“What’s that for?” I ask, pinching my brows together.
“In case you do something with Lucia today. You’re going to need money.”
“I have those wads of hundreds you keep leaving in my room,” I say. “I’m thankful our relationship is platonic; otherwise, I’d worry it was payment for services rendered.”
It’s become this sick little game between us. He leaves me far too much money every time I look after Peach. I started leaving it on the table, or on the countertop in the kitchen, but he’d sneak it back into my room the first chance he got.
I’m going to have to get more creative in the future.
“I’ve never paid for sex in my life, Emily, and I’d never insult you like that.” He scrubs his hand over his mouth as he leans back in his chair, his eyes flicking over me in a way that makes breathing feel like work. “Besides, I think all the orgasms I’d be able to give you would be payment enough.”
My heart stutters so violently I’m surprised the plate I’m holding doesn’t slip from my hands. I open my mouth, close it, then open it again, because apparently I’ve forgotten how to function as a human being. Heat rushes up my neck and into my cheeks. He said it so casually, like he was talking about the weather and not detonating my entire nervous system.
He shakes his head, picks up his fork, and chuckles, returning to his breakfast.
I spin on my heels and flee the room, desperate to escape before I do something mortifying, like drop to my knees and beg for every one of those orgasms and anything else he’s willing to give.
Chapter 31
Dominic
It’s late afternoon by the time I pull into the driveway. It’s been a long fucking day, and I’ve been itching to get back home to my girls. My shoulders are tight, my head’s pounding, and all I want is five minutes of peace where no one needs anything from me—except them. I’ll always make an exception for those two.
As I reach the door, music filters through the house. I step inside, ready to call out, but the words die in my throat the second I hit the main room.
Lil’ Peach stands in the middle of the floor dressed like a tiny ballerina. She’s wearing a pink tutu and a sparkly leotard, which must be new because I never purchased them for her, and tiny pink ballet slippers adorn her feet. Her dark hair is pulled up into the tiniest bun I’ve ever seen.
She’s raising her arms above her head, wobbling on tiptoes, as her face scrunches in concentration.
Emily stands in front of her, mirroring the pose. She’s wearing fitted black tights and a simple black sports bra, but fuck me, my eyes can’t look away.
The outfit leaves little to the imagination, revealing thelean, powerful lines of her body and accentuating all of her delicious curves. Every movement is fluid, controlled, confident, and executed with effortless grace, making it impossible not to stare.
For a moment, I just stand there, completely transfixed, watching the two of them twirl. Peach’s giggles float through the room, Emily laughing with her, and steadying her when she wobbles. She effortlessly brushes the loose curls off her face and cheers Peach on like it’s the most important performance in the world.
All I can think about in this moment is how fucking lucky we are that Emily walked into our lives.
How she fills every crack I didn’t even know existed.
How she loves Peach like she was born to.
And how she looks at me sometimes like she sees something worth staying for.
Gratitude hits me first, it’s sharp and overwhelming. Then the truth I’ve been choking on for months settles low in my gut.
I want her.
So fucking much I ache.
And not just in my bed.
Or for fleeting moments when I forget to guard myself.
I want to claim her as mine—as ours—in every way that matters.
I lean my shoulder against the doorjamb, watching them as all the tension of the day drains from my body. Every shitty moment, every demand, every headache, it all simply disappears.
A smile pulls at my mouth before I can stop it. I can stand here all damn night, soaking in the sight of the two people who make everything else worth it.
