Page 56 of Best Laid Plans

Starting at the edge of her swim top, I gently work my way down, skimming my fingers over her skin, loving the way she rocks the curves that motherhood gave her. My fingers roam over her hip and around to the swell of her ass, not stopping until they meet the seam of her bikini bottoms.

Her breath shutters.

“Fuck, Nat, I don’t know. But I’m tired of fighting this.” With that, I pull her even closer and seal my mouth to hers, flicking my tongue against her bottom lip until she grants me entry. Our kiss is every bit as heated as the air outside, and when I feel her nipples pebble through the triangle of her bikini top, I damn near lose it.

I slide my hand beneath her bottoms, palming the flesh of her ass, pulling her against my hardness. With only the thin nylon of our bathing suits separating us, I can feel her heat, her outline. I nestle my erection against her and use the hand on her ass to guide her as she eagerly rolls her hips. We meet thrust for thrust, grinding on each other like our lives depend on the orgasms we’re both chasing.

Ready for more, I withdraw my hand from the backside of her swimsuit and she whines in displeasure. That is until I slip it down the front side instead. I trace her seam with my index finger, teasing and rubbing until she’s a panting mess, and I’m about to blow my load in my swim trunks just from the sounds she’s making.

“Fuck, Nat, you feel so good.”

She moans her agreement, the sound a direct line to my pleasure, frantically tugging at the waistband of my trunks. She frees me, and tingles start at the base of my spine. I move to shift her bottoms to the side, ready to slide home when a wail sounds from the porch.

Tatum.

Natalie flies away from me, hurriedly righting her bikini before rushing to our daughter. I linger, waiting on my erection to fully die down. Thankfully, toddler tears are a total boner killer.

By the time I make it over to them, she has Tatum soothed and napping again. I’m tempted to see if she wants to pick back up where we left off, but the moment is gone.

I take in the sight before me, Natalie with her cheeks all flushed, gently rubbing Tatum’s back. Swear to God, she’s never looked more beautiful than she does now.

“Stay for dinner?” I ask, my tone just shy of begging.

“Yeah, okay,” Natalie whispers. “What about Tatum?”

As softly as I can, I lift my sleeping girl up into my arms and head for the house. Natalie picks up the platter and our towels, following behind me. She looks at me quizzically as I begin to climb the stairs.

I gesture for her to open the first door on the right and when she gets a glimpse inside, she audibly gasps. I try and take in the view from her perspective, from the pale aqua walls to the twin bed outfitted with a white quilt with rows and rows of neon-colored pompom balls. I even remembered to get a rail for her bed.

“You…you did all of this?”

I stride across the room to the bed. Natalie rushes over and pulls down the quilt, allowing me to tuck my daughter in bed in my own house for the first time ever. I draw the covers up to her chin, brush her chlorine-scented hair off of her face, and drop a soft kiss to her forehead. “Love you, pretty girl.”

Out in the hall, Natalie repeats her earlier question, sounding on the verge of tears.

“Yeah, I—uh…I wanted to be prepared in case she ever spent the night. I wanted her to feel at home here, too.”

Natalie shocks the shit out me when she presses a hard but chaste kiss to my lips, retreating before I can even react. “You’re a good man, Alden Warner.”

33

Natalie

We’re downstairs,with me seated on a bar stool and Alden pulling out ingredients. We’ve probably been down here for at least ten minutes, butgah, my lips are still tingling from our brief kiss outside of Tatum’s room.

Then again, the rest of me is still tingling from our bump-n-grind session in the pool. And the fact that we’re both still wearing only our swimsuits isn’t helping.

And my heart…my heart is fluttering over how entirely Alden has accepted Tatum into his life. I mean, that bedroom was fit for a princess. I even noticed a fewTrollstoys in the corner, along with a box markedDress Up.Seriously, could this man be any more perfect?

“Whatcha making?” I ask, drumming my nails on the hard surface of his granite countertops.

“Weare making brown butter scallops with parmesan risotto.”

“Ooh, fancy,” I tease.

He gives me a lopsided grin and walks back over to the fridge, where he grabs a bag of marinating chicken. “And grilled chicken for Tatum.”

“Good call. She’s adventurous, but maybe not that much.”

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