“And then Charles Hill reached international success. That must have been really surreal, huh?”
I shook my head. “Not really. It didn’t happen overnight. Believe it or not, The Last Remembering didn’t even blip on anybody’s radars until a year after its release. Since the book’s popularity grew gradually, it all kind of dawned on me slowly. It wasn’t until my publisher called me asking for a full trilogy that I realized how big the series had become.”
“Still, that’s pretty amazing. You said before you were working on something new?”
“Yeah. It’s a big departure from my normal work. But I’ve been suffering from a serious dry spell. I’m half tempted to scrap the whole thing and start from scratch.”
Lara frowned, brows pulling together in concern. “Don’t do that. I’m sure it’s great. I’m sure you weren’t one hundred percent confident The Last Remembering was any good before you published it, right?”
“That’s very true.”
She playfully punched me in the arm. “See? Maybe it’s the exact same with this new book. Don’t give up before you’ve even started.”
“You’re pretty damn wise for someone so young,” I quipped.
“‘I do my very best, Captain Pangstar.’”
I smiled wide, a giddy pressure building up in my chest. “Did you just quote my book at me?”
“Maybe,” she giggled. “Maybe not. Was it true that you based the space pirate Mauright on an old lover? I happened to catch that theory on an old sub-Reddit.”
I laughed loudly, clapping my hand over my mouth upon remembering Clarissa was just on the other side of the wall. “Yes,” I replied. “On my wife, Sandy.”
Lara’s shoulders slumped, the cheery smile on her lips falling with them. “Oh,” was all she could manage.
“My ex-wife,” I corrected quickly. “Sandy’s my ex-wife. Sorry. I’m still not used to calling her that.”
A little flicker of hope relit Lara’s eyes. “Oh?”
“Our divorce was finalized in October. You probably don’t want to hear about it.”
“I do,” she said a little too quickly. “I mean. If you want to tell me, of course. Whatever you’re comfortable with. I’m sorry to hear that. About the divorce, I mean. Am I rambling? I feel like I’m rambling.”
I smiled, daring to reach out for a brief moment to tuck a strand of Lara’s hair behind her ear. I adored the way her face flushed red when I pulled my hand away, a look of shock on bashful surprise written in her expression. “It’s okay,” I said. “I like it when you ramble.”
“You do?”
“Yes. I think it’s cute.”
Maybe it was the wine talking. Maybe it was the way Lara wouldn’t stop staring at my lips, her tongue mischievously darting along her own like a tempting lure. Without a second thought, I leaned in to kiss her, savoring the surprised gasped that managed to escape her before our mouths came together. Her lips were incredibly soft, and I didn’t much mind the taste of alcohol and pan-fried pork dumplings on her tongue. The only thing I cared about in that moment was the way Lara dropped her chopsticks onto the kitchen island and immediately grabbed at my shirt collar, simultaneously pulling me in close and refusing to let go. She was the one to deepen the kiss, curious tongue poking into my mouth to meet my own. Lara hummed, satisfied, as I carefully ran my fingers through her soft hair and dragged my hand across the top of her thigh.
It had been so long since I’d felt this way. Thrilled, excited and alive. I’d wasted so much time and effort on Sandy that I’d completely forgotten what it was like to feel like a person. I’d spent years at Sandy’s every beck and call, trying to please her –which I now realized was an impossible task from the start. Her expectations had been too high, and Sandy never really worked with me to find equal ground, level footing. But Lara wasn’t like that. Lara really was sweet and curious and kind. She seemed as happy to be kissing me as I was with her. Maybe, just maybe, opening up to her was a good idea. Maybe I could find the courage to pursue something with her, after all.
I was eager to get closer to her, to greedily touch her and get to know her gentle curves. I stood up from my stool and tilted my head down, not once removing my mouth from hers. Lara instinctively tilted her head back to continue to kiss me, her small, dainty hands roaming about my chest. I felt like a foolish teenager, much too turned on and way too clumsy and rushed. But Lara didn’t seem to care. She continued to kiss me, her long lashes brushing against my face as her warm breath heated my skin. One of her hands eventually worked its way down to the front of my pants, teasing the hard bulge that was forming there. I stifled a moan, unintentionally leaning into her touch for more.
“Daddy?”
Lara jumped back instantly, cheeks turning beet red as Clarissa wandered out of her room, rubbing sleep from her eyes with the backs of her hands. I cleared my throat and sat down quickly, crossing my legs to conceal my arousal.
I let out a shaky breath, “Baby? What are you doing up?”
“I’m thirsty. Can I have a glass of water?”
I looked to Lara in concern. She nodded, as though she understood I was in no condition to get up and help my daughter.
“I can get it for you, sweetie,” she said gently. Lara held her hand out for Clarissa to take. They made their way over to the kitchen sink where Lara then grabbed a fresh glass from the cupboard to her right before pouring my daughter a drink. “There you go, sweetie. Now, go to bed.”
“Goodnight, Lara,” Clarissa mumbled sleepily. “Goodnight, Daddy.”