Page 24 of Home to You
“You okay?” I murmured.
She nodded, her fingers drifting down to trace the curve of my jaw. “That was … I forgot it could be like that.”
A wave of satisfaction surged through me, deep and primal. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that her ex had never made her come apart the way I could. Hell, I’d bet good money he’d never even tried. Knowing I still had the power to undo her like this? Yeah, I felt that shit in my bones.
I rolled onto my side to face her fully, dragging the sheet with me and tucking it loosely around her hips. One hand settled over her lush ass, my fingers splaying possessively. The other reached up to brush a damp strand of hair from her temple. The amber lamplight caught the freckles scattered across her shoulders, the same ones I used to trace with my tongue. For a moment, I just looked at her, soaking up her presence in my bed.
“Stay,” I blurted.
She blinked at me, clearly startled, her lips parting as if she wasn’t sure she’d heard me right. Her eyes searched mine, and I could see the war happening behind them—desire, doubt, caution.
Before indecision could win out, I leaned in and kissed her again, my tongue tangling with hers in a slow, languid dance. When I pulled away with a sigh, I rested my forehead against hers. “I mean it,” I said. “Don’t go back to your aunt’s house. Spend the night with me. Wake up in my arms, sweetheart.”
She hesitated, her gaze dropping. Then she shifted slightly, drawing lazy circles on my chest with the tips of her fingers. “What about Cole?” she asked, her voice a near whisper. “I’m histeacher. Won’t that be weird, him seeing me sneak out of here in the morning?”
I let out a low laugh, surprising her.
Eden raised an eyebrow, her eyes narrowing. “What’s so funny?”
I tucked her hair behind her ear and smoothed my palm over her side. “Eden, my kid’s been hoping I’d ask you out since he found out we used to date.”
Her brows shot up. “Wait, really?”
“Really. You should hear the way he goes on and on about you. You’re his favorite. He thinks you’re brilliant and cool and—what was it he said?—‘makes math not suck.’” I grinned. “He even asked me the other day if he could invite you over for dinner. Kid wants to play matchmaker.”
She chuckled, the sound muffled as she buried her face in my chest, her shoulders shaking. “No way,” she mumbled against my skin.
“Oh yeah. When I didn’t answer right away about dinner, he said—and I quote—‘What if someone else wants to be her boyfriend, Dad? Then what?’” I reached out and ran the back of my knuckles gently along her arm. “So no. It’s not gonna be weird for him. If anything, he’s gonna be thrilled.”
She shifted again, sliding her leg over mine and settling in closer. Her breath warmed my collarbone.
“He’s gonna lose his mind in the best possible way when he sees you at breakfast,” I murmured, trailing my hand lightly up and down her spine.
She tilted her head up. “You want me to stay for breakfast?”
“I want you to stay forever,” I said, brushing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “But I’ll start with pancakes.”
Eden’s soft, happy-sounding laugh rumbled against my chest as she settled deeper into my arms. I pulled the blanket higher around us and let myself memorize the weight of her bodyagainst mine, the way her hair smelled like rosemary and mint, the feeling that for the first time in years, everything was exactly where it should be.
I must have dozed because the next thing I knew, the scent of coffee was pulling me from dreams of Eden and I growing old together, sitting side by side in matching rocking chairs, watching our granddaughter tossing a lasso over a fence post.
I blinked up at the ceiling for a moment, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar weight pressed against my chest, then smiled.
Eden.
She was still asleep, curled into me beneath the tangle of blankets, her cheek pressed to my shoulder, one bare leg draped possessively over mine. Her breath rose and fell in a steady rhythm, the kind of deep sleep that only came after being well and thoroughly fucked.
I shifted carefully and pressed a kiss to the top of her head before slipping out of bed. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake.
Down in the kitchen, I found Colt at the stove, flipping pancakes. The scent of butter and browning batter filled the room.
I narrowed my eyes and rubbed a hand through my hair. I leaned against the door frame, crossing my arms over my chest. “Those the same clothes you had on yesterday?”
He didn’t look over at me, just kept working the griddle with tight, efficient movements. “What of it?”
“Nothing,” I said with a frown, pushing off the frame and stepping farther into the kitchen. I grabbed a mug off the shelf and moved to the coffeepot. I poured a cup, steam curling up into my face as I spoke. “You go out last night after we talked?”
“So what if I did?” he asked, his voice tense and his shoulders stiff.
