“You caught me coming out of the shower so I just threw this on,” I admit sheepishly, reveling in the caress of his fingertips over my bare curves.
A soft curse slips from his lips. Reaching up, he pushes my spaghetti straps off my shoulders. The light cotton falls to the floor, leaving me completely naked.
“I think I want to catch you coming out of the shower more often.” He steps back to admire my body.
My heart is racing. With his words, with the way his eyes touch me.
But the bastard went and bought the Gingerbread House for me! And stole my sketches!
I steel my jaw. “I’m still furious with you.”
The corners of his mouth twitch. He reaches over his head to grab the back of his T-shirt and peel it off. “Better?”
“No,” I deny, trying to maintain my stern face as I shamelessly stare at his broad, firm chest.
“Fine.” His hands make quick work of his belt buckle and zipper, unfastening them to hang open, revealing the prominent bulge beneath. He fishes a condom from his pocket.
“What are you doing?”
His brow quirks playfully. “I’ll give you . . . three guesses.”
A deep throb begins to ache between my legs as I watch him tear the foil between his teeth and, untucking his hard length from his briefs, sheath himself. “But we can’t. Not here.”
Gripping my backside, he lifts me up to pin me against the wall and guides my legs around his hips. His lips settle on my collarbone. “Why not?”
“How will you . . .” My words fall off with my sharp inhale as he pushes into me. “What about your leg?”
“All my weight’s on my good one.”
“It’s strong enough?”
His deep chuckle vibrates inside my chest. “You really have no idea what kind of endurance I have, do you?”
I have noticed he doesn’t tire easily . . .
He sinks deeper into me. “Still mad at me?”
“Furious,” I whisper, unable to keep the soft moan from slipping out.
His muscles cord beneath my fingertips as he thrusts into me.
And all thoughts besides how intensely I care for this man are swiftly pushed aside.
Chapter 32
“If the door is closed, you have to knock,” I say slowly, hoping that hearing it for a third time will make it finally sink in.
“But I didn’t know he’d be changing!” Her bottom lip wobbles.
There’s no point reminding Brenna that only three minutes before she strolled in on Brett naked in my bedroom, she had watched him walk out of the shower in nothing but a towel and I specifically told her not to go into my room. “It’s okay.” I push a lock of frizzy hair off her forehead. Unlike my fine strands, which stay poker straight no matter what season, the summer humidity wreaks havoc on Brenna’s curls. “But now you know, right?” And now I know that we need to install a lock.
She bobs her head up and down. Then frowns. “But what if you’re in there, too?”
Then you definitely don’t barge in. “If the door is closed, you knock. And wait.”
She pauses. “Is Brett going to be staying here all summer?”
“He’ll probably be here a lot, yeah.” I haven’t told her about the Gingerbread House yet. I’m not sure how to begin to explain that.
“Why?”
“Because I like spending time with him. And I think he likes spending time with us.” I pinch her nose. “And you like it when he’s here, too, remember? You’re the one who kept asking about him.”
Her mouth pouts. “But I don’t like that I can’t cuddle with you at night when he’s here.”
“Aren’t you getting a bit old for that? Don’t forget that you’re turning six in five days!” I say, even as I tell myself that I’ll willingly curl up in bed with her no matter how old she is.
“Are we going to Diamonds for my birthday again?”
I smile. Breakfast at the diner for Brenna’s birthday has become a tradition. Some of the regulars even show up with small gifts for her. “Leroy’s already talking about the special waffles he’s going to make you.”
“Yay! What else are we going to do for my birthday?”
“I’m not sure yet. It’ll be a surprise. And I know things are changing a little bit. But it’s all in the best way.” I shut off the light. “Good night.”
Brett’s lying in my bed when I get to my room. And he doesn’t look particularly happy.
“What’s wrong?”
With a sigh, he holds his phone out. “Simone just sent me this.”
I crawl in next to him.
A picture of Brett and me kissing on my front porch fills the screen, with the caption, “Brett Madden Falls in Love with Good Samaritan.”
I try to ignore the way my heart stutters at the love part. “This is from three days ago.” I’m in my pink sundress. “How the hell did they . . .” My stomach sinks with realization. “That little asshole, Gibby!” He was back there cleaning up when Brett came. He must have taken the picture. “How did he even know who to sell it to?”
“Somebody probably left their number at Rawley’s, told him to call if he got a money shot.”
I sink into my pillow with a resigned sigh. “Please tell me I’m not back to security guards and photographers hovering around my driveway at all hours of the day and night.”
“No. I don’t think it’ll turn into that again.” Brett sets his phone onto my nightstand. “But you and Brenna should come and stay with me.”
“It’s too far, Brett. My family’s here, my job—”
“Not in Philly. Here, at the house. I told you I was gonna live there.”
“I thought you were kidding.”
“I have no reason to be in Philly right now. I can drive in for doctor and physical therapy appointments.” He rolls onto his side to study me. “So? What do you think?”
“But what will Brenna say? I mean, all of a sudden we’re living at the Gingerbread House, with you—”
“And a dog.”
“Stop it! I’m being serious.”
“So am I.”
I shake my head. “And a dog. Even better.”
“I don’t see the problem. She’ll love it.”
“Exactly.” I stare at my ceiling. “She’ll fall in love with the house and the dog. She’s already completely enamored with you.”
“Can’t blame her.”
He’s making jokes and I’m smiling, but it’s not really funny. “You can’t give something like that to a kid and then take it away.”
Brett frowns. “Who’s gonna take it away?”
“I don’t know. Life. Reality.”
The whirl of my noisy secondhand fan fills the long moment of silence in my room. And then calloused fingers seize my chin, steering me back to face his aqua-blue eyes. “Are you planning on going somewhere?”
“No.” Never.
“Well, then, I don’t know what you’re worried about.”
He doesn’t get it. “I’m a mother. I always have to worry about the consequences. I can’t do things on a whim.”
“This isn’t on a whim. Trust me, I like to weigh things out, too. And no one’s taking anything away from anyone. Got it?” He leans in to press his lips against my mouth. “I want you and Brenna to stay with me at the house. Tell her it’s just for a week or two, if that makes you feel better.”
I sigh. “What about her birthday? We always have breakfast at Diamonds, but I don’t want to bring her there if there are photographers again.”