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Somebody gasped.
Felicity was electrified. Feelings she had buried deep burst to the surface in a kaleidoscope of color. It was like seeing her previous life unfold before her eyes. She saw who she had been, what she had lost, and how she had been born again like a phoenix from ashes.
Wynn’s embrace should have been familiar. Maybe it was...somewhere down deep. But the man he had become was entirely new. His passion, his confidence. His absolute certainty about what he wanted.
He seized control of the kiss before the five-second mark, his mouth dueling with hers. She was desperate to get closer. How could something hatched so recently feel full-blown, mature, deeply sensual?
She ran her fingers through his thick hair. When she caressed his scalp, he groaned. That sound tapped into something she had tried to forget. With Wynn, years ago, she had felt like the truest version of herself. She had reveled in her femininity.
Now those feelings returned. She felt her body thrum with delight. It was melting and yearning and reaching for something just out of sight. Sex, yes, but more than that. She wanted the all-consuming passion.
A tiny noise intruded upon her pleasure. A familiar sound, but faint. “Wynn,” she said softly.
He caught her bottom lip between his teeth and tugged.
Oh, lordy.She arched her back, trying to get closer. Her fingers dug into the soft cotton of his shirt. “Wynn.” She said his name again, with a touch of desperation this time.
“What?” he asked, the single word sharp as he cupped her braless breasts through her T-shirt.
“I think the baby is awake.”
He froze. Pulled back. Rested his forehead against hers. “Unbelievable. How do young parents ever have sex?”
Felicity stood and smoothed her shirt. “First of all, you and I weren’t having sex. And secondly, I think young parents do it out of desperation whenever and wherever they can.”
The sounds from the baby monitor were louder now. “I’ll go get her,” he muttered. At the door, he turned around. Pinned her with a sharp green gaze. “Do not sneak away.”
“I won’t sneak. But I’ll tell you to your face. I’m going to my room. Ayla probably saved us from doing something stupid. I’m taking a step back, Wynn. You should, too. You’re grieving and your life is overwhelmed with new responsibility. I’m a part of your past. None of those are reasons to start a physical relationship.”
He scowled at her. “It must be nice to have all the answers. I guess that comes from smiling and delivering a thousand of those fasten-your-seatbelt speeches.”
She blinked. “Wow. You’re not very nice when you’re frustrated.”
“Get used to it,” he said. And he walked out.
Sunday morning, Felicity picked out a red turtleneck and gray wool pants, pairing them with a thigh-length black wool coat and black ankle boots. Her over-the-shoulder black bag held everything she would need for the day.
Last night after leaving Wynn to deal with the baby, Felicity had sent a group text to five of her coworkers who were based in New York. She suggested brunch at the Plaza, and three of her friends were available.
This time, she didn’t try to sneak out of the apartment. She found Ayla and Wynn in his bedroom. “I’m heading out,” she said.
Wynn’s expression was hard to read. “You look nice. More shopping?”
“No. Brunch with friends.”
“Ah.”
“I’ll probably be gone most of the day. I think we’re going to the Met afterward. I haven’t been in ages.”
“Sounds like fun.”
Felicity felt guilty, and she didn’t know why. Sunday was her day off. Ayla wasn’t her daughter.
“Do you need anything before I go?” she asked.
“No, thanks.”
She chewed her lip. “Are you angry with me?”
