Feels Like Home

by Jennifer Van Wyk

  “I love you so fucking much. You’re mine forever, baby. You know this, yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You love me, too.”

  “I do.” She smiles brightly.

  “Words, baby.”

  Sighing heavily like it’s a burden. “I love you.”

  “I know.”

  She bursts out laughing. “You’re such a cocky ass.”

  I press deeply into her, her back and neck arches as she turns her head to the side and groans my name. The best sound in the world.

  “Did you say cocky?”

  “Mmm.”

  I plunge my tongue into her mouth, caressing, tasting. The kiss isn’t gentle. It’s heavy breaths and pounding hearts and bruising lips. She grips the back of my neck, keeping me close to her. It goes on for minutes. Hours. I don’t know, and I don’t care because I have her beneath me again, and holy hell I missed it more than I even realized. Allowing my anger over what happened to cloud my love for her. I realize how lucky I am that she’s giving me another chance, and no way in hell will I do anything to screw it up again.

  I skim her throat, running my thumb down the center. She arches beneath me, giving me room to reach around her and unclasp her bra. I toss it to the side, allowing her full breasts to tumble free in the process. Her body is changing so much, and this is one of my favorites. She always had beautiful boobs, but now? They’re heavy and sensitive, and I can’t get enough playing with them. So, I don’t waste any more time. I travel south, kissing as I go. I slide my hands up both sides of her, pressing them together and taking both tight nubs into my mouth at the same time. She cries out, scratching the sheets, my back, my scalp as I continue to lick and suck. Giving both attention at the same time. I lift my head and bury my face between them before giving each side individual attention.

  Because I’m a giver.

  The sound of her moans is making me harder than I’ve ever been, and it’s straining against my boxers, begging to join the party.

  “You gonna let me give it to you, baby?”

  “Mmm hmm.”

  “Open up for me.”

  I kiss my way down her belly, delving my tongue into her belly button. She giggles and moans at the same time, twisting her body this way and that. My fingers wrap around her panties and slowly drag them down her body.

  She spreads her legs, her knees hitting the mattress. I look up at her and wink and she rolls her eyes.

  “Annnndyy…”

  “Did you want something?”

  I lightly blow on her center before tasting.

  “That,” she groans. “Oh, hell yes. That.”

  I take my time, enjoying the sweetness and her sounds. Sounds that I’m the cause of her making. The way she says my name when I’m making her come. Her moans that sound like they’re coming from deep in her toes. She continues to twist and turn, and I place my hands on her lower stomach to hold her steady.

  I suck on her center and relish in the way her body begins to tremble. I slide two fingers into her, twisting and curling, and within seconds, she’s thrashing beneath me, screaming my name so loudly I wouldn’t be surprised if her voice is hoarse tomorrow.

  When she’s coming down, I crawl back up her body, shedding my boxers along the way, kissing her again because I can. Because she’s still mine. Because I didn’t lose her. And I let her taste herself. Because she loves it.

  Without waiting, I press into her, the feeling so overwhelming I have to give myself a few moments before I move. I swear since she got pregnant, she feels tighter, swollen maybe? Or maybe it’s just the fact that I know she’s carrying my child. That she and I created something together.

  “Honey,” she whispers, her touch on my back so light that it makes me shudder. I bury my face in her neck and suck. “I need you to keep moving.” She emphasizes her statement by rolling her hips, causing the friction between us to build.

  “I don’t want to forget this moment.”

  “It’ll be pretty forgettable if you don’t move.”

  I lightly spank the side of her butt. “Brat.”

  “So, do something about it.”

  I lean up and smirk. She raises an eyebrow in challenge.

  I rise up on my knees, pulling her legs up, bent at the knee. I push her left leg back, keeping her leg bent and place her right leg over my shoulder. Exactly like we did our first time together. She reaches behind her, grasping at the pillows on the bed. We might need to invest in a headboard with slats when she moves in to my place. Which she will.

  “So deep,” she moans.

  “Yeah,” I grunt.

  The sounds of the ecstasy we’re sharing, the scent of her arousal, the sight of her spread out below me, sweat glistening her skin, stomach slightly rounded with my baby, has me ready to come before I want to.

  When she screams, “I can’t hold back any longer!” I don’t hold back either.

  “Yes. Come. Come now!”

  I’m pretty sure I see stars as I collapse on top of her, careful to keep some of my weight to the side.

  “Holy shit,” she pants.

  “Yeah,” I croak, words not being something I care to focus on.

  “I love you.”

  “Christine. I love the shit out of you.”

  35

  Christine

  When Aidan called me today to let me know he was in trouble at school and needed me to come over, I didn’t even blink. I was in the middle of making a batch of scones, and I left everything. I told Emma to take over and hightailed it out of there. Four hours ago, I was still holding strong to my anger.

  Two hours ago, I was about to burst into tears from Andy’s apologies.

  And right now, I’m confused.

  Confused because Andy’s tearing through my house. Naked. Throwing every box he can find from my basement up the stairs.

  “Honey? Care to tell me why you’re redecorating while your whacker is still hanging out?”

  He stops mid-throw and bursts out laughing.

  “Whacker?”

  “Well, what do you call it? Nope. Never mind. Just explain to me what’s happening here.” My hand doing an up and down motion as I speak.

  “Explain what?” he asks, turning his head to the side and giving me that grin that could make a preacher’s wife swoon.

  “Andy, you’re still naked. Not that I mind. At all. But what’s with the boxes?”

  “You’re moving.”

  If I thought I was confused before, it doesn’t even come close to what I feel now.

  “Pardon?”

  “To my house.”

  “Umm. Back up. When did we decide this?”

  He prowls up the steps, naked as the day he was born, and arrests my lips in a soul-crushing kiss.

  “Move in with us?” It barely comes out as a question, rather much more like a statement, but that does nothing to change the fact that my stomach flutters from the declaration.

  “Like… now?”

  “Yes. I spent two weeks without you because I was an idiot, Christine. I’m not spending more time away from you two.” He places a hand on my stomach as he says it, but his eyes never leave mine. “And before you get all pregnancy-hormonal on me, I want you with me. Not just because you’re carrying my baby. I want there to be no question.”

  “I wasn’t…” But I can’t finish the sentence, knowing it would be a lie. I can’t deny the fact that I was a little worried about that. I don’t question his love for me, but it did cross my mind that he could want me back simply because I’m carrying his baby.

  “I know that’s where your head was going. And I know it’s my fault that the thought even crossed your mind. I’ll never make you question that again. That’s my promise to you.”

  “It’s a good promise,” I murmur quietly.

  “It is. I love you, Christine.”

  It’s not the first time he’s said it; it’s not even the first time he’s said it in the last few hours. He’s definitely open with
his I love yous. But it doesn’t matter. Every time I hear it, my heart flops. “I love you, too.”

  “So, you will? Move in with me and the boys? If I come home without you in tow I think they’ll throw my ass out of my own house.”

  “Don’t you think we should discuss this?”

  He rears back. “What’s to discuss?”

  “Well, the fact that we just got back together a couple hours ago for one thing.”

  “But you said you forgave me.”

  “And I did.” He raises his eyebrows, so I correct myself. “I do. I’m not mad, but I don’t think jumping into moving in together is the answer.”

  “That’s not why I’m doing this,” he tries to explain.

  “I know, but don’t you think we still have a lot to figure out?”

  He pulls at the hair on his head.

  And he’s still naked.

  Standing right in front of me.

  All I would have to do is reach out my hand a mere few inches and I’d be able to grip him.

  This entire conversation is feeling more than a little awkward for that reason alone.

  “Can you put on some clothes, maybe?”

  “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

  He takes a step closer.

  “Andy,” I groan, looking down with my head in my hands.

  Bad idea.

  Now I’m just staring right down at him.

  “Christine,” he mock groans.

  “I’m serious. We can’t go from fighting to moving in together! Not without talking to the boys first.”

  He studies me for a few beats. “You’re right.” He marches off, walking into the front room where some of our clothes were discarded in our haste to get our hands on each other once again.

  He reaches into the front pocket of his jeans, pulling out his phone.

  He taps a few times then brings the phone up to his ear.

  “Aidan. Get Reece on speaker.”

  A few moments pass, and I nibble on my thumbnail, shifting from one foot to the other.

  “You both there? Good. Hang tight.”

  He pulls the phone away, taps again then walks over to me.

  “You want Christine to move in with us, boys?”

  “You fixed it? You got her back?” Reece says loudly, excitedly.

  “I did, but she seems to be on the fence about where she’s supposed to be living.”

  I gape at him, hardly believing my ears.

  “With us, Dad. Make sure you tell her she’s supposed to be living with us,” Aidan says.

  He gives me a look, and I do my best to glare in return.

  “I’ll make sure to let her know,” he says, grinning from ear to ear.

  “You are such a brat!” I whisper.

  “Is that her?”

  Dammit. How did they hear that?

  “Do you boys have bat hearing or something?”

  “Christine, please. We want you to live with us. We need a woman’s touch!”

  “Aidan Simpson you did not just say that!”

  “What? You know it’s true.”

  Andy chuckles. “Thank you, boys, you did your job.”

  “So, you’ll move in?” Reece asks, so much hope in his voice I have a hard time not just saying yes to him and giving in.

  “Your dad and I need to discuss it, but…”

  “Make it happen, Dad!”

  “How about your dad and I figure everything out, and we’ll be over with supper in a little bit?”

  “With your stuff,” Aidan says with authority.

  “Let’s just take things one day at a time, shall we?”

  “Fine. But, Christine, we want you to know… we’re more stubborn than you are. And, we’re willing to play dirty.”

  “Reece!” I cry out his name, appalled. I tsk. “I swear. It’s always the quiet ones you have to watch out for.”

  “Yeah, you’ve told me that a time or two. It would be easier to watch out for me if you lived with us, you know.”

  I gasp. Totally walked into that one.

  “You do play dirty,” I say, narrowing my eyes at their father. Who is… still naked. And completely unashamed about it, too. In fact, I’m pretty sure he’s… yep. He’s hard. As in, standing at attention, pointing in my direction hard.

  Oh my.

  My eyes seem to have lost their focus. Or gained it, depending on which way you look at it. I can’t tear them away from him.

  “See you soon, guys! We’ll clear some space in Dad’s closet!” Aidan hollers before they hang up.

  “Clearly, your sons get their tactics from you. That was low, Andy. How am I supposed to say no to them?”

  “Kind of the point.”

  “Why aren’t you putting clothes on?”

  “Why? So that when I convince you to move in with me, I have to undress again before we have sex right here on the living room floor? Think about it. Once you live with us, you won’t be as loud as you want to be.”

  “I thought you were trying to sell me on this whole idea?”

  “I am. See, funny thing. I’ve learned a little about you. And, aside from me behaving like a complete moron in recent weeks, I get you. I also know that you care more about those boys — and hopefully me — than screaming like a banshee during sex.”

  “You’re so annoying.”

  He nods his head seriously. “I know. It would bother me to be around someone who’s right all the time, too.”

  I growl. I can’t help it. He’s such a smart ass. So cocky and full of himself. But he somehow makes it loveable.

  He steps closer, dropping his phone to the couch, and wraps his hands around my biceps.

  “Christine. Is it so awful that we want you living with us? Is there really anything wrong with that? You knew it would happen eventually. Now that I pulled my head out of my ass, I’m ready to keep moving forward.”

  “But you literally just pulled it out of your ass.”

  “Not exactly,” he murmurs, and I narrow my eyes, about to ask him what that means, but he continues on before I get the chance. “Just because my head was up there doesn’t mean that I didn’t miss the hell out of you. Or think about you constantly.”

  “I thought about you, too,” I admit.

  “Of course, you did.” He smiles, spreading his arms out to his side then points to his… yeah. He’s pointing to what’s pointing at me.

  I roll my eyes in return.

  “You might want to get that checked out, that whole eye rolling thing. You do it a lot to me.” He jumps out of the way when I reach for him, ready to smack him on the chest. He backs away until he’s in the kitchen, out of my reach.

  “You’re so annoying!” I yell.

  I hear him open the fridge.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m hungry!”

  “Now?”

  “Why not now? I worked up an appetite earlier. Didn’t you?”

  Food?

  Oh yeah.

  “I could eat.”

  And then my tongue gets stuck in my throat, and I have to cross my legs where I stand to stop from peeing myself because there stands Andy, in a whipped cream bikini.

  He’s smiling, completely unashamed, as he runs an index finger through the white foam covering his right nipple, bringing it up to his mouth so he can suck it clean.

  He moans, closing his eyes and dropping his head back.

  It should be weird.

  It’s mesmerizing and erotic and has me peeling my clothes away in my living room like a wanton slut.

  His nostrils flare as I get closer.

  He grabs me roughly, bringing us chest to chest, whipped cream smearing between us.

  “Now we match,” he says in a low voice.

  “Hmmm. Whatever are we gonna do about it?”

  The wicked gleam in his eyes proves to me that he knows exactly what he intends to do about it, and his plans match nicely with mine.

  We don’t make it back to his house for
a few hours. My stuff is far from packed, but I know there’s time for that. When I walk up to Andy’s house, a big handmade Welcome Home sign hangs on the entrance door greeting me.

  Beneath the sign, stand the boys and a crib.

  I look at Andy and scrunch my eyebrows.

  He scrubs a hand along the back of his neck and shrugs.

  “So, uh, a few nights ago I went for a drive. Needed to clear my head. I ended up at your place.”

  “What? But you didn’t come in?”

  “No. I realized that you deserved more than me showing up in the middle of the night. So, I called Barrett, told him I was heading into the shop to go through lumber. He asked why, and I told him he’d find out soon enough.” He smirks because he knows that Barrett was probably dying to find out the reason. “I brought it home and…” he gestures to the crib.

  “Wait, you made this?”

  “I did.”

  “In… a day?” I exclaim because it’s… well, it’s beautiful. And perfect.

  It’s stained a dark walnut finish and has detail carved into the head and foot of the crib. I walk closer and notice the detail isn’t just some random scrolling. It’s an S. For Simpson.

  “But, how did you…” My voice trails off, and my tears don’t even have time to threaten spilling over. They just make a fast trail down my cheeks.

  “I had a little help,” he says with a shrug.

  I look at the boys who are both beaming with pride.

  “You did this?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

  “We all did. They stained and varnished it. It was a team effort.”

  I don’t even know what to say.

  A few days ago, I felt alone. And now? Now I have more family than I could have ever dreamed of.

  “Thank you,” I tell the three men in my life, and it doesn’t feel like enough, but by the looks on their faces, it is.

  Andy pulls me back outside and kisses me softly on the lips, his fingers skimming through my hair.

  “I love you,” he says against my lips, and I whisper the words back to him that I know we’ll tell each other for the rest of our lives.