“We’ve been through so much shit. You cannot tell me after all of that, you’ve got insecurities about Kiersten.”
Dahlia shook her head. “I didn’t think so. Maybe the dream was more about the kid.” She seemed to hedge and then took a deep breath. It sounded shaky, which made him nervous. “Do you still want kids? With me?”
Honestly, it was something he hadn’t thought about in a long time. But it wasn’t something he needed to deliberate over. The answer was clear. And the thought filled him with so much anticipation, he almost couldn’t stand it. “I want that.” His voice was thick with emotion.
Her smile was slow and a little wobbly. “I gave up on that dream a long time ago because I never wanted marriage and kids unless it was with you. I’m not saying we have to rush into it … I just wanted to know that it’s an option for us.”
He kissed her hard, leaning his forehead against hers. “It’s definitely an option for us.”
They were silent a moment, drinking in the idea of that beautiful future.
Then she whispered, “Do you hear from her? Kiersten? Ever?”
“Nope.” He answered. “When she said she wanted out, she meant completely.”
“Is that not weird for you? Even a little? You did spend four years with her.”
Michael thought about it, knowing his answer mattered more than he wished it did. Finally, he said, “It feels like a weird dream or another life. Nothing feels as real as you.”
I knew my dream about Michael’s ex-wife was only a stupid dream. After the traumas we’d been through, his ex-wife would not be another. But subconsciously, I must’ve worried if it was as easy for Michael to let go of that relationship as he’d let on.
Maybe it was callous of me, but I was glad he’d let Kiersten go as easily as he had. After spending three months living with him, knowing the joy of it—even when he irritated me with his neatness and healthy eating—I was possessive of this knowledge. I hated that another woman had it.
I wanted to erase her from his memory, and that was selfish and Neanderthal-like—and I didn’t care one iota.
His sweet words of assurance melted through me, as did the knowledge that one day we’d have kids. That stoked a fire in me that was unexpected, but welcome. I rose over him, swinging my leg across his opposite hip to straddle him. I ignored the twinge in my shoulder.
“What are you doing?” Michael’s voice was hoarse as he gripped my waist.
Schooling my expression, I lifted my T-shirt over my head and stoically avoided flinching at a bite of pain in my shoulder. I wasn’t wearing a bra, so I was good to go.
Michael’s hot eyes fell on my breasts, and his hands flexed against my waist. “Dahlia,” he said, “fooling around only.”
I shook my head, so ready to have him inside me, I couldn’t even stand it. “The bases are wonderful. Phenomenal even. But I’m ready for that home run.” Slipping my hands between us, I pushed at the sheets around his waist.
Michael grabbed my hands to halt me. “Your shoulder.”
“Is much better.” I leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his gorgeous mouth. He’d shaved off his beard three days ago, and I couldn’t decide whether I missed it or
loved seeing all of his handsome face again. “I’ll ride you. Gently. Slowly.”
He hardened beneath my lap. “Dahlia …”
I kissed him deeply, hungrily, and as he lost himself in the sexy kisses, I pushed down my underwear, only breaking the kiss to flick them off completely.
“We should wait,” Michael murmured, his eyes devouring me.
Yeah, he didn’t sound too sure about that.
Shoving down the sheets, I tugged his pajama pants down over his erection.
“Let me take them off,” he grunted.
“No.” I was almost drooling at the sight of him straining and hot and hard. “I can’t wait.” Then without preamble, I straddled him, guided him between my legs, and sank down with a pleasurable sigh.
It didn’t take long.
For either of us.