“Shit,” I hissed. I couldn’t even imagine the devastation that faced a seven-year-old watching that unfold, not knowing if her daddy was coming home. “It wasn’t your fault, you know.”
“If I just hadn’t bumped the juice glass.”
“Or if it had been a normal day. It was an act of terror,” I said as I pressed my lips against her shoulder. “Guilt has no place in you for what happened.”
“I know, and that took me a while to understand. As a child, though, it wasn’t the same.”
My experience was different. I saw the smoke and ash from the distance of a TV screen. Even when I moved to New York for school, it didn’t hit me.
“Tell me something good,” she whispered.
“Something good?”
She nodded. “I don’t want to talk about then.”
“Well, I met a woman,” I began, my fingers trailing lightly up and down her back. “Complete and total pain in my ass. She fights me at every turn.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“Hmm, maybe not to some, but I love it. Fighting with her is like an aphrodisiac. I’ve gotten to know another side of her recently, the side she hides, and I’m in awe of her. I’ve never met anyone like her before, and I can’t stop thinking about her.”
“She sounds like a catch,” she teased.
I nodded against her shoulder. “She is. Best of all, she puts up with me.”
“She comes with baggage.”
“Who doesn’t?”
“You, apparently.”
“I have my fair share,” I whispered.
“Do I get to know?”
I pressed my lips against her skin, breathing her in. Compared to many, my life had been a breeze. Well, my life after age five. We had so much to learn about each other, and I realized she’d gotten the short end of the knowledge stick.
“I told you about my mom, and I’ll tell you more later. After my parents got divorced and my dad got full custody, we moved to an upper-middle-class suburban area. He got remarried, they had a kid, and we were a happy little family. In college, I was in a fraternity, and I landed a good job once I was out. I met a girl at a coffee shop soon after, and we hit it off. She was an Upper East Side socialite from a wealthy family. We’d only been dating a few months when a broken condom changed our lives.”
I could tell by her rigid posture she was holding herself back from asking questions. Liv was the last woman I’d had any type of relationship with, and what I’d felt for her couldn’t hold a candle to my feelings for Roe.
“She moved in, and we prepared to be a family. We found out it was a boy and started prepping the second bedroom for his arrival. Around the twenty-fifth week, he stopped moving.”
Roe turned around, brow knitted and lips parted as she adjusted her position and straddled my thighs. I met her eyes as I told her about the most painful loss of my life.
“He was gone.”
“Oh, Thane.” She threw her arms around my shoulders and pulled me to her. I gladly nestled my head into her neck. A tear fell from my eye, landing on her skin. Her warm hands cupped my face, bringing my gaze back to hers. The warm swipe of her thumb across my cheek had me leaning into her touch.
“When did you break up?”
“A few weeks later. It took that long to realize that the baby was the only thing that held us together. It didn’t help that I didn’t make enough money at the time for her standards.”
I’d dated many women in the last seven years, but I’d never told a single one. None of them were worthy of knowing me to that level. Roe was different.
For years I was solid in the belief that I didn’t want a relationship, that I didn’t need love. With each encounter, she was changing me. When we were apart, I wanted to be with her.
The way my chest burned, I understood the need for her—I loved her. It didn’t matter that it was new. My feelings went well beyond like and beyond anything I’d ever felt before.
I was in love with Roe.
Thane made a mean omelet filled with gooey cheese, spinach, and tomatoes. He could also cook bacon to that perfectly crispy, melt-in-your-mouth stage.
Maybe I’ll keep him. He can cook.
“What time do we have to pick Kinsey up?” he asked between bites.
I was surprised by his question. “We?”
“Is that not okay?”
I blinked at him. “I just… I thought you’d want your Sunday to relax.”
“I can’t do that with you two?”
Yes, he could. “Noon. We’re meeting her for lunch.”
He glanced at the clock, and it was almost nine. We’d slept until seven thirty—the latest I’d slept in ages.
“Good.”
“Good?”
He nodded and grinned at me. “That means we have time for another round.”
I returned his smile, my heart full and happy for the first time in years, if ever.
“If I remember correctly, the number is seven. I only counted five last night.”
His eyes darkened and his tongue slipped out to wet his lips. “Seems I need to do better.”
I could barely walk because of the mind-blowing orgasms he’d given me, and I honestly wasn’t sure if I could take the challenge I’d just issued.
He wiped his mouth before taking a sip of orange juice. Without warning he ducked under the table. He gripped my knees and parted my thighs. I drew in a sharp breath, my eyes wide as I looked down at him.
Without a word he popped the buttons of the dress shirt I was wearing—his shirt. His fingers caressed my nipple, giving my piercing a light tug. A soft mewl left me, one that turned into a high-pitched cry. In an instant, my legs were on his shoulders while his mouth was attached to my pussy.
“Fuck,” I hissed. Unrelenting and unmovable, my mind went white with pleasure.
One of his hands squeezed my breast as he moaned against my mound. He ate me like a starving man and in no time, I was gripping his hair, pushing him harder against me as my muscles shuddered in release.
I was a mess of jelly muscles as I slid down to lay on the banquette bench. He chuckled against my skin, giving me one last long lick before placing a kiss on my inner thigh. He gave a little tap to my clit, making me jump.
“Six now. I’ll get number seven in the shower.”
“You… you…”
“Are great? Fantastic? The best lover you’ve ever had or could ever dream of having?”
I waved my hand in the air. “Yeah, whatever. All of that.”
Once we finished breakfast, I took my cup of coffee and walked around the living room, getting a better feel for it in the morning light. It was bright for sure.
“Is this you?” I asked as I picked up a framed photo from the bookshelf. There were a man and a woman standing on either side of a much younger, preppy-looking Thane. “Are you wearing chinos?” The collar of his polo was popped and he had a smug look on his face.
“Yes, that’s me, and probably on the chinos. That’s my dad, and that is my mom,” he said as he pointed to the couple on either side of him.
“That’s your mom?” I asked.
“Why do you say it like that?”