Eligible Ex-Husband: A Hero Club Novel

by Marie Johnston

  I’m not tired. I don’t know how long I stare at the ceiling recalling how good of a partner he is at times like this. Finally, my eyes drift shut. I don’t know how much sleep I get before there’s a repeat.

  This time, it’s just Maddy and she’s good about getting to the bucket. There’s nothing sexy about this detail, but Simon’s tight undershirt and boxer briefs are hard not to notice. His powerful thighs are usually hidden by his basketball shorts—poorly, but it’s something. His gym shirts are baggy, but this undershirt practically takes a highlighter to his defined pecs and the hard planes of his stomach.

  When everything’s cleaned up and Maddy’s settled, we step out of the room. He rolls his shirt up and rips it over his head. He’s in nothing but his underwear and his hair is rumpled. This is the Simon I wanted more of when we were married. Casual. More than casual.

  I can’t keep my gaze from dipping to his chest. Damn. He’s in maroon boxer briefs with a black waistband. I’m wearing powder blue pajama pants with pandas on them and a top that falls off one shoulder. He’s granite and I’m a dandelion field gone to seed.

  I bite the inside of my lip to keep from swearing. I used to climb every inch of him. Tasting, licking, nibbling. He was mine. Cleaning up sick should’ve kept my mind off of this.

  “I don’t think I got hit, but I want to keep my bedding clean. It’s probably time to put another load in.”

  I step back so he can go around me. “Thanks for doing the laundry.”

  “No problem.” He grins, looking like he got eight hours of sleep and not three hours of broken rest. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I hope I don’t see you before morning.”

  My smile comes easy. He heads to the basement and I go back to my bedroom. I stand inside the doorway. If there’s another incident, he’s going to need a change of clothes. Maybe I have something he can wear.

  I scour my closet, starting in the deepest corners and lesser-used drawers. The sad fact is that his half of the closet is still empty, as are the drawers he used in the dresser. But just in case something of his got stuck with mine, I look anyway.

  I hit pay dirt at the bottom of the closet. A pair of black cloth shorts is hidden in the shadows, along with an old shirt. They’re partially concealed by the ironing board I do my best to never have to use.

  The light by the guest room is still on. I hear soft footsteps coming up the stairs. I can catch him before he goes into his room.

  I’m looking at my find clutched in my hand when I walk out. I glance up, searching for him. “Hey, look what I found—”

  I gasp. He’s half-turned, frozen at the base of the stairs that go up to the bedrooms. His ass is on full display and he’s not wearing one stitch of clothing. “Natalie, shit, sorry.” He cups his balls and as he does his ass tightens.

  A small moan leaves me. He looks so damn good naked. Two weeks ago, I had my hand on that impressive length he’s cupping. Seeing him like this makes the feel of him blaze to life across my fingertips. Hard erection, covered by soft, blistering hot skin.

  “Here.” I thrust the clothes out and try to avert my eyes, but they go to the sliding doors instead, the kind with the blinds between the panes. With the blinds closed, the reflected image of him is erotically clear. The angle is different and he’s posed like a marble statue, cupping his privates. I squeeze my eyes shut. My nipples are painfully hard and I hope my sorry excuse of a sports bra is enough to hide them. “I found these at the bottom of the closet.”

  He lifts them from my grip. “I, uh, forgot the other pair of underwear in the room and thought you all were asleep so I could sneak back.” His voice is rough. Is it awkward for him or is he burning up like me?

  “You shouldn’t sneak around naked. The girls could be up any time.”

  “You’re right. Bachelor habits, I guess.” Those words stab me in the chest. He rushes on. “I promise I don’t do this when they’re at my place.”

  “I know.” Abby and Maddy are deep asleep and their door is mostly closed. I doubt they would’ve awoken during the ten seconds it would’ve taken him to get to his room from downstairs. But the longer I keep him, the more we risk them waking. “I’ll let you, um, get dressed.”

  His grin is devilish. “What if I have nothing to wear?”

  My pulse quickened. “My shorts would be really short on you, but you do have nice legs.”

  “If that’s the case, I can take the ones you’re wearing.”

  I flutter my fingers against my chest over my racing heart. I always enjoyed banter with Simon, but we might have a long night ahead of us. “I think you’ll figure something out.”

  “Sure. And don’t worry about the morning. I’ll get up with them. Get some rest. Sleep tight, Natalie.”

  The slight tease to his words are enough incentive for me to keep my eyes off him. I spin around and charge back to my room.

  Sleep tight, Natalie.

  Letting me sleep in after a puke fest. I’d rather have that than a dozen roses any day.

  Chapter 12

  Natalie

  Saturday was a day. Simon and I did nothing but cater to sick kids and keep up on laundry. There was a mighty heave session before bed and we have more laundry to do, on top of the normal weekend stuff. But since then, we haven’t been plagued with new stomach incidents.

  The girls woke up feeling normal but worn out. They’re planted in front of the TV in the living room, nestled in blankets with books and markers and notepads piled around them. Yesterday, Simon ran and grabbed the girls’ bags and stuffed animals. Today, he’s out getting some groceries, mostly crackers and Sprite.

  Simon and I aren’t feeling queasy or affected. They must’ve picked up the stomach bug from the play area I took them to on Friday before I dropped them off with their dad.

  Guilt only affects me because the kids are miserable, but I can’t deny that being surrounded by my family all weekend was nice. I didn’t get much work done, but I wouldn’t have if I was alone and dealing with all of this.

  Simon was with me every step of the way. And I recalled how he was always there with me when things got tough. It never mattered that he worked all day or had meetings. He never held that over my head when the kids were up sick all night, or when they woke with growing pains or nightmares. He was out of bed and taking care of them with me.

  It was the normal day-to-day issues that he failed at.

  I scrub my face and get up. The longer I sit here and ponder how different things have been since my mom was sick, the more confused I’m going to get. Simon’s made no more moves to get close to me and we’d even taken the Arizona trip together and stayed in the same suite—with him in a separate bedroom.

  Yeah. Not a fun train of thought. There’s always laundry.

  I go to my bedroom and gather my dirty clothes and bedding from the previous week and carry them to the basement. My mind loses its attempts to quit thinking about Simon, inconveniently getting stuck on his bare ass in the night-light.

  Is he done with me? There was the kiss in my office and then the night he slept in the same bed, but since I shut him down, he’s respected my limits. Dammit.

  What do I think? That I’m so irresistible he can’t keep his hands off me no matter what I say? I’d be angry at him all over again if he did. But he’s not pursuing me, and the echoes of hurt from being so easily resisted make no sense.

  That ass, though. And his chest.

  I push my hair off my face and punch the buttons on the machine. When it starts to make noise, I turn around and slump against it. I’m not ready to go upstairs and pretend to be the mom who has her shit together. I’m a woman mixed-up over a guy and I thought I wouldn’t be that person after I said “I do”. I wasn’t even that person when I said I don’t. Then, I was only a mom trying to do her best for her kids. A mom who was trying to find her inner woman again and unearth the goals I want in my life.

  Things are exactly as I need them. Simon’s co-parenting. I managed to
get to two personal training appointments last week and have been doing my training runs in the morning. And I’ve almost nailed down the design for my logo.

  But there’s a huge gaping hole in my life in the exact shape of a sexy man with a devilish smile who can wear the hell out of a suit.

  The laundry door pushes open and Simon enters with a small armful of girl clothes. My heart stutters. He hasn’t shaved all weekend and the faint dusty brown stubble on his chin gives him an irresistible rugged look.

  He takes one look at my face and hip checks the door closed. “What’s wrong?”

  I shake my head and fold my arms like they’re some sort of defense against how devastating he looks in his gray gym shorts and red T-shirt. The clothes I found in the closet are currently in the dryer. “Nothing. I just needed a moment.”

  He dumps the clothes in the dirty pile against the wall. The laundry is noisy, but it’s cocooning us in our own space and the extra heat thrown off from the dryer increases my antsy discomfort. It has nothing to do with the man in front of me causing a full-body flush.

  Towering over me, he rests one hand on the washer lid next to me. The faint vibrations of the machine are nothing I’ve noticed before, but his proximity amplifies the effect until I’m ready to strip down to nothing in a desperate attempt to seek relief.

  “I should go then,” he says quietly. “To give you a moment.”

  He doesn’t move and I don’t ask him to. “Stay.”

  The corner of his mouth slowly lifts. “Are you sure? Remember what happened the last time you asked me to do that.”

  I wrapped my hand around his cock and that was only the beginning of what my dreams had planned. “I remember.” My voice comes out husky, ragged.

  His pupils dilate and his focus sharpens. He drops his head closer to mine. Our lips are inches away. “I liked what happened.”

  “Me, too,” I whisper.

  That’s the last of either of our restraint. He wipes out all my insecurities at being completely and utterly resistible. His lips smash against mine and I throw my arms around his neck. Need rages inside me, and I ignore the alarm at the back of my mind that’s trying to tell me this is crossing all boundaries and there’s no going back.

  My ability to be responsible around Simon is fatigued. I’m not strong enough to resist him.

  Cool metal presses against my ass as he shoves my shorts down, but I don’t think twice about it. My hands are busy yanking his bottoms past his sudden erection. He’s hard for me this quickly and the satisfaction I feel is another balm for my hurt pride.

  My shorts and underwear are tugged down and drop down my thighs to pool around my ankles. I don’t have to step out of them. I’m being lifted. I cling tighter to Simon, my tongue clashing with his. We can’t get enough of each other.

  I automatically spread my legs for him and his thick length prods my entrance. He wedges a hand between us to steady himself and check that I’m ready, but it’s a waste of time. I clench my legs to encourage him to just fucking thrust already.

  He pushes in. One smooth jerk of his hips.

  I moan against his mouth and he flattens a big hand on my thigh.

  His unsteady breath wafts over my mouth. “God, Natalie. It’s been too fucking long.”

  “I haven’t been—” I gasp as he moves inside me. Nothing I could do on my own fills me like him. “I haven’t done this since—” The ecstasy leaves me incoherent.

  He pulls almost all the way out and shoves back in. I tighten my legs around him.

  He kisses down my chin to my neck. “There’s only been you. Just you.”

  The confirmation that he hasn’t been with anyone else is gasoline poured directly on the burning fire of my desire. He plants open mouth kisses along my neck and works my shirt up between us.

  I have to prop my hands on the washer. My chest is bared, and he lavishes attention on my breasts over the material of my bra, all the while steadily thrusting.

  “I’m not going to last long.” He switches to the other nipple. They’re straining against the fabric, sensitive to the point of exquisite pain and the only remedy is his touch. “You feel too fucking good.”

  I arch into him. He’s always been able to get me off with little effort. It’s one reason why I haven’t touched myself since we divorced. The work of getting myself to orgasm when he can do it with a tilt of his head and a few flicks of his tongue just increases my tension instead of relieving it.

  He changes the angle, knowing exactly how I like it when we do it standing up. His blunt tip hits the right spot over and over and over until I’m shaking.

  I throw my arms around him and he straightens so I can bury my face in his neck to muffle my cries. Despite my effort, noise escapes in a series of squeaks, panting, and low moans as I come all over him.

  “God, Natalie. You kill me.” He jacks his hips to impale me once more and stiffens. I look up to see the rigid clench of his jaw and how he’s throwing his head back to ride out his climax. I hold him as he releases inside of me.

  I’m still on the pill. It was on a list of decisions I didn’t want to make when our marriage imploded. I knew full well I wouldn’t be needing it because moving on with someone else was the last thing on my mind. Yet hoping for Simon to show up at the door begging for a reconciliation was a dream I wasn’t prepared to give up at the time.

  Today, I’m grateful for the decision. Adding a baby to this uncertain time would only complicate matters and put more pressure on Simon when he’s only just committed to making a change.

  We cling to each other. My face is turned so I’m staring at the wall with the light switch. The machine hums under me, letting me know that I can’t get enough of this man. He could haul me off to bed and I’d gladly stay there, getting pleasured by him, like all the times we used to before we had kids.

  His grip on me loosens and he’s pulling away when we hear Abby call, “Mom? Dad?”

  Simon

  Natalie’s a ninja at avoiding me when we’re still under the same roof.

  After our frantic redressing to keep from getting busted half naked by Abby, she left the laundry room to check on the kids and I stayed to get my body under control. I didn’t miss her flushed cheeks and the sense of loss that played out on her face when I pulled out of her.

  I don’t regret what happened, but I regret that we didn’t have a chance to talk about it. It wasn’t just a quick fuck. Sleeping with Natalie was never about fleeting pleasure. Every time I’m with her is a commitment to us. I’ve never looked into love languages, but if there’s one that involves sex then that’s mine.

  I know it’s the same with her. The similarity was a small part of the magnet that drew us together in Business 101. I had no interest in getting distracted from my studies by parties and random hookups. Wharton wasn’t cheap for my parents, who liked to pretend it was in their social circle. And I liked sex as much as the next guy, but I could never disentangle it from emotions that a young, single guy like me wasn’t supposed to have.

  As soon as I laid eyes on Natalie, I sensed she was the same. Not a prude, but with hard boundaries when it came to how she allowed herself to be treated. Somehow, I pushed past those limits last year and it ended our marriage.

  But I’m doing better. I’ve been around for her and for the kids and I’m still getting my job done.

  We can do this. I just have to convince her of that.

  I get a modest supper of macaroni and cheese and peas ready. Something easy on the kids’ stomachs. Natalie is working in the office, but I suspect she’s hiding. Abby tried to play outside but slogged back in after fifteen minutes. They’re low on energy, but I’m sure they’ll be back to normal tomorrow.

  While the girls are eating, Natalie comes out and makes herself a plate and disappears. She does it while I’m on the back deck on the phone. Helena’s been a champ fielding any calls and messages left by clients over the weekend, but I check in with both her and Charlie.

 
Inside, Natalie stays hidden and I get the girls ready for bed. She emerges to tuck them in and read stories. When she leaves their bedroom, I’m waiting, my arms folded across my chest, at the bottom of the stairs. There’s no way she can miss me.

  She stops, anxiety darkening her gaze and she chews on her lower lip. “I guess we need to talk.”

  Finally. I wave toward the couch. The living room is as public as we can get and if we talk in hushed tones, the kids won’t hear.

  She chooses the recliner and my right eye twitches. She’s making sure I can’t sit in the same space as her.

  I pick the end of the couch closest to her. Not because I want to be confrontational. I crave being close to her and I have over seven months to make up for. Actually nine from when I moved out and divorce proceedings started.

  “About earlier—” she started.

  “I loved every minute of it.” I don’t mean to interrupt her, but I get the feeling that if I let her talk, she’ll talk herself out of any progress our washing machine sexcapade made. “And I love you, Natalie. I’ve never quit loving you.”

  Alarm flashes in her eyes and she shrinks in the chair. I came on too strong.

  “Sorry.” I hold my hands out like I’m showing her I’m unarmed. “I just wanted it out there. I’m trying. I want to be the man you need and want in your life.”

  “You are, but your work always comes first.”

  “We both know how important it is to me. But I’m trying to balance it.”

  She folds her lips in and looks away. I wait, hoping she’ll give me a peek into what’s going on in that pretty head of hers. Surprisingly, she talks. “Why didn’t you try before?”

  “Before what?”

  “The divorce.” She looks me square in the eye and the weight of my answer lands on my shoulders.

  The answer isn’t as hard as she must assume. “You were miserable. I’ll do anything to make you happy, even end our marriage.”