Page 115 of Anything But Lonely

And I do, slowly at first, working him down my throat, keeping my tongue flat against the underside of his shaft. He growls as his hand in my hair tightens, and he begins rocking his hips.

My clit pulses, aching for pressure, and I moan the moment my fingers make contact, drawing quick circles as Mateo fucks my mouth.

And then he’s lifting me up, and my legs are wrapping around his waist. He slides into me in one thrust, and I don’t even notice the cold shower tile against my back. Not when he rocks into me, his piercing hitting that sensitive spot inside of me over and over again.

“You feel so fucking good,” I pant against his neck just before my teeth sink into his neck.

And then we’re falling apart in each other's arms, my name on his lips, my fingernails dug deep into his skin…

The words I love you on the tip of my tongue.

CHAPTER 39

MATEO

“You can’t have a movie night without popcorn,” I hear Emerson say as she lifts Crew to sit on the kitchen counter. She tells him to be careful with the stove as she pours the kernels in over the sizzling oil.

I was tasked with moving the sections of the couch in my living room to create a big bed in front of the TV with “all the blankets and stuffed animals I could find.”

Their words, not mine.

I was told this is what Crew and Emerson would do in our hotel rooms on nights Crew was too tired to come to the Cross My Heart shows, and I’m just happy to be able to be at this one.

In the two weeks since the last show of our farewell tour, Emerson and I have each been busy with our transition back home. Between her shifts at Hey Honey’s and her freelance clients and my training at the fire station, it can be hard to find time together.

And when we finally do, we usually put off talking until we’re naked and sated in my bed, catching up on our days while she traces the bite mark she left on my neck.

On days I have Crew, we try to do something the three of us. With June fading into July, he only has two more months until he starts Kindergarten, and since he was on tour for a majority of last year, Emerson has been working with him on everything he needs to know before his first day of school.

His self-help skills have always been above average, along with his social skills. Maybe it’s because he spends so much time with adults, or maybe he just gets all of his intelligence from his mom.

Either way, Emerson has been focusing on his early academic skills like recognizing letters and numbers, writing his name, and identifying colors and shapes.

Even though she’s not technically his nanny anymore, the way she cares for him never really stopped—if anything, it’s gotten deeper. The two of them have a connection I don’t think I’ll ever really understand.

“Are you and Daddy going to get married like Mommy and Daniel?” Crew asks, and I freeze. I’m not even in the kitchen, not even in their conversation, and the question has me going on high alert.

I would never consider Emerson one to shy away from uncomfortable conversation, especially after months of being the sole recipient of Crew’s never-ending questions—she’s not one to scare easily.

But she is a runner.

It took me months to get to know Emerson on a level that went deeper than her snarky comments and ruthless teasing. And when I finally saw past what she wanted me to see, the night she passed out after not eating enough and opened up about her mom, a lot of realizations clicked into place.

She wanted to come on tour with me because she didn’t want to deal with the grief. Losing her mom. Not being okay.

And if she ran once, there’s no telling if—or when—she’ll do it again.

I realize I’m holding my breath as Emerson’s laugh fills the room, traveling from the kitchen to the living room.

“What makes you ask that?” she challenges, her voice light and nonchalant enough to have Crew eager to answer.

“You come over. You eat dinner with us. You go shopping with Daddy. You drive me places.”

“And those are all things Daniel does with your mom?” she asks, and I hear her shake the pot on the stove, the kernels shaking against the metal.

I don’t hear Crew say anything, but when I look over my shoulder, I see him nodding his head before using a hand to push his hair out of his face.

Emerson grabs a ponytail from around her wrist, signaling for Crew to turn around.