Page 64 of Adrift

I laugh. “Hmm, I’m not sure I’ve heard that before, but okay. I’ll see what I can do.”

He waggles his brows. “Have anyone in mind?”

I tap my index finger on my lips pensively when an idea strikes me. “You know what? I think I just might.”

* * *

The rest of the week goes by in a flash. Between taking care of Arman, working on the Truckee Sports website, starting a newsletter, and creating a few TikToks for their new account, I barely have a moment to think of anything else.

Except for Darian.

Because if anything occupies the sporadic spare moments, it’s thoughts of him.

Throughout the week, we take every chance to make out–in the kitchen before he leaves for work, in the evenings in his study after he’s put Arman down to sleep, in the laundry room when he presses me against the spinning washer and fingers me until I come, not once but twice.

But every night, we retreat to our separate rooms. I suppose it’s our way of taking things slow.

The garage door opens, and I hear Darian’s truck pull in. Arman bounces on his toes on the living room floor, knowing his dad is home.

“Come on, let’s go see Daddy!” I grab his hand and we walk side-by-side toward the garage door. He’s been doing so well with walking on his own this week. He can’t do more than ten to fifteen steps, but he shows progress every day.

Lately, he’s been singing the Stay Awake song with me when I put him down for a nap. He hums it in his own words, and I love the routines we’ve set. I refuse to think about the end of summer in only seven more weeks and all the unanswered questions that come with that. For now, I’m living my mantra, live for today.

Darian appears in the doorway just as Arman barrels into his legs, giggling. Darian hands me a bouquet of burgundy lilies–the same as the ones he’d left inside my room that night–before picking up his son and throwing him up in the air. “Hey, little man.” He kisses Arman’s flushed cheek.

I press my nose into the bouquet, watching the two of them over the sea of red flowers. Their love, the way Darian’s eyes–his entire demeanor–softens when he looks at Arman, and the adorable way that Arman clings to his dad makes me feel out of breath. I’m mesmerized by them.

“Thank you,” I whisper, taking my flowers to the kitchen to put them in a vase. I’d just thrown out most of the flowers from last Friday.

Darian sets Arman down in the living room before coming over to me. His hands are in his pockets. “You’re wearing that glittery eyeliner . . ..”

I smile. “I am. It’s one of my principles, remember? I welcome Friday evenings with glittery eye makeup.”

“What about take-out? Would you welcome this Friday evening if I ordered some take-out?”

I wrinkle my nose. “Is it going to be take-out salad? If so, then that’s firmly outside of my principles.”

Darian laughs and the vibrato of his voice travels through my chest and down to my stomach, making me feel warm all over. “No. It’s going to be whatever you want it to be.”

I grin. “Really? You mean, if I say I want the cheesiest pizza, where they fill the inside of the crust with cheese, and top it with jalapeños and pineapples, you’d eat that with me?”

He grimaces. “I should have known you were one of those people who liked sweet shit on pizza.”

I scoot closer to him, pressing my chest against his. “How dare you call me people. It’s very condescending. And you, Mr. My-Body-Is-My-Temple, wouldn’t know good pizza if it landed in your mouth.”

He smiles down at me, his eyes smoldering. “I’d like to have something in my mouth, and while it’s another five-letter-word that starts with p, it certainly doesn’t end with an a.”

My mouth opens at his crass insinuation. It’s not the first time I’ve heard him say filthy things, but it still catches me off guard each time, because in front of the rest of the world–his brothers, his mom, his coworkers, and friends–Darian is nothing but reserved. Restrained. Completely in control. But I get to see a different side of him that he doesn’t show anyone else, the one where he’s unhinged, and I love that.

He takes a quick peek at Arman still playing in the living room with his cars before going to the TV and turning on Arman’s favorite cartoon show. We hardly use TV as a distraction, but it keeps him still when we need a quick break. Arman immediately becomes entranced.

I furrow my brows, wondering what Darian is up to, when he comes back and pulls me to him. His mouth catches mine in a hot kiss as his hands start roaming. His tongue dives into my mouth, sending a zing of electricity to my core. It twirls with my tongue, taunting and teasing me until I lose my breath. I turn my head to catch my breath while he nuzzles my neck.

“Darian,” I moan, arching into him.

He walks me backward into the walk-in pantry as his hand palms my breasts. His lips press into my neck, his warm tongue swirling against me and sending goosebumps soaring over my skin.

His mouth slowly makes its way down to the cleavage peeking out of my shirt. “I fucking love this shirt.” He bites the top of my breast, making me hiss before he kisses the same spot.

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