“She fell asleep. Pregnancy is exhausting.”
“I remember you telling me that. I think napping became a staple in your life.”
“We have a baby together.”
“We do,” I agree. “The most amazing little boy ever.”
God, if she keeps staring at my mouth, I can’t be responsible for my actions.
“Don’t try to go down those stairs alone.”
“I’m hungry.”
“Let me use the bathroom, and I’ll help you.”
“Okay.”
“Iz, don’t try to walk down the stairs. You might fall.”
She nods her head in agreement, but when I turn to go into the bathroom, she follows me.
I don’t have the chance to even turn on the light before she’s crowding me. With my back to the vanity, I have nowhere to go, not that I want to get away from her in the first place.
“I can’t believe you just showed up in my life again. Knocking on the door with a pile of gifts.”
“Iz, I—”
“Shh.” Her fingers smell like tangy tequila and limes when she presses them to my lips. “Looking hotter than I ever remember, muscles pulling your t-shirt tight. It’s not fair.”
“I didn’t do—” I attempt to talk against her fingers but she presses harder. Her body is close, nearly touching mine, and I have to grip the edge of the sink to keep from grabbing her hips and pulling her even closer.
“I can’t listen to my heart.” She closes the distance, smiling when I groan. “All I can hear is my body, and what it’s telling me I need.”
“I—” She shuts me up this time with a kiss.
Her tongue, spicy from the alcohol she’s been drinking, is the best thing I’ve ever tasted as it brushes against mine. I’m drunk on her, intoxicated with the whimpers she’s forcing me to swallow because she’s trying to dive deeper as if her one and only goal is to climb inside of me. Doesn’t she know she already lives there? Right in the middle of me, owning every cell of my body.
“Iz,” I whisper when she repositions, her lips slick and sliding against mine.
“Want you,” she pants, her hand finding mine.
I attempt to tangle our fingers, but she has other plans, moving my hand to the center of her. Her heat is nearly enough to fry my brain, but her decisions aren’t her own right now. If I didn’t taste tequila on her lips, if she hadn’t come here with the intent to get drunk because she couldn’t handle spending the day with me, things would be different.
If she were sober, I’d have her in my arms, legs around my waist, my cock reminding her just how good it is between us.
But she’s drunk, and her regret in the morning isn’t something I think I’d survive.
“Izzy.”
“Mmm.” Her hips circle, the slickness of her arousal soaking through her thin panties, and I think I’ve earned hero status when I pull my hand away instead of sliding the silky fabric to the side and giving her exactly what she’s begging for.
“Isabella.” I pull my hand away.
Her eyes snap open, throat working on a swallow, and I can see the embarrassment trying to creep red and hot on her cheeks.
“Again?” she hisses, and I have to grip her hips to keep her from pulling completely away from me. “If you’re rejecting me again, I’ll never forgive you this time.”
“Iz.” I press my mouth to hers, a quick soft kiss to let her know I’m not going anywhere. “I want you. I’ve never wanted anything more in my life. Feel this?”
I grind my hips against her, the pressure against my cock nearly unbearable.
“Don’t ever doubt it again, but you’ve been drinking, and I can’t risk the regret you’ll have tomorrow. It’ll compromise what I have with Andy, and I can’t do that. I can’t lose him.”
Tell her you don’t want to lose her either.
But I can’t because it’s not like I have her. Right now she may be in my arms, her body demanding things from me, but she mentioned not listening to her heart, and that means she isn’t fully on board. Satisfying carnal needs right now isn’t the same thing as earning her forgiveness and having her love.
“You really love him,” she whispers.
“Of course I do.”
“You said you didn’t want him.”
Her bringing up that stupid fucking letter has the power to break me. “I was in a really dark place. I didn’t know if I was going to survive. I was facing six years, and I didn’t want yours or Andy’s life to suffer because of me. I thought cutting ties would be best for everyone, and it killed me to put those lies on paper.”
She looks away, her eyes blinking rapidly. I can’t tell if she doesn’t believe me or if my truth is just too much for her to handle right now. This isn’t a conversation we should be having when she may not remember it in the morning.
“The letters you sent, the pictures, all the updates, I lived for those. Knowing he was doing well kept me alive. It gave me something to live for. Knowing I had a little boy out there with my name made me fight harder, work harder, do whatever I could to get back to him as fast as I could.”
“All for Andy.”
I press my palm to the back of her head, turning it so she has to look at me. “And you, Iz. For the two of you.”
I press my mouth to hers one more time, relishing in the touch of our lips together because I know it may be the very last time.
“If you feel this way, if you still want your body pressed to mine like this, want my lips on you, my mouth tasting every inch of your skin in the morning when you sober up, all you have to do is let me know, but if your heart isn’t involved, if you don’t want a future with me, then I think it’s best we keep things like they are. I won’t survive getting another taste and not having all of you.”
How I walk away from her, leaving her in the bathroom alone, I’ll never know.
Chapter 41
Isabella
“You look like you’ve had better days.” There’s humor in Drew’s voice, but I don’t smile.
Holding my arm up to shield my eyes, I try to see his face, but the sun behind him is too powerful.
“I overindulged,” I complain as he shifts on his feet. “Are you coming in?”
“Want me to just plow over you?”
“Plow something,” I mutter as I stand to the side.
“What was that?”
“Nothing. Andy is in the playpen in the living room. He’s been going like a cyclone since I got home twenty minutes ago. I hope you brought your A game.”
“Always.”
I close the door behind us.
“Home alone?”
“Dad, Gigi, and the kids went across the street.”
I don’t exactly hate being here alone with him, but it gives us the opportunity to talk about what happened last night, and despite wanting to have been too drunk to remember, I wasn’t. I remember the words, the emotion in his voice, the way his hands felt on me, mouth on mine. All of it. Like it’s been seared into my brain.
Although I can remember, I’m not physically able to hash it all out again. I’m exhausted, my mouth still doesn’t taste right after brushing my teeth, and Andy seems hellbent on using a week’s worth of energy all before naptime.