me hugely curious, he gets up from the bed and slowly walks naked across the room to the dresser. He pulls out a file and wanders back over, holding it up. “Though you’ve kind of ruined my surprise a little with your bombshell.” He nods at my tummy.

  I regard him carefully as he presents me with the file, and I take it tentatively. “What’s this?”

  He sits on the edge of the bed. “You’ve been looking after me,” he says, and I frown some more because I have no idea what relevance that has to this file. “You quit your job, and I wish I could say that I didn’t want you to do that, but I can’t. I wanted you here with me, and I wanted you to look after me.” He shrugs. “It’s selfish, but I wouldn’t change it.”

  “Neither would I,” I reply, still not getting what this is all about. “I wanted to look after you.” The fact that he can’t bear anyone touching him, and I know how to handle his delicate condition, is beside the point. I would have done it regardless.

  His lips quirk. “See? My very own Florence Nightingale.”

  I laugh out loud. “I’m a nurse. Just a nurse.”

  “Be quiet and open the file.”

  I eye him suspiciously, pouting as I follow his order. “What is it?” I ask, pulling out the first sheet. I scan the paper. “An application form?” I ask, confusion rampant in my tone. It’s complete, too, with all my details filling the spaces. Then I nearly choke when I notice the heading on the sheet. My eyes shoot to his. “Theo?”

  “It’s your application to study medicine.”

  “What?”

  “You’ve been accepted. The fees are paid, and all your papers are in there. You let go of your dream to be a doctor. I want you to have it back. It’s the one thing I can do for you. You don’t have to worry about financial support. I’ll support you. I want you to have your dream.”

  “My dream is you.” My lip begins to tremble, and I drop the sheet, my quivering hands not helping. I can’t believe he’s done this.

  He takes my hands and squeezes. “You already have me. I want you to have this, too. As well as me.” He rests his hand on my tummy. “And this. As soon as you’re ready, I want you to pursue it. I want you to be a doctor. It’s just one more reason for me to be in awe of you. One more reason on top of the hundreds there are already to love you and be proud of you.”

  I place my hand over his and press it against me, emotion racking my body. “And what about this?” Becoming a doctor takes years of study, stress, and hard work. And be a mum?

  His eyes drop to our hands. And he smiles. He smiles so widely and so brightly, I’m nearly knocked off the bed. “I never imagined myself as a stay-at-home dad.”

  A happiness so rich spirals through me. “You’ll be a stay-at-home dad?” I ask, imagining him now, my big, scary man…with a baby strapped to his colossal chest in one of those carrier things. The mental image delights me more than I can describe. It also turns me on.

  “Yes,” he answers simply, nodding to himself in agreement.

  My smile must be breaking records in the brightest category. Theo looks at me, sureness and determination plastered all over his handsome face. He reads my thoughts, opening his arms, and I dive into them. Hiding his pain with a laugh of pure elation, he holds me the tightest he ever has. He’s determined to fix himself. Not that I would dream of telling him, but I couldn’t care less if I was never able to touch him freely. If it was just me and him, I’d find a way to manage it. I’d find a way to accept it. Because I already touch him in a different way, and it’s far more meaningful than any physical touch. Our connection is earth-shattering even when I’m tied up and unable to reciprocate in that one small area of our relationship.

  Because I touch his soul.

  Every moment of the day, I touch him there. It’s deep. So deep. I have his love, which means everything and more. But it’s not going to be just us. There’s going to be a third person, so I will do whatever it takes to help Theo. Yet though my resolve is fierce, it isn’t a scratch on the purpose I can feel penetrating me from the force of his cuddle.

  He’ll do this, I have no doubt. Our baby has touched him already. In the deepest part of Theo, our growing baby’s hand is resting next to mine on its daddy’s soul.

  Epilogue

  THEO

  I’m a smart man. I’m knowledgeable, and I like to think that I can turn my hand to most things. Not much i
n life has me scratching my head and considering seeking advice, but this thing right here has me stumped. I pull at the various straps, my mind aching. The instructions make no sense. The pads and clips are all over the fucking place.

  “This is going to keep my baby safe?” I ask myself, tossing the contraption aside and collapsing back in the chair in complete exasperation. My ears prick up when I hear a muffled noise emanate from the baby monitor, and I look across to the table where it sits, seeing a few lights flash at me.

  I don’t hang around to wait for a follow-up sign that my girl is awake. I’m up from the chair like lightning and rushing to the nursery. The sound of her gurgling brings an instant smile to my face. As I pace over to the crib, my grin stretches wider, my eyes catching a glimpse of her blankets rising and falling where she’s wriggling around. And the moment her face is in my vision, sparks of happiness overwhelm me. Her stunning green eyes find me in a heartbeat, and she stills for a second, taking me in. Then she smiles, a gummy, adorable smile, her little limbs starting to thrash excitedly. God, she’s the most beautiful little thing I’ve ever seen.

  “Hey, princess.” My hands are in the crib and scooping her out fast, my palms spanning her entire midriff and then some. She continues to kick in my hold as I sink my face into her neck and breathe her into me. She smells fucking divine. “Hmmm,” I hum, squeezing her, relishing the pure gorgeousness of her baby skin and smell. “I could eat you,” I say, meaning it. She laughs the laugh that has her inhaling and holding her breath. I fucking love that laugh.

  Freeing her from my bearded face, I hold her up in front of me. “How’d you sleep?” I ask, laughing when her grabby hands shoot for my face and start smacking and pulling. “Good?”

  Her answer is a breathy baby squeal.

  “Come on.” I bring her to my chest and hold her there with one palm across her back, grabbing her blanket with the other. “You can help Daddy figure out this carry thing.”

  I stride out of the nursery and into the lounge, taking a seat on the couch and sitting her on my knee. She starts bucking and bouncing, shouting for the big square of pink fluff that I’m holding in front of her. I give her the blanket and pull the tangled mess of straps over. “Easy-to-follow instructions, it said.”

  I’m mindful that Lola will be shouting for some milk soon, so I sit her in the corner of the couch and surround her with pillows, getting her all comfy and secure, before I drop to my knees on the floor and spread out the material and straps for one last attempt.

  After five minutes of crisscrossing, pulling, and tying, I think I might be halfway there. “Looking good, Lola,” I say, collecting her from the couch and laying her in the middle of the contraption. She beams up at me, legs kicking out and all. “You’re laughing at me, aren’t you?” I guide each of her legs through what I’m assuming are leg holes, and I frown when I find an odd strap dangling down, holding it up as I try to figure out what this one does.

  Lola’s laughs suddenly change into impatient shouts. Damn, she’s hungry. I look at my watch and note it’s already fifteen minutes past her feeding time. “Okay, okay.” The door behind me opens, and I look back to find Callum striding in. “Hey,” I say, returning my attention to my princess. His heavy boots approach until he’s standing above us, looking down at the mess of baby and straps before me. Lola’s eyes light up, and the hungry shouts transform into chuckles again, the sight of Uncle Callum making her momentarily forget that she’s starving.

  “Evening, princess.” Callum dips and chucks her cheek, smiling brightly at my daughter. “What’s Daddy doing to you?”

  “Trying to get this stupid thing together.” I drop the strap in frustration. The other one we have, the one that’s kept Lola close to my chest for the past ten months and that she’s outgrown, wasn’t this complicated.

  “What is it?” Callum eyes the contraption with pinched brows.

  “A baby carrier.”

  “It is?”

  “Supposedly,” I mutter, feeding Lola’s chubby legs back out through the holes and scooping her up. “We don’t like this one, do we, princess?” I kiss her cheek and stand.

  Callum claims the pile of straps and joins me, turning it one way, then the other. “I think I’ve got it.” He holds it up and gestures for me to give him an arm, so I shift Lola across my chest. “There,” he says once I’ve fed my arm through the hole. “Other,” he orders, prompting me to swap Lola to my other side.

  Her little hand catapults toward my cheek and grabs on, yanking at my beard. “Ouch!”

  “You need to shave that mess off,” Callum grunts.

  “Izzy won’t let me.”

  “Pussy,” he grumbles, and I smile, my eyes clenching shut as Lola continues to abuse my face. Giving Callum my other arm, I feel him pulling at the straps on my back, muttering under his breath. “Did you buy an XXXL?”

  “One size fits all,” I toss over my shoulder.

  “Except Theo Kane.”

  “Fu—” I just suck back my intended curse. “Shut up. Is it secure?”

  Callum yanks at the straps, jerking me back a little. “Safe as houses.” He rounds me and puts his arms out for me to pass him Lola. “Come see Uncle Callum,” he coos, losing everything masculine about him. I shouldn’t pass comment. Since Izzy bulldozed into my life, my masculinity has diminished a little every day. Then Lola arrived and any testosterone that was remaining disintegrated at the mere sight of her.

  “You sound like a girl,” I say for the sake of it as I pass her over, ignoring his high eyebrows. “Be careful with her.”

  “Fuck off.” It’s a lame attempt to win some manliness back. He lifts Lola and blows a raspberry on her romper-covered belly, and she chuckles. I scowl, taking my palms to her ears and covering them, glaring at Callum. “Sorry.” He shrugs and returns his attention to my laughing daughter, while I look down to the contraption that’s now strapped to my chest. I pull out a pad of material, concluding it’s where Lola should slot in. She’s suddenly dangling before me, Callum holding her out.

  “In here?” I point to the most obvious place and Callum nods, bringing Lola forward and aiming her legs for the holes. “No, she faces outward,” I tell him. “So she can see around.”

  Callum turns her in his arms with a roll of his eyes and starts again. I take her tiny ankles and help guide them down until she’s slotted into position. Then she begins to shout again, clearly losing her patience with the two oafs scratching their heads over a simple baby carrier.

  “Okay, princess,” I soothe, jiggling her a little, ensuring she’s safe while Callum finds two Velcro straps and fixes them in place. “Comfy?” I ask her, dropping my lips to the back of her head and inhaling. “Damn, I’ll never get enough of that smell.” It’s like a potent injection of life into me each time I take a hit. Lifting my head, I find Callum grinning at me. “What?”

  “Nothing.” He reaches for Lola’s head and strokes over her fine covering of soft dark hair. “She’s growing by the day.”

  I look down proudly, feeling her comforting weight on my chest. “She has her daddy’s appetite.”

  “I just hope she doesn’t inherit her daddy’s build.”

  I toss him a dirty look. “She’s Izzy through and through.” I’m smiling again when Lola starts kicking her little legs against me, each hit enhancing the feel of contentment residing deep inside me. I had nothing to fear where touching is concerned. Not with my daughter. She pulls and grabs at me and it doesn’t faze me in the slightest. It feels right, somehow. Natural.

  From the moment she arrived, things changed. She was like an instant cure. A miracle. She’s my little miracle. My handicap vanished like it was never there, and the weight that disappeared from my shoulders with it was almost too overpowering to bear. People can touch me, and for the first time since that awful day when I turned on my father, I don’t react. Not even when I’m not expecting it. My brain is always switched on, and Lola is always at the forefront of it. My only handicap
now is my crippling love for her.

  With a smile of wonder, I drop one more kiss onto the back of her head and she shouts, thrashing again, reminding me that she’s hungry.

  A hand lands on my upper arm, and I look up to find Callum regarding me with a tiny smile on his face. He knows what I’m thinking. He appreciates the wonder that has me taking stock most days. After I’ve returned his smile, he drops his hold and clears his throat, locating his lost testosterone. “Come on, you giant pussy.” He turns and strides to the door, yanking it open and disappearing through it. I clear my throat, too, striding after him…with Lola strapped to my chest.

  As I descend the stairs to the entrance hall, Jefferson appears, holding a tray with Lola’s bottle sitting in the center. “And how is the lady of the house this evening?” he asks, his eyes glittering behind his round specs at the sight of my daughter. On cue, Lola starts bucking against my front, her hands bunching and flexing as Jefferson nears with her milk. “Ooh, someone’s hungry,” he chuckles, stopping before me and offering me the tray. I take the bottle and shake it, flipping the lid off and squirting a bit on my wrist while Lola gets more vocal. “Perfect temperature,” Jefferson informs me. I know it will be, but habit prevents me from taking his word for it.

  “Thanks, Jefferson.” I turn and follow Callum to the corridor that leads to the Playground. I pick up my pace when Lola’s cries of hunger become more piercing, landing in the office quickly and hurrying to get her out of the straps on my chest. “Okay, princess,” I soothe, hating the sound of her distressed sobs. Finding my chair, I cradle her in my arms and take the bottle to her mouth. She latches on and drinks ravenously, going soft and still in my arms. I breathe out and relax as Callum takes a seat opposite me. “What have you got to tell me?”

  “Your mother’s been upsetting Penny again.” He rolls his eyes, following my lead.

  “What about this time?” Penny took charge of the girls more than a year ago, and my mother wasn’t best pleased. It’s like managing two bitching schoolgirls, for fuck’s sake.