by Alexa Martin
Show-off.
“Damn. This is a comfy-ass bed.” He stretches, arching his back.
“It’s old. Maya got it for me when I was pregnant with Ace.” I lie down, trying to divert my eyes from the man beside me. “I told her I only needed a twin. I already felt like a mooch, pregnant, poor, and crashing in on her, but she told me a queen was the minimum I should lie on. I was lucky she didn’t listen to my objections. I swear, my belly got so big it would’ve hung off a twin and then Ace was born and didn’t leave my bed until I kicked him out for snoring.”
I smile at the memory of a tiny Ace in his co-sleeper lying next to me, the sweet little baby noises he’d make and his tiny little hands sneaking their way out of his blanket no matter how tight I’d swaddle him.
I turn my head and TK’s turned onto his side, watching me with an expression I’ve never seen.
“Sorry,” I say, realizing I’ve been rambling on about a mattress. “You know I talk a lot when I’m tired.”
He reaches a hand across the small gap between us and rests it on my hip. “Don’t be sorry,” he whispers, his eyes trying to communicate something I can’t decipher. “I want to know about everything I missed, even your mattress.”
“You do?” I’m not sure he knows what he’s asking for. Everything is a lot.
“Every night since I saw you guys at the park, I lie down, and no matter what’s going on or how shitty my day was, my mind always drifts off to you guys. What you’re doing while I’m alone. What little traditions you have, just the two of you, that I missed out on. I wonder if you’re glad I’m back or if I’m intruding on your life and making things harder for you.”
“I’ve been doing the same thing since I got on a plane and moved to Denver. I wondered what it’d be like for you to be there with me cheering at Ace’s soccer games and tucking him in at night, what it would feel like for us to be a family.” The words fall from my lips before I have a chance to think about them. I scoot closer to him, closing the small gap between us, until I feel his breath against my skin. “I tried to hate you, I really did. But it never worked.”
He slides one arm under my neck, his hand going to my hair and giving it a gentle tug. He forces me to look at his face and not his chest like I have been. “You know I never stopped loving you, Poppy, don’t you?”
The air around me goes static and my breath catches in my throat, all while my heart threatens to beat right out of my chest.
He continues on. “Because I didn’t. And now, seeing you with Ace, seeing what a great kid he is? I love you even more. I know you might not be ready to hear this, and that’s fine with me, but I need to tell you. I need you to know how sorry I am for being such a royal fuckup when we were kids and how thankful I am you’re the mother of my child.”
He’s wrong about one thing. I am ready to hear it. I’ve been ready since the day I left.
I close my eyes and burrow my face in the crook of his neck. But when I go to say it back to him, the words catch in my throat.
I’ve loved TK for as long as I can remember. Hell, I loved him when I hated him. And for some reason I’m not sure even I understand, I can’t tell him that. I know he means the words he is saying and I know he thinks he wants to stick around forever, but I also know how hard this parenting gig is. I’ve already bogged him down with so much, I don’t need to throw my feelings on top of everything.
Instead of talking, I move my hands from their tucked position in between us and onto his bare chest, pushing up to his shoulders and stopping behind his neck. I pull his head toward mine, fully aware I’m starting something I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.
Something I don’t want to stop.
TK reads where this is going. This close to him, I get to watch as the green of his eyes disappears. His eyelids lower, his pupils dilate, and it’s clear he wants to go where I’m taking him. Yet he still pulls back an inch and studies my face. “Are you sure you want this? I don’t need you to lick my wounds, I promise I’m okay with you not saying you love me. I don’t want you to regret this.”
Dammit.
I really do love him.
“I’m sure.” I pull him closer again. “And it’s not your wounds I want to lick.”
He groans and I smile.
“Fuck.” All restraint thrown out the window, he rolls me flat on my back, nudges his knee between my thighs, and then crashes his mouth onto mine. His beard scratches against my chin, but it doesn’t bother me. Instead, it sparks every nerve ending in my body, magnifying the most inconspicuous touch.
My mouth opens to his without a second thought and he takes the invitation. There’s no teasing, no softness, just a relentless attack I cannot get enough of. When he nips at my bottom lip, my back arches off the bed and he slides his hands up the back of my shirt with an efficiency I can only admire.
I’m so overtaken by emotion, by sensation, I know nothing in this entire world could pull me out of this moment.
Until TK starts to lift the hem of my shirt . . . with the light still on.
I pull my head back and push his chest, breaking us apart and missing his mouth before it’s even gone. “Turn off the light,” I groan before going for his mouth again.
“No.” He shakes his head and the corners of his mouth tip up.
He leans back in, pulling at the hem of my shirt again, and this time I push him back a little harder. “TK.” I stare at him, trying to convey the importance of a dark—preferably pitch-black—room. “Please turn off the light.”
Up until this very moment, this has never been a problem for me . . . for multiple reasons.
For one, I never actually cared about what the men I slept with thought, assuming I was probably never going to see them again, and if I did, it’d be with clothes on.
Two, find me one person without a single imperfection. It doesn’t exist. Everybody has something they are a little insecure about.
And last, we’ve always been here for my entertainment, thank you very much.
But I’m playing by a different set of rules with TK. I do care what he thinks. He’s only gotten hotter since the last time we had sex—bigger muscles, better facial hair, even his freaking voice got deeper!
I, on the other hand, had a baby . . . and then nursed said baby. Sure, TK can probably tell my hips are a little bit wider and I’m still carrying the last ten pounds of baby weight—Ace will be thirty and I’ll still reference weight I’d like to lose as baby weight. But what he doesn’t know about are the faded, but still noticeable, stretch marks lining my stomach and thighs and probably ass if I ever wanted to torture myself and look. And let’s be honest, push-up bras are magic. In clothes, my rack looks better than ever. But as soon as the bra disappears, so do any remnants of perkiness. I am a long ways away from the cute, unmarked sixteen-year-old girl he remembers. And I’m too turned on to have it ruined by a look of disappointment at my weathered and altered body.
“Why do you want the lights off?” he asks again.
“Never mind. I’m tired anyways.” I try to push him away and roll from beneath him, both of which I fail at so spectacularly, it would be comical if I wasn’t on the verge of tears.
Angry tears this time.
And angry tears are always acceptable.
“Get off of me, TK.” I slap his bare chest . . . and then I do it again when he doesn’t so much as flinch.
“Why do you want me to turn off the light?” He leans in like I’m not the rabid dog he’s turning me into.
“I said get off of me,” I snarl, pushing harder at his chest, which I’m now convinced is made of stone.
“Poppy.” He rolls back onto his knees and settles between my legs, dropping his hands on top of my thighs, which are now framing him. “It’s an easy question. Why do you want the lights off?”
I’m short, so I’m used to people literal
ly looking down at me, but this way? Lying in the middle of my bed with TK’s giant self looking mighty comfy propped up above me, staring down at me like he can see straight into my soul of darkness, I’m feeling extra vulnerable. “Does it matter?” I snap, moving my hands to cover my eyes. The eye contact is too much for me.
“Yeah.” He pulls my hands from my face. “It does.”
“Why?” I yell. “People have sex in the dark all the time, TK. It’s not like I’m asking you for some crazy, kinked-out shit.”
“Because . . .” He squeezes my hands tighter and I brace, because if he thinks he needs to give me extra comfort, I’m not going to like what he says next. “I think you’re trying to hide your body from me.”
Heat floods my cheeks, and I turn my head to the side, clenching my eyes shut. “Please get off of me,” I ask again, this time my voice cracking, and I hate myself for initiating this entire scene.
“But what I don’t understand is why,” TK continues on like I didn’t speak. “Your body changed?” He lets go of one of my hands and uses it to turn my head back to him. “I know it did. Last time we were together, we were kids. Now you’re a woman . . . a woman who carried our child.” He brushes his thumb across my lips. “I hope when you finally let me lift this shirt, I see some stretch marks.”
I think it’s the shock, or maybe total disbelief, that causes me to open my eyes.
I’ve tried really hard over the years to be one of those “these are my tiger marks” warrior moms, who embraces every change pregnancy bestowed upon her body. But I’m not.
I don’t harp on them every time I strip down to take a shower or get dressed, I just don’t show them off. I haven’t been caught in a bikini since the summer of ’07. And TK being an Adonis and all, I’m not too hyped up for him to bear witness to the road map of the forty pounds I gained.
“I’m serious,” he says, never dropping eye contact.
I roll my eyes and purse my lips. “You are so full of it.”
“Poppy, really listen to me, please.” He lets go of my hands and moves from between my legs to the unused side of my bed. He leans over and, with what seems like no effort at all, lifts my still-carrying-baby-weight ass and drops it right in his lap.
This position almost feels more intimate, but also more equal, so I don’t fight it. “Talk.”
His eyes go soft, as if he’s looking at me for the very first time, and he tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “If I could do anything, I’d go back in time and be there for you and Ace. I wish I could’ve seen you pregnant. Your tits were probably phenomenal . . . Your ass too.”
I tell him the heartbreaking truth. “They were obscene.” Boobs as big as your head are really freaking painful. My back will never fully recover from pregnancy.
“I wish I could’ve seen your stomach and watched the changes as they happened. But that can’t happen, so all I have, the only thing I can see, are the changes that stuck around.” He leans in so close, I can feel his every breath against my mouth. “I don’t know if you think I’m expecting to see the girl I was with last, but I’m not. I’m dying to see, and worship, the woman you are now. The woman who has busted her ass for the last nine years raising our son by herself.”
Well, crap.
How do I say no to that? Especially when I want to say yes.
“Okay.” I nod. “You can leave the light on.”
“Are you sure?” TK asks like he didn’t just full-court press this issue.
I inhale a deep breath before answering, “Yes.”
“Good.” He smiles, his white teeth gleaming against the dark beard framing his mouth.
I bite my bottom lip and try to stop my hands from fidgeting as he lifts the hem of my shirt, raising it one agonizing inch at a time. He pulls it over my head and I close my eyes trying to calm my breathing. His fingertips dance across my shoulders, pushing the already loose bra straps down my arms.
My eyes are still shut when I hear a sharp intake of breath.
And I don’t open them when TK’s hands grip my hips and his forehead rests against mine.
“Poppy.” His voice is husky and his breathing sounds like it does after a hard practice. “Please look at me.”
It takes me a minute to do it. To prepare for whatever I’m about to be met with.
But when I open my eyes, I realize I could’ve spent my entire life preparing for this moment and I still wouldn’t be ready for what TK gives me without a word.
It’s a look of adoration I’ve only seen in movies. It’s every single guard or layer of protection TK is always carrying, removed. There’s no humor, no defenses, nothing but TK looking at me as if I’d hung the stars and the moon for him.
“You’re so beautiful it hurts.” He grinds out each word.
I shake my head. I suck at accepting compliments and right now I can’t even begin to try. Emotions—words I refuse to speak—are clogging my throat and I’m afraid if I say anything, everything I’m fighting to keep in will fall out.
“I need you to believe this. I need this to penetrate that thick skull of yours.” His fingers on my hips flex, his fingernails digging into my skin. “You’re fucking stunning. You’re gorgeous here.” He leans in, dropping a chaste kiss on my lips. “And here.” He rolls us back over to our original position. His hands slowly travel up my sides, goose bumps following their path, until they cup my breasts. His thumbs graze my nipples. It’s the smallest, gentlest touch, but it’s like I’ve been shocked with a defibrillator. Electricity floods my system, sending my heart rate sky high and my back clear off the mattress.
TK takes full advantage. His mouth clamps around my nipple, sucking hard, then teasing it with a swirl of his tongue before moving to the neglected one. I can’t control my breathing or the pulsing between my thighs. As much as I want to thread my fingers into his hair and hold him to me, they are tangled in the sheets, tethering me to the bed because I think I might float away if I let go.
You’d think I hadn’t been touched in years by my reaction. And I guess, thinking about it, I haven’t. I’ve been through the motions, but I’ve never felt this before—like I might actually, physically die if TK stops touching me. Luckily for me, I don’t think he has plans to stop anytime soon.
I pry my eyes open and watch as his mouth leaves my breasts and drops a trail of kisses down my stomach.
“And definitely here,” he whispers, but the word echoes in my mind. He lifts his head and traces a faded stretch mark below my belly button with his finger. His touch is so light it causes goose bumps to rise all over my body. He stares at the line for a moment before a small smile pulls at his mouth. He pops open the button on my jeans with ease and pulls down the zipper just as fast. “Let’s get these off of you.” I lift my hips, eager to assist in this mission, while he yanks them—and my underwear—clean off in one magician-worthy motion.
“Knew it.” He sidles up between my legs, looking up at me from beneath his lashes. “Every bit of you is perfect.”
Heat rises in my cheeks again, but this time it’s from lust, not embarrassment. “TK.” I try to close my legs, needing something to relieve the pulsing desire lighting up my body like a Christmas tree.
“Tell me you believe me, Poppy,” TK says. His hoarse voice is the only indication he’s suffering through this wait as much as I am.
“Please,” I whine. He has reduced my verbal skills to one-word responses.
“I want to.” He grabs my thighs and kisses the insides, making it impossible to find any relief. “Tell me you believe me.”
“Yes,” I force out between my ragged breathing. “I believe you.”
TK doesn’t speak.
And holy shit. Whoever said actions speak louder than words was not lying.
His huge hands pull my thighs apart as wide as he deems necessary and finally—FINALLY!—he dips his tongue betw
een my thighs.
I collapse against my pillows and the world goes black, which I’m pretty sure is because my eyes roll to the back of my head.
My entire body is primed and ready to go not only from the kisses and attention he’s peppered me with for the last who knows how long but from our very first encounter in the alley. My body has been yearning for him for months. Well, if I’m honest with myself, I’ve been yearning for his touch for years.
Which is why, when his mouth closes over me, his beard brushing the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, it only takes approximately 1.26 seconds before my insides clench. My toes curl and my lips go numb as the orgasm literally builds from head to toe.
I push off the bed—or I levitate, who really knows—and watch as TK devours me like I’m the best thing he’s ever tasted. He’s not doing this out of obligation, my pleasure is his pleasure, and knowing that I’m turning him on is the catalyst to the earth-shaking, body-breaking orgasm that rips through me. My hands fly to TK’s head, digging into the hair I love even more at this very moment. I don’t know if I’m holding him to me or pushing him away as I ride the waves of ecstasy flowing through my body, but I do know TK doesn’t let up, which is why my insides tighten with another orgasm.
“Oh . . . my . . . god . . . TK.” Each word more moan than anything else. “I can’t.” I arch my back and dig my feet into the mattress to try to pull away, unsure another orgasm like I just had won’t rip me apart at the seams.
I get nowhere and TK doesn’t stop.
No.
TK grabs my already shaking legs, lifts my ass clean off the bed, and drapes my thighs over his shoulders. I’m helpless in this position. I can’t pull away, I can’t move toward him. Nothing.
Except feel.
“Give it to me, Poppy,” he growls out before dropping his mouth back down and slipping a single finger inside me.
That’s the end for me.
A scream I’m pretty sure only dogs can hear is torn from my throat as the tension building in my core explodes. Aftershocks leave me lying on the bed, my body convulsing, as I come back down to earth. Every inch of me tingles and I’m pretty sure if I had the spare energy to open my eyes, sparks would be shooting from every pore.