Jules is still asleep when I wake up the following morning. The sun streams through the windows, making swirling patterns on the sheets. “Hey,” I say, kissing her shoulder.

She stirs slowly, then abruptly startles awake. “Jesus Christ,” she says, eyes widening when she sees me.

“Well, no,” I tell her, grinning a little. “Just me.”

“Oh, you’re hilarious.” Jules makes a face but she rolls over to face me, sheets slipping down to reveal the curve of one soft breast. “What time is it?”

“Kind of late, actually,” I tell her, glancing at my phone on the nightstand. “We slept.” We finally traipsed up to bed after midnight, full of takeout and beer—not the most romantic of dinners, I guess, not that we let that stop us.

“Oh yeah?” Jules stretches a bit, looking pleased with herself. “I wear you out?”

“Seems that way.” The truth is I don’t usually sleep that well with another person in the bed beside me, but last night I didn’t wake up once. For a second I wonder what that means, if it means anything, then decide it’s probably just because it’s the first time in a week that I didn’t have one ear cocked for the sound of the kids.

Either way, I duck my head to kiss her, reaching down under the blankets to cup her between her legs. “Again?” Jules mumbles, but she’s smiling.

“Again.” I trace my finger along the seam of her body, drawing circles around her nipple until I’m hard as a fucking rock against her thigh. Fuck, I cannot get enough of this woman’s body: it’s her tits, obviously, low and heavy and almost mind-bendingly full, but more than that it’s her hips, the absurdly dramatic way she flares out below her ribcage. I can’t remember the last time I was with a girl whose body did that. Never, probably.

Still, the last thing I want is to be late picking up the kids and wind up having Vivian complain in court about how irresponsible I am. “We should go, probably,” I say finally, pressing a kiss against her collarbone. “If we want to grab breakfast before the ferry.”

Jules rolls her eyes. “Oh, please, don’t act like you can’t just charter a helicopter if we miss it.”

I raise my eyebrows, suddenly interested. “Are you intending on missing it, counselor?”

“Maybe.” She sits up then, shoving at my shoulders until I lie back on the bed. “Depends on whether or not you behave.”

I laugh. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says, slinging one leg over my thighs and ducking her head, biting her way down along my rib cage. “Now shut up. I’m good at this.”

I start to laugh at her cockiness, but suddenly she’s got her mouth around me and I couldn’t put a full sentence together if my life depended on it.

Fuck.

She's wasn’t kidding about being good at this—taking me deep with no warm-up, hot mouth and clever tongue and the expert flick of her wrist. I pretty much lose my mind, and I want to be gentlemanly about this, but it’s taking every single bit of restraint not to move. I think that’s what she might be angling for, in fact—me fucking her mouth—and the thought of it alone almost does me in. “Jules.” Finally I reach down and haul her off myself, gasping. “Jesus Christ,” I pant.

“Well, no.” Jules smiles smugly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Just me.”

“Cute,” I tell her, already grabbing for the nightstand and the condoms I remembered to stash there. I flip her onto her hands and knees and sink into her from behind.

Jesus fucking Christ, she feels perfect, and at this angle, I have to clench my jaw and use every last ounce of self-control not to embarrass myself.

Jules rocks back against me. “Harder,” she demands, and I nearly lose my mind.

I plunge deep again, slamming against her, and she grabs the sheets and moans. “Fuck, yes, Cal.”

I hold on for dear life. The world contracts to just the blur of our bodies and the sweet friction of her pussy and the way her body is clenching me like she’s never fucking letting go.

Jules moans, tossing her head back, and I fist her hair in one hand, thrusting harder. Oh Jesus, she needs to come now or I am never, ever going to last for her.

I reach between us, finding her clit, and rub in time with my thrusts, and just like that, she goes off with a scream and I finally let go, unleashing as the pleasure rips through me like a fucking tornado and I fall into oblivion, holding her tightly.

This woman. Fuck, this woman will be the death of me or heaven, one way or another.

I just know I can’t get enough.

---

We catch the ferry by the skin of our teeth and make it to Vivian’s just in time. The kids come thundering up to the front door when we ring the doorbell, Ezra clutching Howard by one foot. “Hey, dudes,” I say with a grin—something loosening in my chest at the sight of them, just as whole and healthy as they were when I left. I sling an arm around each of them, lifting them into the air before setting them down again. “How’d it go?”

“Fine,” Lottie says sulkily.

“That good, huh?” I tease. “I missed you dopes.”

“You guys ready to go?” Jules asks the kids, just as Vivian sashays into the foyer. She’s wearing another one of her Wholesome Homemaker outfits, tan ankle-length pants and driving moccasins. I wonder if the social worker came by here, too. “Want to go pack your stuff up?”

“Why don’t you help them with that,” Vivian tells her, and there’s a tone in her voice, like Jules is a hired hand, that I really do not appreciate. Jules isn’t a fan either; I can tell by the slight shift in her posture, although she doesn’t say anything out loud. “Cal,” Viv continues, “can we talk?”

I cast Jules an apologetic look and follow Vivian into the kitchen, where the table is strewn with paint sample cards and a pricing guide for granite countertops. “Planning a renovation?” I ask.

“Maybe,” Vivian hedges. “Depending on how things play out.”

If she gets access to the kids’ money, she means. I’m about to reply when I catch sight of another folder on the counter, this one a shiny navy blue with a stodgy-looking crest embossed on the cover: it’s an application for the Norton Academy, I realize, an expensive boarding school out in the Berkshires. My stomach drops. This time, there’s no way I can hold my tongue.

“What’s this?” I ask, scooping the folder up off the counter and holding it up like an enemy flag. “You’re going to send them to—I mean, are you actually planning on—Jesus Christ, Vivian, what in the actual fuck?”

Vivian rolls her eyes. “Don’t wet your pants, Caleb. Nobody’s making any decisions yet. But Norton is one of the best boarding schools in the Northeast. I went there myself, actually.”

“Oh, I recall.” Mel used to talk about it all the time. She refused to go, but I remember the stories she used to tell about visiting Vivian there on the weekends, how stuck up and snobby everyone was. That’s not the kind of life I want for the kids at all. “Look,” I say, trying to reason with her. “If you’re just planning on sending them away if you get custody, then why even bother—”

“That’s not actually any of your business,” she reminds me. “And once we meet with the judge next week, nothing about the kids will be.”

My eyes narrow. “We’ll see about that.”

Vivian smiles knowingly. “Speaking of the hearing, I heard the social worker was by your house this week.”

“She was,” I say. “It went great.”

“Really?” Vivian asks, smiling nastily. “That’s not what she said.”

My hands curl into fists at my sides. I want to punch something, a wall or a tree trunk or Vivian’s smug face. “Do you have something real to talk to me about, Vivian?” I manage. “Or did you just call me in here to be a bi—” I break off, glancing over my shoulder at the doorway. “Difficult?”

Vivian keeps smiling, like she knows she’s getting to me. “Well, I was hoping now that some time has passed you might have pulled your head out of your ass and reconsidered my offer.”

“This again, seriously?” I feel my blood pressure rise. “Yeah, that’s a nonstarter, thanks.”

Vivian frowns at that. “Well,” she says crisply, “that’s too bad. But if you want to handle it that way, then—”

“What makes you so sure the judge is going to see things your way, anyhow?” I interrupt. “I have to say, you seem awfully overconfident to me. The kids didn’t even want to come here last night, do you realize that? And meanwhile Jules and I are working to give—”

“Funny you mention Jules, actually,” Vivian says. “The kids told me they’d never even heard of your little girlfriend before this week.” She raises her eyebrows. “I don’t know what kind of show you’re putting on here, Cal, but it’s never going to hold up in court.”

My stomach flips at that, but I manage to keep my voice even. “It’s not a show, Viv. Which is more than I can say for you. This is ridiculous.”

“It is,” Vivian agrees, “which is why I’m not sure why you won’t at least consider my offer.”

“I’m not going to buy my own godchildren from you!” I glance in the direction of the living room one more time, lower my voice. “I won’t be extorted.”

Vivian is about to reply when Jules comes into the kitchen with a cavernous bag slung over one shoulder. “Hey guys,” she says brightly, wrapping a steadying hand around my upper arm. She looks at me and smiles. “I think the kids are about packed up, if you want to head on out of here.”

“I’d love to.” I look back at Vivian, trying not to snarl. There’s a tiny part of me that thinks it would be worth it to just give her the payout so that I never have to deal with her again. Then I imagine what Rob would do to me if he knew I let her get away with something like that, and my resolve doubles. “I’ll see you at the courthouse.”

I’m itching to get the hell out of here, but it takes us a while to load the car up—no thanks to Ezra, who insists on strapping Howard in himself. We’re just about to pull out of the driveway when Jules pauses.

“Hold on,” she says, frowning as she digs through her enormous Mary Poppins purse. “I think I left my phone in there.”

She scrambles out of the car and back up the front walk. She comes back a moment later, holding the thing aloft. “Good to go!” she says. Then, so quietly only I can hear her. “Step on it.”

---

It’s clouded over and threatening rain, so we take the kids to the science museum to check out a 3D dinosaur movie and stroll through the indoor butterfly garden. Normally an encounter like the one I had with Vivian would leave me stewing and pissed for the rest of the day, but with the three of them, I’m surprised by how easy it is to let it go. “It’ll all shake out,” Jules promises when I tell her about it, the two of us watching the kids roam through an exhibit about space travel. “It has to, right?”

“Yeah,” I say, sounding more confident than I feel. “You’re right.”

We settle in for the movie with Ezra between us, Lottie in the seat to my right. As the velociraptors gambol across the screen I sling my arm over the back of Ezra’s chair and run a finger down the back of Jules’s neck, yanking lightly at the baby hairs at her nape. She shoots me a look over his head like, what the actual fuck, but she’s smiling. “I didn’t know dinosaurs were such a turn on,” she teases as we’re leaving the theater.

“Yeah, well.” I nod seriously. “The Paleolithic era really lights me up.”

Jules throws her head back and lets out a laugh. “Good to know.”

Ezra turns around and looks at us accusingly. “What’s so funny?” he asks.

“Jules’s face,” I deadpan, picking him up and slinging him over my shoulder, gesturing at Lottie to lead the way. “Come on, monsters,” I tell them—exhausted and not altogether unhappy, relieved to have them here with me even if I don’t know exactly what the future holds. “Let’s go home.”

---

Back at the house, I make pizza with the kids as promised, Dean Martin cranking on the stereo. After, Jules taps out to take a bath while Lottie, Ez, and I play Trivial Pursuit Jr. at the dining room table. Ezra makes up random answers to every single question—“Flugelhorns!” “Hippopotami!” “Butts!”—cracking himself up while Lottie looks on in big-sister annoyance.

At bedtime I read to Ezra, then Lottie reads to me. Finally, I shut her door and find Jules waiting in the hallway, barefoot on the hardwood and smelling like coconut shampoo, her hair damp and loose around her face. “How’d it go?” she asks.

“Smashingly,” I promise, then waste exactly no time before backing her up against the wall and pressing my lips against hers, licking the zing of mouthwash from behind her teeth. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Jules sighs and sinks into the kiss, winding her arms around my neck and arching her back so her hips grind up into mine. I slide both hands up under her soft, snow-colored sweater, dragging my knuckles down her rib cage and curling my fingers around her waist. I reach up and palm a breast, squeezing roughly through her bra; Jules lets out a low moan. “Shh,” she scolds, and I laugh into her skin.

“You shh,” I counter quietly. “You're the one making noise.”

“Fuck off,” Jules smiles, but she kisses me again—sucking at my bottom lip, possessive, sinking her teeth in hard enough to leave marks. I work one knee between her thighs and she groans again. “Seriously,” she gasps, even as she’s rocking herself against me, “the kids are going to hear us.”

“Well, then do a better job controlling yourself,” I tease, flicking the button on her jeans and working a hand down the front of her panties. Fuck, already she’s so, so wet. I open her up and slip a finger inside her, then another, watching with interest as her eyes flutter closed.

“Yeah?” I ask as I slide them deeper and pulse, fucking her gently. I don’t have a ton of room to move like this, but Jules doesn’t seem to care. “Is this what you wanted?”

Jules nods. “More,” she begs, popping up on her tiptoes and rocking her restless hips, her blonde head thunking softly back against the wall. “Shit, Cal, I want—”

“Fuck, Jules,” I groan, unable to keep the lust out of my voice.

“I thought about this all day,” she confesses, panting now. “All day, Cal, every time I looked at you, I just wanted—”

“Me too.” Something about hearing her say it has me exhaling in relief, pressing my mouth against her temple even as I beckon my fingers inside her. I don’t know what’s happening between us, exactly, but I’m glad I’m not the only one that’s feeling it. And I know I don’t want it to end.

“I’m close,” she tells me urgently, reaching down and wrapping one hand around my wrist. “Fuck, Cal, please don't stop.”

“Not stopping.” I pulse my fingers higher, curling them right up against her G-spot and pressing my palm against her clit to give her something to grind against. “Look at me,” I mutter, feeling her body start to clench. “Jules, sweetheart, look at me.”

She does, opening her eyes and gazing at me in the half-light of the hallway. Her pupils are dark, and I’ve never seen her look as sexy: breathless and gasping, and coming undone for me. I slip my thumb into her mouth, letting out a low growl of my own when she starts to suck—it’s a lot, her warm tongue and the tight clench of her pussy around my fingers, and then she’s coming with a whimper that I swallow in a kiss, feeling the pulses ride through her body, over and over again.

Finally she exhales and rests her forehead against my shoulder, her whole body going boneless. “Holy shit,” she murmurs with a laugh.

“You needed that?” I ask, pressing my lips against her flushed, sweaty cheek.

“I needed you,” she says immediately, then freezes, like she’s said too much.

She ducks out of my arms. “Come on,” she says, buttoning her jeans up and turning away from me, heading toward the hallway. “I think there’s ice cream.”

I watch her go, her round ass and the long, graceful line of her back. Jesus Christ, I am in trouble. “Sure,” I mutter, more to myself than anything. “Ice cream sounds good.”