Feels Like Summertime

“Cards? I don’t think so.” He cups my breast on the water and gives it a squeeze.

“We could build a house out of Popsicle sticks.”

He shakes his head. “Nah.”

“We could play hide the salami.”

He pulls back so he can look at my face, his brows lifting toward the heavens. “You have been spending entirely too much time with Pop.”

“You don’t like my idea?” I bat my wet lashes at him.

“I love your idea. I’m just not sure if I want to think of salami when I finally get to be inside you.”

I wrap my legs around his waist. “Would you rather think about my awesome flower petals opening right up and taking you inside?”

He arches his hips, bumping against me, and my belly does that twisty thing that only happens with him. “I can still taste you on my tongue.”

“My awesome flower, you mean?” I laugh when he growls against my neck and comes up to nibble my ear.

Suddenly, bodies fly over our heads and hit the lake. I recognize Adam and Dad, three of my children, and then there’s a sixth splash as Sally hits the water.

“Sally can swim?” I ask Jake.

“I have no idea. I’ve spent exactly five minutes with that dog since I got him.”

Sally swims a circle around Trixie, sticking right with her. “He’s a good dog, Jake,” I tell him. “When we get married, I’m going to adopt him.”

Jake sucks in a breath.

“Too soon?” I ask, going stiff in his arms.

He pulls my head back to look into my eyes. “Not too soon,” he says, and then he kisses me, right there in front of everybody.





43





Jake





I lie in bed staring at the ceiling for what feels like hours. It could be minutes. It could be days. All I know is that I’m not with Katie, and where she is is where I desperately want to be. I want to be inside her. I want to be on top of her. I want to wrap her around me and never, ever let her go.

From down the hallway, Hank lets out that tiny little wail he does every night when he wakes up around midnight. It usually startles me out of my sleep every time he does it; not because it’s awful or annoying, but because I listen for it every single night. Even with the alarms I put on the doors and the windows, I still worry about them, and I suppose I’ll worry about them for the rest of my life.

I imagine Katie getting out of bed all bleary-eyed, shuffling over to his bassinette and scooping him up. Then she’ll sit down with him and bare her breast. Since she’s in her room, she won’t worry about covering up. It’ll be her and Hank and the quiet of the night as she feeds him and rocks him back to sleep in my mother’s old rocking chair. In my fantasies, I’m the one who hears him cry out in the night, and I get up, get him, and take him to her. I’m the one who bares her breast for him and I wait until he’s done feeding so I can put him back to bed.

I want to ease some of Katie’s burden.

But even more than that, I want to fuck her.

I want to sink deep inside her, steal her breath, and not give it back until she’s clenching around me. I’ll pulse deep inside her, and she’ll tighten and cry out my name.

I roll over and pound my fist into my pillow. I have never wanted anyone or anything as badly as I want her. And I want her forever. I don’t want her for a moment, or for a short time, or for an experience. I want her always. I want her early morning and her late night. I want her midday and I want her bedtime. I just want her.

I lie there waiting, counting the minutes until I can go and crawl into bed with her, until I can be inside her.

Screw it. I’m just going to go to her. I toss the covers back and just as I do, my door opens with a soft snick. I look up and Katie steps into my room, closing the door softly behind her. She leans her forehead against the door and presses her palms against the wood. In one hand, she’s holding the receiving end of the wireless baby monitor.

“Katie,” I say quietly as I go to stand next to her. She’s wearing an oversized t-shirt and a tiny pair of sleep shorts. Her dark hair is plaited in a loose braid over her shoulder.

“I was going crazy waiting for you,” she says quietly, and I hear the tremor in her voice.

I press my front against her back, and she leans into me, molding her body to mine. “And I’ve been lying here waiting for you all night. Is Hank asleep?” I whisper, as I kiss the side of her neck. She shivers in my arms, and I see goose bumps rise on hers. I take the baby monitor from her hand and lay it on my dresser.

“Yes,” she whispers, and then she spins in my arms. “He’ll sleep for a few hours.” Her hands wrap around my neck as she pulls my face down to hers.