AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I nod. I realize, as I think of a response, that things are, in fact, more than okay. “All good. I’ll fill you in later. Make yourselves at home.” I glance at the girl and smirk. “I think you forgot the cookies in the cupboard.”
Bambi snaps her fingers and rushes over to the hazelnut wafer cookies that will without a doubt be gone by the time I get back. I leave the women to it and make my way out of the kitchen to the garage, whistling a casual tune as I stuff my hands in my pockets.
The pair of dice I always keep on hand roll between my fingers. I don’t know when I started the habit—I’ve just always kept this pair on me no matter which suit I’m wearing. The only thing I can remember about them is when Tolya used to teach me how to play craps when I was a kid.
I pause at the small table at the door to the garage. I pull the dice out, roll them in my hand, and tumble them onto the surface.
A pair of ones.
Snake eyes.
“Hudson.” I don’t give Tolya’s lawyer time for small talk when I hit the speed dial. “We’ve got a situation. No, no, it’s good. Very good. I’ll see you in twenty.”
Maybe Lady Luck is working in my favor after all.
14
CLARA
I can hear Willow squealing with laughter as she splashes in the pool outside. Bambi is with her, teaching her how to make even bigger waves with cupped hands, and their voices rise together with every loudwhooshof water.
I’d tried giving the poor woman a break; we’ve only just met but I understand her to be several pay grades above “nanny.” But Bambi only laughed me off and insisted she’s earned the day, as have I.
So here I am, wandering the huge house while my daughter and her new best friend wreak havoc in the courtyard.
Courtyard. This place has its owncourtyard. I’m not even sure “house” is the right word to describe the huge layout of Demyen’s home. There’s more open space than a normal house, and it seems like half the ceilings are missing. Onpurpose.
One thing I’m noticing in every room is how it’s all so… manicured. Perfect. Like no one actually lives here; it’s more of a setup for a magazine photo shoot and guests who probably never intend to stay. There are no family photos, no personal details,no indication of personal taste. It’s like Demyen hired someone to make it museum-worthy and just stopped there.
I stroll around a much smaller courtyard—or maybe it’s meant to be a living room minus a rooftop, I dunno. There’s a panel of buttons next to the light switch. I glance around before I flick the switch on. An array of golden wall lights glows to life, barely visible in the bright desert sunlight but undoubtedly enough to provide a warm shine after dark.
I spot a button that might be for the roof and press it. Sure enough, a faint whirring noise sounds as a dark panel of glass slowly slides from one end of the room to the other.
This guy is so rich, his ceilings are convertible.
I amwayout of my league.
I press the button again and the giant sunroof whirrs back into wherever it’s stored. For a moment, the kid in me wants to keep playing with all the ceilings around the place, but I quickly remind myself that I’m a grown woman. I don’t want Demyen to catch me messing around with his smart home controls. God forbid I break something.
So I keep wandering, poking around where I probably don’t belong. But that’s just the thing: I feel like Idobelong, and it’s weird. I can easily imagine painting the walls of the smaller courtyard with desert murals… maybe a few more seating arrangements with throw pillows… and Willow, running around and playing with her siblings through the wide halls.
That makes me stop in my tracks.
I haven’t even been here a full day, and I’m imagining myself making this my home…with Demyen.
Making more children…with Demyen.
And instead of fear or shame, all I feel is heat. Heat that coils low and settles between my legs, making me wish he was here so we could at least dance around the topic of repeating last night.
And this morning.
My god, this morning… I can still feel the way he impaled me on his cock and drove me to new heights of pleasure, all while the showerhead sprayed down on us. When I came, he didn’t stop—only held himself deep inside me until I calmed enough for him to keep going.
I press my thighs together at the memory. And then I remember the jacuzzi tub back in my bedroom, and I turn to go get some relief for all this heat.
Desertheat, in case anyone asks.
It’s just as well—I really shouldn’t be sleeping with a guy I hardly know. We had a great time together, but that’s all it was. A time. Singular. He doesn’t deserve to be anchored down by some traumatized single mother, and Willow deserves far more stability than a mother who hops from one man’s bed to the next.
