Missed that smile, too. God, I missed everything about him.
“Come here.” He puts the tablet down, opens his arms, and I crawl on his lap, our baby between us, blinking curious dark eyes up at us. “Hey, girl. And you, little buddy.”
My eyes close when he kisses me, his intoxicating taste sending another bolt of lust through me.
I push the lust back down. Now is not the time.
God knows he had issues with sex because of his past back when I met him. Oh, he had sex all right, lots of it—but on his own terms only. I wasn’t allowed to touch his back, or kiss him. Wasn’t supposed to touch him anywhere, in fact, while he made love to me.
And although things changed since we got together, I doubt that he’ll be in the mood for sex any time soon, after reliving every second of those traumatizing childhood memories in his dreams.
After giving birth, sex wasn’t the first thing on my mind. Far from it. But now it’s as if a switch has been flipped. Getting him back, having hope again is the best feeling ever, and my body shares it.
I want him, body and mind and soul, and I’ll wait until he’s ready.
“I can hear you thinking,” he says, one of his hands on Lee’s head, his thumb stroking the little forehead tenderly. “Is it something I can help with?”
He looks tired, dark circles under his eyes, his cheeks hollow, but that’s normal these days.
Still the sexiest man I know.
Always will be.
“I’m thinking that I’m going to make us some breakfast,” I say, trying to remember what I have left in the fridge. Not much, I think. Since Emmanuel was born, Zane has been in charge of shopping, but lately neither of us have gone.
“Breakfast sounds good.” He smirks, a lazy tilt of his lips that almost makes me forget all that has happened.
That he spent days eating nothing, unable to hold anything down. That for a while I found him every morning passed out on the bathroom floor. That often during the day I’d find him spaced out inside the apartment, standing without purpose in any random room, staring into nothing.
That I was scared to death this might happen to him while working, or walking, or driving. That he’d have a flashback and step in front of a car because he wouldn’t see it, lost inside his own head.
“Hold Lee while I cook?”
“Sure.” His gaze warms when he looks down at our baby. He receives him from my arms and grins. “So you fed him and now you wanna feed me, too?”
“Sounds fair to me.”
“I wanted…” He glances up at me, his gaze troubled. “To thank you. For your patience with my fucked-up self.”
“I love your fucked-up self.” I wink at him, snickering at his shocked expression. “Hey, I learned to swear from the best. Now…” I give him a quick kiss and stand up. “Get your sexy, perfect self to the kitchen.”
“Sounds good.” He gets up, lifting Emmanuel in the air and making him fly. “We have to talk about the kids we found in that basement.”
I didn’t think he was ready, but the steel in his gaze tells me he’s determined, that he’ll try his damnedest to end the vicious circle.
He’s pushing himself hard, like always. And I’ll be by his side, like I promised.
Chapter Thirty
Zane
“We’re here to see the children rescued from Kenneth Shaw’s house two days ago.” Rafe is dressed in a crisp white shirt and dark pants and is flashing the police officer a winning grin.
I’m letting him do the PR because I’m not good at this politeness crap, and I figured seeing him first, all polished and shit, wouldn’t hurt.
Megan is by his side, in a pretty blue dress, holding baby Zay in her arms.
Zay. His name is Zane like mine, but the guys decided it would be confusing, so they tweaked it a little. Confusing, how? Not like he has a Mohawk, is it? Or like anyone would call out to the kid, “Hey, Z-man, get your ass over here, motherfucker,” would they?