The Woman in the Back Room (Costa Family) - Page 25

I was just a pal.

That was how he saw me.

And I didn't want that getting confused.

Because, well, it wasn't confusing.

I wasn't his mom.

I wasn't wife or girlfriend material.

I was just a friend with some really kick-ass self-defense skills "just in case."

I crawled myself out of my sickbed for fifteen minutes on Halloween, just to see Avi do some of the apartments in the building because I knew he was counting on me, and I didn't want to be a disappointment, before Santi pushed me back to bed, and took over himself.

It was another four days after that when I felt human again.

And then it was time for me to get used to Avi's new routine. Which included early mornings for school, having to be the grown-up and force him to do homework, then feed him if Santi wasn't home, and get him to bed at a reasonable hour. Usually, Santi was home for dinner or just after, but because the mornings were early, and I wasn't much of a morning person, I'd started just staying over pretty much all the time, so I was a part of the 'getting the kid to bed' team.

After that, well, I hightailed my ass to my own bed. Partly because I was tired, sure, but also because I genuinely didn't trust myself around my employer.

I'd once walked out bleary-eyed in search of some aspirin for a splitting headache to find Santi sitting on the couch in his pajama pants, watching a boxing match, and eating the sugar cereal I'd bought.

I nearly jumped the man and dry-humped him to oblivion, headache and all.

It was getting more and more difficult to be caught alone with him for more than a minute or two without having to physically remove myself from the situation before I did something I couldn't take back.

So I only spent time with him when Avi was around as a buffer. Which was often. But that only made me like the damn man all the more.

He was good with his son.

I hadn't been sure, at first, what kind of father he was, coming into their lives at the beginning stages of their grief. But he was attentive without being overbearing. He had rules, but wasn't big disciplinarian. He listened to Avi prattle on about some Youtube channel he was obsessed with, or what game he was playing without a single grumble. And, to be honest, I had to cover a grumble with a cough a couple times myself. The kid could talk.

He let Avi have some space and do things for himself, even if he mucked it all up, but was also always happy to offer some advice or a hand when needed.

Best of all, though, Santi was not shy when using the L-word with his son.

As a grown child who'd never heard that word from either parent, it made my heart swell up each time Santi said it to Avi. That kid would never have to grow up questioning his father's love. He would always be sure of his place in his heart and life. I loved that for him.

So, damnit, he wasn't just a hot piece of man meat. Nope. He was a pretty great human being, too.

Which meant I had the lady equivalent of blue balls—blue walls—and almost no means for release.

Until, of course, Avi had a piano lesson that his grandmother wanted to take him to, giving me the early evening off. With the apartment to myself.

I didn't have a whole lot of time, but I took myself into the shower for some, you know, stress relief.

A toy would have been ideal.

But there were just some things I didn't feel comfortable bringing into my employer's home. My collection of halfway X-rated graphic novels. And my sex toys.

So I was going old school manual with it, standing under the hot spray, letting my mind drift back to the tub that night, to the way his gaze had slipped to my breast in my wet shirt, the way his hands had sank into my ass, the way his lips had been demanding, yet soft and coaxing somehow at the same time.

It was pure freaking bliss to think about what it would have been like had we kept going, had we both gotten what we so clearly wanted.

I was driven up faster than usual, so wrapped up in my own fantasy that I didn't realize what was happening until it was one moment too late.

"Avi, where the hell is Aless—" Santi's voice started, pushing open the door to the shared bathroom from Avi's side, and striding in a step before freezing, realizing his mistake.

But not before he got a good eyeful of my naked body in the shower, the way my hand was buried between my thighs.

Shock kept me still.

And shock made Santi freeze, gaze on me.

Tags: Jessica Gadziala Suspense
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