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  She looked up at me, and laughed softly as her tongue swept over my crown. “Want something?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let me hear it. You promised to talk to me, remember?” Her breath was warm on my skin. She gave me one more lick, a long, circular stroke, like you do with a dripping ice cream cone on a hot day. “Tell me what you want.”

  I might have laughed in surprise if I hadn’t been so wound up. She wanted me to talk dirty to her? No problem. “I want your mouth on my cock, and I want it now.”

  “So demanding,” she teased, but she gave me what I wanted, opening her lips and sliding down about a third of the way before coming up and then doing it again.

  “All the way,” I said gruffly. “I want to feel my cock hit the back of your throat.”

  She went farther this time, about halfway, and stayed there, using her hands to pump up and down while she sucked. It felt so good I could have come in a heartbeat, but I still wanted to see her take it all.

  “Deeper,” I commanded, using my hands now to guide her—not too rough, but enough for me to assume some control. “Oh, fuck yeah, like that…” I watched more of my cock disappear into her mouth, felt the tip bottom out. She struggled for a moment, and I listened carefully to her sounds to make sure she could breathe. I didn’t want to choke her.

  Not yet, anyway.

  But I couldn’t stay in control for long, not the way she was sucking and stroking me, not the way her hands were working, not the way she kept glancing up at me with those big eyes, like she loved the way I tasted, couldn’t get enough of my cock, wanted me to come just like that, hot and hard, right down the back of her throat. I was so fucking close—my hands were fisted tight in her hair, my dick was like steel, all the muscles in my lower body were humming.

  Any other time, any other woman, maybe even any other night, I’d have done it.

  But I wanted something else tonight.

  I lifted her head off me.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked breathlessly.

  “Nothing. I just don’t want this to end yet.” I stood, pulling her to her feet, and doing away with her pajama pants and underwear. I ditched my jeans too, but not before grabbing a condom from my wallet. “And you’re too fucking good. I wasn’t going to last.”

  “Good,” she said, laughing as I sat down again and pulled her onto my lap, her thighs straddling mine. She rolled the condom on like she’d done last time while I licked two fingers and reached between her legs, gliding my wet fingertips over her clit. Her mouth fell open. She grasped my shoulders and rocked her hips over my hand. I slipped my fingers easily inside her—she was already wet from blowing me, which was so fucking hot—and she moaned as she sank down lower, hungry for more. I brought her to orgasm just like that, spellbound as I watched her skin flush and her head fall back and her body shiver.

  A moment later, I was easing her onto my cock, hoping I had the strength to last long enough to make her come again. But it felt so fucking good to be inside her, to watch her ride me with reckless abandon, to smell sex and summer on her skin.

  When I was so close to the breaking point I knew it was a matter of seconds, not minutes, I flexed my hips and held her tight to my body, concentrating on finding that spot deep inside her that would make her lose control. I knew I had found it when I felt her hands tighten around my biceps, saw the stunned expression on her face, heard her sounds change from rapid gasps to a low, breathless murmur… oh my God oh my God oh my God.

  She went stiff, her eyes closed, and her mouth formed a perfect O. It was all I needed. I gave myself over to pure animalistic greed, gripping her hips and moving my body and hers solely to serve my pleasure before erupting inside her, my cock surging again and again and again.

  Afterward, I pulled her in close and held her still for a moment. Her arms came around me, and she cradled my head against her chest. And it was the weirdest fucking thing ever, but as my heart rate came down, my throat tightened up. What the hell was going on with me? For a few terrifying seconds, I thought I was going to embarrass myself and start blubbering like a fucking baby. I couldn’t breathe.

  My gut instinct was to get away from her. Get up. Get rid of the condom and say goodnight. My usual routine.

  But I didn’t do it. I stayed right there in her arms until the feeling passed, and my lungs were functioning normally again. My throat was clear.

  It was Emme who got up first. “Be right back,” she said, hurrying into the downstairs bathroom.

  I went upstairs, cleaned up, threw on a pair of athletic pants, checked on Paisley, and came back down. Emme was back in her underwear and T-shirt, pulling on her pants. I sat on the couch. “Come here.”

  Smiling, she sat down and cuddled close, tossing her legs across my lap and laying her head on my chest.

  “Are you tired?” I asked her.

  “A little. You?”

  “A lot. But I haven’t talked to you in days and I want to hear your voice. Tell me about the job offer. And did Coco have the baby?”

  While she talked, she rubbed my bare chest with her fingertips. She told me about the conversation with her cousin, about how Coco had gone into labor right there at the table, and about how she was pretty much running the business herself this week.

  “No wonder Mia wants you up there,” I said, giving her a squeeze. “You’re a pro. And even though I’m selfish and I hope you’ll say no, I understand that it’s a great opportunity and I would support you if you decided to take it.”

  “Thanks.” She looked up at me and smiled. “That means a lot to me. Now it’s your turn. Tell me things.”

  Reminding myself that it was okay to appear less than perfect in her eyes, that she actually wanted that, I opened up about Monday’s visit to the office and how it had affected me. “It’s hard enough dealing with my own negative feelings about suddenly being a father,” I admitted. “Hearing other people’s made it ten times worse.”

  She was furious. “Why would people say those things to you? How can people be so horrible?”

  “They were being honest, I guess.”

  “Fuck that. Honesty is not an excuse for rudeness. If you don’t have something nice to say…”

  I kissed the top of her head. “You’re so cute.”

  We sat in silence for a moment, then she tilted her face toward mine, a smile on her lips. “Did you really think I wouldn’t see through that whole ‘returning your containers’ thing?”

  I grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, I guess that was sort of transparent.”

  “It was totally transparent. If I hadn’t been so upset with you, I would have laughed.”

  I brushed the hair back from her face. “You know I’m probably still going to fuck up from time to time. Say stupid shit. Act like a dick. Try to push you away.”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “Don’t let me.” I held her closer, pressed my lips to her forehead. “Don’t let me.”

  Thirteen

  Emme

  Four days later I met my sisters for Sunday brunch at PARC in Campus Martius downtown.

  “Good morning,” I chirped as I slid into the booth along the wall next to Stella. Across the table, Maren gave me a smile.

  “Morning,” she said. “You look nice. Is that a new blouse?”

  “Thanks. It is new, actually.” Nate had bought it for me yesterday during our shopping excursion at Partridge Creek. His mother had canceled their planned visit last minute, something about not feeling up to having guests, and even though he’d pretended not to be upset about it, I could tell that he was. I suggested the afternoon shopping trip as a way to get him and Paisley out of the apartment and into the sunshine. It had been a gorgeous couple of days—warm and sunny, temperatures in the mid sixties even though the official start of spring was still a few days away.

  “It’s really pretty,” said Stella. “You don’t normally wear a lot of patterns.”

  The blouse was floral patterned silk chiffon, a rose pri
nt on a sheer white background. Very springy and romantic. I lifted my shoulders. “Guess I’m branching out a little bit. Changing up my style.”

  “It’s more than the blouse.” Maren was studying me with a sister’s critical eye. “There’s something different about you. You’re glowing.”

  “Am I?” I pretended to study the menu.

  Stella leaned around me, trying to get a better look at my face. “Yes. What’s going on with you?”

  “Let me get something to drink and I’ll tell you.” I signaled a server and put in an order for a glass of champagne.

  “Ooh, that sounds good. I’ll join you,” said Maren.

  “Me too,” said Stella.

  While we waited for our drinks, I looked at the menu for real. I had never been here before, but everything sounded scrumptious. Or maybe it was just my good mood.

  The server returned after a minute with our glasses of bubbly, promising to come back shortly to take our order.

  “Okay, spill,” Stella said as soon as we were alone again.

  “Yes. Why are you glowing?” Maren asked.

  “First, a toast. To spring!” I raised my glass. “A time of rebirth and awakening.”

  They exchanged a look as we clinked. “She’s having sex with someone,” said Stella.

  “Good sex,” added Maren.

  I leaned forward dramatically. “Amazing sex,” I clarified. “Four nights of the most amazing sex you can possibly imagine.”

  Maren groaned with envy. “Nate?”

  “Yes.” I took a sip of my champagne—it was delicious, possibly the best thing I had ever tasted.

  “So tell us what happened,” said Stella, shifting impatiently next to me in the booth. “When we saw you last Sunday, you were all we’re just friends about it.”

  I laughed. “Well, that was true, but then I went over there later that night.”

  Maren was on the edge of her seat. “And?”

  “And things got unexpectedly and very decidedly more than friendly.” I leaned even closer to them and whispered. “I had two.”

  “Two?” Stella questioned, like she didn’t quite believe it.

  “Two.”

  “I’ve heard that’s possible, but no one I know has ever verified it,” Maren said.

  I took another sip, delighted with the way the bubbles danced on my tongue. “Consider it verified.”

  “How did you even manage it with the baby and all?” Stella wondered.

  “We were on the couch that time, and she was sleeping upstairs. I don’t know how we didn’t wake her up, but thankfully we didn’t.”

  The server came back over, and we put in our orders—Stella went for shrimp and polenta, Maren ordered the omelette, and I chose the cinnamon roll bread pudding. I didn’t even feel guilty about it. I’d worked out four times this week, and besides, I figured Nate and I were burning at least a couple hundred calories a night.

  “Okay, keep going,” Maren prodded.

  “Okay, so after that first time, he got a little weird. I mean, not that night—that night he was fine and when I left, everything felt good between us. He basically admitted he felt something for me, but he’s got this thing about needing people. He doesn’t want to need anybody, and he doesn’t want anybody to need him. I babysat for him the following morning, and I could tell something was wrong. He was kind of aloof and indifferent.”

  “Did you ask him why?” Stella looked curious.

  “No, because I sort of knew why. He was scared.”

  “So what did you do?” Maren asked.

  “Actually, nothing. I wasn’t happy about it, but I figured there was no point in pursuing him if he wasn’t interested in taking a chance with me, so I let it go. And we went almost three days without even talking or seeing each other.”

  “You let it go?” The look on Maren’s face told me how surprised she was, and admittedly, in the past I probably would have gone over there to pick a fight or at least demand to know what I had done wrong.

  “I did,” I confirmed with a shrug. “I felt like it was his issue, and he needed to work it out on his own.”

  “Wow.” She sat back, her expression thoughtful and a little impressed. “Very Zen of you, Emme. You didn’t even call us to vent about it. The blouse really isn’t the only thing that’s new.”

  “Thank you.” I wasn’t going to mention that the biggest reason I didn’t call them to vent was because I didn’t want them to say I-told-you-so about Nate just using me as Nanny McFuck across the hall. “I’m really trying to do things differently with Nate. I’ve made so many mistakes in the past by either choosing the wrong guys, or expecting too much too soon, and blaming myself when they let me down. I don’t want to do that this time.”

  “That’s great,” said Stella. “You sound very healthy.”

  “I feel it. I mean, I didn’t for the few days we weren’t speaking, but he showed up at my door Wednesday night with the baby in a sling on his chest and these plastic containers of mine in his hand, pretending he just wanted to return them.” I laughed, shaking my head. “It was so obvious what he was doing.” I told them about our argument and how I’d stood up for myself. “It was scary, because I knew I risked alienating him completely, but I was looking at him and I could see that he didn’t believe the bullshit he was giving me. He was just scared and too stubborn to admit it.” I shrugged. “So I called him out on it. I figured I had nothing to lose.”

  The server appeared with our plates and set them down in front of us. When she was gone, Stella patted my leg beneath the table. “I’m really proud of you. That took guts.” She picked up her knife and fork and began cutting a piece of shrimp. “It’s not easy to change your relationship habits, but I’m so glad to see you realize you deserve more.”

  I smiled. “Thanks. I felt proud of myself, too. Although when he turned around and stormed out, I burst into tears. That wasn’t too Zen of me. But it only took him a few minutes to realize his mistake and knock on my door again.” Picking up my spoon, I giggled. “Of course, it helped that he had locked himself out of his apartment.”

  Maren laughed. “See? The universe heard you and arranged everything.”

  “Or he was so distracted by his conflicting feelings, he simply forgot the key,” said Stella wryly. “He’s only human, after all.”

  “Not when it comes to sex,” I said under my breath before digging my spoon into the bread pudding and licking it clean. “I’m convinced he has some kind of superpower when it comes to orgasms.”

  Both my sisters sighed loudly. “How are you not waking the baby?” Maren asked.

  “Well, we did wake her Thursday night,” I admitted. I had gone over to his apartment after my event at the MGM, even though it had been almost midnight. Not that we wasted any time—we were naked on his living room floor within ten minutes of my arrival, our clothing flung all over the room. When we were done (didn’t take long), Nate had rug burns on his knees, I found my bra hanging off a lamp, and we’d been anything but quiet. It took Nate half an hour to get her back to sleep after that.

  Friday night, we’d done it in the kitchen, me still in my work clothes and Nate behind me with his hand clamped over my mouth. I had a bruise on the front of my hip where it kept banging into the edge of the counter, but Nate had been completely unapologetic, claiming it was my fault for coming over in a little black dress and heels without my underwear on. However, when I’d shown him it was still there last night, he’d dropped to his knees and kissed it softly.

  “So do you spend the night there?” Stella wondered.

  “No,” I said. “He always asks if I want to stay, but the baby sleeps in his room. I feel like three might be a little crowded in there, and I had to get up for work pretty early every day last week. Did I tell you Coco had her baby?”

  They wanted to hear all about that, and about how Mia was doing as well.

  “She’s doing great,” I said, licking some maple crème anglaise from my finger. “Actu
ally, she offered me a job up there.”

  My sister stared at me.

  “Really?” Stella said. “At the winery?”

  I told them what her offer entailed, and that I was tempted by it but had asked for some time to think it over. “It might be nice for a change, and I do like that area, but…” Swirling the last of my champagne around in the bottom of my glass, I shrugged. “This thing with Nate feels really good. I know it’s only the beginning, and in the past my instincts have not been the greatest, but I’m hopeful. I really think he might be what I’ve been looking for.”

  They didn’t say anything right away, which was a little disconcerting. Finally Stella spoke. “That’s great, Emme. As long as you’re being careful and keeping perspective on things, why not take time to think over the offer? I think that’s smart to keep the option open awhile.”

  “Me too,” echoed Maren.

  “Thanks.” Then I sighed. “The one thing I wish is that we were able to have, like, an actual date. Go out for dinner or something.” I wrinkled my nose, dropping my eyes to the napkin in my lap. “But with the baby, it’s hard. And I don’t want to whine about it. He finally seems like he’s getting used to the idea that he’s a father, and that it’s for life. Like, this is not a temporary thing that’s going to go away once Paisley’s mom decides to show up again.”

  “Has she been in touch?” Stella asked.

  I shook my head. “Nope. Not since that one phone call.”

  “What’s he going to do then?” Maren asked. “Will they share custody?”

  “I assume so.” I nodded, picking up my spoon and poking at my meal again, but I didn’t really feel like eating anymore. The truth was, Nate was kind of evasive on the subject of joint custody or a more permanent arrangement for Paisley once the month was up. I’d asked him only yesterday if he was planning to get a bigger apartment or maybe even buy a house with a backyard somewhere, and he’d sort of grunted that he was thinking about it but hadn’t really seemed too willing to discuss it.

  I hadn’t pressed the issue—it wasn’t really my business, and I was learning with Nate that it was better to let him decide when it was time to open up about things rather than poking and prodding at him. He didn’t respond well to pressure. But he was working on sharing more about himself with me. Yesterday as we’d walked around Partridge Creek, pushing Paisley in the stroller, he’d talked a little bit about his mom and her anxiety, her bouts of agoraphobia and obsessive-compulsive tendencies. It was the most he’d ever talked to me about such a personal subject, and I’d listened attentively, swallowing all the questions I had. I wanted him to feel like he could talk to me without being judged or analyzed or evaluated for relationship potential. It was not about that. It was about him feeling comfortable enough with himself to show me part of what he normally buried. It was about trust.