I stand, bending over to kiss him on the head. “Goodnight, Mr. Harrison Hopkins.”
All of the boxes with my name on them and my travel suitcase are in the spare bedroom. I ease open the door to Flint’s room. It’s dark except for a sliver of light under the bathroom door.
“My dad changed the sheets in your room.” Harry startles me. He flips on the light to the hall bathroom.
“My room?”
He nods toward the guest room with my boxes stacked along the end of the bed.
I smile. “Okay. Thanks.”
Harry shuts the door and turns on the shower.
Opting to stay in neutral territory, since in the past six hours I haven’t managed to embrace their home as mine yet, I flip on the light to the guest bedroom and shut the door. It’s a great room too—a window seat, a walk-in closet, and a queen bed. I find the box with my pajamas and change into them.
Harry takes the world’s longest shower, so I use the downstairs bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face, taking the opportunity to check in on my dad one more time, but he’s asleep.
“Crap!” I jump when I turn the corner at the top of the stairs, running into bare-chested Flint. “You scared me.”
He inspects my toothbrush and toothpaste in one hand and bottle of facial wash in the other. “I heard humming. What are you doing?”
I stare at his wet hair and just how low his jogging shorts hang on his hips. “Brushing my teeth and washing my face. Harry is still in the shower, so I used the downstairs bathroom.”
“Harrison recently discovered how fun his dick can be, and my water bill has doubled.”
“How fun his—oh!” My eyes widen. “No.”
“Yes.” He smirks. “Now follow me.”
I follow him into his room and beyond to the en suite bathroom. He flips on the light. “This is our bathroom.” He takes everything from my hands and sets it onto the counter by the sink. “Okay?”
I rub my lips together, nodding slowly. “Harry said you changed the sheets on the guest bed for me, and all of my boxes are in there.”
He leans back against the vanity, crossing his arms over his chest. “You think I want to be roommates with you?”
He’s so damn cocky.
“There’s no reason why you wouldn’t. I’m a wonderful roommate.”
“You’re not. You’re messy, noisy, and you have rats.”
I cross my arms over my chest, matching his stance. “Well, you have OCD, a perpetual frown, and you’re completely irresponsible when it comes to birth control.”
Flint grins just to prove me wrong about the perpetual frown.
“This is weird.” I laugh. “We’re having a baby. You’ve seen me at my worst. My grandma caught us naked in the bathtub and having sex on the vanity. Harry caught us in bed. Your dad caught us in the closet. Abigail saw the embarrassing aftermath of the greenhouse incident. We’ve already survived all the awkward there is to survive, yet I feel very awkward and shy right now.”
He crooks a finger at me. I erase the three feet between us and find my favorite spot wrapped in his arms. Just like that, I feel less awkward.
“I understand.” He kisses the top of my head. “We really need to stop hiding in the closet and start using locks on doors.”
I giggle. “That wasn’t exactly my point.”
Flint grabs my ass, giving it a firm squeeze while he buries his face in my hair, working his lips past my ear to my neck. He inhales deeply and exhales a low growl like an animal pleased by my scent.
I love this life.
“This is your bedroom and bathroom. Downstairs is your kitchen and living area. The front door and entry closet are yours. The driveway. The garage. The trees. The grass beneath the snow. It’s all yours.” His lips and tongue tease my neck. “I’m yours.”
Yep … so much love for this life.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Ellen
TWENTY-FIVE WEEKS
We’re two weeks away from summer break, four weeks away from the official start of summer, and fifteen weeks from my due date.
I love this life.
“Elle?” Flint calls my name.
“Upstairs.”
“That’s my girl,” he says as his voice draws nearer. “What are you doing?”
I crawl to the side of Harry’s bed, reaching for more stuff he has shoved beneath it. “I’m not cleaning it. I know he doesn’t like anyone messing with his stuff, but he has too many dirty clothes everywhere. I thought he might like to have some clean laundry. He’s always complaining about missing socks.”
“Leave it. I have less than an hour before I have to go back to work. Is your dad at Martin’s?”
“Golfing.” I’m still in awe. He says his shot is not perfect, but the fact that my dad is golfing less than six months after his stroke just blows my mind.
“Tick tock, baby.”
“Just a second.” I wrinkle my nose, tossing several washcloths into the laundry basket. “Why does he have so many washcloths under his bed? They’re not really wet, they’re just a little crusty in areas. I’d say he’s using them to blow his nose, but they kind of smell.”
Flint chuckles. “He’s definitely blowing something in them, just not snot.”
I use the side of the bed to climb to my feet, rubbing my lower back a bit. “What are you talking about?”
“Same reason he takes long showers. Now wash your hands and get your ass in the bedroom.”
“Long showers … wash my—ew!” I cringe, holding my hands out from my body, fingers stiff. “Semen? That’s semen on those washcloths?”
“Hence the smell.” He grins as I hurry past him to the bathroom, surgically scrubbing my hands with hot water and lots of soap.
“Boys are gross. That is just gross!”
“Forty-seven minutes, Elle. Let’s go,” he scolds me, while loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt.
We didn’t have sex at night until the addition at the back of the house for my dad was complete. Apparently, I’m too loud during sex, which didn’t work with an open stairwell between our bedroom and Flint’s office where my dad slept. So Flint hired someone to take my dad to his appointments so we could have sex over Flint’s lunch break. And when my dad no longer required long days of therapy, Flint introduced my dad to Martin, and now they are buddies who just so happen to hang out during the middle of the day.
Coincidence? I don’t think so.
“I thought the nooners would stop when my dad’s new room was finished.” I follow Flint into the bedroom.
He’s already naked from the waist up.
“Yeah, well …” He pulls my tee over my head and unhooks my bra. “That’s before I discovered you have such a dirty mouth during sex. It’s so fucking hot. And the only time I get you completely uncensored is over the noon hour when we’re all alone.”
“I don’t have a dirty mouth.”
He ducks down, sucking in my nipple until I feel it between my legs. Every part of my body is hypersensitive and so responsive at this point in my pregnancy. I feel good. And horny. So horny. “Fuck me …” I close my eyes, threading my fingers through his hair.