Before Him

“But he was excited,” she agrees, lowering herself to the pillow next to mine. A happy ember flickers to life in my chest. I can’t wait to get used to this, to take it for granted, even. Pillow talk after sex. Chatting in bed just because we can. The day’s moments shared, worries and fears to be kissed away. Lazy Sunday morning sex, Tuesday night love-ins, Thursday night cuddles, and all the moments that come between. Domesticity has never sounded so enticing.

“I asked him half a dozen times if he was okay with spending the day with you. He was so excited, Roman.”

I wonder if she would’ve said so if not for this moment. It still means the world that she has.

“You raised an amazing kid. You know that, right?”

“I’m not sure I had anything to do with it.” She ducks her head, denying me the sight of her pleasure. “He seemed to come preprogrammed.”

“Yeah, because that’s how parenting works. No input at all on these pre-programmed little tackers. Anyway.” I slide my fingers through hers and stare at them for a bit. “I asked the boy Wilder if he didn’t feel comfortable being alone with me. I was gonna offer to spend the day hanging out in the coffee shop with him,” I say, raising my gaze again. “I would’ve sat in a bath of cold beans if that’s what he wanted.”

“Never give him that option,” she says with a watery laugh. “What boy doesn’t love a weird experiment?”

“He’s amazing. He told me he was worried you might feel left out.”

“Oh,” she murmurs, her eyes glossing over. “Our boy.”

That ember in my chest, it fucking glows.

“I promise I’ll be long gone before he wakes,” I say, cupping her cheek. “Just let me take care of you for a little while.”

“I think I’ve taken all the caring I can take.” There’s humour and a little naughtiness in her reply.

“I don’t know. I’m sure you could take a little more . . . just for me. The only problem is,” I growl, shoving my hand behind my head and stretching out, “is that I don’t think I have anything left to give.”

“All evidence points otherwise. Literally.” I follow her pointed finger to my sheet-covered chub.

“Oh, well.” I push out the words on a sigh before springing upwards and pouncing on her. “If you fancy rolling over, I reckon I could give it a try.”

She fights a giggle and loses, the sound seeping into her reply. “Might you now?”

“I’d give it a crack.”

“Is the front version a little old-school for you now?”

She is so easy to rile. You know what else is easy? Or who? Me. I was content to stroke her skin and twirl her hair until she fell asleep in my arms, but as she fastens her hand in my hair and yanks my head back, my cock springs fully to life, and I turn into a rumbling, groaning mess of fuck, yesssss.

“I—” Eyes wide, she immediately lets go of my hair, obviously not sure what to make of the noise. Maybe I sound a bit like a motorbike on the fritz.

“I’ll never tire of looking at you,” I assert, sliding my arm under her. “And while getting you on your back is my favourite pastime ever, the rear view—” She squeaks as I flip her over, pulling her body under mine. “The rear view is also sublime. Because of these.” With my hands on her hips, I duck down to swirl my tongue around the dimples I’ve been dreaming of since our wedding night. For the return journey, I paint a wet streak of want along her spine.

Now, who sounds like a broken motorbike?

Turns out, we do have the energy for another round.

* * *

I promised I’d leave before Wilder woke, and though I only closed my eyes for five minutes, I find myself still in Kennedy’s bed as the sun begins to crawl across the room. I guess it’s a good thing the kid is a heavy sleeper, not an early riser. If he’d been like Flynn’s kids, he’d be using my nut sack for a trampoline before I’d peeled my lids from my eyeballs. I’m an early riser myself. I like to get a morning run or workout in first thing, so I reckon Wilder must take after Kennedy when it comes to sleeping because she hasn’t stirred either. I mean, I guess I’ll have plenty of opportunity in the future to examine my hypothesis because maybe last night just wore her out. Either way, as far as she’s concerned, I kept my word. Even if dawn has already broken as I steal from her bedroom.

I feel the creak of the door in my ribs as I pull it open, but when she doesn’t stir, I creep out. Shoes in hand, I tiptoe along the hallway and down the stairs. A quick traverse through the kitchen and—