“You are helping. All the time. Don’t pretend like watching Marley isn’t hard work. I seriously don’t know what I’d do without you.”
My stomach drops. I choose not to remind him that I’m leaving in a few short weeks.
Instead, I give him a half smile and shrug again. “All right. Tell me about this jarred pasta sauce.”
Conversation flows easily between us as we double-team our dinner. I boil the pasta while Connor pours us some wine. When Marley fusses and wants to be held, Connor frees her from the bouncy seat and holds her with one arm, stirring cooking pasta with the other. I try to pretend that’s not totally dreamy.
It’s not long before we’re sitting on his couch, bowls of spaghetti in hand and wine on the coffee table in front of us. Marley plays with a stuffed pig on the floor.
I realize how silly it might sound, but this is the grown-up life I always pictured for myself. Pasta on the couch with my hubby, and our baby playing nearby . . . it’s perfect. A simple life, but one that feels comforting and somehow right.
I let out an involuntary moan when I take the first bite of food. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until we started cooking, and Connor wasn’t lying about that pasta sauce. I sneak a glance at him to see if he noticed the sound that escaped my throat, but if he did, there’s no trace of recognition on his face.
“So,” I say between bites, “tell me about this meeting of yours that kept you busy all afternoon.”
He shakes his head. “You don’t want to know. It was dumb. Number crunching, stuff like that.”
“Number crunching sounds important.”
“Not this kind. It was one of those meetings that could have easily been an email.”
I nod and study Connor’s profile, noting the hint of stubble that darkens his jaw. I wonder if kissing him would rub my skin raw. I wonder if his stubble would tickle between my thighs.
Geez. I have to pull it together.
Thankfully, Connor speaks before any other filthy thoughts can run through my brain.
“How was your day?” he asks. “Besides Marley.”
“Fine,” I say automatically. Then, after a moment’s pause, I add, “I talked to my sister while Marley was napping.”
“Where does she fall in the lineup?”
“Number two. She’s only a year younger than me. We’re close. We were practically inseparable growing up, until about high school when we started competing for everything. But we’re good now. It was nice to hear her voice.”
“Anything interesting to report?”
I take a sip of wine, studying Connor over the lip of the glass. “I told her about our date, actually. Well, sort of. I guess I just told her about you.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh?”
I nod. “She was . . . not as enthusiastic as I’d hoped she’d be.”
“Oh.”
“Not because of you. You’re great. Unbelievably great. I had an amazing time with you, and I made that abundantly clear. She just felt the need to remind me that I’m leaving soon. Central America, six months, blah blah blah.”
My gaze drops to my lap. Why am I telling him all this? Suddenly, I don’t know why I can’t just shut up for once in my life.
“You had an amazing time?”
I look up to find a smile on his face. And not just any smile. The smile. The one that only comes out when he’s genuinely happy. The one that makes me turn into a useless pile of mush.
I nibble on my bottom lip, unable to speak. All I can do is nod.
“I did too.” He rests his arm on the back of the couch, and his fingertips graze my shoulder, sending shivers over my skin. “Let’s not worry about the future, okay? Let’s just take it one day at a time.”
I nod again and turn to face him. Connor reaches out and touches my chin. The gesture is so soft, and yet I can feel his touch deep in my core. I close my eyes, and he takes the bowl from my hands and places it on the table next to his.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” he says.
Before I can nod, he’s pulling me to him, gentle but firm, and his lips meet the soft skin of my throat. I gasp, and he groans into my neck.
“Never stop making those noises.”
Connor traces his tongue over my skin, teasing me. I can’t help the sigh that leaves my parted lips, and he tips my head back to expose more of me to him.
Finally, his mouth finds mine and our lips part, tongues tangling. It’s only a second before he’s pulling back. Marley makes a soft cooing sound from her spot on the blanket at our feet.
“I’d better put her to bed. Can you . . . stick around for a little bit?”
Breathless, I nod.
“Perfect. Wait here.”
As he rises and scoops up Marley, I wave and blow her a little kiss. She looks drowsy already. This shouldn’t take long.
Connor carries her toward the stairs and then stops and looks over his shoulder at me. “Will you heat her a bottle while I get her into her pajamas and a fresh diaper?”
Knowing that tag-teaming this effort will reduce our time apart, I give him an enthusiastic nod. “How many ounces?”
“Five. And thanks, Jess.”
Jess. It’s a nickname that’s normally reserved for family, but it feels so natural to have Connor use it too.
I get to work while he disappears with Marley upstairs.
In a few minutes, I find them sitting together in her rocking chair. He’s cradling her in his arms and whispering sweet words to her. Her eyes are half-closed and she looks so comforted and adored by her daddy, my heart squeezes at the sight of them together.
I tiptoe into the room and hand him the bottle. When he brings it to her lips, she drinks quickly, her eyes now fully closed. We both watch her, enjoying this quiet, sweet moment. And in a few minutes, she’s done. When he lifts her, she burps once, and we both chuckle softly as he lays her down in the crib.
As we exit the room together, he takes my hand and gives it a tug. He leads me back to the couch without breaking our connection.
It’s quiet between us, and the moment is thick with anticipation. When Connor places a hand behind my neck and urges me closer, I bring my mouth to his once again.
We kiss deeply, quickly picking up right where we left off before, and soon I’m panting with the need for more.
Suddenly, I realize I’m wearing too many clothes. He’s wearing too many clothes. We should fix that.
I reach for the hem of my blouse, but Connor beats me to it, pulling the fabric over my head. He sheds his shirt, baring his chest, and when I reach for him, he pulls me into his lap so I straddle him. With my knees on either side of his hips, I can feel his erection pressing into my thigh. He cradles my head in his hands, his eyes searching my face, scanning me with a fierceness that makes my panties wet.
I don’t care if I’m about to leave the country for six months. I don’t care what anyone else has to say about it. This is real, and this is right. And more than anything else, I want him.
When he kisses me, it’s fast and desperate, like we’ve been waiting to do this from the moment we met. His hands tangle in my hair, and I grind myself into his lap, causing a strangled groan to pour from his lips. My fingers find the cool metal of his belt buckle. I start to undo it, but he places a hand over mine to stop me.