“Okay, that’s fair, but you have to understand that your patience level doesn’t change what is a very real struggle for a lot of people, Scott. And spouting bullshit about loving drugs more than one’s own child in front of the wrong audience would only be destructive.”
I duck my head and run a hand along the back of my neck, trying to ease the prickle of shame that appears there. “You’re right. That was a stupid thing to say.” An impulsive desire to come clean with her spurs me to add more. “And it’s possible that I’m upset with Lolita for more than the usual reasons . . . so you remember what happened at the girls’ choir performance?”
She nods.
“At the time, I considered going back to court to try to get our custody agreement changed, but for a million different reasons, I didn’t. Well, now, last week when Rosa asked to stay overnight and I said not in a million years, Lolita threatened me.”
“What?”
“Yeah, she reminded me there’s a court order in place and that I have to honor it.”
With her brows pinched with consternation, Ellie comes back around the island to stand in front of me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know. I was mad at myself for letting it slide.”
She tugs at the bottom of my T-shirt, urging me closer. “That doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell me.”
Awkwardness rises in my chest. “I don’t know. I guess . . . I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me.”
“What? Why would I be disappointed in you?”
I shrug. “I’m supposed to have my shit together, remember? You said so yourself.” Her lips twist into something that resembles the disillusionment I was trying to avoid. “And it’s stressful,” I go on. “It’s bad enough that I have to deal with it.”
She dips her chin, seeming to study the floor as she shakes her head and I worry I’ve upset her again. “What happened to us communicating?” She looks up, her brow furrowed. “What happened to standing on the same side of the divide? Together?”
My eyes dart away. “I don’t know.” And I really don’t.
When I don’t come up with an answer for her, she cups my jaw. “I don’t need you to take the brunt of everything life has to throw at us, Scott. I’m here to stand beside you, not behind you. I want us to be equals in this.”
I feel myself nod as I place my hand over hers, sliding it to my lips to kiss her palm. “I want that too.”
“Then that means sharing this kind of thing with each other.”
I frown. “I just hate the thought of overwhelming you with all my baggage.”
“But you’ll let it overwhelm you? To the point that you’re taking shots at me?”
My shoulders sag.
“We need to talk more so we can deal with stuff, together, Scott.”
That sounds . . . amazing. To not worry about everything on my own. What would she have said if I’d run the idea of changing the custody agreement by her? Or if I’d told her how much I’ve been obsessing over my father’s family?
Slowly, I nod. “Yeah. I’d like that. It might take me a while to . . . adjust.” I lower my forehead to hers. “But I promise to work on it.”
“That’s all I ask,” she says, her words brushing my lips.
My hands slide around her waist, slipping under her shirt to stroke the warm, silky skin of her back. “Thanks for putting up with me,” I whisper before I kiss her, soft and gentle. “I always appreciate an appearance by Sister Opal, the Wise.”
With both of us fighting a smile, the rhythm of our lips begins clumsily. But soon, like it always does, our need for intimacy leads to arousal which then ignites the white-hot lust that’s always burning right below the surface between us. And this time, the ignition is accompanied by all the anger and the worry of the last few hours, making it all the more intense.
By the time we make it to the bed and I’ve sunk myself into her core, everything has combined to create a storm of urgency. Her nails scratch at my biceps as she arches, taking my deep, forceful strokes like I’m feeding her manna. When we’re spent and sweaty, I can’t seem to stop kissing and nibbling and touching her as if I’m worried that stopping will cause her to disappear on me.
Finally, with her nose burrowed in my neck, she inhales sharply. “Oh, shit, the chilli.”
When she doesn’t immediately move, I laugh. Patting her naked ass, I encourage her to get up. “Come on, then. Let’s go see what’s going on.”
Unhurriedly, I get rid of the condom. Then I pass her my T-shirt and pull on my boxer briefs. I follow her out into the kitchen with my attention caught on the hem of my shirt which falls to only the very tops of her thighs. Out of nowhere, a vision of my come leaking down the insides of her legs assaults me. Shit. Of course, my perverted imagination runs with it, expanding on the fantasy, morphing it into an image of her laid out on her back, deliciously fucked, knees splayed wide to show me my come oozing from her pussy. Renewed lust punches through me and my muffled grunt draws her notice.
“You okay?” she asks over her shoulder, stirring the chilli.
“Yeah,” I say barely keeping my voice from squeaking. To cover my disquiet – because condoms are always necessary – I open a drawer and pull out a spoon to get a taste of our science experiment. Blowing on it, I take the bite and almost spit it back out. “Did you put any salt in it?” I gasp after I’ve forced myself to swallow.
She scans the counter, grabbing up the grocery bag and pulling out all the spices we bought, the packages still sealed.
We look at each other, and slowly start laughing.
Ellie
My first thought of the day is more of a sensation, one that can only be described as pure pleasure. Warmth. And the caress of soft lips placing open-mouthed kisses down my nape.
Scott.
Scott is here in my bed. With languid contentment, I stretch out my limbs, wanting him closer, savoring the heat of a very substantial erection pressing against my backside. You’d think the man would be completely spent after last night.
His soft hum of appreciation is accompanied by an arm snaking around my hips to pull me more firmly against him. When his fingers skim up my stomach and graze my nipple though, I hiss.
“You sore?” he rumbles into my hair.
“Mmmhmm.” I press his hand to my breast to stop the friction and soothe the ache. I’m slipping back into sleep when his voice startles me.
“Aren’t you awake?”
“Hmmm? Go back to sleep,” I mumble.
“I can’t. It’s 8:40.”
“So?”
“So, I’m going to make a coffee run.” He starts getting up, letting cold air under the blankets. “You want the usual?”
“What?” I say, partially confused, partially horrified. He’s not a morning person, is he? The possibility is disconcerting. Prying my lids open a fraction, I roll over and watch him pull on his jeans.
“Opal?”
“Huh?”
He exhales with amusement. “Maybe by the time I get back, you’ll be conscious.”
He saunters out of the room and I hear the bathroom door close. “Don’t you know it’s Sunday?” I grumble, snuggling back down under the covers. Except now I need the bathroom too. Dammit.