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As dull as they are, those memories are still uncomfortable. “Our neighborhood wasn’t exactly the safest…I was always worried about my mother coming home late at night from her second job at the supermarket. A cop was shot a block away so I figured if a cop could get hurt what chance did my mother have?”
Face marked with concern, he grips my hip and pulls me closer.
“I started to wait up for her, started following her around. One time, when she was doing laundry in the basement of our building, I found her in the stairwell pinned against the wall by the building manager.”
Dane’s jaw hardens, his eyes flashing with bare violence.
“I was eleven years old and I will never forget the look on my mother’s face. It’s the only time I ever saw her truly scared…that look scared me to death.” The image burned into my memory with startling clarity.
Castillo didn’t look like Jabba the Hut. He was attractive. I’m sure many women underestimated what a threat he was until it was too late.
“Abject fear isn’t fearing for your own safety, it’s fearing for the person you love most.”
“What happened?’
“When he saw me standing behind them, he growled something about not being late for the rent again…two months later he was taken away in handcuffs. I have no idea why but I can imagine.”
“Hmm.”
I never told Alex what I saw that day. I also never discussed it with my mother. My suspicion is that it wasn’t the first time he had threatened her.
“I would watch reruns of the Cosby Show and marvel at how nice their lives were. I asked my mother why we couldn’t buy a house and she told me that houses were expensive. It took a lot of money to buy a house. That the people in the show were educated professionals and if I wanted a house like that one day I should get an education.
“So I did. I figured out pretty quickly that the only color that mattered was green. If you had it, you were safe. Without it…” I shrug.
It feels like an eternity later when Dane finally speaks. “I will always keep you safe. Even on the days you hate me and wish you never met me…I’ll be here.” My fingers trace the dent in his chin, the scar where the hair is absent. “Do you believe me?”
And then I nod. This is a man whose word means something, who keeps his promises and takes care of the people he cares about.
“My turn,” I’m quick to say. Being the center of so much attention isn’t something I enjoy.
“Shoot.”
“What’s with all the women? No judgement. But knowing you as I do now…umm, I don’t know…” For a man with his reputation, his vow of celibacy was surprising. Understatement of the year.
“First thing first––I love sex.”
This gets a well-earned eye roll. “Umm, yeah I know, Casanova.”
“But the rest is myth.” His expression flickers with mischief.
“Whaaat?” At my shock, his eyebrows wiggle. “So the thousands of women…”
“Bullshit. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve had my share of fun and then some, but nothin’ like people talk about.”
“I don’t understand…”
“It started in college when Coach caught me with the dean’s daughter in the team locker room.”
“Why do I sense a punch line coming.”
“The dean’s daughter and two of her sorority sisters––naked Twister in the shower.”
“And there it is.” We both laugh.
“I’m no angel, baby.” His smile slowly dies, replaced with something serious and vulnerable. “I never pretended to be one. But I promise to never break your trust…I hope my word is enough for you.” His face tells me that my answer means something to him. Maybe even more than he wants it to.
Do I care what he did before we met, and furthermore, what he did a decade ago? No. As long as he didn’t deliberately hurt anyone, I don’t.
“It is.” I stroke his cheek and follow the line of his sharp jaw. “You’re a good man, Dane Wylder. You know that, don’t you?”
His hazel eyes hold mine, a myriad of emotions hiding behind them. “As long as you think so.”
And then he kisses me––until I beg him for more.
Our first ultrasound. I thought I was nervous but Dane looks green. He didn’t say a word to me on the car ride over. He did, however, manage to swear at every single yellow cab that zipped by us.
“Would you like to know the sex of the baby?” the ultrasound technician queries.
“No,” a singular male voice calls out. I turn away from the screen and meet his gaze with wonder. A soft smile on his face, he squeezes my hand.
“As long as she’s healthy, I’m happy.”
“She?”
“I think it’s a girl,” he grumbles. “And I want to hang onto hope a little longer.”
Smiling, I squeeze his hand back. “I think it’s a boy.”
The technician smirks and removes the wand. “Are you sure?”
“We’ll wait,” we say at the same time.
“What are you doin’?”
“I want to see how the crib looks against this wall.”
“I see that,” Dane drawls.
In keeping with the surprise portion of this “babymaking scheme” as somebody once called it, we decided on beige, ivory, and sage green for the baby’s room in his townhouse. You can’t get more gender neutral than that.
My stuff has been slowly and deliberately finding its way into his walk-in closet and I had nothing to do with it. It went something like this…
“What are you up to?” I inquired.
Arms loaded with my suits, innocent expression in place, he replied, “You could leave for work from my place.”
“I thought we agreed no sleepovers.”
“Fine.” He shrugged nonchalantly and I became immediately suspicious. Dane never capitulates that quickly, and I suspect, wouldn’t even at gunpoint. “You wanna drive back and forth, spit carbon emissions and add to global warming, kill all the animals in the North Pole. We could do that…your call.”
Needless to say, the no-sleepover rule was broken that night, never to be brought up again. Since then we’ve fallen into a routine of sorts, a comfortable one, one that neither of us discusses. And the routine is that I pretty much live at his place.
We did it for the polar bears.
The father of my child is presently standing in the open doorway of the baby’s room, dripping wet from a recent shower with only a small towel to cover the goods. It’s safe to say the sight of him mostly naked has not worn on me yet. He catches me staring and preens.
“I don’t want you lifting anythin’ heavy. Why didn’t you get the delivery guys to do it?”
“They did,” I inform him as he walks over. “I changed my mind three times.”
Dane steps behind me and brackets my arms, his hands resting outside of mine on the crib.
“Umm, what are you doing?” I feel inclined to ask.
“Helpin’.” He presses his hard dick into my butt and I start to chuckle.
“That’s not helping.” He sneaks his hand into the front of my leggings and pushes from behind. “That’s the opposite of helping.”
I turn my head and he kisses me, takes possession of my mouth like he owns it while his fingers work me up into a state of sensual madness. Those skilled fingers waste no time parting and stroking me until my body responds, rocking from another all-encompassing O. Then he kisses me through the last ebbing wave of bliss.
One at a time, he’s stripped me of every inhibition. The last month has been one sexual fantasy after another. I’m getting quite the education. There is something to be said about a man with experience.
Sated, I push him down into the rocking chair. His wide eyes darken with the hope of what’s to come. Legs spread apart, his towel falls open to reveal an erection that nearly reaches the cut muscles on his abdomen.
“In the baby’s room?” His expression can only be described as cautious w
ith a side of bring it on.
“I didn’t take you for a prude, Wylder.” Dropping to my knees, in between his legs, I run my hands up his thighs. He sucks in a breath and licks his lips.
“Is nothin’ sacred to you, woman?”
I have to bite my lip to stop from laughing. “Shush. I have work to do.”
He doesn’t utter another word for a good long time. I may be on to something.
Dane
“Is that the doorbell?”
Stella picks up her head and mumbles, “Ignore it.”
The little vixen. Thanks to her I won’t ever be able to sit in that rocking chair and hold my daughter without thinking about her mother sucking me dry. Or the crib where I took her from behind. Or the carpeted floor where she rode me, and where we still are.
