Lying together on the bed, he pulled away from me to gaze into my eyes. His fingertips trailed over my cheek, leaving ripples of heat in their wake. His thumb rubbed across my lower lip, and he breathed a shaky sigh.
“Is it too soon to tell you how I feel?” he asked, smothering my answer with a kiss, then pulling away again. “Will it make you run? Will it entice you to stay?” He kissed me again, swallowing my words.
“I don’t really like running,” I murmured when he finally released my mouth. “I’ve always preferred to swim.”
“Oh! There’s a pool,” he said brightly, breaking the moment.
I laughed and kissed him, and he rolled me into his arms. His tongue wrapped around mine as he pressed his hard body to my soft contours, and I trailed my nails down his spine.
He nipped at my lower lip, breathing in little growls as he stiffened against me. The soft bed accommodated my every whim, and I wrapped my legs around him, surrounding his whole body in my embrace.
“I want you to be mine,” I breathed in his ear.
“All yours,” he murmured. “No one else’s.”
With a blissful sigh, I slid over him, pulling him into me. He whispered my name as he rolled me under him, savoring every inch. His kiss was filled with a desperate need, a passion unleashed. Small moans and gasps punctuated the musical rhythm of our bodies grinding and sliding together, pushing every thought from my head with wave after wave of unearthly pleasure. My legs began to shake as I buried my nails in his shoulder, and he slowly pulled away.
“Don’t go!” I whimpered as he slid down and away.
“Hush, baby,” he growled. “Trust me.”
His teeth nipped my earlobe as his hand roughly handled my breasts, filling my body with painful pleasure. I moved to grab him and he pinned down my wrist, moving his mouth to tantalize the tender flesh there. Moving up my arm and down to my breast, he devoured me slowly, tasting my skin and igniting my nerves.
Releasing my wrist, he slid his hands over my sides as his mouth followed the line down my stomach to the softness beneath my navel.
“You feel like heaven,” he murmured against me.
My heart swelled as every insecurity I had developed since having the twins disappeared into nothingness, popping like bubbles in the wind. He slid lower, kissing my hips, my thighs, touching my knees as he trailed his tongue up the sensitive skin to my aching center. I cried out as he kissed me, plunging his tongue deep inside, moving his lips over me, hot licks of pleasure flicking over my body from my core.
His fingers played me like a harp, each note of ecstasy building up a promise of an earth-shaking crescendo. Filled with his hot breath and twisting tongue, I let myself fall over the edge of eternity, crying out as reality shattered, writhing against him as wave after wave of passion ripped through my soul. I lay liquid and buzzing as he launched himself over me, taking my mouth with the same fierce need that he had taken my sex.
Miles entered me with possessive force, holding my body close to his with his powerful arms. His masculine scent filled my head, and his demanding touch dissolved my body until we were a single entity, entwined beyond the physical.
Inhaling his breath, I danced beneath him, slick skin sliding in seamless rhythm. His need was palpable, swirling through my body, dripping over my tongue.
With a primal growl he flipped me to my belly, and I gripped the sturdy carved headboard as he ran his hands down my torso to cup my round ass. His fingers dove deep inside, then slid over me, searching for the hard, aching nub. A gasp tore from my throat as he found it. Overwhelmed with lust and need, my hips bucked back toward him as he drove me ever closer to another riptide of ecstasy.
“Oh, God, don’t stop,” I begged him.
Groaning, he slid his hand around, still playing me as he entered me with an animal thrust, so deep and wild that I thought I might burst.
Waves raced over me, crashing into him as he drove into me again and again. The bubble of molten lust beneath his fingers grew, my whole body quivering with the power of it. He tangled a fist in my hair as he began to pulse inside of me, the slight pain letting the twisting tide of pleasure take over.
A crack of lightning through my core electrified the waves of pleasure that had built within me, unleashing a typhoon. My body bucked against his wildly as the storm raged, washing nirvana through each cell and molecule of my being. With a primal growl he emptied into me, filling me with his hot passion. In sucking gasps and little groans, the ecstasy slowly subsided.
He held me close afterward, cradling my spent and glowing body against him as he covered my head and face with little kisses. I sighed into him, floating on the aftermath of our shared euphoria. As my heartbeat slowed and I regained the higher functions of my mind, I glanced across the room at the clock.
“The twins go to bed in an hour. Miles, would you like to meet your children?”
Chapter 17
Miles
The Twins
Shelley drove back to her mother’s house with me in the passenger seat. I offered her the use of my car; it was objectively nicer and faster, but she insisted on driving hers. I accepted and slid in beside her, my heart pounding anxiously.
“You okay?” she asked as she turned onto the road.
“Yeah, I’m great,” I lied.
She shot me a look, and I shrugged.
“Okay, so I’m nervous. Really nervous. Does your mom hate me?”
“Hate is a strong word,” she said slowly, her lips quirking in amusement. “She hasn’t been too thrilled with you, but most of that came before you were aware of the situation. She hasn’t had the best luck with romance, so she’s very protective of me and my sister when it comes to relationships.”
“That makes sense,” I mused. “Is she still unhappy with me? This is a terrible way to start an in-law-ish relationship.” My stomach turned over at the thought of meeting an older, angry version of Shelley.
Shelley laughed, which didn’t help any. “She trusts my judgment,” she said firmly. “If I say you stay, you stay. Period. She isn’t going to make your life miserable.”
“Still…she’s kind of been doing my job for me for the last couple years. I should probably do something to make it up to her.”
“Like what?” Shelley asked, interested.
Her taking me seriously told me everything I needed to know. I was definitely going to have to earn her mother’s trust and goodwill.
“I don’t know…what does she like?”
“She gave up on her dreams of being a fashion designer when Jenna and I were born,” Shelley told me. “She works at an accounting firm now, but I’m pretty sure she hates it.
“She usually spends her free time gardening or helping me with the twins or fixing the house. There’s always something to fix; it’s a never-ending project. So…that doesn’t really tell you what she likes as much as it tells you what she hates; I’m sorry. She likes flowers and dolphins and fashion. She likes word puzzles and games. She likes to dance.”
“She sounds like quite a woman,” I said, more nervous still.
“Oh, she is,” Shelley said proudly. “She’s pretty amazing.”
“I guess she would have to be, to have a daughter like you.” I paused for a moment, considering what I had just said. “That sounded a lot less cheesy in my head.”
She laughed, and the sound melted my heart as it always did. Something deeper than desire twisted in my chest, frightening and wonderful all at once. The fear triggered a second fear—one that I hadn’t acknowledged, even to myself.
“Do the twins know anything about me?” I asked. I hoped that they hadn’t been tearing me down to the kids this whole time, but it would have been understandable. Painful, but understandable.
“No,” she said softly. “Nothing more than what they might have picked up when Mom and I talked about you, but we never referenced you as their Daddy in front of them. As far as they know, it’s just me and Mom.”
“I don
’t know if that’s better or worse than them knowing I existed but never seeing me,” I confessed. I shifted, suddenly uncomfortable in my seat. “What if they hate me?”
She made a noise halfway between a laugh and a sympathetic coo. “Honey, they just turned two. They don’t know how to hate yet, with the exception of Brussels sprouts.”
I sighed as the tension in my chest eased slightly.
“That’s a relief. Hey, I like it when you call me honey.”
“Then I’ll be sure to do it more,” she said with a cute little smile. “Here we are. Are you ready?”
“No, but I can fake it,” I said with a grin.
“Good enough. Pretty sure those were my exact thoughts when I went into labor.”
“One of these days I want to hear that whole story in gruesome detail.”
“I’m sure Mom will be happy to fill you in,” she said wryly.
Unable to put it off any longer, we stepped out of the car. The small two-story cottage somehow seemed more intimidating than every mansion, office building, or foreign embassy I had ever approached.
I took a deep breath and Shelley’s hand, and we walked to the door together. For some reason I expected her to knock, and when she walked right in, it sort of threw me. The smell of cooking lingered in the air, mingled with that undefinable aroma which all old houses seem to share.
My heart leapt when I heard a child scream, followed by a crash. Shelley ran toward the sound with me hot on her heels, and we stepped into a chaotic scene.
A woman who must have been Shelley’s mother held one curly-haired blond baby in one arm while chasing the other one around the room. The little boy was nude from the waist down and cackling like a maniac, and the woman was dodging pieces of the upturned plastic play kitchen which were scattered across the floor.
Shelley didn’t hesitate for a second. She swooped in and scooped the rebel up, blowing raspberries on his belly as he shrieked happily. The other woman stood erect, blowing the hair out of her reddened face before her sharp eyes landed on me.
“Don’t look so shocked; you made them,” she huffed at me in exasperation.
“I…uh…” I had no words.
“Mom, this is Miles. Miles, this is my mother, Lisa.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” I said, holding out a hand.
She didn’t take it. Instead, she shoved the little girl—Frida, my little girl—into my arms and collapsed into the armchair behind her.
“So?” she began, directing the question at Shelley. “He’s here; what does that mean?”
Shelley was diapering the boy—Vincent, my son—and moved seamlessly into righting the play kitchen. The little girl in my arms stared up at me with a deep, serious expression which seemed out of place on her chubby little face. I looked back at her, frozen in something bordering on terror.
“Have a seat, Miles,” Shelley invited, gesturing to the sofa.
I sat carefully, making sure I didn’t pinch or squish Frida as I did so. The second I was seated, she curled into me the way Shelley sometimes did, and yawned.
My heart melted instantly, beating with a powerful emotion I didn’t quite know how to categorize. Shelley sat beside me with the wiggling Vincent struggling to launch himself out of her arms.
“Settle down,” she told him.
He gave her a pitiful look, and she pursed her lips at him. Giving up, he flopped limply back against her, his little tummy heaving as he caught his breath.
“Miles has given me his word that he will be there for the kids, and for me. To that end, he has stepped down as CEO and bought a house on Pebble Beach.”
“There are no houses on Pebble Beach. Only castles,” Lisa said with an amused twist of her lips.
“And it’s absolutely fabulous,” Shelley sighed, her eyes twinkling.
I recognized that look. That was how I’d looked at pretty much everything when the millions had started rolling in. As soon as I’d known that I could afford anything my heart desired, everything looked gilded and new and exciting. It had never been wholly fulfilling, though. Not nearly as fulfilling as the feel of Frida’s warm little body curled in my lap. I touched her hair gently, in awe at the softness of her curls.
“Then what happens now?” Lisa asked.
“I’ve asked Shelley if she and the twins would like to move in with me,” I said, feeling like I needed to say something.
“And?” Again, Lisa directed the question at her daughter.
“And…I’m not ready to take that leap just yet. Would you mind if the kids and I continued to live with you for the next little while? Just long enough for Miles and me to establish a real relationship.”
My heart sank and lifted again as she spoke. I realized that Shelley hadn’t exactly given me an answer back at the house, but I had assumed…which had been the biggest part of my problem over the last few years, I acknowledged. Assumptions had left me vulnerable to manipulations and lies, and had left me missing out on some wonderful things.
“You know you’re welcome to stay as long as you like,” Lisa told her warmly. She turned her sharp gaze to me. “I wouldn’t mind having more time to decide whether you’re worthy of my daughter and my grandkids, anyway. I’m aware that you were kept in the dark, but you didn’t exactly blow my mind when you discovered their existence.”
“I handled it poorly,” I admitted. “But I can’t imagine leaving, now.”
Frida looked up at me, then looked at her mother.
“Who da?”
“That’s your Daddy, Frida,” Shelley told her with a smile.
Vincent began to cry, and Shelley snuggled him with a little chuckle.
“He’s your Daddy too, Vincent,” she assured him.
Vincent’s tears dried as quickly as they had begun, and he looked over at me with curiosity shining in his big blue eyes.
I opened my free arm to him, and he crawled across the couch and climbed into my lap, still energetic in spite of his race around the living room.
“Hi, buddy,” I said, gazing down into his fierce little face.
“Daddy?”
“Yeah, I’m your daddy.” My voice broke a little bit, and hot tears prickled at the corners of my eyes. I pressed a kiss to his forehead, breathing him in.
“Daddy,” Frida repeated.
“Yeah, honey, I’m your daddy, too,” I told her.
She seemed to think about that for a minute, then nodded sagely.
“It’s bedtime,” Shelley said softly. “Would you like to help tuck them in?”
“Yes. Yes please.”
My heart was so full I was afraid it was going to overflow. I carried both kids up the stairs, following Shelley to the bathroom. She showed me how to brush their teeth, and I wrestled Vincent into his jammies.
“You’re strong, buddy! But you have to let me put these on now.”
“No!”
“Vincent.” I heard my own Dad’s tone come out of my mouth and almost winced. But Vincent settled down, still grinning, and let me put his jammies on.
“Why can’t you be that good for me?” Shelley asked playfully.
Vincent only yawned in response. I put him in his crib and covered him up with the blanket, then handed him the stuffed elephant he was gesturing insistently for. His eyelids grew heavy as he slid his thumb into his mouth, and I kissed his curly little head. Shelley and I switched places, and I kissed Frida.
“Goodnight, honey,” I said.
“Night night Daddy. Night night Mommy.”
“Goodnight, baby.”
“Nigh-nigh Daddy. Nigh-nigh Mommy.”
“Goodnight, buddy.”
I was in tears by the time we reached the hallway, and I needed to take a breather. When my vision cleared and I had whisked the evidence away, I looked up to see Shelley’s worried face.
“It’s too much, isn’t it?” she asked nervously.
“Oh, God no,” I told her fervently, reaching for her hands. “No, it’s not too much, not by a l
ong shot. If anything, it’s not nearly enough. I love them. I love them more than I’ve ever loved anything or anyone ever in my whole life.”
Relief broke through her expression like sunshine parting the clouds, and she wrapped her arms around me. “I’m so glad,” she whispered. “They like you already.”
“Well, they’re going to see a lot more of me. I hope your mom doesn’t mind me bumming around here for a while.”
“I’m sure she’ll be happy for the extra hands,” Shelley laughed. “I will too, to be honest. Not that I’m using you for your hands or anything…”
“I know,” I told her, tipping her face up to mine. “I’ll be as many hands as you need me to be.”
As our lips met, I knew that it wouldn’t matter if she wanted to stay apart for a week, a month, or a decade. I would always be here, and she would always be welcome to move in with me. She had waited for me for almost three years. I could wait a little longer.
Chapter 18
Miles
Building Blocks
Six months later, I knew the time was right. Shelley and the twins had spent most of their days at our Pebble Beach house, and many, if not most, of their nights. Shelley had blossomed into the sort of woman who left me breathless, not only with her beauty, but with her fierce compassion as a mother. Her art filled the downstairs, breathing life into the mansion, and the kids had left their mark in nearly every room.
I had an intricate plan to make it permanent, and I was just waiting for my chance to make it a reality.
I got my chance one Thursday afternoon, after Shelley had left the twins with me to take her wares to the craft fair. I sat down on the floor of the playroom with Vincent and Frida, stacking blocks with them.
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