Triplets Under the Tree

“Are you sure this is what you want? With me? I mean, you might not precisely remember Vanessa, but you have to recall other women.” Shut up. Nobody brought up former lovers on the brink of becoming the next one. She sighed. “See. I’m a big mess. That’s so not attractive, I realize.”

He glanced down at the two feet of space between them. “We’ve been standing in this doorway for ten minutes now, and for nine minutes and fifty-five seconds of it, I’ve been in danger of losing this towel due to the serious arousal you’ve caused me. Stop worrying so much about things that don’t matter. Don’t deny us any longer, Caitlyn.”

He stepped aside, opening the doorway for her to enter if she chose.

This was it. Her opportunity to grab what she’d longed for. To put her guilt to rest and finally become a full-fledged, sexually realized woman at the hands of a master. A man who was probably the great love of her life, the only one she might ever love.

And his pretty speech about learning how to love at her hands surely meant he was open and willing to returning her feelings. He’d loved Vanessa, had married her and obviously yearned to have that sort of connection again. The sort of connection Caitlyn had dreamed of.

It was all within her reach.

Yet she hesitated, long enough for his eyebrows to rise.

What would happen if she stepped over the threshold, signaling to Antonio that she was ready to embark on a romantic relationship, and if it didn’t work out? How would she co-parent their children with a broken heart? The past few years had been difficult enough when she’d revered him from afar. How much harder would it be to actually love and be loved by a man like Antonio, only to lose him because she wasn’t the kind of woman who could handle him?

And what if he cut her out of her children’s lives in retribution?

This was why she never got very far in a relationship with any man, including Antonio when she’d first met him. She was terrified of what came after she opened herself body and soul to someone.

As she let her gaze rest on his bare torso, on that glorious inked falcon, she wanted to let him melt her resistance.

Because it would be impossible to walk away.

She took a breath to calm her racing heart, which didn’t work, and walked into Antonio’s bedroom.

Nine

The door clicked shut behind her and Caitlyn froze.

She was inside a man’s bedroom. She wouldn’t leave it a virgin. She’d been saving herself for the right man, a man she was ready, willing and eager to love forever, and here he was...but this wasn’t the safe fantasy she’d harbored for years. Was she really ready for this?

Oh, my. Antonio was going to see her naked, with her C-section scars and ridiculously shaped breasts that had served as a milk source for three hungry mouths for months.

Nearing full-blown panic, she tried to suck in a deep, calming breath. And choked on it as she thought back to getting dressed this morning. What underwear had she put on?

“Caitlyn.”

She whirled. Antonio leaned against the door, arms crossed over his cut torso, towel dipping dangerously low. Her mouth went sticky and she averted her gaze. Then shifted her gaze back because, dang it, surely it was okay to look at him if they were about to make love. Maybe it was even expected. Part of foreplay.

“Do you want a glass of wine?” he asked casually.

“To drink?” When he laughed, she thought about punching him but would probably only hurt her hand. Mortified, she scowled. “I didn’t know what you meant! Maybe it’s some kind of sex thing, like you want me to pour it on you and lick it off.”

His eyebrows rose and he treated her to a thoroughly wicked once-over. “Would you? Lick it off?”

The image of her tongue swirling over the ink on his chest popped into her mind and she couldn’t shake it. As she imagined the taste of his golden skin melded with fruity red wine, her insides contracted. “Maybe. Was it a sex thing?”

He shrugged, a smile still playing about his expressive mouth. “As much as I want you right now, it could be. Seems a little messy, though. Let’s save that for another time.”

“How many times do you envision there being?”

“A thousand.” His expression darkened carnally as if he was imagining each time individually and it was hot. “The things I want to do to you, to experience with you, might very well take a lifetime.”

She couldn’t blink, couldn’t look away. Couldn’t quite believe the sincerity ringing from his voice. She rubbed at the ache in her chest as she internalized that she’d heard precisely what he’d meant for her to hear. “A lifetime?”