Page 121 of This Could Be Us

“Crap,” I whisper, but I cross the short distance from the powder room to the door.

Judah’s outside on the postage-stamp cement stoop carrying a Harrington tote and wearing a black hoodie with gray sweatpants. The way those sweatpants hang on his lean hips and hug his ass—the night is not playing fair.

“I almost forgot Adam attends Harrington,” I say, stepping back so he can come in. “I’m surprised I never see you there.”

“He’s older than your girls, so he’s on north campus. Plus it’s closer to Tremaine’s office, so she usually takes Adam. Aaron’s school is closer to mine, so I take him.”

“Great system,” I say, needing something to distract me from how good he looks. He has a fresh haircut, the edge precise and neat, but there’s the slightest hint of daylong stubble hugging the carved line of his jaw, and it is sending me. If he were wearing his glasses, I’d be sitting on his face by now.

“When the boys can’t sleep, especially Aaron,” he says, reaching into the tote, “this helps.”

He hands me a gray blanket. I accept it, surprised by how heavy it is.

“Did they knit this with cement?” I joke. “It must weigh fifty pounds.”

“Fifteen, actually. It’s a weighted blanket. He has like five of them. Between the blanket, melatonin, and the tea I brought, you’ll be knocked out before you count your first sheep.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I’m usually right.” He eyes the letters emblazoned across my chest. “I like your shirt.”

It’s only then I realize I’m not wearing a bra and my nipples are happy to see him.

“Oh, God.” I cup my breasts as if to shield them.

His sudden laughter startles me—not just the sound of it, which is rich and resonant, but the effect it has on his handsome face. How it cracks the austere lines and warms the usually serious dark eyes. It softens the stern set of his mouth. It opens him up and invites me in.

“Come here.” He drops the tote, sits on the chaise longue, and pulls me onto his lap. “I missed you.”

He says it so freely, and it’s hard to believe I ever thought this man was reserved, cold. He’s generous with his words, with his affection—at least to me. I drape one wrist at the back of his neck and press my hand to his chest, over his heart.

“I missed you back,” I whisper, taking his bottom lip between mine. He eases me down onto the chair beneath him and cups my cheek, tugging my mouth open, and spoils me with caramelized kisses—sweet heat and sensuality melted, poured over us. I’m drowning in it. He doesn’t let up, and I lose breath, coming up for air to pant at his throat. His hand explores beneath the hem of my cropped T-shirt, squeezing one bare breast and then the other.

“When you were doing your nightly cyberstalking,” I gasp between kisses, slipping my hand into his jogging pants, “did you see what DTF2000 suggested I should do to put me to sleep?”

He groans when my hand moves up and down over him. He presseshis forehead to mine, a long breath wrenched from him. “I did see her suggestion.”

He pulls back to peer into my face, searching for the answer to a question he hasn’t voiced yet, but it’s clear in his eyes.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

Am I?

“I’m sure that I want you.” I sit up and pull the T-shirt over my head, distracting him with my breasts as I knew I would.

He grabs his sweatshirt at the neck and pulls it over his head, exposing a T-shirt beneath that molds itself to the muscles of his shoulders, back, and chest. He tugs that over his head, too, and I trace the sculpted topography beneath with eager hands. He slips his jogging pants and briefs off while I shimmy out of Lupe’s bottoms. Forgot I wasn’t wearing panties underneath.

Ooops.

One thing I did take care of since I last saw him was tending the bush. Even though he didn’t seem to mind a little bit o’ hair down there when he ate me outtwice, I still waxed her up real nice for such an occasion as this.

“Does it sound goofy to say I’ve been dreaming about this?” he asks, studying my naked body like I’m a buffet and he’s been fasting.

“Not at all,” I tell him, rushing to lock the shed door. “The girls are asleep, but just in case.”

I cross back over to the chaise longue more slowly, stopping to stand between his knees. “Did you happen to bring a condom?”

“I did,” he replies, pulling one from his pocket. “Just in case.”

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