Angel food cake. My favorite.
I glance over my shoulder one last time, checking on Sawyer out of instinct, but she’s still in the kitchen, completely absorbed in making her plate. We have seconds—maybe a minute tops before she bursts through the door and asks what’s taking us so long. That’s all I need for now.
My hands move without thought, sliding up to cradle Bri’s face, my large palms framing her jaw as my thumbs brush over her soft skin. I tilt her chin, bringing her just a breath away from me. Every muscle in my body locks tight with effort not to kiss her just yet.
And damn it all to hell—why did I ever think we wouldn’t end up here just like this?
“Most days, I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admit roughly. It’s not just about this. It’s about everything. Parenting. My career. The move. Definitely, Bri. The feelings I’ve been trying—and failing—to keep locked down.
Her eyes soften. I want her hands on me the way they were in the car, but she keeps them at her sides and just looks at me—like that's enough. Like she's waiting for me to catch up and make the first move tonight.
“You’re doing an amazing job,” she whispers, her voice full of conviction that I wish I could believe. “I’m not a parent, but I think those doubts that you’re feeling are all very normal.”
“I’m not good at this.”
"If you ever need a break…" Her voice trails off, softer now, but her eyes stay locked on mine. "To start dating again, or spend time with your brothers, your friends… I can come hang with Sawyer. You don't have to pay me. I just like being with her."
The growl that moves through my chest is low and involuntary, my grip on her face tightening just enough to pull a soft gasp from her.
Date someone else. Spend time with other people.While she stays home with my daughter like some kind of consolation arrangement, she's offering me out of the goodness of her heart.
Not a chance in hell.
"Why would I do any of that," I say, my voice dropping, "when you're the only person I want to spend time with?"
Her breath catches hard. Her eyes widen, pupils dilating as she stares up at me. This thing between us that’s been building is about to burst.
“You changed your hair because I told you that I liked it?” I ask her again, softer this time, more of a statement, but the weight behind the words is heavier than ever. I want her to admit that she did this for me. That she’s in this with me.
She nods. “Yeah, I did.”
And that’s when I know. I’m going to be selfish.
My thumb moves from her chin, up to her lips where I brush gently, watching the color change. Then she parts them, welcoming one into her mouth where she closes her eyes and sucks. Her tongue drags along the side, sucking me inward and I lose the ability to think clearly.
“Fuck me, Bri,” I rasp.
I grip her chin tighter, sliding my hand down until my fingers circle her throat, guiding her face up to mine. I lower my head, our lips brush, I know Sawyer could come out here any second and catch us but resisting her stopped being an option the moment that I touched her that first Halloween night.
I close the space between us and crush my mouth to hers. She opens for me instantly, like she's been waiting for it, her tongue sliding against mine, and every coherent thought in my head goes up in flames. Her arms lock around my neck, pulling me closer, and I go willingly, dragging her flush against me until there's not a damn inch of space left between us.
The kiss turns reckless fast. Her hands are in my hair. My palms are gripping her ass. It’s the kind of kiss that makes it impossible to remember why you were trying to hold back in the first place.
My hand slides up to her waist, holding her steady as I take her mouth again and again, savoring every soft sound she makes. She tastes even better than I remembered.
The whole world narrows to her. Her mouth. Her breath. The way she melts against my chest.
It's the hottest, shortest kiss of my life.
Because every second I keep kissing her, my control slips a little further. Every second makes it harder to pull away. I’ll make up for this later. She's spending the night. We're going to talk. I'm going to make sure she eats, sleeps, and lets somebody take care of her for once.
When I finally lift my head, she blinks up at me, lips swollen, eyes heavy, already looking like she wants me to do it again.
My thumb drags across her bottom lip, tracing the pretty mouth I was just kissing. And before I can talk myself out of it, I dip my head and steal one last kiss—short, filthy, completely unnecessary. I catch her bottom lip between my teeth for a lingering second, savoring the soft gasp that escapes her before I finally, reluctantly, force myself away.
“Come on. Let’s go inside before Sawyer comes looking for us.”
I move around her, pressing my hand gently against the small of her back as I guide her toward my house. Touching her one last time before we face my daughter.
