“Hmm,” I laugh, my voice deliberately playful. “It was… eventful.” But when I glance toward the living room window, my smile fades. Ivy walks into the family room and curls up on the sectional. “I think we all need some breathing room after today.”
Jules follows my gaze, her expression softening. “I spoke to her earlier. She’ll be fine. She actually cracked a joke,” Jules says, squeezing my hand. “Speaking of finding yourself… have you readHappy Placeby Emily Henry? It’s about this couple. They’re in love, but they fall apart. They don’t talk. She’s stuck in people-pleasing mode… until they’re forced to spend a week together and she finally has to figure her shit out.”
“Let me guess. She chooses the guy?”
“More importantly, she chooses herself. The guy’s just a hot bonus.”
I laugh, and it sounds like something breaking open. “I’m going to miss these fire-pit conversations with you the most.”
“You’re stuck with me, and my romance novels, for life,” Jules says, bumping my shoulder with hers.
“Maybe James and I can find a place up here. Something tucked into the woods so we’re close by.”
Jules’s eyes widen, seeing the dream I’m already forming. “Tom and I’ll be your first guests. The boys aren’t giving up their favorite video game partner anyway.”
“I love you.”
“You too, babe.” Jules hugs me once more.
Thirty-Eight
AsIheadupstairsto get ready for bed, my phone pings.
Skating Stud: Can I come say good night?
Me: Yes please.
Less than three minutes later, the door clicks open and James slips inside.
“I couldn’t sleep without seeing you first,” he says, cupping my chin. “You were fucking magnificent tonight.”
He leans down and claims my mouth—slow, deep, certain. A deep purr starts in my throat and works its way down to my toes. His hands slide down until he reaches the hem of my sleep shirt. My legs shake, waiting for his fingers to continue their descent. Instead, he pulls back. His eyes are hazy, darkening as he takes in my pajamas. A long button-up sleep shirt riding up just enough to reveal a hint of black boy shorts beneath.
“This is what you sleep in?” A note of pleading is in his voice.
“My old sleep shirt. Not exactly my greatest seductive effort.” I laugh. “But this is me. Messy bun. Unshaved legs. I’m not glamorous. I don’t wear silk negligees to bed. I hate doing the dishes. I drink way too much coffee and not enough water.”
Before I can keep rambling, he lifts me in one fluid motion, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carries me into the bathroom—putting space between us and the sleeping toddler.
“I don’t want glamorous. I want you. Exactly like this.”
The door clicks shut behind us, and he sets me on the edge of the vanity, fingers working the top buttons of my sleep shirt, popping them open one by one until it slips off my shoulder. His mouth finds that sensitive spot beneath my ear, before trailing to my bra strap and tugging it down.
My breast stays mostly hidden, still cradled in the sensible black cup. He leans down and sucks my breast into his mouth, bra and all.
“Oh fuck,” I moan, head hitting the mirror as his mouth works over the fabric, stubble grazing my skin. My back arches, and I suck in air like I’m about to dive and never surface.
“I’ve been thinking about this since that damn night in the sunroom. I couldn’t get the look on your face out of my head. That rubber band… I nearly lost it. Was this the same shirt?” he asks, his mouth still against my skin.
“Hmmm. Might be.” I nod, distracted by the need overtaking me. “You remember the night by the fire pit that first year?”
“You mean the night you called bullshit on my whole poetic music metaphors?” He presses a kiss to my collarbone while his fingers rebutton my top.
“I dreamed of you that night. I already had a feeling I might be pregnant. But when I fell asleep, I dreamed about the baby, and the man looking down at us had the most intense green eyes.” I press my lips to his, sealing the confession with a kiss.
With more restraint than I can fathom, he says, “We’ve waited four years. I think we can wait for somewhere more romantic than a bathroom.”
But my body disagrees.
