That thought process might make me seem like an uncaring mom to some, but finding the silver lining to a joint custody agreement has done wonders for my emotional well-being. In addition, it helps me rest better when I’m focusing on self-care instead of worry. As a single mom, rest is priceless these days, so I’ll suffer through having mom-guilt because I don’t have mom-guilt.
Pretty sure only another mom can understand the logic of that one.
Just as they reach the door, it flies open and Abel steps through. With his bulk and the fact that spring is right around the corner, he’s dressed in boots, jeans, and a bulky sweater. No coat. After so many months of cold, it makes me irrationally happy to know warmer temps are coming. Plus, he’s holding a bag of food, which also delights me.
“Hi Abel,” Ainsley says like the two men in her life staring each other down isn’t awkward at all. Well, Derrick is staring Abel down. Abel doesn’t even acknowledge Derrick is here.
“What’s up, Tiny Dancer? You heading to your dad’s?”
“Yep.” She flings her backpack across her shoulders. “I’ve got my tablet and my lion, and I’m gonna sleep there and maybe see my grammy.”
Abel smiles at her like she’s the most precious child in the world and my heart melts. Every child should have a male role model look at them that way, and the fact that she’s not his daughter and he still doesn’t hold back, proves what kind of man he is. The more stuff like this happens, the more I like him. He makes it easy to fall for him.
Not that I’m falling for him. He’s my friend and my roommate. Well, and the guy I’m seeing. So, I definitely like him, but falling for him? Yeah no. Not yet.
I don’t think…
“Well, I hope you have a fun weekend. You look absolutely beautiful for your night out with your dad,” he adds with another drop-dead gorgeous smile. The smile turns into a menacing smirk as he looks up at Derrick.
For a split second, I worry there’s going to be a beatdown, which is not what I have planned for the night. I’m hungry and broken noses tend to kill my appetite. Not to mention it really sucks trying to get blood out of carpet. I’m pretty sure Derrick has the same thought. But no. Abel isn’t that kind of a man. He just gives Derrick a curt nod and walks past them toward me.
“Hey.” That smile is back and this time, it’s all for me. “I didn’t think you’d want chicken again, so I got you some sushi.”
My eyes light up as I peek into the bag he hands me.
“Sushi!” Ainsley yells excitedly.
“We’ll get some on the way home,” Derrick immediately responds and quickly ushers her out the door.
I save my own verbal reaction until after I hear the door close behind Derrick. No sense in giving him ammunition. Or encouraging my daughter. She loves sushi as much as I do. I have no doubt that kid would have tried to steal it all if she’d stayed any longer.
“Ooh! You got my favorite kind with the special sauce.” I clutch the bag to my chest, a dreamy smile on my face as I look at my knight in shining… well, boots. “Thank you.”
“You know that’s not actual sushi, right?”
I look over my shoulder at him like he’s nuts, beelining for the plates and silverware. I’m about four seconds away from this hunger turning into hanger. Ain’t nobody want to see that. “What? Of course, it’s sushi.”
Abel follows behind me with his own bag. Probably that nasty chicken he mentioned. “The fish is cooked and there is creamy sauce on it. Not to mention the avocado inside which isn’t native to Japan at all. They don’t even use it in their rolls in Asia unless they’re purposely trying to Westernize the food.”
Grabbing everything I need to finish fixing my dinner, I’m singularly focused on getting this food in my belly, even as Abel tries to ruin it. “That’s not true. How do you know that?”
“I asked the guy at the sushi counter.” Abel takes one of the clean plates off the small stack and we work in tandem, making our personalized meals. Being able to cater to my personal taste buds instead of eating whatever the kids are having might be my favorite part of these weekends.
“Whatever. It’s got seaweed wrapped around it and sticky rice holding it all together. Cut in pieces. Soy sauce and wasabi on the side—yep. Sushi.” Mixing the two extra flavors together, I dip a piece in the spicy/salty combo and pop it in my mouth. I can’t help my moan because this is so. Damn. Good. “Oh yeah. That’s good sushi too.”
Tearing my eyes way from my food, I look at Abel who is frozen in place, a weird expression on his face. “What?” I ask around my bite.
He licks his lips and swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing. Something in the air has changed. The energy is suddenly different. Charged. Sensual, somehow. Or maybe that’s just my love of sushi, but I don’t think so. I think it’s Abel.
“Do you moan like that during sex too?”
I freeze, another bite halfway to my mouth, and it takes everything in me not to drop it on the floor. Especially with my lady bits suddenly tingling like they are. Now I understand the energy change in the room. It has nothing to do with my dinner at all.
Slowly and carefully, I put my chopsticks down, making sure not to drop anything. Dinner may be over for now, but I don’t plan to waste any of this later. I always get hungry post-sex, and I have a feeling I’m going to be starving later.
Once everything is situated, I turn back to Abel and lean against the counter. “Depends on if I have something to moan about.”
In half a second he is on me, his arms around my waist, holding me close as he dips his tongue in my mouth, sucks on my tongue, bites my lip. I fully reciprocate, enjoying the raw passion we both feel and can finally focus on.
“When does Mabel get back from your mom’s?” I ask against his lips and dive right back into the moment before he can answer.
Pushing back to give him enough room he answers, “Not until tomorrow. They decided last minute to have a sleepover, so they won’t be here until about eight,” and thrusts his hands in my hair, tilting my head to the side to give him easier access.
I try to shut off my thoughts, but my mom-brain has to do a teeny tiny bit of organizing before I can be completely in this moment. It’s a hazard of the toughest job in the world, I suppose.
“Hang on. Let me think.” Abel rests his forehead on mine, breathing heavily while I quickly sort through my thoughts.
“Ainsley is with her dad until Sunday. Mabel is with her grandma until tomorrow. I’m pretty sure you have condoms in your drawer—”
“Roger that.”
“Okay. We have approximately fourteen hours to make good on this.”
Not wanting to waste any precious time, I grab the hem of his shirt and help him rip it over his head. The sight before me stops me dead.
He. Is. Beautiful.
I’ve seen Abel without his shirt before. It’s part of living with someone who uses the hall bathroom. I always knew he had a phenomenal physique, but somehow, knowing this body is about to be on top of mine makes him even more attractive. Call it hormones or pheromones or being horny, this sight is definitely in the top ten most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. Maybe even top five.
Running my fingers over the smooth, hairless six—no, eight pack—I can’t help remembering that I don’t come close to looking like this at all. Not that it’s going to stop me. I’m not a crazy woman. It’s just mind-blowing that he sees the same kind of beauty in me that I see in him.
“How can I compete with these abs?” I breathe, still exploring with my touch.
“You’re not supposed to compete with them,” Abel says quietly, holding still as I touch him. “You’re supposed to complement them.”
Um, what? “Compliment them? You want me to tell them they’re pretty?”
Abel rolls his eyes, like I’m the one being confusing here. “Complement,” he tries to explain. “Like match.” There is a possibility the blood has already stopped circulating to his brain already, because he’s not making much
sense.
No, with that bulge, there is a good probability his brain isn’t functioning at normal capacity. Because he’s wrong.
“My abs will never match these.”
“No, not like that.” Now he’s getting frustrated. “Like apples and oranges. Combined they make a fruit salad.”
I crinkle my nose in disgust. What kind of fruit salad has he been eating? “No, they don’t.”
He huffs, which makes me want to laugh. “Fine. Like the drama mask.” He waves his hand around like he can conjure up the image he wants me to visualize.
I know I’m ruining the mood here, but I can’t help myself. I think I know what he’s trying to say, but all the words are not making sentences that mean anything. It’s too funny to ignore. But this is what we do. It’s who we are. We laugh and joke and keep each other on our toes. Sure, it delays sex a little bit, but one of the things I learned in my marriage is that sex isn’t everything. It will get stale and stagnant at some point, even with the best effort. Hell, once you get to a certain age, it may not be a priority at all anymore.
But you know what will keep a relationship sexy? Humor. Humor and laughter and fun. So, to hell with worrying about getting to the bed any faster. This moment is plenty sexy enough for me.
Feigning innocence, I say, “Your abs make me happy and my abs make you sad? That’s not very nice.”
Abel nostrils flare with annoyance. “You are driving me crazy, woman.” He immediately attacks my neck with his lips, kissing down the column of my throat and making me moan again. The sound throws him into a frenzy and his kisses become harder and more intense. I lose my thoughts, too busy enjoying the touch of his lips on my skin, his fingers on my waist, the air on my body when my shirt disappears.
Holy shit. My shirt disappeared!
“How did you do that?” I ask, looking down at the lacy bra barely containing my breasts. Abel chuckles, but never looks away from where his hands are roaming my now naked flesh. “Seriously. I didn’t even feel you pull it over my head.”
“I told you I have skills. Imagine what kinds of things I can do when the rest of your clothes fall off.”
“Maybe it’s time to stop bragging and start doing.”
He wastes no more time, picking me up and carrying me to my bedroom.
I had no idea he could lift me and my mom-bod, let alone haul it upstairs without heavy breathing. Yet here I am, my forty-two-year-old self about to make love to a guy whose insides are as beautiful as his outsides.
Make love?
Yeah. That’s about right. Because no matter where this relationship goes, no matter if or how it ends, this is love right here. It’s not the kind that bowls you over so nothing else matters. It’s not the kind that fizzles when the lust is gone. It’s the kind that starts with two people being best friends and grows until they become “your person.”
That’s the best kind of love there is.
Chapter Twenty-Three
ABEL
Bleary eyed, I stumble down the stairs, trying not to fall. Technically I slept in so I should be wide awake, but considering I spent most of the night buried between Elliott’s legs, “sleeping in” felt more like a nap.
Totally worth it.
I’ve never been with anyone like Elliott before. Granted, I haven’t been with anyone besides May for a very long time. I never cheated on her, so the only real experience I have is with my ex-wife and anyone before her. That was a long time ago, though. I’m a lot older and wiser. This is the body of a full-grown man now, and last night I was making love to a real woman.
Yes, I said making love. Because there is something very different about sex when it’s with someone you consider one of your very best friends and not someone you’ve only known in a dating capacity.
I shouldn’t compare. But I’d gotten so used to being with May, whose goal has always been to be a supermodel, I’d forgotten what it was like to be with someone who has some meat on her bones. It didn’t disappoint. At all.
I enjoy feeling Elliott’s softness against me as I thrust inside her. I like digging my fingers into soft flesh while she rides me. I love seeing the roundness of her ass when I take her from behind.
Annnd now certain body parts are awake while the rest of me is still half asleep. Quickly, I shift my thoughts to the coffee I hope is brewing. I can smell it, but I don’t know if my mind is playing tricks on me in my morning fog, or if it’s real.
The hand that shoots out as soon as I step into the kitchen clears things up. It’s holding a mug of coffee just for me.
“How did you know I needed this?” I ask groggily, and moan in appreciation at the rich, bitter taste sure to wake my sleepy-ass up.
Elliott is leaning against the counter opposite of me, giving me a playful smirk. “First of all, you need it every morning.” She’s not wrong. “Plus, you did most of the work last night. Or maybe it was this morning. Either way, I figured you’d need a little caffeine boost. And since the new machine doesn’t need any corporal punishment to work, I figured it was the least I could do.”
I raise my eyebrows flirtatiously. “You enjoyed last night, huh?”
“I enjoyed it…”she pauses and counts on her fingers quietly. “Four times.”
So much for curbing my wayward thoughts. Placing my mug on the counter next to me, I stalk over to her, intent on completing that kitchen fantasy I keep having. “Only four?”
Recognizing the lust in my eyes, she puts her own mug down but keeps up the banter. “Well there was that almost-fifth time.”
“Almost fifth?”
“It doesn’t count if you pull out in the middle of an orgasm.”
“It does in my mind.” Putting my hands on her waist, I rub my nose up and down the side of her neck, smiling when she shivers. “Especially when I went right back to work and made you come even harder after that.”
“Mmm. Nope. Maybe you should try again.”
Hooking my thumbs into the waistband of her pajama pants, I begin slowly pushing them to the floor, enjoying the feel of her skin on my fingers as I do. “I think I’m up for the challenge. But why are you wearing pants?”
“I got cold this morning.” She breathes before all talking is done.
Unable to keep my lips off hers, I kiss her deeply, my tongue diving in for another taste of this woman I can’t get enough of. And then, despite my best efforts, I start laughing because of what I discover.
“Sushi? Already?”
Elliott giggles in response. “I didn’t eat last night.”
“Really?”
She rolls her eyes and then smiles at me. “Let me rephrase, I didn’t eat anything of substance.” I open my mouth to respond, but she cuts me off, finger to my lips. “Yes, your sausage is substantial, but I still woke up hungry, okay?”
“Good enough.” I lean in again, ready to make good on my promise of a fifth orgasm. I can feel her breath on my lips, feel her warmth in my hands, feel her body quiver in anticipation—
Ding-dong.
Aaaaand the moment is gone.
Sagging into each other, we both take a second to calm down. And pray that whoever is at the door leaves.
No such luck. The doorbell rings again.
Glancing at the clock, I realize why there is such persistence behind noise. It’s a few minutes after eight.
“Shit. It’s Mabel. Wait… I don’t mean it like that.”
“I know what you meant.” Elliott nudges me gently. “Go. Don’t leave her in the cold. This can wait.”
I give her a quick peck, knowing it’s the last one I’ll get for at least the rest of the day, and pad my way to the door. Quickly glancing down to make sure there’s no unwelcome bulge greeting my daughter at eye level, I fling it open.
As expected, my mother is sitting in the car on the street, engine running. There’s so little parking in this neighborhood, I’m not surprised she opted to drop and run instead of risking a ticket for double parking. She waves at me before drivi
ng off, satisfied that she is officially off duty.
Mabel, on the other hand, is glaring at me as she eyes me up and down. Weird.
“Why aren’t you wearing a shirt, Daddy?”
“Because I was asleep, baby girl.” I wave her in so I can close the door. March still has a chill to it, even if it’s not snowing anymore.
“But, Dad,” Mabel scolds. “Elliott’s here.”
“I don’t think Elliott minds, honey. Now let’s eat. I got you powdered donuts, and I know you can’t resist those.” Apparently, sometime between last night and this morning, she has learned a ridiculous amount of self-control, as proven by the fact that Mabel glares at me but doesn’t move from her spot. “What?”
“She is not my mom.”
Did I hear her right? I think so, but surely my daughter isn’t putting together that Elliott and I are together based on the fact that I’m not wearing a shirt. Is she? I work really hard to make sure my eyes don’t widen with admission.
Deflect, deflect, deflect…
“No one thinks that, baby. Come on, Mabel. We have breakfast waiting for you.” Sure enough, Elliott already has the donuts on a plate and is setting them on the table. But Mabel is having none of it.
Instead, her mouth opens wide and she clenches her fists at her side. Apparently, the word “we” is just the thing she needs to come up with the exact conclusion I’ve been avoiding her coming to.
“I won’t eat it!” she finally screams, stomping her feet. “You can’t make me! I don’t care if she’s your girlfriend. She is not my mother!” Mabel races up the stairs, and within seconds, her door slams so hard, it reverberates down here.
I run my hand down my face, trying to wipe away the last few seconds from my brain, but it doesn’t do any good. Instead, I’m pretty sure I got powdered sugar in my eye. Although, where it came from, I have no idea.
Cutie and the Beast: A Roommates to Lovers Single Dad Romance (Cipher Office Book 3) Page 18