Page 86 of Screwed (Dad Bod Contracting 4)
Finally, after a singularly too-brief eternity, we both go still, sweating, gasping.
James collapses against me, and I cradle him to my breast, both of us panting in unison.
Buried inside me, slackening, his breath on my chest, his hair tickling my nose, he tries to move off me.
I cling tight. “Don’t you dare move, James Bod.”
He laughs. “I’ll crush you.”
“Then I’ll die a happy woman.” I scratch his back, his buttocks, and his shoulders. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be than under you.”
He lifts his head up, grins down at me. “What about on top of me?”
I squeeze around him. “Get hard again and I’ll show you.”
A few minutes of blissful, companionable silence later, I let him roll off me, and he goes into the bathroom, cleans up, and returns. “I gotta make this master suite happen,” he says.
I laugh. “No kidding.”
He flops to the bed beside me and extends his arm. I eagerly nuzzle into the crook of his arm, and we drowse in sated silence for a while.
“I love having you here,” I say. “It’s only ever been just me in this house, and I…I just like you here. In my home, in my bed.” James’s silence is oddly tense, and I wait through it uncomfortably. Finally, I crane my neck to look up at him. “What? You don’t like being here with me?”
He frowns down at me, wrinkling his nose. “What? No. That’s stupid—of course I do.”
I trace patterns in the dusting of chest hair. “Then what? I tell you I love having you here, and you clam up.”
He chuckles. “You just assumed the opposite. I guess I love being here with you more than I…more than I should, probably.”
I frown even harder at that. “More than you should? Now who’s being stupid? We just consummated our relationship with mind-blowing sex, or, rather, lovemaking, I should say, because even though that’s a cliché and a sorta cringey term, it’s the truth. I love you, James, and I love having you here.” I rest my head back on his chest and continue idly tracing designs in his chest hair. “I want you here all the time, if I’m being honest. If I could have my way, I’d never let you leave.”
“Nova, I—”
“I know, I know. You have your own home, and it’s the girls’ home, too. That’s an element of this whole thing we’re going to have to sort out, eventually, because at some point we’re going to want to live together, but I love my home and we’re just now getting it to where I super sparkly hearts love it, and I don’t think I’ll want to sell it anytime soon, but I know you and the girls have your home, where they—where you—” I tear up abruptly, my emotions running at high octane from the intensity of what we just shared. “Sorry. I’m being stupid. I just—”
He shuts me up with a kiss, curling his arm to crowd me up against him, lips fusing to mine tongue slicing away my words, and my breath. “Yeah, you are being stupid.” He laughs. “You didn’t let me finish.”
I don’t bother trying to stem the tears—which aren’t sadness, I’m just…overwhelmed by the suddenness and intensity of all this. “Okay. So finish.”
“The reason I feel like I love being here more than I should is because I don’t want to have to leave either. And this is your home. And this thing between us is, like, brand new. And I don’t get to invite myself here, or become too fully involved in your life before you’re ready.”
I scoff at that. “I’m in your life, James. I’m in it as fully as I can be.”
“The girls are a lot to consider. They’ll be confused at first.”
I laugh. “Oh, I don’t know. I think they’ll welcome the idea of us.”
He frowns at me. “Why do you say that?”
“Because when Imogen had us all at the spa for the baby announcement shower thing, Nina told me she knew you liked me, and gave me permission to date you. She said she hoped that if we dated, it’d make you less cranky, because you’re a butt all the time, and, I quote, ‘it’s super annoying.’”
James laughs. “She said that?”
I nod. “And that was back when Imogen first knew she was pregnant. I’m sure she’s picked up on some of the, um, changes.”
He sighs. “She’s a perceptive little devil, that one.”
“It’s up to you how you introduce the idea of us to them, obviously. I just want you to know that you, and they, are welcome here. My home is yours, and theirs.” I swallow hard. “I’d love having you all here. I could turn the extra room into a girly paradise for them.”
James groans, scrubbing his face with his free hand. “I want to say something, but I’m worried it’s too much too soon.”
