Lazarus

The water sprays down on her back, and as I rub soap onto her shoulders, a melody comes into my mind. I begin to sing, making up the words as I go along.

She turns around. “You have a beautiful voice. Why don't you sing anymore?”

“I don't know,” I answer honestly. “Sometimes, your muse leaves you, and sometimes. it takes a while before you find it again. I can't sing unless I feel inspired.”

She smiles. “Are you saying I inspire you?”

“You’ve inspired me twice already tonight.” I wiggle my eyebrows as I continue to lather up her shoulders.

“You’re so dirty.” She giggles.

“And you like it, so I think that makes you as filthy-minded as I am.” I give her my most wicked grin.

She leans in and kisses my lips. “Only when it comes to you.”

I kiss her back. “And it had better always stay that way.”

Her arms snake around my neck. “Seriously, though, you should sing again. Your voice is amazing.”

The feel of her naked body against mine feels so right.

“Maybe I will if you’re game for doing a song with me. I think we could be great together.”

Her fingers trace the hairline along my neck. “Me too.”

The water beats down against my back as we remain locked in one another’s arms. This woman is stirring so much emotion within me; I feel like I’m floating on a damn cloud when she looks at me with those big brown eyes. I’m feeling things—things I didn’t think were possible for me to experience again. My heart ... I’ve done my best to protect it because the women I have loved, my mothers and Jenna, have all died, leaving me crushed. It’s difficult for me to open up, but Drea … She makes me want to. I want her to know me—the real me—because I think I’m falling for her. She makes me want to sing.

She bites her lower lip, and I see the unmistakable lust in her eyes. I crush my lips to her, loving the way she tastes. Water rolls over my shoulders and down my chest. Small puddles form where her puckered nipples rub against my skin.

My cock throbs, aching to get back inside that sweet pussy of hers, and my erection presses against her stomach.

She pulls back and smiles. “Again? You’re insatiable.”

I shrug as I cradle her face in my hands. “What can I say? You’re addictive.”

She stares up at me. “I am?”

My fingers trace her face. “Oh, yeah.”

The mood between us shifts from playful to serious as my hands slide down her smooth back to the curve of her toned ass. I press her back against the cool tile wall, grip the back of her thigh, and hoist her leg around my hip. Her hands snake into my hair, and it’s clear to me that I’m never going to get enough of this woman.

She’s one addiction I never want to give up.

* * *

Having Drea in my bed is quickly becoming my new obsession. This is dangerous on so many levels, but I don’t care. I want her, and she’s good for me. I’m going to explain what’s going on to Peter before anyone else has the chance to. Maybe if he understands this isn’t a game for me—that I have real feelings for this woman—then he’ll back off on his reservations of me being involved with a girl in the group.

My issues, though, are so minor compared to what Drea is wrestling with. I don’t like seeing her upset.

“You still thinking about Carlos?” I ask as I play with a strand of her thick brown hair.

She rolls her head over on the pillow so she can stare at me. “Carlos is my biggest fear. Him finding out about our son—it gives me nightmares. I'll do whatever it takes to keep him from finding him. I don't want him to disrupt my son’s life.”

“Is there any way he can find out about him? I mean, can he find where he is?”

She shrugs. “I don't know. I guess anything is possible, but I did list father unknown on my son's birth certificate. Carlos would have to go through a lot to get to him. It would take a lot of time and money, and honestly, I don’t think Carlos really cares that he has a son. I think all this is mainly about getting back at me, but it still scares me that he might really try to track our son down and do something crazy.”

Thinking about what she said, I have a question pop into my mind. “Do you know where your son is?”

She rolls her head back so she can stare straight up at the ceiling as she thinks about what I've just asked. “Yes and no.”

“What do you mean?”

She sighs. “I mean, I could know more about him, but I feel like it’s best to leave things alone, you know?”

“You aren’t the least bit curious to find out about him?”

“I think about him every day,” she whispers. “But when I gave him up, I gave away my right to know things about him. I don’t want to confuse him. I want him to be a normal kid with one mom. Me staying away, it's what's best for him.”

“Says who? I would’ve loved to have my birth mother in my life.” I pause as I think about all the different types of adoptions. “It sounds like you had an open adoption—one that you could see the kid if you want to since the birth parents send letters.”

“How do you know so much about this?”

My lips pull into a tight line. “Adopted, remember? I've done my fair share of internet searches on adoptions. I know that closed adoptions are rare in this day and age and that most birth parents have some type of communication with her biological child if they want to.”

“In a perfect world, that would be ideal, but given the situation and who his father is, staying away is what's best for him. If I poke around too much, Carlos might catch wind of where our son is, and I can’t have that. Carlos is crazy and unpredictable, and I don’t want him anywhere near our son. I won’t put him in danger like that.”

My heart breaks for this beautiful woman. Anyone can see how much love she has for the little boy and how badly it hurts her not to have any contact with him because of who his father is. I wish it didn’t have to be this way for her. I wish I could fix it for her, but I can’t. The only thing I can do is respect her wishes and be there for her when she feels sad, reminding her I’m living proof adoptive children can have enough love in their heart for two mothers.