I find her clit and massage it in small circles until her body is trembling under my touch, her cunt contracting and choking my dick. I lose myself in her, burying my face in her neck, inhaling her sweet scent, tasting her warm flesh. She’s mine. And I’m hers. And fuck if she’ll ever doubt that shit again.
I lift my head and look into her satiated gaze. There’s so much I want to say, but now isn’t the time. Not with me buried in her pussy anyway. So instead, I kiss her softly, keeping us connected for a little while longer.
“I love you,” I murmur against her lips when our kiss comes to an end.
Her entire body sags in relief, and I hate myself for allowing her to doubt that for even a second.
“No matter what happens, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be here.”
She nods but doesn’t say anything back, and that’s okay. I fucked up this last month. Put my grief above her and my son. It’s going to take time, but I’ll show them that I’m not going anywhere. They’re my number one priority, and I’ll make sure they know that.
After we clean up, Savannah grabs the bag of food and sets it on the table, handing me a box and a can of soda and placing hers in front of her. We’re sitting across from each other, but I need to be closer, to touch her and feel her. I can already feel my head starting to fog up again with shit about Dad, and I can’t let that happen.
I walk over to her and lift her off her chair, grabbing the box of food, and bring it with us to the couch, where I situate her on my lap. “What are you doing?” She laughs, the beautiful sound hitting my heart.
“That’s better.” I give her a quick kiss. “You were too far away.”
She opens the box of food, the smell of chicken lo mein wafting in the air, and scrunches her nose. “Ohh, I think it’s bad.” She closes the box back up. “We must’ve had it sitting too long when you distracted me with your dick.”
It doesn’t smell bad to me—in fact, it smells delicious—but when she drops the box onto the table and brushes her lips against mine, rearranging herself to straddle my lap, all thoughts of food evaporate. After all, Savannah is my favorite thing to eat.
“Fuck.” I slam my laptop down and glance at the time. It’s after six, and I need to get going so I can make it home in time for dinner. Savannah and Brody are making pizza—Brody’s favorite thing to make—and I’ll be damned if I miss it again.
“I’ve walked in on you cursing twice in one day. Do you want to talk about it?”
My gaze swings to the doorway, and I find Savannah standing there leaning against the doorframe.
“I was just about to leave. Aren’t you and Brody making dinner?”
“We were supposed to.” She walks farther into my office. “But it’s the last day of school before spring break so he’s going to the movies with his friends, and we’re going to make pizza tomorrow night. And before you freak out, he asked me because he’s been worried about bugging you.”
“Which shouldn’t go through his head,” I argue, feeling like shit. “My son should be able to come to me about anything at any time. We were finally getting somewhere, and now it’s like I’ve pushed us backward twenty damn steps.”
“No, you didn’t. You were grieving. You lost your dad suddenly. Nobody expects you to just bounce back.” She walks around my desk, and I grip the curve of her hips, pulling her in front of me. “We’ll get through this…together.”
“I didn’t even realize Brody had spring break coming up.” I sigh in exhaustion, feeling like a damn failure. “His mom texted she’d like to see him, and now it makes sense. He’s avoiding her again because Ted’s home, but she’s done not seeing him. She wants him to go to her place for a few days. She must know he’s going to be on break. I can’t let him hang out at the house alone, so I’ll probably have him go there or come to work with me.” He’s going to be pissed, but there’s nothing I can do. I’m sure as hell not leaving my fifteen-year-old alone to get into all sorts of trouble—even if he’s been behaving lately.
“I actually took the week off to hang out with him,” she says, shocking the hell out of me. “We can come have lunch with you, and maybe you can take a day off, and we can do something fun.”
“You took off work?”
“Yeah...I hope that’s okay. I didn’t mean to overstep. You’ve just been kind of out of it and—”