The thought of Natalie sleeping under the same roof as me—especially after us damn near fucking in the pool—has me way too keyed up to sleep.

I’m hard enough to pound nails—though I’d rather pound Natalie—and hornier than a fourteen-year-old boy with his first nudie magazine. Basically, shit is dire over here, and I have no choice but to relieve some of this tension flowing through me.

I shuck off my sweats and lie back onto my bed, propped up against my headboard. I let my eyes drift shut as my right hand trails down my abdomen, lower and lower, calling my go-to Natalie fantasy to mind.

We’re finally alone together after exchanging looks all night long; you know, the kind that says let’s get naked. I sit on the edge of the bed and pull her between my legs. I pop the button to her skin-tight jeans, loving the way she blushes as I pull them down, revealing her pale pink lace thong to me—Goddamn. I waste no time removing her shirt and matching bra. Girl’s a goddess.

She nibbles her lower lip and asks, “What about you?”

“What about me, Small Fry?” I run my hands over the firm swell of her ass, up her sides and palm her tits. They’re barely a handful, but that’s okay—just means they’ll be a perfect mouthful.

“Are you gonna take your clothes off too?”

I lean forward and suck her left nipple into my mouth, nibbling and kissing it before showing her right side the same attention. “Do you want me to?”

“Y-yes,” she moans, her head thrown back.

Once I’m naked, I slide her thong down and press a soft kiss to her right hip, trailing my tongue across and dipping low before kissing the left hip as well.

I pull her into me and roll us so that she’s on her back and I’m hovering over her. We’re both a little tipsy, but damn, I think it’s making us both feel more. “You sure, Small Fry?”

“More than ever.” She sounds like she means it and I press forward, meeting resistance. “Keep going,” she gasps out, sounding almost in pain.

“Oh, holy shit!” My erection dies a painful death. I feel fucking sick. I race from my bed to my en-suite bathroom, where I promptly lose the delicious dinner and popcorn from earlier tonight.

All this time, that’s been my go-to spank bank material—a fucking fantasy. Except, I’m pretty sure it’s not make-believe. I’m pretty sure that’s a memory of the night Tatum was created.

A few dry heaves later, I’m in the shower, trying my best to chill the fuck out. That couldn’t have been a memory, right? Nah. Unless…

Fuck.

I shut off the water and throw my sweats back on, not bothering to dry off. I need to talk to Nat. I have to talk to Nat.

Singularly focused on getting to the bottom of this…epiphany, I tear out of my room and rush into the guest bedroom, not even bothering to knock.

The sight of her lying in bed, with the covers pushed down around her hips, wearing only her tank and panties while reading on her phone, just about does me in.

“We gotta talk.”

She tosses her phone down onto the bed and pulls the blanket up to cover her. Pity. “About what? Is everything okay?”

I sit on the edge of the bed. “Fuck, Nat. I don’t know. I…I think I remembered.”

She looks at me like I’m spouting off complex math equations in Mandarin. “Remembered what?”

“That night. Us. Together.”

“I’m sorry. But, what?” She shakes her head. “Alden, I’m not following.”

Oh, Jesus. I’m going to really have to spell this out for her. “I…ahem. I was taking care of business, and there’s always been this one fantasy I would play in my head.” Kill me now, I just admitted to jerking off to her for years. “But tonight…tonight was different. Tonight, I realized it was a memory.”

Realization dawns. “Are…are you sure?” she whispers, her voice hoarse.

“About ninety percent. I was hoping you could clear it up for me.”

She nods, unshed tears glistening in her eyes.

I go through my fantasy with her, as painful as it is, and by the time I’m finished, she’s all-out sobbing. “Nat, are you okay?”

She flings off the blanket and crawls to me, wrapping herself around me. Her tears are cool on my overheated skin. “You re-remember.” The words are soft and broken sounding. Right here, in this moment, the weight of her relief is palpable.

“I do,” I murmur, kissing away her tears.

We sit just like that, with her quietly weeping while I rock her and whisper sweet nothings into her ear. Finally, she calms and pulls back, and I wipe the moisture from beneath my own eyes…what the hell? When did I start crying?

I’m scared she’s going to vacate my lap, but she snuggles into me deeper and asks, “What now?”

We both do our best to ignore the way my untimely erection is pressing into her, begging for the release he’s twice been denied today. “This might sound crazy, but I want to give us a chance. I don’t care how it complicates things. I want you, and I think you want me too.”

“Wh-what?”

“Me. You. Together.”

It’s kind of cute the way her brain isn’t processing what I’m saying. “Like together? For real?”

“Yeah, Small Fry, for real. I think we’d be doing us—and Tatum—a disservice not to see where things go. I’ve always been attracted to you, long before it was socially or morally acceptable. I want to try and see if things will be as good between us in real life as they are in my head.”

“I…Yes,” she breathes out the word on a shaky exhale. I lean in for a kiss, but she pulls away. “But, we need to tread carefully. Because as amazing as this could be, there’s also the potential for it to end horribly—and we’ll still have to co-parent, even if things go south. We don’t need to get Tatum’s hopes up until we know for sure.”

Here she is, once again, showing me what an amazing mother she is to our girl. Even now—especially now—she’s putting her first. “Agreed. We play it casual when Tatum’s around. But, Nat, I’m not holding back.”

“Okay.” Her voice is soft and breathless—a direct line to below my belt.

“We’re gonna do this right. I know we’re all kinds of out of order, but I want to date you. To woo you.”

“Th-that sounds good.” She sounds overwhelmed, in the best possible way and I love it.

“But, there’s something I gotta do first.”

“Wha—” I swallow her words with a kiss, molding my lips to hers, my tongue demanding entry, which she immediately allows. I taste and savor her, drinking down the soft noises she makes like a sweet nectar. Her hips begin to shift restlessly, signaling to me that it’s time for me to pull away.

Which I do, much to her and my dick’s dismay. The little wanton moan she gives as she chases my lips makes me feel like I’m on top of the fucking world. “Dream of me, Small Fry,” I say, brushing my mouth against hers once more before retreating back to my bedroom.