I collapse face down on the bed, panting, and completely spent.
“Not yet. We aren’t done.”
But I want to lie here and bask in the bliss of my orgasmic aftermath.
He wraps his arm around my waist and helps me back onto my hands and knees. “Assume the position. Hands on the headboard and don’t bend your elbows.”
Let’s be honest about this. I’ll do whatever this man tells me to do in this moment.
Pushing my knees apart with his own, he positions himself at my entrance and burrows into me hard and fast. He grasps my hips, his fingertips holding my flesh tightly as he pounds into me over and over from behind.
I told him to fuck me hard. Well, he listened.
He slows to a stop and his panting fills the room. “Lie on your stomach.”
I lower my body to the bed and his body stretches over mine. His chest and stomach, wet with sweat, sticks to me. Gripping my chin, he turns my head to the side and kisses the corner of my mouth. “You’re precious to me.”
His knees go to the outside of my thighs and force my legs together—not his usual method of spreading me wide. He rubs his tip through my slit and pushes against me but doesn’t go in. “Arch your back and tilt your ass up.”
After a little repositioning, he glides inside of me easily. He presses my hips against the bed, pounding me into the mattress each time he thrusts deeper.
And oh my. This is different. And very good.
His breath is ragged in my ear. His thrusts become slower but still hard and deep. “I’m gonna come inside you.”
“Do it. I want it.”
He drives into me hard one last time and groans. His sounds when he comes are always so primal. Manly.
He rests his forehead on the back of my head and his warm, quick breath permeates my hair. “That was amazing.”
He pulls out and rolls to his back, taking me with him to lie against his chest. I hitch my leg over his, and he rubs his hand up and down my thigh until he reaches my cheek and squeezes. “Damn, baby. That was good. I may not mind the miles between us if it means we get to reunite like that every time.”
My fingers make a game of twirling the hair on his stomach. “The distance does initiate some damn good sex.”
His hand finds mine and intertwines our fingers. “Bridgette is very fond of you. She told me that I should hold on to you tightly.”
“And will you?”
He squeezes my hand. “I’m going to hold on to you as tightly as you’ll let me.”
“Good answer.”
We have a lot of factors working against us. I’m not sure we have a fighting chance but I want to give it my all.
“What are our plans for tomorrow?”
“Anything you want.”
“Ollie took me to the farmers’ market one time. I wouldn’t mind going back. I’d love to cook a vegan meal for you while I’m here.”
“Yeah, that would be great.”
“Would you want to invite Bridgette, Warren, and the kids?”
I like being around them. I’m probably the first girlfriend in history to ever enjoy spending time with her boyfriend’s ex-wife.
“I’d love to invite them. They have me over all the time and I never return the favor. I’m sure it’ll be a nice treat to have someone cook dinner for them for a change.”
“The weather is supposed to be beautiful tomorrow. You should invite them to go to the farmers’ market with us.”
“I’ll ask.”
A long yawn escapes my mouth.
“Someone’s tired.”
“I am.” The long drive and our night out drinking have stolen my pep.
Lucas turns onto his side the bed and cuddles behind me. Spooning—such a relationshippy thing to do.
He kisses the back of my head. “Sweet dreams, boho girl.”
* * *
“Aubrey, what would you like for dinner?”
This could get tricky. I’ve never cooked for kids.
“Pizza,” she says.
Lucas pats her on top of the head. “Lawrence is cooking for us tonight. She wants to fix something special for you.”
“Pizza,” she squeals.
Bridgette sighs. “That child and her eating habits are going to be the death of me.”
I’m no gourmet chef but I want this dinner to be great. “I was thinking grilled vegetable galettes. I can make a pizza version for Aubrey.”
Bridgette stops pushing Tripp’s stroller. “That’s sweet of you to offer but you don’t have to go to that trouble.”
It may be silly but I want to win Aubrey’s approval. She’s so important to Lucas. “It’s no trouble. I’ll puree her vegetables into the sauce and make a smiley face with the soy cheese. It’ll be the healthiest pizza that she’s ever had and she’ll love every bite.”
“All she wants to eat are hot dogs, French fries, and pizza—the unhealthy kind. I will seriously kiss you hard if you’re able to pull this off.”
The look on Warren’s face is priceless when he whispers, “Mmm… did you hear that, Boudreaux? Girl-on-girl action?”
Bridgette shakes her head. “Men.”
Lucas wraps his arms around me from behind. “I’m the only one who kisses this woman.”
“Who are you and what have you done with Boudreaux?”
“I’m still me, Bridg, only happier.”
* * *
“Can I help you do anything?”
I’m not sure about Bridgette’s skills in the kitchen, but I don’t guess you have to be a chef to cut vegetables. “Want to slice the tomatoes, squash, and zucchini while I make the pesto sauce and crust?”
“I can do that. How do you want them cut?”
“Thin and crosswise is best for this dish.”
“Got it.”
I open one cabinet, and then another, searching for what I need.
“What are you looking for?”
“Mixing bowl.”
“Cabinet to your right.”
“Thanks.”
My boyfriend’s ex-wife knows her way around his kitchen better than I do. No, that’s not weird at all.
“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but why is this not uncomfortable for you? Why are you not uneasy with my relationship with Boudreaux?”
Bridgette is a beautiful woman and she is Lucas’s ex-wife. He loved her. Hell, he still loves her, but he’s never been in love with her. “I don’t feel threatened by your friendship.”
“Some people still see me as a cheater who had an affair with my husband’s best friend. You don’t?”
I stop what I’m doing and look at Bridgette. “No. Lucas has told me everything about your marriage.”
“And everything about Eli?”
“He did.”
“Boudreaux had a huge hole torn in his heart when we lost Eli. He spent years chasing happiness in places it didn’t exist, but I see something different inside him when he’s with you.”
“I’m different with him, too.” More grounded.
“Are you in love with him?”
Can you meet someone and fall in love in six weeks when you live six hours apart?
She’s asking so she must believe that it’s possible. “I feel the appropriate thing to say would be that I haven’t known him long enough to have those kinds of feelings. But it would be a lie. I am in love with Lucas. And it feels exciting and intoxicating and insane and irrational.”
“I think irrational love can be the best kind of love.”
“And scary as hell.”
“Loving Warren was like that for me. Scary. Exciting. Insane. Irrational. Wrong in a lot of people’s eyes. But I didn’t care. There hasn’t been one single day that I’ve regretted marrying him. We were meant to be together, and I’m further convinced of that every time I look at our children.”
“I’m a woman who wants a husband and children, and I’ve fallen in love with a man who says marriage and children aren’t in his future.” I don’t know ho
w I let that happen.
“Boudreaux told me that you were okay with the vasectomy.”
“At this point in our relationship, there isn’t a reason for me to not be okay with it.”
“I get the feeling that won’t be the case if this relationship becomes more serious?”
I desperately desire the happy family that I didn’t have in my early childhood. I have so much love to give. I want the dream—a husband and children who love me in return.
Dammit, I just want to be loved. I deserve that happiness in my life. And at almost thirty-two, I’m ready to find it.
I don’t want to spend the rest of my life without having my own family. “I’ve wanted a husband and children for as long as I can remember.”
“Don’t let the vasectomy fool you about Boudreaux’s desire to have children. Nothing would make him happier than to have his own. He’s allowing fear to stand in the way but I think his mind could be changed by the right woman. And there’s nothing I’d love to see more.”
Bridgette and I both go silent when Lucas comes into the kitchen to get a beer from the fridge. “I know I’ve just interrupted something you don’t want me to hear because you both look like a cat that ate the canary.”
“Just a little girl talk.” I would sooner die than tell him what we were discussing.
“Maybe I’d like to get in on some of your girl talk.”
“Okay. I was just telling Lawrence how much I love my children and what a blessing they are in my life and how I don’t know what I’d do without them and they were worth every bit of risk and I’d do it again in a heartbeat and I probably will again when Tripp is older.”
Damn, Bridgette. Take a breath.
He keeps his back to us and stands at the refrigerator with the door open. “What kind of beer do you want, Warren?” he calls out.
“IPA.”
Lucas doesn’t so much as glance our way as he turns and goes back to the living room.
Fuck. I think that’s bad.
“I’m sorry. I should have kept my mouth closed.”
It wasn’t Bridgette’s place to bring up such a touchy topic. This is between Lucas and me. But I don’t have the heart to be angry with her. She meant well.
“It’s okay.” Except I’m not sure that it is okay. One mention of babies and Lucas acted as though we weren’t even there.
No more talk about having babies. It causes too much trouble.
“Tell me about the Lucas Broussard you met thirteen years ago.”
Bridgette bursts into laughter. “Oh God. Good-looking. Funny. Athletic. Star pitcher on the baseball team. All the girls wanted him.”
“Sounds like the complete opposite of the guy I would have dated in high school.”
I was into the hipster artist type. I even had dreads my senior year. I bet Lucas the jock wouldn’t have given me a second glance in high school.
“He thought he was God’s Cajun gift to women.”
“But he wasn’t to you?”
“Oh Lord, no. He was always like a brother to me. We acted like clowns together. We were forever getting into some kind of nonsense.”
Bridgette goes to her purse and fetches her wallet, taking out a photo. “Look at this.”
It takes a moment for it to register. “Is that you and Lucas?”
“Sure is.”
I can’t believe how much his looks have changed from then to now. He’s so skinny in the picture, nothing like the muscular man he is today. Those blue eyes of his are the only things even remotely familiar about the guy in this photo.
This is not my Lucas. This is a young Bridgette’s Boudreaux. And the two are totally different people. “I can’t believe this is him. He looks so different. So young.”
“This was taken about a month before we graduated from high school.”
And about a year later, they were married and expecting a baby.
Bridgette takes out her phone and begins giving me a slideshow of Lucas. I’m cackling over one where he is wearing Aubrey’s bib. While I’m laughing, I’m also sad. Sad that he doesn’t want to make beautiful memories like those with his own child.
Warren comes into the kitchen and fetches a new round of beers from the fridge. “What the fuck did y’all say to Lucas? He hasn’t said three words since he was in here.”
“Lawrence didn’t say anything. It was all me.” Bridgette slides off the barstool. “I need to fix what I said to him. Give me a few minutes with him before you come back.”
Warren shakes his head after Bridgette leaves. “My wife thinks she can still henpeck Lucas. Or mother him. I don’t always know which. What did she say to him this time?”
“It was about having babies.”
“Shit, she doesn’t want to let that one go.”
Warren stands with his hands on his hips. “Well, I can’t go back in there until she’s finished talking with him. What can I do to help you in here?”
I’m guessing Warren has shit for skills in the kitchen based on the things I’ve heard Bridgette say, so I choose something he can’t possibly screw up. “You can spread the pesto on the galettes except for one. I’m putting tomato sauce on that one for Aubrey’s cheese pizza.”
Warren does a decent job with his assigned task. “Now you can top them with the vegetables in thin layers.”
I watch his first attempt to be sure he does this job as well as the first. “Like this?”
“Looks good.”
The galettes go into the oven and are coming out when Bridgette comes back to the kitchen. “I’m so sorry. I screwed up with him bigger than I thought. It took a while to deliver the ass kissing needed to fix what I said.”
I’m sort of glad Bridgette said what she said. It raises some valid points.
My feelings about having a family aren’t going to change. I want to be married. I want children. But do I want the happily ever after with Lucas Broussard? Will he be capable of the change Bridgette thinks he is?
Is he worth the investment?
The energy?
The potential heartache?
I don’t know.
19
Lucas Broussard
I can’t recall a time when I’ve ever wanted to put my foot in Bridgette’s ass more. She’s always thinking that she knows better when it comes to my life, but this was even beyond what I thought she was capable of doing. I can’t believe she did that to me.
Fuck. The last two hours have been uncomfortable. Thanks a lot, Bridge, for opening your big mouth.
I get three days every two weeks with Lawrence. I don’t want to spend a single minute of our time together with awkward conversations hanging in the air. And there’s a huge one there now.
Babies.
Fuck.
Do I address it? Or leave it be?
On the upside, the night started out well. Lawrence has situated herself into my life flawlessly. She’s full of ease and grace when it comes to four of the most important people in my life. She’s like a puzzle piece fitting perfectly into the empty space next to me. I didn’t expect to find that in any woman.
I stretch across my bed waiting for Lawrence to come out of the bathroom, and I can’t stop thinking about the possibility of losing her. Bridgette’s comment will likely spark a difficult baby conversation that I’d rather avoid.
Fuck, I hope Bridgette’s big mouth hasn’t caused a problem between Lawrence and me.
“Everything okay in there?” I call out.
“Yeah. Be out in a minute.”
A moment later Lawrence opens the door and I can see it all over her face. Something is wrong.
I’m fucked.
“I’m sorry. I’m just going to be honest with you. I don’t know if I should come out wearing this or not.” She gestures to the sexy nightie she’s wearing. “I brought this because I wanted to be sexy for you, but after the fallout with Bridgette tonight, I’m wondering if I should put on a T-shirt and boxers instead, in case you don’t feel like having sex.�
��
Is she serious? The only time I wouldn’t feel like having sex is when I’m dead. Even then, I’ll probably still want it.
I hold out my arms for her. “Come here, baby.”
I take the T-shirt and boxers from her hand and toss them across the room. “I want you in this.”
“I’m sorry to be weird or kill the mood by bringing it up, but I don’t want to come out wearing this and make you feel like you have to have sex with me if you don’t want to.”
“I always want to have sex with you.” How the hell could I not want to?
“There’s an elephant in the room. A baby one. Do we talk about it?”
Fuck, here we go.
“Do you need to tell me anything about the baby elephant that will affect our relationship now or in the near future?”
“No.”
To me, that’s our answer.
“I think it’s an unnecessary conversation for now and can wait until we come to the point where you or I feel it affects our relationship and must be discussed.”
“I agree.”
Thank fuck.
I slide my finger under the strap of her white gown. “This is very pretty.”
“I was hoping that you’d think so.”
I slip my hands beneath the nightie and rub them over her ass cheeks, discovering a thong. “Sexy.”
I lose the shirt while Lawrence tugs on my jeans, unfastening the button, and we both watch her skillful fingers lowering the zipper of my pants. Her hands move into the waistband of my boxer briefs and jeans, pulling both lower as I lift my hips from the bed. I’m naked and already hard, so my erection juts forward when it’s no longer restricted by my clothing.
Lawrence slides one and then both straps of her nightie off her shoulders. Slowly pushing it down, her beautiful breasts are bared, and she then shimmies out of her thong. Her eyes never leave mine, and fuck, is it ever hot.
I groan quietly as she lifts one leg, placing her knee on the outside of my thigh, and then the other. With her arms wrapped around my shoulders, she slowly lowers herself until she’s pressed against my dick. I’m dying to be inside her.
“I’ve never felt like this,” she whispers as she sinks down, pushing me deep inside her.
Southern Girl Series: Bohemain Girl, Neighbor Girl & Intern Girl Page 19