I round the corner and stop dead in my tracks.
Emily stands at the counter, her long hair twisted into a messy bun on top of her head. Right beside her—with almost the same hairstyle, only in miniature—my baby girl kneels on the lone barstool, pressing her chubby fingers into dough with the concentration of a surgeon.
There’s flour on her elbow, her cheek, and possibly her forehead. From here, it’s hard to tell, but it looks like Emily is covered in the stuff.
“Oh, good. You’re back. Dinner will be ready soon,” Emily says, glancing at me over her shoulder.
Her gaze drifts down to the tips of my scuffed boots before moving back up over my jeans and lingering for a beat too long on my bare chest. For some reason, it makes the hairs at the nape of my neck stand on end.
My T-shirt is tucked into my back pocket because I worked up a sweat in the garage. After setting up the weights, I figured a quick workout might burn off some of the pent-up frustration knotting my muscles.
When her eyes finally meet mine, I catch the pink hue on her cheek, and a warmth seems to crackle in the air between us.
“You’ve got time to grab a quick shower before we eat,” she says softly.
For a moment, I just stand there, thrown off balance. There’s something salacious in her look. Heat flickers in her eyes, and it hits me square in the chest, leaving me rattled.
The moment between us is broken when Lil’ Peach beams at me. “I baker, D!”
I step further into the room and peer over her shoulder, careful not to let any part of my body touch Emily’s. “I can see that,” I say as my eyes flicker to Emily. “Should I be worried?”
Emily turns her face back to me and lifts an eyebrow. She’s close—too fucking close—and I swear I could drown in those sky-blue eyes of hers if I allowed myself to stare long enough.
“Only if you’ve suddenly got something against edible food,” she scoffs. “And before you say it, there’s nothing wrong with my taste buds.”
A smirk tugs at my lips. I’m rather fond of her sassy side, not that I’d ever admit it out loud.
Lil’ Peach has now resorted to slapping her flattened palms down on the dough instead of kneading it, sending little puffs of flour into the air. It drifts down onto Emily’s shoulder, and she freezes, staring at the new white patch like it personally offended her.
“Peach …” she says slowly.
Lil’ Peach looks up, wide-eyed and proud. “I makin’ snow, Emmy.”
Emily sighs, but she’s fighting a smile at the same time. “Yes, sweet girl. Yes, you are.”
I finish the last of my water and set the cup in the sink, but when I turn to leave the kitchen, I stop cold. Emily isstanding in the doorway, wearing a pale-blue satin nightgown, and damn if my body doesn’t react instantly to the sight of her. The colour makes her eyes stand out even more, and I can’t help but wonder if the sheets on her bed have the same effect. I’m willing to bet they do.
The bruising on her face is starting to yellow around the edges, and even though they’re beginning to fade, it still churns my stomach every time I look at her. It makes me want to dig that fucker up and hurt him all over again, but at least I can take solace knowing he got what he deserved and he’ll never be able to hurt her again.
After setting up her furniture, I stayed away from her room, but I washed the bedding Lucia bought, so I know exactly what it looks like.
My eyes travel slowly down the length of her body, from the line of her throat to the delicate straps of her sleepwear, skimming over the swell of her breasts, her narrow waist, the seductive curves of her hips, and lastly, the smooth, tanned skin of her long, lean legs.
This woman is fucking perfection, and no matter how hard I will my cock not to react, it’s useless.
To make matters worse, I’m standing here in nothing but a pair of grey boxer briefs, so there’s no way to hide the swelling of my cock as I take her in.
My gaze retraces its way up her body, and this time, I see the hard pebbles of her nipples trying to poke their way through the flimsy fabric.
Is her body reacting to me, too?
Her arms fly up, folding over her chest, and when my gaze flicks to her face, I notice the pretty pink flush colouring her cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” she says, taking a step back. “I didn’t realise you were up.”
“I always get up this early,” I reply, which is true.
What I don’t mention is that I’ve been lying in bed forthe last two hours, staring at the ceiling after dreaming about my sister and Lil’ Peach.
