Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 59265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
I wanted to know what Adelaide would be like when she was three. Five. Ten. Eighteen.
And, God help me, I wanted to know what our kids would look like.
That thought stopped me cold.
Our kids.
Not mine.
Not some theoretical children I might have with some theoretical woman one day.
Ours.
I dragged a hand over my face and turned back toward the grill.
This was getting out of hand.
Because I couldn’t stop myself from imagining being curled up with Willa on the couch with some coffee, watching a show, reading books, or just talking about our day or our plans. Then heading to bed early, bodies close, lips teasing, hands roaming…
I exhaled hard as desire coursed through me too quickly to try to talk myself out of it.
I turned back to the grill, trying to think of anything but the beautiful woman in my house who’d been on my mind nonstop for weeks.
It took an embarrassingly long time to feel even close to being able to think straight.
Or so I thought.
Until I reached for the skillet to take it off the grill, only to have my skin meet the scalding bare handle of the cast iron skillet.
“Fuck,” I growled, dropping it back down.
I had the presence of mind to shut off the burners before striding back into the house and toward the sink.
“Are you alright?” Willa, sensing something off with my body language, asked as she followed me.
“Reached for the skillet without an oven mitt,” I admitted as I turned the tap on cool and shoved my hand under the spray.
“Oh, no,” she said, wincing.
She was too close.
Her perfume filled the air around me, scrambling my brain each time I breathed in.
As she reached to turn my hand to look at the burn, her breasts were against my arm. My mouth went dry.
“How’s the pain?”
“I’ve had worse.” I’d been burned countless times in my life. This wasn’t even going to blister. It would just feel sensitive for a few days.
“Let me see,” she demanded, making me realize my hand was curled.
I turned off the tap with my free hand and unfurled my fingers, trying not to notice how gently she was holding the back of my hand, or how a shiver coursed down my spine when she ran a fingertip across the pink skin of my palm.
“It doesn’t look too bad.”
“It’s not,” I said as her hair fell from where it was tucked behind her ear and hid her face from view.
She reached past me for a towel, carefully blotting the water off my skin.
“This is the part where a mom might offer to kiss and make it better.”
I needed to pull my damn hand away.
But that’s not what I did.
Instead, I opened my mouth.
“You’re a mom.”
Willa pulled my arm upward as she leaned down. Then I felt the brush of her lips on my skin. The hypersensitivity of the burn only made me more aware of the brush—the shape of her lips, the warmth of her breath, the feel of her hand cradling mine.
She straightened as my other arm seemed to have a mind of its own, lifting, reaching out, then tucking the hair back behind her ear.
View unobstructed, there was no missing the heat in her eyes as her gaze swept up to mine.
My fingers traced the top of her ear, slipped down the side. They should have dropped then. Instead, they traced down to her jaw, the side of her neck.
Willa’s lips parted.
Her breath went short and shallow.
My burnt hand moved, sought the gentle curve of her hip.
Her gaze did a triangle between my eyes and lips. Her head angled back in a silent invitation.
I shifted closer, started to angle down.
The oven beeped, startling us apart, the spell of the moment broken.
Both feeling awkward, I turned to the oven, she reached for drinking glasses. And we both silently agreed not to mention it, to act like that almost-kiss had never happened.
“Do you—” Willa started, noticed the thickness in her voice, cleared her throat, and tried again, “Do you want me to go get Tuna?”
“So he can hide under the table and paw us while we eat?”
“So he does have a flaw,” she said, shooting me a little smile.
“Just the one. I’m going to grab the brisket and asparagus. Ten minutes until we eat.”
“Great. I’ll just check on Adelaide.”
I waited until I heard her most of the way up the stairs before whacking my forehead against the upper cabinet and letting out a sigh.
Well.
That happened.
And I had no damn idea what to think about it.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Willa
There was a soft knock at the front door that sent my heart flying up into my throat, waking me out of a dead sleep on the couch. Adelaide and I had crashed there after she’d kept me up most of the night, seemingly to go through a little sleep regression patch.