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“Are you really going to talk about my liver right now?” I grind myself against his erection that he’s freed from his boxer briefs.
“It’s part of you, too.”
“Not the most important part.” I align my pussy with his erection and just when I’m about to go down, the doorbell rings.
“Ignore it,” he says, and I’m fully prepared to.
There’s no way in hell I’m going to stop this now.
The doorbell sounds again, this time followed by a murmur of voices. One of my guards says, “She’s in.”
“Are you sure?”
At Gwen’s voice, Kingsley and I stare at each other, stunned, then we stumble in an awkward chaos of limbs.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he curses low, pulling the robe around my waist.
I smooth my hair that he loves to mess up for sport, then point in the direction of the bedroom. “Go there and don’t make a sound.”
“Get rid of that little cock-blocker. You have five minutes.”
“Like hell I will. You had a lifetime with her, but I’m lucky to have as much time as she’s willing to give me.” I push him. “Go.”
He wipes the corner of my lips and that makes me aware of the unsatisfied ache between my legs.
Then he goes to the bedroom and I take a deep breath before I open the door with a smile. “Gwen.”
She smiles back, pushing a basket into my hand. “I brought cupcakes.”
“Thank you.” I move to the side, allowing her in, and she watches me intently as she passes me by.
Shit. Don’t tell me my hair is telling the tale of what just happened?
“Why do you look so red?” she asks. “Have you been working out?”
“Uh, yeah, working out. I just finished.”
“In a robe?”
“Just a spur-of-the-moment abs workout.”
I place the basket on the kitchen counter and offer her some green tea with vanilla. I’ve been stocking up on everything vanilla since Gwen started to come over.
“That must be why you missed my call.”
“You called me?” I check my phone that I abandoned here earlier and sure enough, there’s a missed call from her.
I can’t believe I was too caught up to notice. Thanks to her damn father.
Sometimes, I look at Gwen and wonder how the hell two unlikely people made her.
It seems surreal.
The fact that she’s her own person, completely different from me and Kingsley, is even more surreal.
I’m just glad she didn’t experience our traumas. Even if she grew up without a mother.
“How’s Nate?” I ask, pouring the hot water into a cup.
