Bedded Bliss (Found in Oblivion Book 1)

by Cari Quinn

  “Are you sure? You already did way too much.”

  “Axl did it.”

  She shifted her not-so-light baby onto her shoulder. “Thank you, Michael. Truly. I thought this day was going to end up a complete dumpster fire.”

  “There’s an image.”

  She cupped the back of Axl’s head. “I will thank you properly very soon.”

  “Now, that’s exactly the kind of thanks I was looking for.”

  “I just bet.”

  Michael leaned in to kiss Axl’s cheek and paused. His eyebrows shot up as he smoothed his thumb over her right ring finger. “Chloe?”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  He swallowed thickly, but only nodded.

  She ducked out of their warm little cocoon and brought Axl down to his room. She took a few minutes to get him out of his clothes and into pajamas. He almost woke up, but only enough to ask her to sit with him.

  Within five minutes he was already back in dreamland. She paused at his door, looking over his tousled red curls with the sides shaved up like Michael’s. Her little man was becoming a person, not just her baby.

  With a sigh, she turned on his little sea life nightlight, then closed the door.

  She expected the skeleton of the fort that Michael had built. Instead, she got a fairyland with soft music. Little electric tealights were lined up along every available shelf. He’d rearranged the sheets to make a drape around the mound of pillows.

  All the food had been cleared away and a newer, larger vase of flowers was tucked into a corner. Huge lilies and daisies made a spring bouquet. Not traditional—because of course, why would it be traditional with Michael Shawcross at the helm of this fantasy?

  He was setting a champagne bucket down outside the pillows. Neither of them had much more than a social drink since Vegas. She expected to see some bubbly since it was a special occasion, but no—he’d thought of everything. A one liter of her Diet Coke, and one of his Dr. Pepper sat in the crushed ice.

  She blinked away tears, and couldn’t stop a laugh from escaping.

  He spun around on his heel. “Damn, I wanted it all set up before you came out.”

  She shook her head. “You are a wonder, Michael.”

  He shrugged. “First V-Day with my girl. I had to show up, right?”

  “Most guys would buy a balloon and a pair of earrings.”

  He poured a flute of soda for her, then one for him. “We’re not most people.”

  “You got that right.”

  “To us. The first of many.”

  She clinked her glass to his, then took a small sip. “I like the sound of that.”

  He took one as well—it was bad luck not to drink after a toast after all—and set them aside on one of their end tables. He drew her into his arm and they slow danced in a semi-circle. She pressed her face into his neck, drinking in his scent and his neverending warmth.

  Not just his body heat, but the truest essence of Michael.

  How could she have thought he was so simple and selfish? There truly wasn’t a selfish bone in his body. He liked to tell her that he changed for her, but she had a feeling that he’d been just as generous all his life.

  “Tell me I’m not imagining it.”

  She smiled into his neck. She knew what he was asking about. She wasn’t going to play dumb about it. He deserved so much more than that. “You made tonight magical. Even before I came out to find my Axl fort, or this beautiful set up, you’d already made this the perfect Valentine’s Day.”

  He pressed a kiss to her temple, then down her cheek to the corner of her lips. “It was already perfect because I had someone—two someones—to come home to. You have no idea how amazing it is to not be alone for the first time in a damn long time.”

  “I have a feeling you didn’t spend many Valentine’s Days alone, buddy.”

  “Actually, I spent almost all of them alone.”

  “On the single man’s guaranteed day to get laid?” She snorted. “I doubt that.”

  He shrugged. “There was always too much pressure associated with the day. I’d never wanted to disappoint anyone.”

  “Or to get tied to anyone?” she asked quietly.

  “No. That’s very true. Not until you.” He sipped at her lips as they swayed to the music.

  She linked her arms around his neck and let him lift her up. He curled her legs around his waist and slowly lowered her to the makeshift bed. There were little windows for their kisses to move to a more steamy level, but neither of them seemed to want to take it there.

  Long, slow kisses and touches left them both restless. He nosed aside her sweater to find the sheer tank under it. “You are the most fucking beautiful woman on the planet.”

  She slipped her fingers through his hair. She knew that wasn’t true, but the way he said it—the way he almost snarled it sometimes—that made her believe he meant it. To him, she was. And it was truly the most astounding realization to hold onto.

  He teased her nipple through the shirt, taking his time to keep her in the same soft, filmy space he’d created. So often they careened through the steep incline and drop off of sexual gratification. He loved to show her just how much pleasure could be squeezed out of each moment they spent together.

  Tonight, he didn’t push.They drifted on soft sighs and even sweeter touches. He slid down her body, taking her clothes off with sweet, lingering touches. And for once, he allowed her to reciprocate.

  She rolled him onto his back, drawing his jeans down his long legs, until they were groaning through their laughter to get each other naked. He tried to flip her onto her back again, but she didn’t allow it. She wanted a little piece of control for once.

  She traced the tip of her tongue along his collarbone, to the tendons of his Adam’s apple. She sipped over his chin to find his lush mouth. Their kiss ramped up to a desperate clash of tongues and lips. She wanted to slow it back down, but there was always a piece of chaos living under their skin when they got skin-to-skin.

  “Protection,” she groaned into his mouth.

  He nodded and reached above his head.

  She grinned down at him. “Such a boy scout.”

  “I don’t think I ever got to do this in the boy scouts.”

  She blinked. “No way.”

  “What? My mom looked for ways to get me out of her hair. Prep school couldn’t hold me, so…” He shrugged. “It was fun.”

  “The things you learn.” She rolled her hips, dragging her cleft over his shaft. He groaned and arched up against her. She rolled the condom over him and took him inside within the space of a heartbeat.

  His eyes flashed wide. Normally he took his time to make sure she was ready for him. There was no doubt that her body was prepared for him, but her heart stuttered over the complete and utter connection that happened the moment he joined with her.

  She slowly took him inside her again and again. Pleasure swamped her and the sweet wash of love threatened to take her under. He was her own personal undertow full of danger and power. But he never drowned her.

  No, he was the current that slowly washed away her doubts and left only bright shells and clean, perfect sand in his wake. She laced the fingers of her right hand with his left, dragging his arm above his head.

  She bit her lip against the rising groans that wanted to escape. When the pleasure got too big, and her heart too full, he rose up enough to catch her mouth. He swallowed the love that she couldn’t hold back and gave it back to her measure for measure.

  His name was a shuddering breath as she collapsed on top of him, her body shaking in reaction. She curled her arms around his neck as he clasped her tighter, their hearts racing and syncing before they slowed.

  She drifted away with his heartbeat at her ear, and his sweat-slick skin sheltering her through the night.

  Chapter 27

  Damn, what a beautiful day, even though it was barely the freaking crack of dawn.

  Michael stood at the little breakfast nook
in the kitchen, looking out at the ocean. The sun had already started to rise, and the breeze had stirred up some foamy white caps on the water. Some intrepid soul had taken out a sailboat with brightly colored sails.

  He shoveled in a mouthful of apple cinnamon oatmeal made by his resourceful wife. He’d have to show Axl the boat. He’d love the colors. Maybe they should get their own. God knows he was in the right location for one. Could launch it right within view of the apartment. Axl loved water, and he’d probably love going for rides, assuming Chloe didn’t freak out about all the dangers.

  Hey, that’s what lifejackets were for, right?

  The slap of bare feet on the floor and high-pitched giggles made Michael stop demolishing his breakfast long enough to look up as Axl shot into the room like an unsteady bullet. The kid was as naked as the day he was born, and his wet red hair was spiked up in his version of a Mohawk. Ever since the boy had noticed how Michael styled his faux hawk—when he even bothered to mess with it—he’d insisted on Chloe styling his hair like that too.

  Fuck, it was cute as hell.

  Michael set down his bowl and darted around the table to grab Axl mid-run as Chloe charged into the kitchen after him. Axl squealed with laughter and she stopped to pant.

  “You know better than to run around naked, young man.” She glanced at Michael and lifted a brow. “Though I know where he’s getting it from.”

  “Imagine her blaming me, huh, kiddo? It’s not my fault. Guys just gotta be free.” Michael swung Axl up in the air over his head and the baby shrieked and giggled. “Nothing wrong with getting some air on our manly parts. She just doesn’t get it, does she?”

  Axl flapped his arms as Michael swooped him through the air. “Nekkid! Nekkid!”

  “Thank you. You’ve now guaranteed he won’t put on pants no matter how much I beg him.” Chloe sighed and crossed her arms, but there was no missing her smile.

  She wore one pretty often lately, and Michael didn’t think he was imagining things that he might be part of the reason. No doubt about it that she was a huge portion of why he found himself grinning and laughing a hundred times more often than usual. His newfound happiness definitely had something to do with his band doing well, but it was mostly due to Chloe and the squirmy kid in his hands. Axl was beaming down at Michael as if he’d hung the moon and tossed up a few stars for good measure, like he often did since they’d moved in.

  It wasn’t all hearts and roses. Adjusting to living with a woman and a baby wasn’t easy. Not even close. As good-natured as Axl was most of the time, he also shrieked and cried when he didn’t get his way, and he woke up in the middle of the night with nightmares at least once or twice a week. Two nights ago, Michael had gotten up with him while Chloe got some desperately needed rest, and he’d resorted to a few fanciful lies so he could go back to bed himself. He’d insisted to Axl that he’d vanquished the monster in his closet with fire, and now the monster was just a pile of ashes.

  Probably not the healthiest image to put in the kid’s head, but eh, he was learning as he went.

  But Chloe was starting to trust him to take care of Axl too. When the baby bumped his leg on the coffee table during a movie, she’d hung back while Michael patched up the scrape and doled out kisses and a snack. It still felt kind of weird, like he was on the world’s longest babysitting adventure. Eventually, he’d probably get used to her and the kid being his. He was still expecting them to vanish if he closed his eyes.

  He absolutely did not want them to go anywhere. They made his place feel less like a place to crash and more like a home. He’d never really had one of those—at least not in the traditional sense—other than with Lila and her parents. Her family’s orchard back in New York had always been one of his favorite spots. He couldn’t wait to take Axl there once spring sprung in New York. Lila’s mom and dad would get such a kick out of Axl. He was their first great grandkid after all.

  And yeah, he was getting ahead of himself, and he’d long ago stopped caring. Chloe and Axl being part of his home and his life felt good. Right. He didn’t care if the timeline seemed crazy to some. He’d finally found what he hadn’t had a clue could even exist for a guy like him.

  Home. Family. Something more important than a quick fumble and bounce in the middle of the night. Romantic holidays weren’t just a reason to find a chick and get laid. They actually had true meaning.

  Christ, the night he’d spent with Chloe on Valentine’s Day a couple of weeks ago had been a damn near religious experience. Forget sex. Forget making love. They’d laughed and they’d loved and then they’d gone to sleep in each other’s arms.

  When Axl woke up crying, they’d stumbled toward him in the middle of the night like any other couple. Like parents.

  Good thing they’d had that night to be intimate together too. Any naked encounters they’d managed since had been between Axl feedings and Axl crappy sleep and long, irritating rehearsals and Chloe crashing after cleaning his house from ceiling to floor, in spite of his admonitions not to bother. The whole parenting thing kind of killed much more than quickies most of the time

  “Chopter?” Axl asked, still winging his arms up and down as Michael swung him through the air. Doing it didn’t involve much thought, since the kid would’ve been content to fly around that way for days.

  “Chopper,” Michael corrected, since it was one of Axl’s favorite words but he never quite got it right. “Yes, you’re just like a chopper. Not quite that high though. Someday we’ll go on an airplane. Would you like that?”

  Axl’s big brown eyes got even bigger as Michael brought him in for a landing in his arms. “Plane?” He craned his neck comically to find Chloe. “Mama, plane?”

  “Yeah, baby. Someday we’ll go on a plane.” She came closer to scoop her fingers through Axl’s floppy hair. No matter how much gel Chloe used, he had a bit too much to pull off the same look Michael had.

  “Don’t even have to wait for someday. My dad has a jet. We could take it out anytime you wanted.” He propped Axl on his hip. “Go up to San Fran sometime maybe, show Axl the bridges and the zoo. They have some incredible B&B’s. And you’re not feeling it,” he said as Chloe glanced away.

  “A jet, Michael? Really?”

  He shrugged as Axl chewed on the sleeve of his Nine Inch Nails T-shirt. “It’s just a plane. A large one,” he acknowledged at Chloe’s raised brow. “My dad won’t care if we take it, as long as we schedule our plans around his business trips. He’s in Venezuela right now. Has been for a few weeks actually.”

  Which was why he’d avoided hearing from his dear old dad thus far. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. His father had left him a couple text messages, usually with mentions of the news and needing to talk to him.

  That conversation probably wouldn’t consist of an educational father-son chat about the joys of marriage, so Michael had avoided him thus far. The jig would be up soon though, because his father was due back in the country anytime now—if he hadn’t already arrived.

  “Venswayla?” Axl asked, mangling the country name so badly that even Chloe laughed. Those worry wrinkles hadn’t left her forehead yet, but at least her eyes weren’t so heavy anymore.

  “Venezuela, pal. We’ll go there someday.”

  “Chopter,” Axl said quite seriously, lifting his head from his gummy work on Michael’s sleeve.

  “Chopper.” Michael laughed and handed him off to Chloe. “Go on and get dressed with your mama. Daddy’s gotta get to rehearsal.”

  He hadn’t meant to say it. He definitely hadn’t intended to by design. That name was reserved for someone who had earned the title, and he hadn’t, not yet. He hoped he was on his way, that one day Axl would want to call him that, but man, he hadn’t wanted to force Chloe’s hand.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled at her astonished look. “It was an accident.”

  “It’s okay.” Swiftly, she brushed back Axl’s wayward hair. “C’mon, buddy. Let’s go get you ready so we can go to the store. Gotta get grocerie
s for the Ax-man.”

  “Chopter?”

  She had to laugh. “Go fish. We’re going in the car like usual.” She shot Michael another glance and scurried out of the room.

  Actually scurried, like a mouse fleeing a certain trap.

  Well, fuck.

  He went back to the other side of the table to pick up his oatmeal and resume his viewing at the window. Even though it had been only a few minutes, the mood had been broken. From jubilance to a regular family morning to the feeling that he was going to have what he wanted pulled out from underneath him, just because he wanted it a little too much.

  Ry had tried to tell him a couple of times that this family thing, it wasn’t real. You couldn’t meet someone who was practically a stranger and build a life with them. Sure, that worked in movies and books, but in real life? No. He was setting himself up for a fall. Setting up Chloe too, and she had a child to think about, so really, he should know better.

  But dammit, he didn’t know better. He didn’t want to either. What he wanted was this. Just this. A wife and a kid who he could love and be loved back. A real foundation for the rest of his life. His career was insane enough. The idea of screwing his way through a bevy of groupies had lost its appeal for him that night at the House of Blues.

  Maybe most people didn’t fall in love at first sight—or re-sight, in his case—but too bad for them. Because he had, and he was sick and tired of apologizing for it. Especially to himself.

  Better yet, he’d fallen in love with Axl too. That had taken longer, probably due to the heap of fear that accompanied many of his interactions with Chloe’s baby. Still, he was getting there. He could figure it out. Other guys had, and he would too. All he needed was time.

  “Michael.”

  He pushed another spoonful of his now soggy oatmeal between his lips, chewed, and swallowed. Anything to give himself another second so everything he felt wouldn’t be written in chalk paint on his face.

  Hey, I love you. I love your son. Please give me a chance to get this right. Just don’t go.

  Forcing down the last of his oatmeal, he turned to face her. She’d changed out of her pajamas and now wore jeans and a thermal top. Her hair was in a bouncy ponytail and she wore the scantest amount of makeup.