by Serena Bell
“You’re a good dad,” Liv says quietly. “A really good dad. Whatever Thea believed about you, she was dead wrong.”
It’s one thing to know something for yourself. And it’s another thing to have someone you care about say it to you. It settles in my chest, warm and exuberant and expanding. And I don’t know what to do with it except to reach my arms out to her and say, “C’mere.”
Chapter 25
Liv
He draws me into his arms and kisses me. And I’m melting. Losing definition, losing edges. I whimper, which makes him clutch my head and kiss me harder, his tongue probing, then plundering.
“Upstairs,” he says, but I’m having trouble letting him go—I have his hair and I keep pulling his face back to mine, and he keeps obligingly kissing me, until finally he tears himself away. “Upstairs,” he repeats, in a tone of such complete command that it finally breaks through my sex haze and gets me off the couch.
“Your room,” he says.
“Your bed is bigger.”
“But I like your room more.”
This is so un-Chase-like that I can’t mount any kind of argument or even questioning. I follow him to my room, where he backs me up against the bed and then tips me onto it and follows me down, his thigh wedged between mine, his arms holding his weight off me except where I most want it. Mmm. We are dry-humping like horny teenagers and—
“Chase,” I moan.
That makes him grin. He lowers his mouth to mine and keeps up the friction below, until it bursts like gold in me and I cry out into the kiss.
“You’re so easy, and it is the sexiest thing ever,” he says.
“I’m only easy because it’s you,” I say. Which is completely true. I’m never like this, uninhibited and push-button ready. Chase has the trip wire.
He kneels up over me and tugs his T-shirt off. I have to stare, because apparently I will never get enough of the visual spectacle that is Chase. The jeans come off next, and then his boxer briefs, and then he begins peeling me out of my clothes, and I’m too limp and glow-y to even help very much.
He pulls a condom out of his jeans pocket—
“Really?” I ask. “Were you a Boy Scout?”
“The Boy Scouts didn’t want me,” he says. “I was too much of a spazz in meetings. But I’m way better at being prepared in all situations than a Boy Scout. The Boy Scouts ask me for help when they’re out in the woods.”
I don’t doubt this. I take the condom out of his hand and tear it open. “You have a very—is it weird to say ‘pretty’—cock?”
“Handsome?” he offers.
“Thick and curved just right, and—”
“Jesus,” he says, snatching the condom back. “Keep that up and you’ll never get as far as the condom.”
“Nice fat head.”
His eyelids are so heavy it’s miraculous he can still see. “You didn’t say you were a dirty-talker, too.”
“Had to keep some surprises back.”
He rolls the condom on, partially obscuring my view, but it’s okay because what comes next is better than the view. He lines himself, but then instead of plunging in, he plays. Tip of his cock against my super-sensitive clit, but he seems to know how lightly he has to stroke to keep me on the pleasure side of the pleasure-pain line. I drop my head back on the pillow and struggle to breathe.
“Tell me what you like.”
“I like that,” I say.
“And this?”
A finger, curled inside me, steadily stroking my g-spot. I moan my answer.
“And this?”
His mouth on mine and then slipping around to brush breath and teeth over the sensitive curls of my ear, along the fine down on my jawline, across the bare skin of my throat, down to trap one nipple so it’s held lightly between his teeth. His tongue comes out and flicks.
He plays. Finger, cock, tongue. The tension winds so tight in my low belly that I writhe and squirm and call his name, but he won’t let me go over. Won’t and won’t and won’t. I press my hips up, trying to get more, but he won’t give it.
I’m past verbal. Can’t even manage his name. Pushing my breast into his mouth, tipping my hips desperately, bearing down on the finger that is too thin to grab with my needy inner muscles. So riled I want to twist right out of his arms.
“You want to come?” He takes his mouth off my nipple long enough to ask, then ducks his head again.
I’m whimpering. It sounds almost like I’m crying, I’m that far gone out of my own mind.
“Beg,” he says, another pause in the nipple action.
“Please. Pleeaase.”
“Tell me what you’ll do if I make you come.”
“I’ll make you come. I’ll suck you. I’ll fuck you. I’ll—I’ll do anything. Anything you want me to do.”
A look crosses Chase’s face—and I get that rich, obscene thrill that I get from giving him pleasure. I’d do anything for that look. I open my mouth to promise more dirty things.
“Come camping with me.”
“What?” It was so not what I expected him to say.
“Come camping with me.”
“I don’t camp.”
He removes his mouth from my nipple. His cock from my clit. His finger from my pussy. He says, “Sure you do.”
My muscles contract on emptiness and my nipples are cold from where he licked them. There’s a fine burn in the deepest part of my belly that’s already begging. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll camp. Just make me come.”
He gives me an absurdly triumphant look, then lines himself up again, and presses in. Slowly, so slowly. Farther and farther until he is buried to the hilt, and then he jacks his hips another half-centimeter, stroking his pubic bone over mine, and I come in such a rush that I almost pass out.
“Fuck!” he says, and his cock, already filling me so perfectly that I want to remember this moment forever, throbs and pulses while he throws his head back and closes his eyes and follows me over.
Chapter 26
Chase
“You were kidding, right?” Liv whispers, after I’ve gotten up and thrown away the condom and come back to bed. She’s lying in my arms, warm and relaxed, and I’m absurdly happy.
“About?”
“The camping.” She scootches away from me so she can scrutinize my face.
“Dead serious.”
“You can’t seriously hold me to something I said when I was that out of my mind.” She sounds genuinely alarmed, which makes me laugh.
“You promised. If I made you come, you’d do whatever I asked you to.”
“I know, but we both know I meant, like, sexual stuff, favors, and I’m totally good for all that, any of that—”
I file that away for later, grinning.
“—but not camping.”
“Holding you to it.”
She buries her face in her hands. I feel a tiny bit sorry for her, and a lot triumphant. She raises her head. “Chase. You know me. You know I can’t start the day without three cups of coffee and a hot shower. You know I don’t go out in public unless I’ve had an hour and a half to do my hair and my makeup. You know I don’t get dirty—”
I have many, many things to say about that, but I stick to the topic at hand. “Unless there’s a kid involved,” I point out. “I’ve seen you get all kinds of dirty doing craft projects and making mud pies.”
“This is different. This involves not sleeping in a bed.”
“I am all for not-sleeping in beds,” I say, letting my hand drift down to cup her breast.
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
“Just for two nights. If you hate it you’ll never have to do it again.”
“I already hate it,” she says.
“I need your help,” I admit. “I want to take Katie campin
g. That’s what dads do. They teach their kids to do the stuff they love. I love camping. And I want Katie to love camping. And I think it’ll be a lot easier to do it the first time if you help me.”
“I call bullshit,” she says. “You’re the manliest man in manland. You run a sporting goods store. You can do anything you want to do.”
What I said isn’t the whole truth. I also want Liv to come with us because, well, because I want her there. I want to share what I love with her, too.
I am not, however, above exploiting the Katie element for my own gain. “I can’t explain to a five-year-old girl how to pee in the woods without getting her shoes wet.”
Liv closes her eyes and drops her head back, and I’m pretty sure I’ve won, at least that round. I go in for the kill—or that’s my plan, anyway.
“I’ll pay you. Double overtime.”
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You’ll be working the whole time. And it’ll be weekend time.”
She shakes her head. “Seriously, Chase, don’t be stupid. I’m not taking your money.”
“But you’ll do it?
She sighs heavily. Closes her eyes. Opens them again.
“Yeah. I’ll do it.” Her expression is bleak.
I feel a little bit sorry for her. But not really. Mostly I feel elated. It’s been way too long since I’ve camped, and I’ve always wanted to take Katie. It wasn’t the kind of thing I ever could have convinced Thea to let me do, to give me Katie for that long and to trust me not to screw it up.
I push away my old frustrations—Thea’s gone now, and there’s no point in thinking about the past. I’m going to take my girls camping, and we are going to have a great time.
Well, Katie and I are going to have a great time. I’m not 100 percent sure what Liv’s going to think. But either way, we’ll have fun. Either Liv will fall in love with camping, too—or it’ll be the perfect revenge for the placemats and napkins and dishes and fancy food and the beautification of my guest room.
“When are we talking about?” she asks, her tone more “firing squad” than “night under the stars.”
“This Saturday and Sunday nights? I’ll get someone to cover for me Saturday so we can hike Saturday and be at the site in time to pitch the tent by dark.”
“Hike?” she demands. “Like, hike, hike? With a backpack?”
There might be a note of panic in her voice now. And I’m evil, because I’m enjoying it.
“Yeah. What’d you think I was talking about?”
“Car camping.”
I shake my head in disgust. “That’s not real camping.”
“It felt pretty real to me the one time I did it.”
“Oh, so you do do camping,” I tease.
“I did camping, one horrible time.”
“But if it was car camping you didn’t do it right. So you don’t know. You might love it.”
She shakes her head, but her teeth clamp into her lower lip and I realize she’s trying not to smile.
A feeling like laughter fills my chest.
This is how it is with us, so opposite you’d think we’d cancel each other out like matter and antimatter, but good, too.
Not good. Great.
Amazing.
Chapter 27
Liv
I wake up feeling like I’m sleeping under a dentist’s lead apron. My limbs are so heavy with satisfaction they don’t want to move; my mind is so sluggish under layers of sleep I can barely string thoughts together.
Last night.
I almost purr with pleasure, remembering.
And then…
Shit! Didn’t set alarm!
I open my eyes and it’s almost 9:30. I was supposed to be up at 8:00 with Katie so Chase could go into the store.
I stagger downstairs and find Katie and Chase playing Candy Land on the kitchen table.
“Play with us!” Katie suggests. Or, actually, demands.
“She needs a cup of coffee,” Chase tells her. He gets up from the table, crosses to the counter, and pours me a steaming cup. He hands it to me and I bring it close to my nose, the scent alone swoon-worthy. I suck down a few glorious hot sips and feel infinitely more human.
“Why are you still here? Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“Thought you might need a little extra sleep,” he says, smirking, eyes warm.
I go hot all over. “But—”
“Brooks can handle the store for a couple of hours. I thought you and Katie and I could go in together and you and Katie could get fitted for some hiking boots.”
Oh. Right. Camping.
“Play Candy Land!” Katie exhorts.
“Let Liv drink her coffee and take her shower. I’ll play with you.”
“But I want her to play,” Katie wails.
I brush her hair back from her face. “I’ll play Chutes and Ladders with you later while Daddy’s at work.”
“How ’bout this,” Chase says. “While Liv’s showering, I’ll tell you about something super fun I have planned for us. A camping trip! With Liv.” Chase shoots me a look. Triumph.
Bastard! He knows he’s sealed my fate. Telling Katie means there’s no way I can back down. I won’t break a five-year-old’s heart, not even to avoid sleeping in bugs and dirt.
Katie’s eyes are huge. “A camping trip? With a tent?”
“With a tent, and a cooking stove, and a special filter for making clean water…”
Even after I grab my mug and head upstairs for my shower, I can still hear his voice behind me, listing the instruments of my torture.
* * *
—
Sandra, a plump woman with curly gray hair who says she’s worked in the store since before Chase took over, measures my foot. I didn’t know people even did that anymore. I thought they just ordered three sizes from Zappos and chose the one that fit best.
Katie sits next to me, swinging her legs because they won’t touch the floor, lining her foot up precisely when the saleswoman asks her to.
Sandra comes back with a stack of shoe boxes. She squats and helps Katie into a pair of cute pink hiking boots, then guides my feet into a pair of boots so brown, ugly, and stiff I’m not sure whether my desire to cry is more about loathing or pain. “Breaks your heart, doesn’t it?” Sandra asks.
I look gratefully at her, thankful she’s so sympathetic about the awful boots, then realize her question isn’t about the boots, it’s about Katie, who’s hopping all over the store now, showing her boots to anyone who will look.
“Losing her mama like that,” she whispers.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. Katie is better every day, but I know from personal experience that being motherless never really gets easier. All those times when someone else’s mom brings cupcakes to class. When your friend skins a knee and you watch her mom cry with her over the sting of the alcohol. When you get your period.
Someday, when Katie’s older, I’ll tell her, You survive it, but you don’t get over it.
“It’s a terrible thing, no doubt about it,” Sandra says briskly. “But then there’s this other part of me that’s—well, not glad, that’s not what I mean at all; you don’t ever wish ill of the dead—but at least now Chase’ll get to be a real part of his daughter’s life.”
As if on cue, I hear Katie crowing with joy over her new boots, and Chase chuckling, and I look over at them. My ovaries swell to bursting.
“You gotta give ’em a real try before you know if they’re right for you,” Sandra says, and my eyes fly to hers. She’s looking at my feet.
Oh. The boots.
I obey the command, walking in the miserable boots back and forth. I’m distracted now, from the discomfort and the dislike. I stop in front of Sandra.
“Don’t get me wrong,”
Sandra says. “I’m sorry Katie lost her mama. Nothing worse than that. But she has an amazing dad. And maybe a nice stepmama, someday, too?” Her voice rises, teasing.
She’s talking about me. She thinks—
She thinks Chase and I—
And Katie—
What if…?
But there is no room in my life for what-ifs. There never has been, and there certainly isn’t now.
“I’m just Katie’s nanny. And only for another week.”
“Oh!” Sandra blushes furiously. “I thought—I guess because of the shoes and the camping trip and the way you guys look at each other—”
She stammers to a stop, the sentence unfinished.
“How do you like those boots?” Sandra asks, recovering her equilibrium.
Relieved, I hold up a foot, which feels like it’s been encased in concrete. “I hate them,” I admit.
Sandra’s smile widens. I think she’s been messing with me. Maybe it’s a test of some kind.
“Is there anything, I don’t know—”
“Softer? Lighter weight?”
“Less like a ski boot?”
She opens another box and takes out a pair of boots I don’t hate. I mean, I don’t imagine they’ll get a lot of use after the camping trip, but they don’t make me want to curl up and rock, either. They’re black and white, with craggy white soles and a diamond pattern in the nylon. I try them and on walk back and forth across the shoe area a few times, not exactly admiring them, but at least not hating them.
Sandra and I give them our joint stamp of approval, and I head over to find Chase and Katie.
Katie is playing with some of the bright-colored fishing lures. “They’re fairies,” she says.
They do look an awful lot like fairies.
“Where’s your dad?”
“Helping a guy.”
I round a corner to spot him chatting with a wiry dude. I hang back a ways, not wanting to interrupt.
“…best rental out that way is probably Jake’s. And you can stop at the Lutenberg Market for sandwiches and ice. They open at five thirty a.m. on Saturdays. Even have some nice lures if you’re in a pinch.”
