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“Then, I won’t have a relationship with my wife’s parents.” I shrug and her eyes widen at my words. “It’ll be hard, losing them. But, to your point, I chose them once and I spent three years being miserable.” I turn in my seat and rub my hand down her cheek, rubbing a thumb under her eye to collect the stray tears that had lingered on her skin. “I’m not losing you twice in a lifetime.”
“JP.” Her bottom lip trembles and she sweeps her gaze away from me and toward the house. “Can we go inside? I want to forget for a little while. Forget that this happened and that everything’s a mess. I know it’s probably not the best idea. Avoidance but I needyou.” I already know where her mind is going and my dick hardens thinking about the fact that being inside of her might be the only thing to calm us after what we’ve been through today. I follow her into the house and when I close the door behind her, she turns to face me. Her brown eyes sparkling with mischief and I half expect her to drop to her knees and pull my pants down. “Do you still have… our stuff?”
Ah, that would have been my second guess.I raise an eyebrow knowing what she means by that and I make my way into the kitchen toward my bar cart. I was already planning to make us both a drink but if she’s asking for that then I know we definitely need whiskey. She follows behind me and presses up against me as I grab the highball glasses from my cabinet. “What did you have in mind?” I knew what she wanted but I wanted to hear her say it.
“I do recall being told that you’d let me inside you again when I moved in.” She hops up on the counter and begins to swing her legs like she’d just asked for the most innocent thing in the world and not to fuck me with a strap-on. “I’m here to collect.”
“Have you?” I ask her. “Moved in?”
She looks up at the ceiling before turning as a cheeky grin spreads across her face. “Well, I’m pretty sure I don’t have any other options at the moment.” I shoot her a glare as I peel the orange for the old-fashioned drinks, I plan to make us. She presses her finger to my cheek which I notice she does when she wants my dimple to show and I can’t help but oblige her. “Can I move in, JP?” She flutters her eyes at me. “I would very much like to live with you… here, if that’s okay?”
The idea of Whitney being here twenty-four-seven, makes my dick hard. Holding her every night before bed, late night showers and talking well into the night, morning sex without wondering who might call her wondering where she slept the night before, having quiet nights in where I can cook her dinner and rub her feet after a long day of classes. Having all of her things all over my bedroom and bathroom turning it into our bedroom and our bathroom. I wanted those things and I wanted themyesterday.
“I would love that,” I answer as I add the sugar and bitters to the glass before mixing in the bourbon. I pin her with a glare. “Is this what you want though? Don’t think you have to live here because you don’t want to go home and to avoid homelessness.” I chuckle. “I can help you look for a place and pay for it for that matter, if you need time.” The last thing I wanted was her to live here out of convenience.
“JP.” She shakes her head. “I was kidding about not having other options. I could go live with Chloe in a heartbeat. My liver would hate me.” She blanches. “But I want to be here. I want to be with you wherever you are.” She frowns. “Any chance you could get a job at a big fancy hospital across the country? I’ll transfer schools and then we can only see my parents on Christmas and Easter, maybe?”
“You would hate that.”
Christmas is huge in the Monroe household. I’m talking the absolute works. They had two huge Christmas parties and had Christmas-themed dinners every Saturday in December inviting anyone who was having a rough time that holiday season. Recently divorced, dumped, widowed or estranged from family, they opened up their house to anyone that didn’t have anywhere to go.
“I hate awkward or angry tension more.”
I strain the contents of the glass over two glasses with an ice cube inside. “I was actually thinking about going back to my old hospital. Whitney, baby, running away from this isn’t going to help. I don’t want you transferring schools unnecessarily and we need to at least try with your parents. If after you graduate law school, we haven’t made any progress then we can talk about it because I’m not about to allow their grandchildren to feel an ounce of that bullshit.” I see the stars in her eyes instantly over my words and I give her a smirk. “After you graduate,” I tell her instantly in case she’s having any thoughts on starting to try for them now.
“That’s two years away, JP.” She drops her head back as she picks up the glass, that I’ve just dropped the orange peel inside. “I’m fine with waiting that long to start trying for a baby but we have to potentially endure two years of my parents behaving likethat,” she says, hitching a thumb over her shoulder to indicate what happened an hour ago. “Before you’re open to moving?”
“I don’t think it’ll take that long. I know them. They’re pissed. They have a right to be and I would be too.”
“But…” She puts her glass down after taking a healthy sip. Her hands find my neck and I haven’t looked but I assume she’s touching any marks that Kevin left after his hand was wrapped around my throat. It didn’t hurt as much as the fact that he actually did it. The physical pain was there but the mental anguish and emotional pain was worse. She runs her fingertips over my pulse point. “It’s bruised here. It looks like…” Tears flood her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“Hey, none of that.” I brush my nose against hers and then peck her lips. “He was angry and I would rather he take it out on me than you. I couldn’t even handle him yelling at you. I was ready to snap.”
“You did.” She laughs. “You actually yelled at my dad for yelling at me.”
“I didn’t yell.” I take a sip of my drink and decide it’s good before helping her off the counter and moving toward the living room. “I didn’t like his tone with you.”
“His tone!?” She giggles. “The way he talked to me was the mildest of his temper today.”
“I don’t care.”
It’s still raining or else I’d suggest going to my patio but we settle on the couch and she sits in my lap before dropping her head into the crook of my shoulder. I feel her pressing feather-light kisses to my neck and I wrap my arms around her, holding her close and not wanting her to move for anything.
“So, about my ass…” I start, wanting to divert the conversation away from something so heavy. In the car, she said she wanted to forget and this was doing the complete opposite.
Her head perks up, and she eyes me. “Do you still have it?”
“I do.” I nod, referring to the strap-on she’s used to fuck me.
“Are you still into the idea of us doing that?”
“I’m into doing anything with you. Anything you want. Everything.”
I’d never explored that with anyone until I met her. And honestly, how we came to that was because she’d never done anal sex before and when the idea of us trying it came up, she looked me dead in my eye and said, “you can have mine if I can have yours.”It took me a few weeks to get on board with the idea, but one night after a few too many whiskeys and a drunk naked Whitney, I let her pink cheeks and even pinker pussy convince me to try it.
What I had not expected was to like it.Perhaps it was because it was Whitney and it was the connection we had. Maybe because she was as nervous as me and she’d been a virgin prior to me and she trusted me with so many of her firsts that I felt comfortable enough to give her this one. Or maybe it was because I came like a fucking freight train all over her tits because she was on top. Either way, it was something we’d done a handful of times while we were together.
“Can we tonight?”
