Color Me Pretty: A Father's Best Friend Romance

Her face reddened like she knew what I was thinking. “He’s waiting for us?”

“I can send him off.”

For a moment, it looked like she was going to nod. Then, in a quiet voice, she admitted, “I am kind of hungry.” My cock throbbed with a need to be inside her, but I ignored it. It wasn’t every day Della admitted something like that. Most people would consider the statement mundane, but I knew better.

Standing up, I offered her my hand, trying to pretend I didn’t see the way her eyes roamed down to the large bulge that was tenting my pants. “Come on then, Della. Let’s grab something to eat. We can continue this later.”

She bit into her lip again, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Is that a promise?”

I bent down and kissed her again, groaning when her tongue swiped mine. “If I don’t come inside you at least once tonight, I’ll probably die, sweetheart. That would be a real shame, wouldn’t it?”

“You can’t say things like that to me,” she all but groaned, pulling a pillow over her face.

I laughed and yanked it away. “Can’t help it. The thought of me inside of you, maybe even planting something there someday, drives me fucking nuts.”

Her sharp inhale wasn’t lost on me. “You would want that?”

Did she not? I could remember all the times she would share her elaborate future, family and white picket fence included. She’d never described a high-rise penthouse where her children couldn’t go outside and play without the risk of crime around. It was always some place remote, quiet, and peaceful. A house surrounded by grass and trees and close friends and family.

“If you do,” I told her honestly, brushing her face with my knuckles. “Until then, practice makes perfect.”

She rolled her eyes and smiled. “You would make a really great father, Theo.”

The thought of her with a swollen belly only made my cock that much harder. “I need to get you out of here before I lock us inside your bedroom and have my way with you in every position humanly possible to try making that happen sooner than we both want.”

“Theo!”

I swatted her ass. “Come on. Time to go.”

She just laughed.

Chapter Twenty

Della

I hadn’t wanted to go to Divers after the celebration dinner Ren, Tiffany, and I went to for the end of school. It was my annoying best friend who insisted we needed to go, which meant there was somebody there he wanted to see.

Tiffany nudged me at the table we’d secured off to the side. “What’s up?” She was on drink number three, four if you counted the shot she took, and watched me carefully with the tiny straw in her mouth. She barely looked buzzed but the glaze in her eyes told me she was going to feel it soon enough.

Ren had disappeared shortly after we’d arrived, talking up some redhead who looked oddly like Rupert Grint, which made sense considering Lawrence watched the Harry Potter movies at least four times a year. Tiffany had rolled her eyes, ordered us drinks, and watched him work over the guy who had to be our age if not a little older.

“Nothing.” I faked a smile. I wanted to ask her the same thing after seeing the frown she was fighting all night. “I guess Ren and Ben stopped seeing each other for good.”

All I got was a shrug.

As if he knew we were talking about him, he squeezed the Rupert lookalike’s arm and walked over to us with a grin. “Ladies. Miss me?” He directed the last question to Tiffany, bumping her with his shoulder. When she recoiled, his grin disappeared.

“I was asking Della what was wrong,” she told him, finishing off her drink before putting the glass down a little too hard on the table. One of my brows raised.

Ren turned to me slowly. “What’s up?”

I couldn’t explain the bottomless pit in my stomach where a mixture of flutters and firecrackers went off. I wanted Theo here, taking me away, telling me we were going to spend time together tonight. But he knew where I was. He’d encouraged the night out, saying, “I’ll be here when you get back, baby girl.” That term melted me in a puddle at his feet and he knew it.

“Like I told her. Nothing.” Eyeing Tiffany, I noticed she was doing her best to avoid looking in Ren’s direction.

“You’re mopey,” she accused.

Ren laughed. “She’s probably moping still about the grade she got in Ribbons’ class. Her final dropped it.”