Page 65 of Falling for Red
“Fuck you,” she says, breathlessly.
I chuckle, loving it.
“I’m close.”
I need this. I squeeze her hand tight, wanting to signal it’s time. Her body tenses, and she squeezes my hand, holding it tight as she whimpers over and over. Her body convulses, and she releases her grip on my hand.
I kiss the inside of her thigh, then hover above her. “Five.”
She softly laughs, and I flop down next to her. Claire snuggles into my chest, and I wrap my arm around her, holding her close. Mindlessly playing with her hair, staring at the ceiling, my mind won’t stop repeating: I love her.
The sound of a snore brings me back. I smile, looking down, seeing she’s asleep.
We’re going to have to work on her stamina.
I turn my head to her clock. I’ll wake her in twenty minutes. Her vacation is almost over, and I can’t wait to see what our real life will look like.
43
Hard knocking sounds jolt me awake. I roll out of Jake’s arms, and my eyes dart to the clock. 3:07 p.m. “Fuck!” Gabby is back with her dad.
I scramble to my feet, tugging on my shorts. “Jake! Wake up.” I frantically get dressed and sweep my hair over one shoulder, desperate to smooth it into something less obvious. “Stay in here,” I whisper, already moving toward the door.
He nods, but I catch the flicker of emotions running across his face.
This is not how this was supposed to happen.
I crack open the door, and before I can say a word, Gabby barrels into me, wrapping her arms around my waist. I bend down, holding her tight, but my pulse is racing.
This is the worst possible scenario. It’s too soon for my ex and Gabby to meet Jake.
I manage to keep my voice light when I ask, “¿La pasaste bien el fin de semana, mi amor?”Did you have a good time this weekend, my love?
“Sí, mamá!”
“Did you buy a car?” Samuel asks, and my heart sinks. Jake’s Camaro is parked in the driveway. Before I can say anything, I notice Samuel has a bouquet of flowers in hand. Flowers?
What the fuck?!I might pass out at everything going on right now.
Samuel’s entire demeanor shifts. His head tilts slightly, then squints. “Is there a guy here?”
“What?” I breathe.
His eyes drag over me, intently. “Your hair only looks like that after …” He trails off, his jaw clenching.
Heat floods my face. I shouldn’t feel shame. I am a grown woman. I can sleep with whoever I want. But there’s something about him standing there, watching, analyzing, calculating that brings this feeling to the surface.
He turns to Gabby, asking her in Spanish, “¿Conociste al novio de mamá?"Have you met Mommy’s boyfriend?
Gabby giggles and shakes her head. “Mommy doesn’t have friends.”
A bitter laugh escapes me as my stress continues to grow.
“If there is a guy here, I need to meet him,” he says coldly.
“No.”
His eyes narrow, and he switches to Spanish. “En la casa donde está mi hija, sí.”In the house where my daughter is, yes.”
