Where We Belong

by J. Daniels

  Speaking of my cock . . .

  Mia shifts her weight in my lap.

  Groaning, I drop my head against the seat as her warm, wet pussy slides along my limp shaft.

  Fuck, my balls. I hope this doesn’t cause permanent damage.

  “Hey.”

  I tilt my head down.

  “Are you okay?” Mia asks, her full lips pinching together and then lifting into a soft, sated and slightly amused smile.

  I take a moment to stare at her. My anger slips away.

  Her cheeks are flushed. Her hair a wild mess of dark heavy waves, falling past her shoulders and sticking to her sweat soaked skin. Her nipples are still tight from arousal. Rosy blotches and indentations made from teeth decorate her breasts and the rise of her neck.

  I didn’t come? I no longer care. Look at her.

  “You are so fucking beautiful,” I say as I reach behind her back and quickly remove the cuffs. I rub her wrists and the bend in her arms, her biceps, soothing any ache she might have.

  She falls forward, her head resting on my shoulder. Her body loose and warm.

  Mia doesn’t say anything for the longest time, then with my eyes closed and my hands moving leisurely over her back she presses the softest kiss to my neck and whispers, “I am so fucking yours.”

  I open my eyes.

  Fuck.

  A weight of relief settles over me, like I didn’t know her life was mine or that I belonged irrevocably to her until this very moment.

  I bury my face in her hair as we cling to each other. Desperate and adoring touches, our whispered words being muted further by the rain against the glass, but I still say them, and so does she.

  “I love you.”

  “I love you. I think I want another baby.”

  Mia

  SOMETHING IS OFF WITH BEN.

  Aside from the fact that he didn’t come earlier today during our back-seat sex romp, we’re on our way to meet up with Angie so she can spend time with Nolan, something I know he wishes we could avoid all together, and he seems to be in a decent mood.

  No. More than decent. He’s humming.

  Humming. You know, that thing people do when they’re feeling pleasant, or maybe even a little excited about something. Ben is doing that right now.

  All things considered, it’s very, very strange.

  I’m expecting a noticeable irritation. A tense rigidness to his body or, since he’s been deprived for months, that wily, concentrated look he gets when I know he’s thinking in great detail about fucking me.

  God, I love that look. I love dissecting it, crawling inside his beautiful brain and imagining what he’s doing to me in there. Letting my own mind wander and then blushing when he notices my drifting attention.

  Hard and fast or soft and slow. What are you thinking, Mr. Kelly?

  Taking my focus off the road ahead, I glance across the bench seat and stare at the man beside me.

  Ben is relaxed against the worn leather, with one hand on the wheel and the other arm resting on the ledge of the open window. Over the low rumble of the engine I can hear the deep tones of his voice carrying out a tune. He taps his thumb rhythmically against the wheel.

  I narrow my eyes.

  What the fuck? He’s probably backed up to his eyeballs in semen and he’s about to spend time with this ex. Why is he so goddamn chipper?

  As if hearing my own vexing thoughts, or sensing the scrutiny he’s getting, Ben turns his head and gently smiles at me.

  “Angel.” He glances ahead, then quickly studies my face. “You okay?”

  I cross my arms below my chest. My breasts bounce a little, drawing his gaze to the cleavage peeking out from my floral sundress.

  Yeah. Remember these? I don’t hear any humming now.

  “Are you okay?” I ask. “You look like you’re actually looking forward to this.”

  The thought settles over me like a dark cloud. I sink further into the seat, the relenting weight of jealousy gathering in my chest.

  Does Ben actually want to see Angie?

  His brow pinches together before he looks back at the road. “How so?”

  “Well, let’s see. You’re humming for one. You don’t hum, Ben.”

  “I hum sometimes.”

  I breathe a laugh. “Yeah. Sometimes. You occasionally hum after we have,” I pause, whipping my head around and glancing in the back at the boys.

  Chase is passed out; his cheek pressed against the side of his car seat. The beloved stuffed octopus pinned under his arm.

  I turn my attention to Nolan.

  He looks up from his iPad and smiles, ready to absorb my next words.

  “Cookies,” I blurt out, facing the front again. My face warms. “After we have cookies.”

  “Cookies?” Ben smirks, his brow lifting in amusement as he turns his head and locks eyes with me.

  I limply shrug.

  What the hell else was I supposed to say? Sex? I’m not trying to expand Nolan’s already progressively building bank of inappropriate vocabulary. We’ve somehow managed to keep this word out of his little sponge of a brain. Shocking, I know. Especially with Ben requesting it for dinner and practically calling out for it in the middle of the night in his sleep. It’s a miracle really. And I’d like to keep Nolan as innocent as possible.

  At least, for as long as I can.

  “I love having cookies with you,” Ben jokes, grinning so big it’s impossible to fight my own smile. A full-on dimple assault. He reaches across the seat and squeezes my thigh. “You thinking about having some right now?”

  “I want some cookies!” Nolan yells from the back seat. “Do we have some with us? Mommy, you bring any?”

  “Oh, my God,” I groan, covering my face.

  Nice, Mia. Way to think that one through.

  “No, Nolan. I didn’t bring any cookies.”

  Ben laughs. His touch leaves my leg. “I would kill for some cookies right about now.”

  I drop my hands to my lap and cut him a look.

  Are you crazy?

  He winks at me.

  “Me too, Daddy,” Nolan echoes. He kicks his legs excitedly and looks out the window. His head drops against the seat with a heavy sigh. “I want some so bad. I might die if I don’t get any.”

  My mouth falls open.

  These Kelly boys. I swear.

  “Buddy, you have no idea,” Ben murmurs, glancing in the rearview mirror at his son.

  I pull on the strap across my body to loosen it and lean across the seat, kissing the rough edge of Ben’s jaw. “You are awful,” I whisper. “And now I’m thinking Nolan shouldn’t be allowed to have cookies until he’s thirty. He’s already talking like an addict.”

  “Thirty?” Ben snorts, his eyes shifting to meet mine. “Yeah, okay, Angel. You’re on your own trying to prevent that from happening.”

  “Well, what if he was a girl?” I ask, leaning back and watching his bicep flex and roll as he adjusts his grip on the wheel. “Would you encourage our daughter to go out and get cookies?”

  He cracks his neck from side to side.

  “Ah, see?” I point at him when he doesn’t answer. “That’s so stereotypical. Shame on you.”

  Ben shakes his head. “Huge difference, Mia. If we had a girl, or if we have a girl . . .” His voice trails off. He looks over at me, his eyebrows lifting to his hairline.

  Waiting . . .

  Wondering . . .

  I bite my lip and press my back against the seat.

  Oh, shit.

  Like a conversational ninja, I avoided discussing this topic earlier when Ben announced his desire for more kids. And by avoid, I mean I slid off his lap and out of the squad car like I was fleeing the scene of a crime—in an abrupt haste.

  One-sided climaxes could be considered a felony, I suppose. Using that argument, my discomposure was justifiable.

  I mumbled something about needing to get the boys from Tessa in the midst of my mildly subdued panic. Not wholly a lie. She did have
a lot of work to do.

  Ben bought it. That’s all that mattered.

  And now I’m walking us right back into that discussion.

  I gaze out the passenger window. At the trees whipping past us. I can’t jump out of the truck at this speed. Even if I do manage a decent tuck-and-roll, I’m sure I’ll break something.

  My hands knot together in my lap. They suddenly feel clammy and cold. Somewhere between the dashboard and my knees, my eyes lose focus.

  How can I avoid talking about this again? It’s not that I don’t want more kids. That’s not it at all. Not even close. It’s just . . .

  The brush of Ben’s fingers against my cheek turns my head.

  He has shifted a little in his seat, his body now angled toward me and his elbow resting on top of the wheel. It’s then I notice we’ve stopped moving. The truck is in park, pulled in front of a long driveway leading to a pale-blue rancher.

  “Oh,” I murmur, swallowing thickly. I look from the house into Ben’s eyes. “We’re here.”

  Great. I was so caught up in possible baby-talk with Ben, I didn’t have time to mentally prepare for this nightmare of a meeting. Now I’m about to walk into it blind.

  Anxiety builds at the base of my neck, tensing my shoulders. I quickly feel sick to my stomach.

  “Yeah. We’re here,” Ben echoes, his gaze gentle. No longer inquisitive.

  He turns his head, looking through the window, his body suddenly taking on that stiff, agitated demeanor I’d been expecting and silently asking for this entire drive.

  Reactive Ben. There you are.

  He’s no longer collected and mild-mannered. He’s unyielding to the soft leather of the seat, refusing to form against it and glaring straight ahead, his nostrils flaring and his breaths growing heavier. Louder.

  Now I’m wishing for the opposite. A composed, unconcerned man.

  I don’t want Ben to be worked up by this. I don’t want him worrying or wondering what will possibly come of this meeting. Angie shouldn’t be affecting my family, yet she is.

  Damn it! What gives her the right to hold any power over the men I love?

  I glare through the window. A figure moves onto the front porch.

  Blonde. Bitch.

  What gives her the right? Nothing. Angie doesn’t have any right. She shouldn’t have any power. And I refuse to let her believe she does.

  A demanding possessiveness stirs in my blood.

  This is my family. Mine. Not hers. Ben is mine. Nolan is mine. Chase is . . . well, obviously Chase has nothing to do with Angie, but still. If she even looks at him thinking anything besides how fucking cute he is, I might just haul off and deck her.

  With a quick hand, I unlatch my seat belt and shove the door open, jumping down from the truck.

  “Mia?”

  I look up at Ben, my hand on the door, ready to slam it shut. My chest rising and falling rapidly. “What?” I snap.

  He blinks. “You okay?”

  “I’ll be better in five minutes. Come on. Get out of the truck.”

  I run a hand through my hair, then brace that same hand on my hip. My fingers tapping impatiently on my dress as I turn my head and stare directly at Angie. My eyes narrow to tiny slits.

  She holds my gaze for a solid second before cutting away and looking down.

  Surprised to see me, bitch?

  “You look sexy as hell right now.”

  “I just want . . . Wait, what?” My head whips in his direction.

  What did he just say?

  Ben smirks, unlatching his seatbelt, his eyes never leaving mine. “Sexy, Angel. Looking like you’re ready to throw down and claim what’s yours. I’m feeling you, baby. I get it.” He steps down from the truck and looks at me over the top of the seat, grinning a full-blown, heart-stopping grin, all big and beautiful.

  I roll my eyes, even though I love that look. “You make everything about cookies, you know that?”

  Shrugging, he steps back and grabs the edge of the door. “Hard not to, being married to the hottest woman I’ve ever seen.”

  I fight my smile, and lose.

  “Love you,” I tell him before shaking my head and looking away. My shoulders drop with a sigh. “No more sweet talk. I need to retain my edge.”

  “I’ll try and keep it under control.”

  We both grab one of the boys, me cradling Chase in my arms, his eyes still closed and his body still slack from sleep, and Ben hoisting Nolan up onto his shoulders, letting him straddle his neck the way he likes doing.

  I lead the way up the driveway, coming to a stop in front of the bottom step of the porch. I don’t feel any need to go any further. This is good enough.

  She is close enough.

  Angie slowly moves to the edge of the railing.

  I barely recognize her. She looks thinner. Her skin a little paler, her hair lifeless, her complexion dull. It’s been three years since we spoke in person last, but gazing at her now it feels like it’s been longer. She’s aged terribly, that bitchy, smart-assed confidence she had burning inside her is vanished. Snuffed out.

  Her shoulders aren’t pulled back. She isn’t asserting her place.

  The woman in front of me is uneasy. Hesitant. She’s looking down at me, but in no way is she above me.

  Good, I want to think, just as an unexpected wave of sympathy passes through my body.

  God, do not feel sorry for her, Mia. Think about what she did. What could’ve happened.

  Angie looks nervously at my face, at Chase asleep in my arms, at the ring on my finger that I happily display for her, then over my shoulder, her gaze lifting and no doubt locking onto Nolan.

  The corner of her mouth twitches. Her eyes water.

  “Oh, my God. Look how big you are,” she remarks through a small, shaky voice.

  I turn sideways to look behind me.

  Ben plucks Nolan off his shoulders and puts him on his feet.

  He stuffs his hands into his little pockets, looking unsure, gazing up at me and then looking ahead.

  Angie slowly descends the stairs. “Hi, Nolan. Do you remember me? I’m your mommy. God, I missed you so much. I . . .”

  “Daddy said I don’t have to call you that.” Nolan quickly moves to stand beside me. He slides his hand around my leg. “I don’t want two mommies. Chasey doesn’t have two mommies.” With his other hand, he taps Chase’s leg. “This is Chasey,” he says.

  I look down at Nolan, into his pretty gray eyes, feeling a mixture of pride and relief bubbling up inside me and spreading out to my limbs, my fingers and toes, filling me completely. Comfort so satisfying and sudden tears build behind my lashes.

  Nolan is choosing me. He’s chosen me. He wants to continue calling me mommy, not anything else. I don’t have to give up that title now that Angie is back. I’ll never have to give it up.

  Her presence in his life, whatever it ends up being, doesn’t affect mine. I know that now.

  I blink my tears away, standing even taller than I did when I hopped out of Ben’s truck as I focus my awareness onto Angie.

  She’s frozen on the bottom step, looking between Nolan and myself, lingering on the latter. Her hands trembling at her sides. Her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

  I raise my eyebrow.

  Try something. I dare you.

  She looks away, blinking rapidly until finally fixating all of her attention onto Nolan. She grips the handrail, maybe to keep herself from collapsing. “W-Well, that’s fine. That’s okay. You don’t have to call me that. You can call me whatever you want.”

  Humph. I can give him a few choice words to call you.

  “Chasey can’t say a lot yet. He can’t really talk.” Nolan slides behind my legs, then around to the other side of me. He continues circling, dragging his hand across my skin and keeping his head down. “Mommy said I used to talk like Chasey, but I talk really good now. Even ‘r’s. I can say dragon and stuff. Chasey can’t say that yet. He can’t even say Nolan.”

  Ang
ie smiles weakly. “You’re such a big boy now. Do you still like dragons?”

  “Yup. I like airplanes too.”

  “Good, ‘cause I bought you something.” She looks at Ben, clears her throat, then shifts her eyes to me when he remains silent. “Is it okay if I give him a present?” she inquires, looking cautiously hopeful.

  She’s asking me for permission? Me?

  Huh. Wasn’t expecting this.

  I nod once.

  She disappears inside the house, then reemerges seconds later, carrying a small bag.

  “Here you go. I saw it and thought of you.” She steps down and stops a foot away from Nolan, who is still gripping onto my leg, now with both hands. She holds the bag out. “Here.”

  Nolan peeks out from behind me to see her, then tilts his head up, blinking, looking at me anxiously.

  “Go ahead,” I tell him, knowing he really wants to find out what’s in that bag.

  I know my son. He loves presents.

  Nolan lurches forward and eagerly grabs the gift bag, tearing into it and letting tissue paper float into the air and fall to the ground. He pulls out a hard plastic dragon, maroon in color, with spikes going down its spine and wings extended, its mouth open to show rows of pointed teeth.

  “Cool,” Nolan mutters, examining it, pressing a button on the back of its tail and watching the wings flap. He looks up at Angie. “I don’t have this one.”

  “Oh, good. I was worried you had them all,” she chuckles nervously, tucking some of her shoulder length blonde hair behind her ear. “It makes noises too. I just didn’t have any batteries.”

  Nolan spins around and carries the dragon over to Ben. “Do we have batteries for this, Daddy?” he asks, holding it up.

  Ben takes the dragon and turns it over, looking at it briefly before handing it back. “Yeah, we have some.” He jerks his head. “Tell Angie thank you.”

  “Thank you,” Nolan says over his shoulder. He tugs on Ben’s shorts. “Can we go now?” he whispers. “I wanna go play with this.”

  “Wait.” Angie steps closer, her voice taking on some urgency. Her hand suspends in the air. “You can play with it here. We can go inside if you want.”

  Nolan moves in, recoiling away from Angie, or from that suggestion. He presses the side of his face against Ben’s thigh. “Daddy, please?”