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When Isaac was a toddler, and on the occasions I actually made it back home for his bed time, he’d insist I read to him. It always pissed off his mother. The fact that I wasn’t around that much meant that when they did see me, the kids would be all over me, to such an extent that they’d ignore their mother. She wasn’t the best mother, but she also wasn’t the worst. She never compromised on her social life, but she was there for them. Sure, I compensated her well enough for it, but at least she was physically present for the parenting role, while I was mostly absent. And so, during the times when I was there to read to Isaac at bedtime, he’d fight sleep. When I’d ask him to close his eyes, he’d negotiate with me.Would I be around in the morning when he woke up? Only then would he close his eyes. Would I read one more book? Would I lay down next to him? Only then would he fall asleep.
Lena’s question reminds me of all those times. Does everything have to be a negotiation with this generation? And how warped is it that I’m comparing her to my son. She’s far more mature, more responsible, more worldly wise than my son has ever been. That doesn’t change the fact that she’s his age. That I moved in on my son’s girlfriend and used every charm offensive in my arsenal to seduce her. The inevitable happened, and my son is so pissed off with me, I might never be able to salvage the relationship with him. And yet, I can’t bring myself to feel upset about it. Partly, because I’m confident I can win Isaac back. But also, because nothing could have stopped me from going after her.
"JJ?" Her forehead knits. "Did you hear what I said?"
"You won’t eat until I give you what you want," I drawl.
She tips up her chin. "Separate bedrooms."
I blink. "What do you mean?"
"I can’t stay with you in your room under the same roof as Isaac."
"Why the fuck not?"
She opens and shuts her mouth. "Because I can’t be fucking you when he is so clearly hurting," she finally admits.
"So, you’d rather deny what’s between us? You’d rather hurt us?"
"If that’s what it amounts to, yes. I didn’t break up with him before sleeping with you, JJ."
"The two of you didn’t even have a relationship."
"We had enough of a relationship to have sex the day before you fucked me in your Rolls."
I wince. "I should have moved in on you before that happened."
"I was still his girlfriend." She firms her lips.
"There was no emotional connection beyond friendship between the two of you. None whatsoever," I growl.
"And there is between us?"
"Isn’t there?" I bend my knees and peer into her eyes. "There was something between us from the moment we met. It might have taken me time to acknowledge it, but I have and now, there’s no turning back."
She searches my features then swallows. "I… I’m not so sure, JJ."
"What the fuck does that mean?"
"I slept with you; I don’t regret that. But I can’t keep doing so. Not when he’s here and clearly hurting."
My fingers tingle. I want to grip her shoulders, haul her to me, then kiss her so deeply she forgets about everything else in the world but the two of us. I want to throw her over my shoulder, take her to my room, lock her up there and fuck her until she has no recollection of anything but me, can’t feel anything but my cock between her legs, can’t smell anything but me, taste my lips, hold my gaze as I bury myself inside her and lock her to my side twenty-four-seven.
"If there’s to be anything between us, first, we need to resolve what happened with Isaac."
"Are you saying you want Isaac to give his blessing for our relationship?"
She glances away, then back at me. "I hadn’t thought about it that way, but now that you mention it, yes." She blows out a breath. "Yes, I want Isaac to say he’s happy for us to be together."
I laugh. "That’s never going to happen."
"Then we can’t be together, JJ."
"Bull-fucking-shit. This is complete poppycock," I protest.
She stares at me.
"What?" I snap.
