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He groans. “Now?” There is a plea in his question.
“I’ll be quick.”
He grinds me on his dick, trying to talk me out of getting off him and it almost works if it weren’t for the soft cry that comes from the chair.
I stand, quickly, before he does that again, making me cream in my panties.
I have to take a deep breath to calm the shaking of my body before I pick up the baby.
“There is nothing quick about putting kids to bed.” And the way he said it, it comes out like a pout, sounding like a kid himself.
“He’s already asleep, I just need to get him changed and in his bed.”
“Maybe I should go. Let you process all this and make sure it’s what you want.”
Picking up Gabe, I lay him the way he likes, chest to chest, but before turning, one side of my lips tip up while eyeing Drago.
“Or you could stay.” And then I walk away.
* * *
Drago was right.
Gabriel had a wet diaper. By the time I got him changed, he was wide awake. It ended up taking me close to forty-five minutes to get him settled enough to fall back to sleep, and by the time I finished, I was exhausted.
When I walked out of his room, Drago was stretched out on my couch, sleeping. He snores, but it’s not one of those deep, loud annoying snores that make you want to smother them with a pillow. It’s a soft, low rumble that’s actually cute. Not that I’d ever tell him that.
I almost didn’t wake him. I can’t tell you the satisfaction I got just watching him in such a somber, peaceful state. But selfishly I wanted in his arms exactly like I am now.
I’ve been awake, lying here for ten minutes, unmoving. I don’t want to get up either, and since it’s Saturday, I can lay here until Gabe wakes up wanting to be fed.
Neither one of us was in the mood to restart what had escalated in my living room. The moment was gone, and we were both tired. I crashed, sprawled across his chest within seconds of placing my head on his flesh. I don’t remember the last time I slept so well. The past few weeks have been restless, but not last night.
I have no delusions. I know it has everything to do with Drago, and that makes knowing what I’m doing with him a little less guilt weighing on my soul.
Sure, it’s not exactly right, but I believe him, and I know no one in my department would work to prove his innocence; quite the opposite, actually. There’d been more efforts looking for anything that would suggest guilt.
My back is to his front while Drago has one arm wrapped around my chest, pinning me to him at my shoulder; his other hand is cupping my pajama-covered hip. The morning wood he’s been sporting since I woke is stabbing me in my ass, and I swear he’s subconsciously trying to slice through my shorts with that thing.
The first sign I know he’s waking up is when he inhales against the back of my neck, making my stomach flutter with excitement. Next, his fingers dig into my hipbone, pulling my butt to his crotch. I moan, my eyes rolling back when he grinds into me and I’m starting to think he likes to do that.
“That feel good?” his gruff voice says from behind me; his breath tickling my skin.
“Mmmm,” is all I can manage to get out. It does feel good.
“I’ve got something that’ll feel even better,” he hums.
Twisting around, I face him even though my morning breath is surely rank, but right now, I don’t particularly care. I want what he has between his legs and I aim to get it. Pushing against his shoulder, I make him roll onto his back where I straddle his waist.
“Yeah?” I ask. “And what’s that?”
He’s shirtless; only in a pair of tight, black boxer briefs looking edible right now. The dragon tattoo seems to be the only ink he’s sporting on his solid frame. He has to workout religiously to have achieved this kind of perfection. He’s big, but nothing is bulging. No, he’s cut in all the right places, and looking at him, my mouth waters.
“You’re sitting on it.” He smirks.
Reaching behind me, I palm him, and he lets out a hiss.
“This thing?” I rub, eliciting a gasp from his mouth.
