“Hi,” I say, opening the front door when he arrives the next afternoon.
Without saying a word, Thomas steps forward, wraps a hand around my neck and pulls me toward him before he crushes his mouth against mine.
It takes everything in me not to moan into his mouth despite everything in my body screaming out to do so. But as quick as it starts, he forces himself back, his blue eyes threatening to scorch me alive right there in my doorway.
“Hi,” he says hoarsely. “You look amazing.” He doesn’t move away but his eyes take in everything they can see. There was one piece of advice I took out of the girl’s chat yesterday; the ‘look hot, be hot’ recommendation.
“If that’s how you greet me now, we should’ve started dating months ago,” I muse, instinctively lifting my hand to my mouth, tracing my tingling bottom lip with my thumb.
He shakes his head and grins down at me. “You gonna let me in, sweetness?”
Is it me, or is there some double entendre at play here. I thought I had let him in? And if I hadn’t, there’s no doubt I have since last week.
“ . . . or is our second date going to be on your landing?” he continues.
Right. Overthinking again, Amz. Good one. “Oh, I suppose,” I say in mock annoyance, stepping aside.
“Much obliged.” His lips twitch and he gives my hip a gentle squeeze as he walks past.
“Let me just get Brody’s bag and we can go if you like. He’s been a bit out of sorts today, just grizzly and unsettled. I’m sure he’s fine though. He’ll have a nap and wake up happy again,” I jabber on, walking toward Brody’s room.
“I’ll get the baby,” Thomas says, stepping around me and bending down, picking up my son in what seems like such a normal everyday occurrence. Like we do this every day. Like we’re a couple getting our son ready to go out. And again, I’m left wishing that my asshole radar wasn’t so wonky when my vagina chose Brody’s father. Mainly because the more time I spend with Thomas, in the new version of us that we’re working on now, the dating version of us, the more I want everything normal with him.
The normal us that is Thomas, me and Brody. Going out. Doing family stuff. Together.
The three of us against the world.
My mind clears of everything except the feelings swirling inside of me. Feelings I never thought I’d get to act on—not that we have yet—but still, I certainly never envisioned I’d be dating Thomas, that I’d even be contemplating dating anyone following a hard pregnancy, that memorable birth, and with an eleven-week-old son who is the center of my world.
I look out the window and watch the world pass by, content for the first time in a long while and it’s because of one man.
The only reason it has happened is because it’s Thomas. The only reason I think I’ve allowed it to happen is because of Thomas.
“I think Mommy was just away with the fairies, Brodz. Do you think we should leave her to frolic with the butterflies or should we take her to our surprise destination?”
That snaps me out of my daze.
“You’re going to kidnap my son right in front of me?” I ask, quirking a brow.
He looks down at Brody then back to me. “I think we’d both rather have you come too.”
“Right. Let’s go then.” My tone is a little huffy, but it’s all for show.
I turn around to grab my keys and purse from the dining room table. I feel Thomas come up close behind me, the heat of his body warming me from head to toe, making me tremble. A condition that only worsens when his breath fans across the bare skin of my neck.
“It wouldn’t be the same without you. You make everything better just being there.”
Thunk. That’s the sound of my heart stopping dead in my chest. I swear to God if my son wasn’t in his arms—hell, if he wasn’t in the room—I’d spin around and jump Thomas right now.
“Good,” I say, exhaling the breath that catches in my chest.
He presses his lips gently to that magic spot below my ear and reaches down, entwining his fingers with mine in the same way he did the other night. The move that never fails to give me a big ol’ whoosh in all the right places.
Brody grizzles and starts pulling his legs up in Thomas’s arms, almost fighting him.
“C’mon buddy, it’s okay,” Thomas says, lifting his hand to rub Brody’s back. When Brody ramps up the crying, I decide I need to step in.
I drop the baby bag by the front door and hold my arms out to a now nervous looking Thomas.
“I don’t know what’s wrong. He might have gas or maybe he’s coming down with something.” I place the back of my hand on Brody’s forehead, frowning at the heat I feel that wasn’t there before. Realizing that my baby is sick and not just being fussy, a tsunami wave of guilt washes through me. I was about to drag him out on a date.
Mother of the freaking year here.
“I think he’s got a fever,” I say, moving across my apartment toward the living room “What do I do when he’s got a fever?” I look to Thomas as if expecting him to have the answers. “He’s not even three months old. I don’t know what to do.”
“It’s fine, Amz. We’ll stay in and watch him. If he gets worse, we’ll take him to the ER.”
I cradle Brody in my arms, feeling his nose rooting into my chest, his tell-tale sign that he wants to nurse. “I’m going to nurse him and maybe strip his clothes off. I need to take his temperature too.”
And like an anchor in a storm, Thomas changes tact, taking control of the situation and as always, proves that he’s more of an adult than anyone else I know.
“If you’re okay for a few minutes, I just need to go get some things from my car and we can have our date here.”
“I’m really sorry, Thomas.”
He walks over and puts an arm around my shoulders to where I’m now nursing Brody, cocooning both of us in his arms. “Sweetness, I don’t want you to ever apologize for being a good mom. Brody comes first. Hopefully, I’m somewhere in the top five and rising,” he says with a wry grin. He leans in and brushes his lips against mine. “You finish feeding him. I’ll call Cade and just check with him what we should be doing. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes and we’ll come up with a plan. Sound good?”
I nod and blink to fight back my stinging eyes.
“See you in a few minutes,” I say to his back, watching him walk out just as I hear a burp, a gurgle, and then feel Brody spit up all down my front.
Totally not looking hot now, Amz.
Two hours and two calls to Cade later, when it appears that my spewing exorcist baby has worn himself out and I’m giving him one more feed in his room, Thomas takes the opportunity to jump in the shower to de-vomit himself.
When Brody finally gives up the fight for sleep while nestled into my chest, I put him down in his crib and quickly go to my room to get changed. This plan is good in theory, except for the sound of the bathroom door opening while I’m standing there in nothing but my bra and panties, caught with my shirt mid-removal. And since I wasn’t expecting Thomas to actually see my underwear today, it’s not exactly the sexiest set I own. In fact, point me toward any nursing bras that can be called ‘desirable’ and I might just call you a liar.
I instinctively jerk the rest of the top off with a shriek and come face to face with a towel-clad Thomas wearing nothing but a towel. His dark blond hair shoots off in every possible direction and his bare chest is covered in nothing but stray drops of water.
My mouth waters at the sight and not only that, I’m thirsty—ravenous—with the need to lick away every. Single. Drop.
“Ah, hi . . .” I stutter, clutching my tee to my chest and hoping the girls are covered.
His wide eyes turn warm . . . then hot . . . then scorching as he scans me head to toe and back up again.
Yes, the man may have seen my vagina already, but right now I feel more exposed than ever.
“Looking good there, sweetness,” he says, his voice carrying a rasp that does delicious and almost embarrassing things to my body.
I’m too mesmerized by his hand and the towel and the way he’s drying all of the drops of water from his chest, every swipe a damn shame.
“Amz?” he says, his gaze amused as he watches me and I’m snapped out of my carnal admiration, the reality of the situation seeping in.
“Um . . .” I whisper.
“Fuck you’re adorable.” No, I’m half naked in my bedroom with a half-naked Thomas and the sudden need for some alone time in order to thoroughly enjoy the sight in front of me is overwhelming.
“You do know this is my bedroom right?”
“Yup,” he replies, the corner of his mouth turning up. “I kinda figured Brody was still holding you hostage, but I’m not complaining at the view I get instead.”
I snort and shake my head, my grip on my tee slipping and before I realize, my lace covered girls announce their existence. Thomas’s eyes drop as if drawn by a magnetic boob force field, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard but interestingly doesn’t politely look away.
It’s not like we’re strictly platonic at this stage. We were supposed to have had our second date today, although when I think back to the amount of time Thomas and I have spent together, it’s more like we’ve almost reached the four-month mark.
Heat courses through me and I don’t miss the flash of heat in his eyes matching the wave of awareness sweeping through me. I clear my throat, biting my lip to stop myself from laughing, swooning, and melting into a puddle at his feet all at the same time.
He meets my gaze and I swear his cheeks are a little flushed and not from the shower. “I’ll just go get changed in the other room.”
Right. So he’s removing himself from temptation. Interesting.
“Okay. I’ll be out in a minute. I might just grab a shower myself while I’ve got the chance.”
“Go for it. I’ll listen out for Brodz.” Hearing the half-naked man you’re kind of dating say he’ll help you with your son? Mega whoosh.
But instead of turning for the door and exiting as I expected, he closes the four steps between us and gently rests his hands on my waist, pulling me to him. My bare thighs meet the soft towel wrapped around his hips and the hard—freaking titanium hard—bulge against my stomach is unmistakable. Maybe he wasn’t just boasting about nine inches.
“You okay?”
I nod. Biting my lip to stop anything utterly embarrassing or completely inappropriate from leaving my mouth.
“Can I ask you something? And I’m totally fine if you say no, or aren’t ready yet.” My breath catches in my throat. Ah shit. Surely he’s not going to ask if we can have sex.
“Sure,” I croak out, sounding totally unattractive.
His lips twitch. “Sweetness,” he says softly and I feel his voice caress me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. “I want to stay the night with you and help you out with Brodz if he gets sick again.”
Well doesn’t that cause a whoosh in all the right places.
“I can sleep on the couch. I totally understand if you’re not ready to share a bed with me or if you’re uncomfortable, but—”
I swallow, not wanting to sound like a frog on crack when I reply this time. “That would be good.”
His eyes go warm and he beams down at me. “Thank you, for letting me have this,” he says before dipping his head and placing a gentle kiss on my forehead.
This? What’s this? Staying the night? Peace of mind? Me?
I’m not far off being ready for a ride on the Thomas train but I totally won’t be able to relax if I know my nearly three-month-old son is sick in the room beside us.
“I really need to get in the shower . . .”
He blinks, almost like he expected me to say something else, but recovers just as quickly.
“Sure, sorry,” he says, stepping out of my bubble.
“I’ll just go get dressed while you’re cleaning up.”
“Cool. Yeah, thanks. Um, I’ll be back soon,” I rush out, struggling to keep my breathing even as I walk around him to the dresser, grab a tee and some pajama shorts, and move into the bathroom, shutting the door a bit too quickly to not be completely obvious.
I manage to get through my shower without passing out but the minute I hop out and get dressed, I grab hold of the vanity and stare at myself in the mirror as my brain hits hyper drive.
My legs are shaking, my heart pounding and my body is strung tight.
I’m no virgin, and Thomas is no choirboy going by the strength of his game and his former friend, chlamydia—but there’s been so much build up to this that I’m a nervous wreck.
I used to be unapologetic about my body, my experience, my wants and needs. It’s been so long since I’ve even thought about sex, that now that I’m here, it’s like I’m v-card holder all over again.
I know that the penis goes into the vagina. I know what feels good, what feels great, and what feels fucking phenomenal. I know positions, actions, what hand goes where and that if you hook one leg he can go nice and deep.
But even knowing all of that, I can’t stop my mind from going into freak out mode.
What if it hurts? What if it’s like throwing a sausage down a state highway? What if something goes wrong, the condom breaks, the universe conspires against me and I get knocked up again? What if I’m just a convenient pussy with a pulse? What if he only lasts for three pumps and a dump?
Then I think back to the advice the girls gave me about just letting him know when I’m ready. Maybe not so much of Mia’s ‘touch his dick’ suggestion though. I might not take that direct of an approach.
Shit, what if I do ‘make a move’ and he rebuffs the offer. That would be more than embarrassing.
I’m trying to breathe through my self-imposed panic attack when a gentle knock comes from the closed door behind me. I go completely still, so much so I even stop breathing, a small part of me hoping he’ll suddenly forget that I’m hiding out in the bathroom.
“I can hear your brain working from out here, Amz.”
“I—” I squeak, clearing my throat, “I’m just getting ready for bed.”
“Amz, you forget how well I know you.”
“I’ll be out in a minute,” I reply, thankfully sounding more self-assured than I’m feeling.
The door handle rattles, the only warning I get before the stubborn, beautiful, fantasy man who’s turned me inside out, upside down, and back up again, is standing in the mirror behind me, his eyes soft as they meet mine.
“Stop thinking,” he says, his hands moving to frame my hips as he steps forward and brings his chest flush against my back. “Stop worrying.” He drops his mouth to my bare shoulder and grazes his lips along my skin and up to that magic money spot just below my ear. “We’re just going to sleep, nothing more. I just want to get into bed and literally sleep with you in my arms. Then, if Brody wakes up in the night, I’m here to help you out. It’ll give me peace of mind. Can you give me that, sweetness?”
Now I’m panicking for a different reason. Not because I’m going to be sharing a bed with Thomas. No, it’s more about the fact that he only wants to sleep. There’s no playful banter, no hooded eyes and dark heated looks in the mirror shining back at me. He literally wants to sleep.
How can a hot-blooded man like him not want to do anything?
I mean, I’m hot. I’m sexy. I’m ready to jump back on the horse but now I’m the pent up one and he is the one with self-control.
Is this some parallel universe or something?
My internal freak out is interrupted the moment Thomas links his fingers with mine and pulls me out of the bathroom, leading me toward the bed where he sits and pulls me down, forcing me to straddle his legs and put my knees on the mattress on either side of him.
He looks up at me, his expression one of soft amusement. “You’re adorable when you pout.”
“I’m not p—” His hands circle my waist making my breath catch.
“Don’t ever think I don’t want you, Amz. I’ve waited a long time for you but I want to do this right, and I want to make sure we’re both ready for what it will mean when I’m inside you for the first time.”
“I—” His fingers tense and I stop talking, loving the way his eyes crinkle when I do. I’ve noticed that they always do that when I do something he likes.
“Maybe you’re ready, maybe you’re not, but it needs to be perfect. I want it to be perfect because the one thing you might not know about my vow of abstinence is that I promised myself that the next woman I took to bed would also be the last one.” He lets that hang between us and I’m glad that he does because it kinda says it all.
I’m speechless. Absolutely fucking speechless. What does a woman say to that? I mean, my dating experience pre Brody was pretty epic but I never met someone like Thomas, someone so sure of themselves and what they want, who they want.
And he’s telling me that the last woman he’ll ever sleep with is me.
Me.
Well, heck. He can take all the time in the world then. I’ve got a vibrator, I can take care of business until he’s ready to take care of it for me.
“Yeah,” I whisper, unable to look away from this beautiful man laying it all out there for me.
“Good,” he replies back, just as quietly. He lifts his hands to my face and pulls my mouth down to his for a soul-feeding, heart exploding kiss that cements his words—his vow—in my mind, my body, and everywhere else that may have needed reminding.
Pulling back a touch, he brushes his lips against mine one more time then stays there to whisper, “I’ve locked up the house and turned everything off, so how about we get into bed and catch some sleep before the lord and master of the manor wakes up again.”
Belly flip, pussy quiver and heart thud, all at once.
There’s no way I’ll ever forget this moment or the life-changing whoosh I just experienced. Not on your life.
Not that I’d ever want to anyway.
“Just saying,” I add once we’re both settled underneath the covers, Thomas spooning me from behind. “I can totally take care of myself until you’re ready. Just thought you should know.”
The responding groan I hear from behind me makes up for all my neurotic ramblings earlier.
“Not helping, sweetness,” he says as the evidence of what I’m not helping makes its presence clear against my ass.
“Don’t worry, I won’t need your help. I’ve got everything I need in a perfect seven and a half inch pocket rocket in my drawer.”
“Keep it up and I’ll test out the theory, and sweetness?” he says, nipping my ear, his voice a low growl. “When I say test, I mean thoroughly.”
“Is that a threat or a promise?”
“It’s a goddamn guarantee.”