Chapter Twelve

Jordan

"Here you go."

I set the tray containing the plate of freshly baked macaroons and the two mugs of fresh coffee on the table in front of Lance. Then I take a seat myself.

I'm not really sure why I allowed Lance to come over. All I know is that today went well. Not just the decorating, which we didn't get to finish, but also things between us. When I finally stopped fighting him, we ended up having a normal conversation and got to know each other better.

Maybe I'm tired of fighting him.

After last night at Perry's, specifically that kiss that didn't work, I realized that maybe I've been being unfair. To myself and to Lance.

Maybe I need to give Lance another chance. Yes, the first one was a mistake. I was young and heartbroken and drunk. I was naughty. But it was my mistake, not his. Well, yes, maybe it's his mistake that I got pregnant, but it was still my mistake. It was an accident. It doesn't really count. It was wrong and it happened too fast, ended too soon. Maybe that's why I'm not over him.

You can't be over someone you haven't properly been with yet.

It's just like facing your fears, or so I read in a book. You can't get over your fear unless you deal with it head-on.

Maybe if I give Lance a chance, a real one, then we can sort whatever it is that's going on between us - and clearly, there is something - and then I can get over it.

I can get over him.

I have to.

And who knows? He might feel the same and finally leave me alone.

"Jordan?" Lance gives me a puzzled look from across the table.

"Sorry." I give my head a little shake. "I just got tired for a moment there."

"The excitement of baking has worn off, huh?"

He grabs a macaroon and bites nearly half of it off.

"Well?" I ask.

"Good," he says. "You're really good at this."

I smile. "Thank you."

"You should have a baking business," he adds.

"I would love to. Actually, that's sort of my dream. But it's on hold for now until Claus is a bit older and more manageable."

Lance chuckles. "Haven't you thought of hiring a babysitter?"

"And have a stranger watch my only son?" This time, I really shake my head. "No way. I don't think I can trust anyone with such a big responsibility."

"But he'll be going to school soon," he points out.

"School is fine. The teachers are trained. They know kids. They won't run off with my kid or spoil him or hit him."

Lance nods.

"Besides, I want to take care of Claus. He's growing so fast, learning something new every day. I want to watch every moment. Well, I don't just want to watch. I want to be there for him. While I can. I mean, I can't take care of him forever. I'll have to let him go one day, which I don't really want to think about. But for now, he's my little boy. It's my job and my pleasure to take care of him."

He places his hand over mine. "I think you're doing a great job."

I snort. "Sometimes I think I'm doing everything wrong."

"You worry that you're doing everything wrong, which means you're trying your hardest."

"Sometimes I feel like I'm not trying hard enough. And then there are times I feel like I'm trying too hard."

"But you're trying," Lance points out. "And you keep trying. That's what matters."

I smile.

He grabs another macaroon. "So, why baking? How did it start? How early?"

"So many questions," I complain as I reach for my own macaroon.

When he says nothing, I start giving answers.

"I just love baking. I love how the ingredients come together and produce something wonderful. How did it start? Well, I used to play with clay and pretend to bake. Then one Christmas - I think I was seven or eight - I got a cookbook for kids with lots of recipes for desserts and I asked my mom to let me bake for real. And she did. She helped me out at first, and then I learned to do it myself. I've been baking ever since."

"You never had formal lessons?"

"I did," I tell him. "I was taking pastry courses at a culinary school, but then I had Claus."

He nods. "I see."

"What about you?" I ask him as I lean on an elbow. "Have you always wanted to run your own company?"

"I liked computers." He licks his fingers. "I liked them enough to want to make them work the way I wanted them to."

I grin. "So bossy."

I grab my own mug of coffee and take a sip. It ends up being a big sip, though, and it trickles down my chin and lands on my sweater.

I look at the stain with a frown.

"Why does that always happen?"

When I look up, Lance is already out of his seat, walking towards me like a tiger about to leap at its prey. He wipes my chin with his thumb, then holds it in his grasp. His eyes glimmer with lust as they bore into mine.

My heart leaps to my throat and I swallow.

"You're done working now, right?" he asks.

I nod slowly.

"Which means I can touch you now."

I don't move.

Wait. Didn't he already touch my hand?

Ah, but this is different. That was a gesture of comfort, assurance. This... this has desire and impatience written all over it.

"Have you been waiting all evening?" I blurt out without thinking.

"I've been waiting for years."

His mouth descends on mine and I can't breathe. His tongue slips past his lips and mine and I taste sugar. A fire starts in my veins.

This, this is what I didn't have with Perry.

This flicker that brings my body to life. This haze that clouds my mind. This sense of being pulled into some abyss, of falling under a spell.

This longing to surrender.

This time, that's what I do. My fingers leave the handle of my mug and grip his shoulder. His hand cradles my jaw as he pushes his tongue in deeper.

It slides down to my neck. My pulse races beneath the heat of his palm.

When his fingers slip beneath the neckline of my sweater, I place my hand over his.

My head may be spinning, but there's still some thought left in it.

"We can't..." I gasp out.

Immediately, dismay flickers across his gaze.

"Not here," I add. "Claus... might come down."

Lance nods. "Is there a bedroom here downstairs?"

"The guest room," I say. "The door to it is beside the stairs."

He pulls my arm and leads me there. He turns the knob and the door opens.

The room is small, with just a bed, a chair and a closet. It hasn't been used in a while, but I've kept it clean.

I turn on the switch for the lamp on the bedside table and Lance closes the door. I hear it lock, and with that clicking sound, it dawns on me that I'm really giving in to Lance.

We're having sex. Again.

He grabs my arm and pulls me against him. His mouth crushes mine and my head spins again. My breasts swell against his chest, my heart hammering somewhere behind them. The bulge in his crotch throbs against my belly and sends my own body shuddering. His tongue melts me all the way to my toes and my panties grow wet.

As Lance breaks the kiss to gasp for air, his fingers grip the hem of my sweater.

"I believe you were about to take this off," he says.

I glance down at the stain and take the sweater off myself, along with my shirt. I haven't even pulled them all the way off my head yet when I feel the warmth of Lance's mouth around my clothed breast.

I toss my clothes onto the chair. He pushes my bra up and out of the way to expose my stiff nipples. I shiver.

His tongue caresses one as he takes the other between two fingers, gently tugging and rubbing the engorged peak.

A whimper escapes my lips as my head falls back. My hands grip his sides.

Lance pulls me to the bed and pushes me down on it. The springs of the old mattress creak. He climbs on top and claims my mouth again. His hand slips past the garter of my pants and brushes against the stain on the front of my underwear.

My knees shake. My fists clench the sheets.

Then his fingers crawl under the cotton and search for my nub. Involuntarily, my thighs part. He finds the bud of flesh and my hips rise.

His mouth moves back to my breast as his fingers strum and pluck at that little bud, coaxing it into full bloom. I writhe and moan.

"Shh." Lance holds a finger to my lips. "You'll wake someone up."

My eyes grow wide.

I almost forgot. How could I almost forget I had a son?

I place the back of my hand over my mouth and suck on it as Lance continues to suck my breast and play with that nub. Then he moves his fingers lower and pushes one in.

My teeth dig into my skin.

He strokes me and my hips begin to move on their own. My eyes squeeze shut and my body shakes.

This feeling. It feels so long since I last had it.

Amazing.

But it's not enough. Not yet.

I grab Lance's wrist and look into his eyes.

"Just get on with it," I tell him. "I'm not a virgin anymore."

He grins. "I know."

He withdraws his hand and I take off my pants and my underwear.

Yes, I wanted this to last. At least, I thought I did. But now, all I can think of is that I want to reach that height of pleasure he brought me to once before. I want to satisfy this craving I never even knew I had.

He takes out his cock. I catch a glimpse of its girth and its glistening tip before I lie on the bed.

Was it always that big? Did that thing really fit inside me before?

I feel a sudden burst of panic, but that fades as Lance kisses me. Then he strokes my cheek as he gazes into my eyes. The flame of lust burning in his sets my body on fire.

He spreads my legs and pushes in. My mouth gapes open but no sound comes out. My head falls back.

"Still so tight," Lance says hoarsely, his words garbled.

Again, I panic. Does he know? Can he tell that I haven't had any man since him? That Claus is his - ?

One more push and all my thoughts vanish.

"Damn. I've missed this," he says.

His hand returns to my cheek.

"I've missed you."

Another kiss, and then he begins to pound into me. I close my eyes and muffle my moans with my arm. My other hand grips his.

The bed creaks. Lance pants.

His cock slides in and out of me, pressing against spots that make my eyes roll to the back of my head and leaving me tingling, burning and melting.

And wanting more and more.

"Faster," I order him.

Lance complies.

After a few quick thrusts, the sensations flowing through my body unravel and mold into one. Something inside me bursts and I shiver all over as I let a cry out into my damp skin.

I'm still shivering when Lance suddenly pulls out. In the next moment, I feel puddles of warmth on my belly. One goes so far as to land between my breasts.

Then he collapses beside me, panting some more. I, too, gasp for air in the silence. I don't move. I can't. My body is still numb from the pleasure I've just been given.

Even when that fades, my muscles suddenly feel stiff and sore.

I don't want to get out of bed, but I'm starting to feel cold and I need to clean up so I can put my shirt and sweater back on. Never mind the coffee stain.

I sit up.

Lance's hand drapes mine. "Are you alright?"

I nod. "I'll be back."

I head to the bathroom in the kitchen and begin wiping the sticky stuff off my skin.

So he remembered to pull out this time, huh?

Good. It's messy, but at least this means I won't get pregnant. Again.

It also means it's over now - this bit of fun between us.

That's all this is - a bit of fun. We can't be together even if he is Claus's father. He'll leave soon. He'll go back to his busy, extravagant life. He doesn't love me.

Love.

Why does that word cause a lump in my chest and in my throat? Hadn't I already given up on that and told myself that Claus was the only one who mattered to me?

And then there's that. The most important reason of all.

I should move on. Even if I feel like this has only just begun.

Well, maybe not now. I can still feel his touches on my skin, after all. My lips are still swollen from his kisses. The folds of skin between my legs are still sore. And my belly is still covered with his cum.

I consider tasting one of the drops out of curiosity but manage to resist. Instead, I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror as I wash my hands.

Maybe I'll forget about Lance tomorrow.