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I fit me, August, and a cat in a cottage the size of his living room for nearly a decade. I am nothing if not resourceful.
Cass’ grunt is less than convinced. Oh-so-discreetly eyeing my bare legs, he flicks my hair behind my shoulder, fingers toying with the neckline of my gifted jersey, grazing my skin and making me shiver. “You sleeping in this?”
“I’m too tired to change.”
“I’d offer to help but I kinda like this picture.”
I roll my eyes at his cocky smile, shoving him away but he doesn’t go very far. He rebounds like a boomerang, closer than before as he pushes me to sit on the edge of the bed, closer again when he kneels in front of me. I blink sleepily as he unlaces my shoes and eases them off, nimble fingers gently massaging my swollen ankles. “You want anything before I go?”
I shake my head, trying not to squirm. Ankles have never been a particularly erogenous zone for me but then again, they’ve never received such a reverent touch. And the doting thing is getting to me again; he’s been doing it all day, and a girl can only take so much.
“You know,” I cough out, skin already flushing in anticipation, “you can, uh, stay. And we can, y’know.”
Cass pauses. His brows shoot up. The hands around my ankles climb higher, smoothing along my calves before cupping my knees. “We can what, Sunday?”
“You know,” I repeat. “Have fun.”Again.
Humming a non-response, he slowly rises from his haunches. His hands do too, clutching my thighs as he towers over me. “Yeah?”
My heart beats a little faster. Was I tired a second ago? Impossible. “Yeah.”
“Insatiable woman,” Cass teases as he guides me onto my back. One knee on the bed, he maneuvers me beneath the comforter before planting a hand on either side of my head. “What I really want…” he says, dipping lower until his lips are right above mine and I’m remembering what they felt like against mine only a few hours ago. The kiss I wasn’t expecting. The kiss I wasn’t opposed to. The kiss I’m eager to reenact, and I assume Cass is on the same wavelength until he finishes his thought. “...is for you to go to sleep.”
It takes a second for his words to sink in. When they do, I don’t catch my groan in time to stifle it. “That's a very weird kink.”
Cass smirks, kissing my forehead and retreating in the blink of an eye. “Think you falling asleep with my tongue between your thighs would be slightly weirder. And a little insulting. ”
I’m about to protest that that’s not what I meant except… Yeah. That’s kinda exactly what I meant.
Shaking his head with a smile, he scoops up my discarded clothing off the floor and tosses them into my laundry hamper. When he moves to leave, I intend on letting him.
Someone else, however, has a different idea.
When I gasp sharply, Cass is at my side again in a millisecond, panicked hands hovering over mine where they clutch my belly. “What?”
“I’ve got some really bad news for you.” Smiling, I take him by the wrist and guide him beneath my jersey, touch flush against my belly. “Pretty sure that’s a soccer player.”
Pretty sure he doesn’t care. No, I’m definitely sure Cass does not give a flying fuck about the potential future sporting career of our child; he only cares about the strong, undeniable kicks they’re aiming at my internal organs.
“Cool, huh?”
“I…” He doesn’t have the words for it; I know. The first time I felt August kick, I didn’t either. Nothing can properly encapsulate the feeling. “Fuck, Sunday.”
“Feels real now, huh?”
He nods jerkily.
“Scared?”
“Terrified.”
The honest admission makes me smile. “Good. Me too.”
“You shouldn’t be.” He tears his eyes off the bump long enough to flash me a shaky smile. “You’re already a great mom.”
Tentatively, my grip slips higher, palm sliding along his wrist to settle on the top of his hand, fingers loosely laced together as we feel our kid kick. “You’re gonna be a great dad, Cass.”
“Hope so,” he says, like it’s not already a solid fact, like I haven’t seen how he treats his nieces and nephews and my son. Hands practically super-glued to my stomach, he shifts onto his side. “Maybe I’ll stay for a little while.”
