“You’re the best.”
“Don’t I know it!” he cracks.
Silas is waiting when I come back and sit down with my tray loaded to the gills.
“Tell me about your family.”
“Eager?”
“I’m adopted, Silas. I don’t have any biological relatives. I’m excited that my baby will have both, people who chose her in their life as well as blood relations. Lay it on me!” I smile and grab the cupcake before he can even consider it an option.
Silas picks up the cookie. Interesting choice. Why go for the cookie when you can have the warm cinnamon roll? But whatever. To each his own.
“To start, my mother’s name is Darlene, my father, Devon ‘Daddy’ McKnight, as he was known in the music world.”
“I can’t believe it. I actually have records of your father playing his soul music. My mother is a fan. She couldn’t believe you are Silas McKnight, son to Daddy McKnight. My father might want your autograph.”
“What? Why?”
“Because he thinks you’re famous by osmosis. And just so you know, he now thinks our baby is famous too.”
He chuckles, and the low rumble makes my stomach dip pleasurably.
“I have four siblings. I’m the eldest of five. Two sisters, two brothers.”
I stop mid-chew, a chunk of cupcake catching in my throat before I cough and swallow it down with a sip of coffee.
Silas’s expression is worried when he speaks. “You okay?”
Nodding, I sip more of my drink. “Yeah, it’s just, my goodness, that’s a lot of family members.”
“That’s not all. My father has four siblings, my mother seven. Our baby has a very large family. Including your mother and father, this child is never going to feel unwanted.”
My face snaps up at the use of the word that clouded eight years of my life in sadness. Being an orphan, I always felt unwanted. Until the Jacksons chose me. Then my life changed.
And my baby will never go unwanted. Ever. He or she already has a huge family to count on.
“Silas, you can’t possibly understand how happy your large family makes me.” My voice is thick, coated with an emotion I can’t hide.
He grins huge. “That’s good, Dara, because you’re now an important part of it. You, me, and our baby.”
Chapter Twelve
Blue and Purple Aura Colors and Meanings: If an individual’s aura is blue, the person is cool, calm, and often sensitive. When the blue darkens, they may currently be experiencing a fear of self-expression and doubt. Indigo, which incidentally is the color of the third eye chakra, proves the person is intuitive, visionary, and clear-minded. If the aura shifts into violet it means the individual has a divinity, a sage wisdom, and enlightenment surrounding them.
SILAS
A pang of guilt and sadness wiggles down my spine as I watch the Realtor hammer in the For Sale sign on my lawn.
Sarah’s house.
In my heart, I know this is for the best. I can’t continue to live in this house, attempt to have another woman in my life, and bring a child who is not the baby Sarah and I dreamed of having into the nursery. It’s not right.
Besides, as Dr. Hart continues to remind me, living in the past is not healthy. Dr. Hart has spent the last couple weeks working with me on making advances and changes, which are based on me and my needs now and not the life I lived with Sarah.
Seeing Dara every day is helping, even when it’s only for thirty minutes in the morning while she works and I drink her coffee and eat her mouthwatering confections. Plus, I’ve gone to meditation two more weekends in a row since she gave me the prayer beads, and I’ve even been working on my own personal practice at home. Still, it’s been hard to do with the reminder of my old life pushing all around my senses.
The Realtor makes his way back up the walk. “Good asking price, great condition… It’s going to go fast,” he surmises, looking at the lawn and the white sign announcing the property’s availability to the world.
I nod and sigh. “It’s time for a change. Any tips on a home in Berkeley?”
He frowns. “Sorry, not yet. It’s a very old area you want to be in. There aren’t a lot of people willing to sell, but it does happen. I’ve given a heads-up to all of my associates, as well as friends of mine in other companies, so we can be the first notified if something pops up.”
“It’s all you can do, right?” I shrug.
“Yeah.”
“Let me know what bites you get on this place. Yeah?”
The man looks at my white one-story with a perfectly manicured lawn. “Shame you want to leave. You know, this isn’t that far from the area you’re looking at in Berkeley. Twenty minutes, tops. Thirty, if traffic is bad.”
“I’m starting a new family, and my woman works in that area. I don’t want her driving thirty minutes a day.” Which sounds ridiculous since thirty minutes in Bay Area traffic is nothing. For others, that would be a dream. Some people drive three hours from the Valley to work in a city they can’t afford to live in.
I’m really thinking I don’t want Dara driving ever. Especially in her condition and even after. I make a mental note to discuss this fear with Dr. Hart. She’ll have a field day with it, but it’s not something I can bend on, not anytime soon.
The Realtor puts on his sunglasses and holds out his hand. “Well, I’ve got all I need. Please make sure you leave the key in the lock box on the front door, and let me know if there are certain times you don’t want visitors. We make sure properties are seen before seven p.m. so we don’t disturb your life too much.”
I take his extended hand. “Thanks. Have a good night.”
“Will do. You too, Silas.”
The Realtor leaves my house, zooming away in his Mercedes.
I walk back into the house and look around. Whitney has been helping me box up things and sort for donation. As much as I would have liked to keep everything of my life with Sarah, it’s not fair to Dara to have her sitting on a couch I picked out with my wife or sleeping on a bed we shared.
Besides, one day, I fully intend on having Dara and my child in my home every night. I know it’s early, and Dara and I are getting to know one another, but there’s something about her I can’t stay away from.
She’s beautiful, that much is a given. Wild in the sack, from what I remember of our drunken night of debauchery. I chuckle every time I hear her cute snort-laugh. None of this compares to her scent, though. Coming home to a woman who smells like a bakery every day…not a hardship for sure. And then there’s her smile… It’s so pretty, it could light up a room. Nothing gets to me the way her voice does as it wavers and lowers when she’s teaching meditation; the sound weaves into the fabric of my being and calms the chaotic place inside me. The one that tells me I’m not enough.
Not good enough for my company, my family, Dara, or our new baby.
Dara makes that anxiety go away.
As I look around my empty house, my heart starts to throb. A painful reminder I’m alone, except now, I don’t have to be.
Grabbing my coat, I’m through the kitchen and then jumping into my BMW within a minute flat. I glance to the right and notice my wife’s old Honda still sitting there collecting dust. I’m going to donate it to the women’s shelter we took her clothes to. One more thing Sarah would love to have shared with someone who needed it. I put it on my list of to-dos for tomorrow. Tonight, I need to see Dara, feed her a meal, and make regular plans to see her more than for my morning cup of coffee and a pastry. She hasn’t been open to dating me yet, thinking I needed more time to sort myself out, but what I really need is to be around her. Spend time getting to know the woman who’s going to have my child in the next thirty weeks.
Speeding down the road, I make it to the bakery in just over twenty-five minutes. The Realtor was right. It really doesn’t take that long from my current neighborhood, but it would mean Dara would need to drive to work quite a distance every day. I can’t have that hanging over my
head. Not right now.
When I jump out of the car, I can see Dara at the window just turning the sign over from Open to Closed.
I grin and run up to the window. She sees me and smiles one of her own.
God, she’s pretty.
“Got time for one more customer?” I yell loud enough so she can hear me through the glass.
She unlocks the door and opens it.
“Hey, didn’t I see you at breakfast?” She smirks, and the tightness I felt in my heart back at my empty house dissipates.
Not fearing her response, I loop an arm around her waist, plaster her to my chest, and kiss her without warning.
She gasps, probably surprised at this sudden development in our relationship, and then melts into the kiss quickly, pressing her lips to mine just as eagerly. I slip my tongue along the seam of her lips, and she opens, allowing me entrance. She tastes of lemon and frosting. I lick her up, humming and moaning my appreciation of her tastiness as our tongues duel. She digs her fingers into the muscles of my back, rubbing her breasts against my chest. I run one hand down and palm her plump ass.
God, she feels good grinding up against my length, so I do it again until she moans her delight.
The kiss quickly gets out of control, both of us warring for dominance. Dara slants her head, holds me around the neck, and dives in. I give her everything she wants and more, grabbing both of her butt cheeks and yanking her up, pushing her against the nearest wall so I can grind my cock against her.
“Oh my God, Silas, it’s so good,” she murmurs around my lips.
“Is that right?” I press my dick harder between her legs, and she mewls like a baby kitten.
“I’m so…so…hot for you.” She digs her nails into my back.
Taking my time, I run my nose down her neck and nip, lick, and kiss along the golden column, working her into a nice little frenzy.
“How do we get to your apartment?” I whisper in her ear and then bite down on the outside of her earlobe.
She moans. “Through the kitchen, up the stairs.”
I work her neck for another few seconds, licking up and down, enjoying her sigh as I do.
“Um, Si…just let me down. I’ll take you there. Need to make sure the bakery is locked up.”
I let her unlock her legs and slide down my body. Except before she can go, I need her lips again. She returns my kiss with fervor, making my jeans tight as fuck with how hard my dick is. Letting her free, I adjust my package, trying to find a little more space and failing miserably.
Dara smiles and locks the door I just came through. Her hair is a wild mess of curls, more so now that I’ve messed them up. I don’t care. She’s still unbelievably beautiful.
Like a lost puppy, I follow my girl around the bakery as she closes up shop. I pay close attention in the hope she’ll let me help her one day soon.
“The night team will be here in an hour, so don’t worry when we’re upstairs and you hear the alarm beeping. They’ll unarm it and rearm it while they’re here and again when they leave. It’s a safety precaution and works well, especially so I know it’s them coming in when I’m alone upstairs. My dad made sure the apartment was well insulated, so it’s not like we can hear one another, hence the reason for the alarm.”
“Makes good sense.” I keep track of her movements. “What’s the code?” I ask, not even thinking she may not want to tell me just yet.
“Three two seven two,” she says automatically. “It’s Dara when you type it on a phone keypad.” She winks.
“Clever.”
She shrugs, letting the compliment roll off as she presses the buttons. “Okay, we can go upstairs.” Her eyes light up to a stunning daylight blue, the hint of excitement still floating in them as she licks her lips, looking me up and down.
Even though the bulge in my pants has not gone down even a little, I still feel as though I should make a valiant effort to woo her instead of tossing her on the nearest bed. “As much as I’d like to take you into your apartment and make love to you all night long…” I try.
“Yes, please,” she says automatically, and I laugh.
“You and the baby need to eat. You’ve made it to ten weeks now without any problems, and I want to ensure you and our lil’ one are getting all the nutrition you need. Meaning, can I take you to dinner?”
She scrunches up her nose and shakes her head. “No, but I can make you something to eat if you don’t mind? I’m honestly far too tired to go out. I made homemade spaghetti and meatballs last night, if you’re interested?”
“If I’m interested? Woman. Are you crazy? What man wouldn’t be interested in a home-cooked meal?”
Dara smiles widely. “Then come on. Let’s get you and this baby fed.”
I follow her up the stairs, watching her ass jiggle the entire way. For someone who works out at the yoga studio next door, she’s still got some seriously lush junk in the trunk, and I’m a man who loves a woman with a juicy ass. I can’t wait to sink my teeth right into it, leave my mark.
My dick hardens more painfully, and I groan while looking away.
Focus on the stairs and the food, not your woman’s ass.
Like a homing beacon, my gaze goes right back to it. Thank Christ she made it to the top and was opening her door, because I was two seconds away from taking a bite right out of crime, and I’m not sure how she’d have reacted. Maybe pleasantly, maybe not.
Dara tosses her keys into a ceramic bowl next to the door and keeps walking through to her small kitchen.
She was right. As I look around and see her homey apartment, comfy-looking couch and chair, neatly made bed with a ton of throw pillows on it, I try to find a place where she plans to put our child and can’t find one. All I see is all there is. One big room that’s maybe eight hundred square feet total. There’s absolutely no room for me or our child.
Grinding my teeth, I head to the small kitchen and plant my ass on one of the two stools available. My closet is bigger than her kitchen. And there is one thing I know about Dara: My girl likes to cook. She’s a fuckin’ baker. Woman needs a top-of-the-line kitchen and appliances.
Breathing slowly, I attempt to get a handle on my nerves. It wouldn’t be good for me to launch an all-out attack on the life Dara has created for herself. She lives simply. Runs a bakery she loves by day downstairs, works at the yoga studio next door, and spends time with her friends and family, all on this one street. And she doesn’t seem put out at all by having less.
“How long have you lived here?” I ask, making polite conversation and wanting to learn as much about her as possible.
“Five years.” She’s chopping up some cucumber and dumping it on top of a bag of salad she’d already put in the bowl while I was taking in her place.
“What do you do for fun?” I ask the lame question every guy asks when you’re first dating a woman.
She grins and waggles her brows. “You mean besides making you crazy with wanting to bang me?”
I cough and cock an eyebrow high. Damn girl has my number, that’s for sure. “I’m pretty sure I’m the one who said let’s eat first.”
She flicks her hair over one shoulder, giving me a lovely view of her cleavage as she mixes up the salad, dropping in cherry tomatoes and black olives. “Yes, but I also know that every day for the past two weeks your eyes have followed my ass, my tits, and my legs around while I’ve served people in the bakery or taught class. I’m willing to bet you can’t wait to get inside again.” She licks her lips and runs a finger down her neck and between her breasts. Boldly, she cups her large tits in both hands and gives them a healthy jiggle.
“Christ, woman, you’re driving me crazy,” I grit through clenched teeth.
She winks. “I know. And I love every second of it.” With a grin, she spins around and bends over, giving me a front-row seat to her bootylicious ass while she puts a pan of garlic bread in the oven.
Moving on pure instinct, I’m off the stool and around the small island just as sh
e lifts the oven door up and in place. I’ve got an arm around her chest, my front plastered to her back, and my other hand around her waist, lips at her neck.
Dara stills for only a moment before pushing her ass against my renewed erection. “See something you like, my prince?” The little vixen is taunting me into action.
“Yeah, and I’m gonna take it.” I bite down on the space where her neck and shoulder meet.
“Is that right?” Her words are a breathy, turned-on whisper, but her hips and ass are devious as she grinds back against me.
“Hands to the fucking counter,” I grate. “Now, woman.”
I can feel her heartbeat pick up against my arm where I’ve got her locked to me. She shifts her body away from the hot oven and to the counter two feet from it. As she does this, I slide my hand up her shirt and pull it up and over her head. She’s in a hot-pink bra.
“Fuck me,” I growl against her skin before rubbing my dick against her ass. With nimble fingers, I pull down both of the lace cups, letting her big breasts spill over the tops. “Christ, your tits are meant to be worshipped, lil’ mama.”
Dara moans as I thumb both of her nipples and then pluck and pinch at them until she’s a squirming mess.
“Silas…” The word is a breathy gasp when I bite down on her neck and suck at her sugar-coated skin.
“Fuck, baby. You smell like apples today.”
She hums. “Fresh apple pies.”
Using one hand, I push down her ever-present yoga pants, taking her matching pink lace underwear with them. Her perfect mocha-colored ass comes into view, and I fall to my knees and put my mouth on one fleshy cheek. I bite down while gripping both globes. Fascinated, I squeeze and mold her flesh while shivers and gooseflesh rack her body and skin.
“Baby…need more,” she murmurs, her head falling forward, all that mass of hair covering her face from view.
I stand up and pull off my shirt, because I need skin-on-skin action, but I only undo my jeans and push them far enough to get my dick free.
Intimate Intuition Page 14