She put a hand on the side of my face and combed her fingers through my beard. It was a new thing she seemed to like to do, and while it should feel comforting and sweet, all it made me want to do was bury myself inside her as far as I could go so that she felt me everywhere, every day, in every single move she made while we were apart. I growled at her and sank my teeth into the top of her shoulder with just enough force to make it sting. She garbled something that I’m sure was supposed to be words and then her body clamped down on me like a velvet vise and I felt her pleasure and mine collide and merge into one intense flood of completion. I couldn’t remember a time when I ever got off at the same time as the girl I was with. I was never that in sync with anyone, never that caught up in the moment and feeling what they were feeling as intensely as my own desire. It had happened more than once since I started sleeping with Sayer, and each time it felt more important, more significant than the last.
I swore down at her and she giggled up at me as I rolled to the side so I didn’t crush her when I collapsed. I brought her with me and she wiggled on my dick, which had me growling at her. I was so over the latex that kept me from being able to stay inside her forever and enjoy a minute where I could just hold her and marvel at how perfect she fit me. That was another conversation I wanted to have but was leery of how she would react. She seemed bound and determined to keep me close but with enough room that she could duck out if she felt like she needed to. I didn’t want to push too hard, considering being here, in this house I built for her, in her bed anytime I asked, was a huge victory. I might not be all the way through those icy barriers she had, but I was tunneling my way into the core of her nicely.
I pulled out of the heat that she still had me wrapped in and bit back a grin when a frown pulled at her face. I liked the way her golden eyebrows puckered in annoyance at the loss of me. I leaned forward so I could kiss those little lines and told her I would be right back.
It was a good thing she had a master bath attached to the room. One morning when I was running particularly late because of shower sex—totally worth the hitch in my schedule, by the way—I had scared Poppy half to death by bursting into the kitchen half dressed and hurried. The timid young woman was getting more comfortable having me in her space, but clearly she wasn’t at the point where a big, half-naked man was something she was ready to deal with. I thought she was going to burst into tears, and I wasn’t sure how to make the situation any better. Luckily Sayer had heard Poppy’s shriek of terror and had come down to smooth things over. She was so good with the fractured young woman, so kind, so caring, I was baffled how she thought she was going to hurt me.
I made a concerted effort to stay dressed and move more carefully around the Victorian when I knew I might run into the other woman. It broke my heart a little bit for her, but Sayer assured me that the fact that Poppy hadn’t run and barricaded herself in her room after the encounter was huge progress. I was skeptical but decided to believe her.
I crawled back into the bed and pulled Sayer on top of me so that she was sprawled across me like a sexy, naked blanket. I pulled the comforter up over her waist and ran my fingers up and down the knobs of her spine while she traced over the tattoo on my shoulder with her index finger. She did that a lot. It was almost like she was trying to commit the images to memory through touch or something. By now I was convinced that she could draw spot-on images of them if I asked her to, given how much time she spent studying them and touching them.
“Did you tell Hyde?” Her voice was sleepy and sluggish against my chest. I twisted my fingers in the ends of her hair, and as usual the silky strands clung to the calluses I had there.
I’d had two long weekends of unsupervised visits with the little boy, with two more to go before he could start spending Thursday through Mondays with me. I wanted to tell him I was his father before he came to stay with me, but every time I had him all to myself, I chickened out or couldn’t figure out a way to give him such important information in a way that was easily digestible for a five-year-old.
“No. He wanted to ride around in the truck and eat pizza today. I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m just his playtime buddy. I couldn’t do it. He was having such a good time, and I feel like when I tell him, that’s gonna change how he sees me.” I’ll admit it. I was scared to death of a five-year-old. I already loved him so much, was so attached to the little guy that I was terrified that when I told him what our relationship really was he would feel betrayed.
She yawned and then lifted her head up and rested her chin on her hands, which she stacked up over my heart. “You’re running out of time if you want to tell him before the overnights start.” She lifted her eyebrows up. “Speaking of the overnights, you might want to ask your sister or someone to help you make that condo a little more kid-friendly before he comes to stay with you.”
I tugged on her hair and she scowled at me. “What’s wrong with my condo?”
She rolled those ocean-colored eyes at me like I was clueless. “Nothing is wrong with it for a single guy. Everything is wrong with it for a five-year-old. He needs to have someplace that is fun, a place that is all his own. Before you get full custody, the court very well may send a social worker out to check out the living conditions. Your condo is nice, but it doesn’t scream ‘family.’ ”