by Sarina Bowen
Real life was pretty great, though. I leaned over the counter, unclipped the baby, and pulled Nicole out of her seat. “Okay, baby girl. Let’s go outside and try out your new backyard.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Zara
We took Nicole out back, where she buzzed around like a little bee on the lawn. I pictured the two of us playing out here next summer and the summer after that, while she grew into an even more active toddler and then a leggy preschooler. I could push her in the swing. I could even put a sandbox right here outside the kitchen window where I could watch her while I made lunch.
Dave sat down on the grass, running a hand over the green blades beside him. “Grass is getting a little long. We’ll have to find someone to cut it.”
“I’ll ask Benito for a recommendation,” I said quickly. “Next summer I’ll get a reel mower and do it myself.”
Dave glanced at me, his face thoughtful. But he didn’t say anything. He didn’t call me out for the way I’d just cut him out of the picture, assuming that he wouldn’t be around to cut the grass of the house he’d just bought, or its neighbor next door.
But would he? My gut said no. He’d get back to New York, realize his bachelor life looked pretty good, and cross Vermont off his travel plans for the foreseeable future.
I couldn’t plan on him returning. I just couldn’t even think about it.
When Nicole began to tire herself out, I gathered her up and corralled her back into the house. “Time for stories,” I whispered in her ear, and she squirmed because she knew that stories meant bedtime.
Dave gathered the trash from our meal, the clip-on chair, and the baby pack.
“I’ll drive you down the hill to your car,” I offered, and he quietly agreed.
He hadn’t said much since we’d talked in the kitchen. And he was silent in the car as we practically coasted down Main Street toward the river. I pulled into a parking space between two other cars—I was still too freaked out from the near-miss to stop anywhere that wasn’t protected—and killed the engine.
I cast a glance at Nicole, who was looking downright sleepy.
Dave laid a hand on my arm. “Just a minute, gorgeous. There’s something important I need to ask you.”
“Mmm?” My mind was on the baby and whether I could get her teeth brushed before she started fussing.
“Let me be with you tonight,” he whispered.
“Wait, what?” I brought my focus to his heart-stopping face and the heated expression there. Had he even been listening in the kitchen? “Didn’t you hear me when I said I needed you to take some time to think?”
“Every word.” He took my hand and raised it to his stubbled face, kissing my palm with such sweetness that I held in a gasp. “You said Nicole won’t remember this summer. But I know you will. And I sure as hell won’t ever forget it.”
“And?” He caressed my hand, which was very distracting.
“And I already promised I’d go back to work and think about my situation. But I’m asking you the opposite favor—not to think at all until I go back. Don’t think. Just be.”
“Be…with you,” I clarified. “In what way?” I asked, even though it was a stupid question.
His voice dropped low. “Let me love you tonight.”
“And what would that solve?”
“If you can’t figure that out, then I can’t really help you,” he said quietly. Then he reached across the gear shift to cup my cheek. “But I’m pretty sure you won’t be sorry.”
His fingertips brushed my skin so lightly that I shivered. “How do you know I won’t be sorry?” I was pretty sure I would. Not tonight, of course. Tonight would be wonderful. But I’d just be digging the hole deeper for my poor, broken heart.
“You asked me not to toy with my daughter’s affections.” Those green eyes stared me down, and I couldn’t look away. “And I won’t do that. But you just told me you were a big girl who didn’t worry about knowing the outcome of the game before the hand was dealt.”
Fuck me, I had said that. What a giant lie it was, too. “Maybe you’re not what I need right now, though.”
“Aren’t I?” His hot gaze called me on every last one of my lies. “Why don’t you let me convince you that I am?”
“Convince me,” I snarked. “With your…” I didn’t want to say dick in front of my child, so I dropped my eyes to his lap.
He grinned. Then he tugged my hand, drawing his big body closer to mine, and kissed me once on the corner of the mouth. He slid one rugged cheek against my face as a shiver climbed my spine. He whispered in my ear, “I’m very persuasive. Not just with my cock. But also my fingers. And my mouth.”
I took his face in my hands and moved it where I could look him directly in the eye. “I don’t know what to think,” I admitted.
“Then don’t think,” he whispered. “Take me upstairs with you.” He leaned forward and kissed me then—a real one. He pulled my stubborn self closer and crushed my objections with his satin lips and then his pushy tongue.
He was going away in a matter of weeks, and I’d have to get over him again.
And I was going to let it happen anyway.
But first, the bedtime ritual. “Hey,” I said, breaking a kiss that threatened to last about an hour. “Before you get your jollies, your daughter needs to be put to bed. And since you’re here, you get to help.”
For that, I got a devastating smile. “Let’s do that,” he said. “Educate me.”
* * *
Twenty minutes later, I lurked on the sofa, listening to Dave read a second picture book to Nicole. I couldn’t make out the words, but his low, easy voice had a soothing cadence. After a while he stopped reading, and there was only silence. Then I heard him clear his throat in a way that was meant to summon me.
Leaping off Benito’s couch, I trotted down the hallway. When I stopped at the door to Nicole’s room, I beheld the sort of scene that lit up my ovaries like a pinball machine. Nicole was passed out on Dave’s chest. He sat in the rocking chair, his big arm holding her pajama-covered diaper butt. There was nothing like the sight of my daughter’s trusting face cradled against his muscular body.
“Man down,” he whispered.
The sight was so distracting that he could have been referring to me. “She didn’t nurse,” I said stupidly.
He cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah, I’m not equipped for that.”
It was odd that she hadn’t fussed for me, though. When I was at home, she always demanded it. And if I wasn’t at home, she gave my mother a hard time about falling asleep. But not tonight.
Maybe my baby was ready to wean. Was I, though?
I gave myself a shake. “Okay, well then that’s easy. Just lay her on the mattress.”
“On her back?” he asked, rising slowly, supporting her weight against his big body.
“Yeah, but it’s not that important at this age. She’ll just roll over if she doesn’t like where you put her.”
Clearly my little hormone surge wasn’t finished yet, because I couldn’t help but ogle Dave’s biceps as he laid our child gently on the mattress. Dragging my eyes off his perfect form, I grabbed the blanket off the side of the crib and covered her lower body with it.
“That’s it, huh?” he whispered.
“Job done,” I agreed quietly. He followed me out of her room, closing the door behind himself with a click. “I usually leave it open a crack,” I argued, leaning around him, reaching for the door knob.
“Is that right?” he asked, still whispering. He plucked my hand from the door knob and then backed me up against the wall. As he trapped my hands in his, my heart began to flutter. Then he leaned down until his lips grazed the shell of my ear. “Didn’t think you’d want her to hear how loud you get when I make you come.”
I shivered as that dirty mouth moved down, beginning to drop soft kisses on my neck.
You are a smart man, I thought as my fingers laced with his. He obviously knew better than to give me time t
o think about whether or not this was a good idea.
My body made my decision for me. I melted into the wall, angling my chin away so he could kiss his way into my cleavage. He hadn’t even undressed me yet, but those hot kisses on my chest had me buzzing with desire. “God, I’m so easy.” I laughed quietly.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he mumbled between my boobs. He lowered himself to his knees and lifted my top, his lips finding the soft skin of my belly just above the waistline of my jeans. He popped the button and undid my zipper. “Take these jeans off,” he ordered.
Jesus. That tone of voice set me on fire. Every. Freaking. Time. My shaky hands began to shove the denim down off my body.
“Get on the bed,” he ordered. “On your back. Go.”
This I did so quickly that he was only unbuttoning his third button when I’d positioned myself the way he’d asked. I watched him unbutton the shirt, and he did it slowly, that fucker, because he knew me. He played me like a good hand of cards.
I didn’t even care. I’d always been good at living in the moment, and this was a pretty good moment to live in.
Dave cast our clothes onto a chair and undid his belt slowly, my hot stare on his body. Then he lifted his eyes to mine and pulled out his cock, shoving his boxers down so I could get a good look. “See anything you like?” he asked, giving himself a slow stroke.
“Come here,” I demanded, trying to balance the scales of power.
“When I’m ready,” he said, playing right into our old groove. Push and shove. Call and response. “Lose that little top and those panties. Lovely as they are, I want to see you.”
I grabbed the fabric of my tank, but then I paused.
“Disobedient already?” he teased, misunderstanding my hesitation. He was stark naked, his hand gripping his erection. His body was so freaking perfect.
I appreciated the view. But still I couldn’t bring myself to strip in front of him. Two years had elapsed since we last viewed each other so critically and I got a little stuck thinking about it. “You look fantastic,” I said slowly.
“As do you, beautiful. But you’re still wearing too much clothing.”
I leaned back against the pillows and stared up at the ceiling. “Dave, I gained ten pounds and pushed out a seven-pound baby. Things aren’t all in the same places now.”
“What?” he asked stupidly. I guess I wasn’t the only one addled by lust, because it took a couple of beats for understanding to dawn across his masculine features. “Fuck that noise. You’re every bit as hot as you used to be. Just with bigger tits.”
I lifted my hands to my very full breasts. “You can’t even suck on these or you’ll get a face full of milk.”
His smile turned wicked. “Strip, lady. Or don’t. Whatever. Just keep touching yourself.” He put a knee on the bed and thrust his hips, slowly fucking his own hand.
I groaned at the sight, then took a deep, slow breath. “Jesus.”
“All this can be yours,” he teased. “Spread your legs. And take off that fucking top before I take it off you myself.”
The rasp in his voice gave me a full body shiver. I forgot to care whether he’d notice the stretch marks on my belly, and I lifted my little tank top over my head.
As a reward, Dave dropped down onto his forearms and nosed into my pussy, his lips grazing the lacy strip of fabric there. He kissed the juncture of my shaking thighs, then opened his mouth over the lace and let out a hot breath.
I shuddered mightily.
“Can you come like this?” he asked, pressing his lips against the little panel of lace, dropping kisses. “Or maybe…” He tugged the fabric aside and licked my clit without preamble.
“Oh!” I gasped, my fingers slicing through his hair.
He pressed the flat of his tongue down and then moaned, and the sound lit me on fire. I became shameless, spreading my legs further and canting my hips toward his mouth. One thing apparently hadn’t changed about me—my ability to heat up in no time at all. I quickly grew soaking wet, and my nipples tingled with warning.
Whoops. I pressed my palms against my breasts, wary of my milk suddenly letting down.
Dave looked up at me with heated eyes, his mouth busy. His eyes darkened as I writhed under him, clutching my tits.
He ran out of patience all at once, sitting up suddenly and yanking my panties off completely. He did a military crawl up my body, lined himself up and filled me. All in one aggressive pass.
“Oh!” I gasped against the lovely intrusion, gripping his shoulders, my knees lifting to his body instinctively.
“Ungh,” he agreed, tipping his forehead down to mine. “That’s what I’m talking about.” We regarded each other at point-blank range, and I expected him to buck right into high gear.
But he didn’t. Not yet. He gave me a quick kiss, and then startled me with a question. “When do you think we made Nicole?”
“What?” I rubbed his back because I couldn’t stop touching him. All that skin against skin made it hard to think.
“When did it happen?” he whispered. Then he closed his eyes and circled his hips, giving a low groan. “Fuck. Who knew the idea of getting you pregnant would make me so horny?”
“It does?” I panted, rocking my hips to meet his. I knew exactly what he meant. One summer night I’d lain beneath him just like this, while we made a baby. My foolish, romantic heart liked the sound of that.
“When do you think?” he pressed, slowly thrusting. “The first night? The last?”
Then he picked up the pace, and all that sweet friction made it hard for me to think. “Tequila,” I said on a gasp. “That night. When Jimmy threw that glass, and we sat together and drank tequila.”
“Yeah?” His lips grazed over mine. “Why that night?”
I kissed him instead of answering, so he relaxed again, torturing me with a slow slide. “Because…” I whispered eventually. “That night you teased me.” I craned my neck to reach his mouth for more of those hot kisses.
But he moved out of my reach. “I teased you how?”
“Mmm,” I said, remembering it. “On the b-barstool. You made me c-come with your cockhead,” I gasped, straining for more contact.
He smiled before kissing me again. “Like this?” He propped himself up on an elbow and reached down to disengage. Then he dragged his swollen, rounded cockhead across my clit, and I cried out. “Like that, huh? And you think that’s what did the trick?”
“There was no…c-condom,” I breathed. He was torturing me. Actually, he was torturing both of us. I could see the hungry grimace on his face. So I angled my hips and fit him inside me again, and he went for it, gratefully. Smiling again, too. I’d forgotten that—how he used to smile at me during sex. Like we’d shared a secret.
No wonder I’d fallen hard for this guy.
“That’s right,” he whispered. “Turning you into a needy girl is my favorite thing in the world.” With a chuckle, he pinned my hips to the mattress with firm hands. I threw my head back, my stomach muscles tight. “Give it to me,” he begged. “Let me have it.”
Then he leaned down and captured my mouth in another bossy kiss while his hips pistoned rhythmically, and his muscular chest flexed above me.
Who could resist that view or this man? I arched off the bed with a sob, feeling a groundswell roll blissfully through me. He gave a grunt of victory and rode me through it, while I closed my eyes to hang on to the sensation a few seconds longer.
“Oh. Fuck,” he grunted with surprise. “Christ.” He threw his head back and shuddered, his arms locking up as he groaned out his release.
That’s when I noticed all the wetness trickling down my breasts. It was milk. The orgasm had triggered a milk letdown. “Oh, geez.” I clapped my hands over my nipples. But there was milk everywhere. So I reached under my pillow and produced my nightgown, using it to mop myself up quickly. “What a mess.”
“Whew.” Dave shook his head. “No lie, that the was sexiest thing I ever saw. L
et me.” He took the cotton and dabbed my skin, but it was already mostly dry. Leaning down, he licked my sensitive breast, then licked his lips, a wicked expression on his face.
“No more of that.” I pushed his face aside, the way you’d redirect a dog who was nosing where he shouldn’t. “You’ll make it worse.”
“You’re so sexy. I can’t help it.” He nuzzled between my breasts, just to be a pest. Then, still connected to me, he lowered his body onto mine and kissed me. “Damn, Zara. That ended way before I was ready. I’m losing my touch.”
Not with me, my heart murmured. If anything, I felt the pull more strongly every time he was near me.
I’m so fucked, I thought, even as he kissed me.
* * *
We didn’t get much sleep at all. My body was exhausted, but my brain wouldn’t shut down and let me sleep. I was having the perfect night, and I didn’t want to miss a minute of it.
Dave didn’t either. He never stopped touching me. Caressing me. It led to more sex, and then more cuddling. We lay there in the dark afterward, and I assumed he’d fallen asleep.
“Tell me about being pregnant,” he whispered after a while. “Were you freaked?”
“Yes and no,” I said to the faint dusting of hair on his chest where I’d laid my head. “When I realized I was pregnant, part of me wasn’t even surprised. I’d been a wild teenager and didn’t really tone things down for years. I thought, ‘Okay. So this is where it stops.’ It’s almost as if Nicole turned up to tell me that enough was enough already.”
I lifted my head off his chest. “It wasn’t the softest landing into adulthood. But it wasn’t so bad. And the pregnancy itself was easy for me. I didn’t even puke.”
“Well that’s good news. I don’t like to think of you all alone and scared.” His big hand sifted through my hair, and I practically melted into a puddle.
“I’m not that easily scared,” I said, trying to cover up how much his words meant to me.