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“You fuck like you were made just for me.”
I don’t take much stock in his words no matter how much they make my chest soar. If I weren’t biting my bottom lip right now, there is no telling what I’d admit. The feelings fluttering in my chest are almost too much.
Suddenly, the most God-awful cry pierces through my ear, momentarily scaring the shit out of me and ruining what’s left of this moment by zapping the bliss coursing through me.
“Shit,” Drago drags out. “I probably woke him.”
“I think we both did.”
He drops my legs to the ground but doesn’t release me until I’ve found my balance. He doesn’t look like much of a gentleman, but his actions speak to being one, and they have all day from the moment he picked us up.
“Let’s grab the kid and get out of here before someone discovers us and we get kicked out.” He laughs, pressing a kiss to my lips. “I’d rather not get banned from here.”
“You get me banned, and you’ll experience Hell like you can’t imagine, Acerbi.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Irun up the stairs, taking them two at a time until I reach the second floor of my complex. I quickly open the stairwell door, exiting and shooting forward, stopping at Mrs. Lincoln’s door. After knocking, she opens it, expecting it to be me.
“I’m sorry I’m later than my usual late.” My apology makes me cringe. I hate them. I dislike them even more when I’m the one uttering the apology.
She waves my comment off as if it wasn’t a bother to watch Gabe an extra three hours—because ten hours wasn’t long enough.
“C’mon in, dear. He ate an hour ago. He’s been bathed and changed too. Gabriel is sleeping over there in the playpen.” She swings her hand, waving in the direction of her living room where it’s set up. “It’s never a problem.” She sits down, sinking into her worn recliner.
“Still, I’m sorry. You know I always feel awful when I’m late.” I stay standing, as I want to get the baby home and into his crib for a more restful sleep as quickly as possible. She shouldn’t have to deal with this and I know that. Yet, have I done one thing to try to get Gabe taken by someone else? Hell no, and it isn’t something I want to think too long about. Admitting I don’t want to give him over to someone else isn’t something I’m ready to admit yet.
“Really, Bri, he’s a delight to care for.” She smiles up at me. “The plants around this place might be lacking the tender love and care I give them, but I’d much rather tend after that sweet little baby any day.” She picks up a white mug I’m certain has tea in it, from off the table next to her chair.
“I hope you know how grateful I am and appreciate all you do for him, and me too,” I say, walking toward the baby. Looking down, he’s lying on his back with his little arms raised above his head.So innocent.I can’t help the words as they form in my head.So precious and sweet.Stop it! I command my brain.
“Oh, before I forget.” I turn back around, facing her as she stands up. “A gentleman left an envelope for you this morning.”
That’s a little strange, I think. I wasn’t expecting anything in the mail. I’ve been rather good about not shopping online lately so I’m not spending unnecessary money on things that aren’t for Gabe.
I watch her stride over to the small ledge where her kitchen has a see-through to the dining and living room. When she grabs the large yellow envelope, she turns back toward me, bringing it over.
“He was a nice young man too.” She smiles too brightly. I take this to mean he was hot.
Could that mean it was Drago? We spoke through text only a couple of hours ago, but he never mentioned or hinted at leaving me anything.
“Was it the guy that comes over to my place sometimes?” I know she’s been curious about him for the last week. I didn’t follow through on my commitment to myself to stop seeing Drago on a too-personal level. Shows how strong I really am.
I haven’t told her he’s Gabe’s father either. Hell, Drago doesn’t even know he’s allegedly the father and I’m not sure if I should or shouldn’t tell him. I want to, but I shouldn’t want to. Yet, it just feels wrong not telling him since the DNA result landed on my desk.
“Oh, no, it wasn’t that Italian cutie. Which, by the way, are you and he official yet?” She holds out her hand with the envelope.
“We’re just friends,” I tell her as I take it.
“Shame.” I hear her mumble under her breath, followed by a long sigh as she walks back to her chair, sitting down again. “Maybe”—I watch her face light up—“this new gentleman will be more than friends then.” Her eyebrows rise, causing me to let out a light chuckle.
“I don’t even know who left this.” I lift my hand that’s holding the envelope. “There isn’t even a name or anything to indicate who this man is.” I need to get Gabe home, but I’m curious. “What did he look like? Did he give you his name? Have you ever seen him before? What exactly did he say?” I fire question after question, and in turn, her eyebrows turn down.
Damn, the cop in me is coming out in full swing with my questions.
“Well, dear, he was tall and in tip-top shape. The man definitely puts in time at one of those gyms. Mmm,” she moans. “Brown skin with dark, penetrating eyes. Thick forearms, a tight booty, and—”
“So, he was a black man then?”
