Page 17 of Restored Dreams

I sense his presence before he touches me. Hands cover my shoulders, and two thumbs dig deep up the back of my neck. My head lolls forward at the welcome touch. Brut’s fingers are amazing.

“You weren’t in bed.” It’s a question, and I feel the heat of his voice behind my ear. He’s kneeling behind the couch as he massages me.

“I couldn’t sleep.” It’s true. Not because of nightmares or worries, but more from waking next to Brut and wanting to repeat everything we’d done again. And again. And one more time. Last night, he pulled out of me and disappeared for a moment. My breath held that he’d leave me, but he returned to clean me off and then curled up behind me, looping his arm over my waist and snuggling into my back. He kissed my shoulder, keeping his lips on my skin as we drifted to sleep.

“I…” His pause stills his hands, and I close my eyes. I don’t want any regrets from last night, and I bite my lip, hoping he isn’t about to say such a thing. It was a mistake are words that would crush me. “I’d like to make a proposal.”

My heart shouldn’t skip a beat at the p-word, but it does. I lift my head and twist at the neck but can’t see him directly behind me. His hesitation concerns me.

“We’re both here on vacation, right? Taking a break from life, and I don’t want any regrets, so I’d like to suggest we live in the moment.” He exhales. “No talk of the past. No concerns for the future. Just right now. Let’s take the time for what it is.”

My lips twist, and I bite the corner, holding back a giant whoopee! for what I think this means, but I still need clarification. “And what is it?”

“I don’t know, but I’m happy to explore.” Before I can speak, his voice lowers. “For the rest of the week, forget everything else.”

I know what he means, who he means. I hesitate for only a moment, uncertain if it’s possible despite my forgiveness. The old wound went deep. We were so young, I remind myself. It was a long time ago, I counter offer. Can we rekindle what we had? Do we even need to? Sort of friends with benefits on vacation? One week to just pretend? My silence triggers him to clear his throat, signaling a redirection in the conversation.

“Did you enjoy last night?” For a confident man, it seems like a strange question to ask. As if he’s worried he might not please me when he’s been the man of my dreams for years.

“Very much.” I swallow back the bubbling giggle threatening to burst like some schoolgirl, but I feel giddy.

“So let’s do this? Let’s just be for the rest of the week.”

The rest of the week with Brut all mine? “Okay,” I reply sheepishly. The acceptance chokes out because I’m not sure what exactly I’m agreeing to, but as long as it involves a repeat of last night, I’ll do anything he asks. To my surprise, Brut releases me and hops over the back of the couch. His white hair is rumbled from sleep, and my fingers twitch to comb through the spiked tendrils. He removes the mug from my hands and places it on a tray on the extra-large ottoman. Then he cups my face as he straddles my legs, careful not to place all his weight on me.

“You agree?” His face glows with excitement, but his eyes seem wary.

“Yes.” A smile breaks free, and his eyes soften.

“First rule, then. No sneaking out of bed.” He doesn’t wait for my response before he kisses me—hard and firm—while he gently holds my face. My body melts under him, and if he greets me each morning like this, I’ll never leave the bed. He sucks at my lower lip before releasing me, and his bright eyes twinkle as he looks down at me. “Good morning.”

How is it possible to make those two words sound so sexy?

“Are you hungry?” he asks. “Breakfast is my specialty.”

I giggle. His morning cheer is too much. “I bet you say that to all the ladies.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, his eyes dull and his expression grows serious.

“No ladies, Lily pad. None.” There’s no way he’s been a monk for twenty-plus years, but his point is made with his sharp tone. “I’m a single father. Breakfast foods are fast and cheap.”

“Okay.” My grin proves I accept his statement. I nod to brush off my mistake in teasing him about other women.

“And another rule would be no 739 code. You are all mine for the rest of the week, and if you need 739-ing, you text me.”

Laughter erupts from me, and Brut gives me a second kiss to enforce his new declaration.

“I have a rule for today, too, then.” His head tilts as his hands remain on my cheeks. My fingers find the silky basketball shorts he wore last night and tug on the material. “As it’s supposed to rain all day, I propose we have a pajama day.”

“Pajama day.” His lips breaking into a grin. “What’s that?”

“You’re kidding, right? You’re a dad. You have to know it’s a day when you stay in your pajamas all day.”

“Oh,” he exaggerates. “Those are only on special days?” He winks to let me know he’s teasing, and I push at his chest. With his hands still on my cheeks, he doesn’t fall back but tugs at me and returns his lips to mine, dragging out another deep kiss. My fingers brush under the T-shirt he wears, needing to feel his skin. I roam upward over the patch of hair between his pecs. He pulls back too quickly and stares down at me. “First, we eat.”

I pout, and he chuckles at my expression as he stands. Then he holds out his hands for mine. Pulling me up from the couch, he watches as the light blanket covering my legs falls free to expose short shorts and a fresh cami. Brut blinks.

“Are these your pajamas?” His eyes scan down my body, and my nipples peak at the appraising look. I nod.

“Damn, I like this kind of day.” He swings out an arm and smacks my backside when I pass him. The crack on my skin hits right where my ass meets the back of my thigh. The echo of the slap and the sting stop me, and my lower belly flutters to life. I shouldn’t have liked his teasing spank, but I did.