Page 95 of Turning Back

“Yes.” I sigh. “She does.”

“She loves you too,” Rochelle says, leaning in to kiss me again. “And you’re going to be the perfect father.”

I doubt that. But I don’t say anything because we’ve got something good going here. It’s a great night and all I want is to take her inside and love her. Have her all to myself for just a little bit longer.

We run inside, Rochelle squealing like a happy child, as the heat from the pool dissipates from our bodies in a matter of seconds. We drip water all over the living room floor as I hastily untie her bikini top and she tugs on my trunks. I flick a light on the wall and a fire whooshes into existence in the fireplace. I lead her over to the rug in front of it and lay her down.

Open her legs.

Eat her pussy.

Her hands tug on my hair.

She begs for more. She wants me inside her. She wants me on top of her.

But she ends up on top of me. Sitting up on my hips, rocking back and forth as she closes her eyes, her half-wet hair swinging back and forth, dragging across my chest. And we come together in all the ways. We climax, and meld, and become a couple again.

It’s perfect.

And it scares the shit out of me.

When we get back to the condo it’s after two in the morning. There is one light on in the sitting area and one light on in the kitchen, but it’s only an under-counter light, so it’s just a low glow. The rest of the house is dark and silent.

“What’s this?” Rochelle laughs, picking up a folded piece of paper propped up on the kitchen island. It says, Watch me. Underneath it is a tablet.

We take it to the couch and sink into the cushions, so close together, she’s almost in my lap.

Rochelle wakes the tablet and a still shot of a video comes up. It’s Bric and Adley, both smiling.

She presses the play button.

“Say hi to Mommy and Quin,” Bric says to the camera. He’s holding up one of Adley’s chubby hands, making her wave. “We wanted to show you what we did tonight.”

There is a ten-minute video chronicling their night together. Bric and Adley eating dinner. He’s got a piece of pizza in one hand, Adley cradled in his arm with the other. She’s drinking her bottle.

Then it’s bath time. She’s splashing in the super-deep tub in the master bedroom as Bric laughs and plays some kind of game with a rubber duck and a red block. He’s even using imaginative-play voices. Dumbass.

Then it’s story time. Which is interrupted by stinky diaper time. And even though Bric complains to the camera the whole time he deals with that unexpected detour, he handles it like a pro.

The last shot is of Adley sleeping in her new crib. Bric whispers, “She loves me,” into the camera. And then I hear him mumble, “I can’t wait for Christmas,” as he turns the camera off.

“That’s so adorable,” Rochelle says, kicking her feet up on the couch and laying her head in my lap. I play with her hair. We still smell like the pool, our night still fresh in my mind as she drifts off muttering, “I don’t think I really know Elias Bricman. I don’t think I know him at all.”

We get sleepy but we’re too tired to move. Finally, I pick her up, carry her in to the bedroom, undress us both, and we crawl in next to Bric.

He only wakes up long enough to hike a possessive leg over Rochelle’s hip and pull her close to his chest.

I let him have her now. I had her all night and while I might be a failure at a lot of things when it comes to relationships, I do know how to share.

So I share.

Chapter Twenty-One - Bric

“What?” I ask, looking up at Chella, then glancing down at the invoices again. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“You’re in a good mood,” she says.

We’re sitting in the new tea room going over final details. The soft opening is this weekend. Chella has invited twenty-five people, but I don’t think it’s enough to do a proper assessment before the real opening next week.