It turns out that if you want privacy, you should choose a private place. The dock and the lake are technically private, but they offer no shelter. No shelter from eyes, no shelter from judgment. And there were a lot of eyes and a lot of judgment.
People told us during the little impromptu party back at Thomas’ house that we both looked beautiful out on the dock together. That it took them a minute to wrap their heads around us being together, but once they realized what was happening, they had to struggle to imagine us not being together.
I was afraid of judgement. I feared people would look at Thomas in a way that’s less than kind. I was afraid people would ask what a man like him wanted with a girl like me. That they’d judge for the way I came into his life. For the way our relationship started. And they judged. They judged until they didn’t anymore. And then people began ribbing me for taking so long to get my man.
We shook hands. I served leftover peach cobbler and lemon chicken. We danced with the whole town crammed into Thomas’ living room. Ray played piano. Ronnie took pictures.
And when it was time for everyone to go home, Thomas and I walked across the lawn between our houses barefoot, with the dewey blades of grass pricking the soles of our feet and the freshness of the growth making our heels a little muddy. But I didn’t have to worry about my dress getting dirty, because I chose a simple lace tea-length that I knew Thomas would love.
Our favorite thing to do is go to the lake. I’ve read conflicting information on swimming while pregnant, so this might be our last trip out here for a while.
“Get your sweet ass over here,” Thomas says, his feet dangling in the water and his hands in his lap between his spread knees. I swim over lazily and he pulls me onto the dock with a swift motion, pulling me into his arms.
“Can we go take a shower first?” I whisper as he plants a row of small kisses on my shoulder and the crook of my neck. He kisses up my throat to my chin while putting his hand on the back of my neck. His possessive touch, sweet words, and bold movements make me crazy every time he gets his hands on me.
“Fine,” he whispers, pushing his hips up. My bikini bottoms flood when I feel his hard length up against me. “But I’m getting in the shower with you.”
“I think we can do that.”
“It wasn’t a request, baby. It’s what’s going to happen.”
When we’re inside, we strip off our clothes and he runs a hot shower. We step in and it’s clear that he has no intention of getting me clean. He spins me around and laces his fingers through mine from behind, kissing the back of my neck and making the hairs there stand up.
He grabs the soap, lathers me up, touching every inch of my body. He washes my hair. I’m in a heightened state of bliss the whole time, unable to wipe the drowsy, content smile off my face.
When we’re clean to his satisfaction, he dries us off and carries me into the bedroom.
“Hey Thomas,” I whisper as he lays me down, “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Okay baby,” he whispers his reply. “Can you do it while I’m between your legs?”
I don’t have a chance to answer before he’s kissing down my body and my fingers are locking behind his head. His gives one breast a long, slow stroke with his tongue while his hand pinches the nipple of the other. I feel the pressure inside my clit and I well up with renewed wetness. It’s the perfect time for us to get pregnant and it feels like my body is getting itself ready. I’m so wet, so hot all over. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt closer to Thomas than I do when he kisses my belly, bends my knees so my legs are draped over his shoulders, and he gives me pleasure and attention and love in just one of the very many ways he shows his love every day.
Just being there as a friend is one way to show love. Another way is to make my body know insane, crazy, intense pleasure. I think his tongue might literally be magic. I think his dick might have special properties. I’m addicted to it. I’m addicted to him.
All of him. His body, his soul, his words, his care. And I know he’s addicted to me, too. Even after two years he looks at me the way he looked at me that night on the dock. That morning in the kitchen. The day after, and every day since.
I didn’t know I’d be able to find love like this. It turns out I didn’t have to find it. It was right there, waiting for me. And I would have waited forever for Thomas.
I’m just so glad I didn’t have to.
He glides his hands up under my ass and pulls me against his mouth, humming and sucking and licking and nipping at every part of me. He screws one finger into my pussy and another lower. The fullness and satisfaction has only grown with every time we touch.
“I was thinking we could…hm…” I moan.
“What is it, baby,” he whispers, putting a kiss on my thigh.
“I was thinking we could talk about starting our family together.”
He tenses up and a breath rocks through him. It’s a breath I can feel inside my bones.
“I don’t want to talk about starting it,” he says. “And we already are a family. You and I are a family no matter what. But if we want to grow, then I say let’s do it. There’s nothing to talk about. Let’s just do it. Right now.”
I nod down at him, my lips pulling to match the new, unique emotion inside me. The corners of my eyes press with heat and he climbs up me, wraps his arms around me, and kisses my lips softly.
“I want you to do it,” he says, rolling onto his back and pulling me to straddle his lap. I take his cock and guide it to my entrance, rocking my hips first and making myself ready before sliding down. He takes one hip and laces our fingers together. When we’ve settled into the rhythm of each other’s bodies, something that always feels like it takes no time at all, he pulls my face down to his and kisses me on the lips. He licks inside my mouth, he takes his time, he goes slow. And when I feel my walls start to clench around him and he wraps his arms around my back, he gives one final thrust inside me.
“I love you,” he rasps against my ear and I come, as he comes. “I love you. I love you.”
He repeats it over and over as he unleashes his seed deep inside me. I lose track of time. I lose track of myself. But I don’t lose track of Thomas. I don’t lose track of his touch, his feel, his words, his whispers.
“I love you too, Thomas,” I say as I meet darkness, warmth, my own little slice of happiness with him. And he puts my head on his shoulder, kisses my ear, wraps me up as I slide into sleep. Happiness. Contentment.
Love.
<3 The End!!! <3
Thank you so much for reading. I hope you loved this book. Please check out the rest of my catalog for more, and please enjoy the quick previews that follow after this page.
Happy Reading!!
xx, Lauren
Her Friend’s Father
I haven't seen him in a year. Back then, he was sweet, attentive and kind. And now?
Joanne
I've wanted my friend's dad for a year, and now I'm stranded in his house, with no ride home, in a bikini that's slightly too small, barely able to contain my curves.
William has the body of a Roman soldier. Protective and gorgeous. Wealthy, powerful, and totally off-limits.
I shouldn't want him, but I do. Crazily, achingly, completely want him to be my first.
But he would never let anything happen between us, right?
Wrong. Very wrong.
William
I've built walls around my heart to protect myself and my daughter. She and I are all the other has.
But when my daughter's gorgeous young friend shows up at my front door, I feel those walls crumble in an instant.
I remember her from a year ago. How could I forget? She was sweet, pretty, and young. Too young for the likes of me.
Now she's sweet, pretty, and young, with curves that make me crazy. Lips that make me think dirty, borderline obscene things. The closest I can get to her is slathering sunblock on those mouth-watering, pants-tightening, perfect curves that
I'm obsessing over.
She's still too pretty, still too young, and I still have no place laying a hand on her. I've been burned before, and the walls I've built are all that's protecting me.But I'll tear them down to get a taste of her.
Please enjoy this steamy novella! No cheating, no cliffhanger, HEA.
xx, Lauren
1
Joanne
I watch William as he puts his hands on the edge of the pool. Strong, masculine, pure damn sexy hands. The kind that make you realize that just seeing hands - hands! - can make you all wet.
I bite my lip and shift in my lawn recliner, flipping a page of the glossy magazine in my lap. The paper sticks to my hands and I peel them away. A little bit of ink gets left behind on my sweaty fingers. I watch as William’s chest rises from the pool, glistening and rippled as water flows over it, the tanned, tattooed skin taut against firm muscle. My heartbeat becomes more rapid as I watch his forearms balancing his weight against the edge of the pool.
With a grunt he pushes himself up higher, planting one of his feet on the sturdy ground, finally emerging completely. His shorts drip with water, and I struggle and succeed in not letting myself check out the front of them. He smiles over at me as he pushes a hand through his wet hair, then shakes his head, sending drips and drops of water everywhere. A few of them land on my magazine and my legs, and I lean down to brush the water off my calf, marking my leg with a little bit of the ink stuck to my fingers.
“Have you tried counting sheep?”
“Huh?” I reply. My eyes follow William as he walks away, smiling back at me. My gaze finds the edge of his swim trunks, slung low on his perfect, cute butt, every muscle flexing and moving. I struggle to swallow, my mouth suddenly dry, and I throw my gaze back down to my magazine.
“Counting sheep? You said you couldn’t sleep.”
Cassandra’s question snaps me out of the moment, and it’s a good thing, too.
“Oh, right. Yeah, been there, tried it,” I reply.
I’ve tried everything. Counting sheep. Not drinking water for two hours before bed. Not drinking coffee for eight hours before bed. Ear plugs, headphones, a noise machine, ASMR videos. But nothing works, and none of it is going to work unless I get my ass out of that apartment.
I don’t want to tell my friend the real reason I haven’t been able to sleep. All the stuff I’ve tried helps me fall asleep, sure, and that’s half the battle. The other half is staying asleep. The real reason I can’t sleep is that I live in a basement apartment with crappy windows and that the L train runs right above my bedroom window.
“And that doesn’t work?” she asks, flipping her magazine. “That sucks. Have you tried counting sheep backwards maybe?”
“Oh, that’s a good idea,” I say distractedly. “Yeah, I hadn’t thought of that.”
I’ll give it a try. 100. 99. 98. It won’t do any good. I’m going to be subjected to loud noises at all hours either way.
“You okay?” Cassandra asks. “You seem like you’re somewhere else.”
Somewhere else? Yeah, right. Not even a little bit. Sneaking glances at William all day has made me all the more aware of where I am. No, I’m not somewhere else. I’m definitely fully in my body, because I can feel every single tingle and butterfly and sensation deep inside me, no matter how hard I try not to.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I reply, burying my attention in the magazine in my lap. I force myself to try to concentrate on it. “Maybe just a little tired like always. Hey, they’re having a show at the Franklin Gallery. Didn’t you work with them once?”
“Yes, I did.” Cassandra nods, licking her finger and flipping the page of her magazine with one elegant motion.
“Ever think of going back to them?” I ask, trying to keep the conversation going. Anything to distract me from the man I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off all day and out of my dirty, forbidden thoughts.
“Yeah, maybe,” she says. She glances over at me while my eyes are straining to stay down on my magazine. “Hey, are you sure everything’s okay with you today?”
Cassandra is very maternal. The last time I stayed home from work sick, she had chicken soup and ginger ale delivered to me with a bouquet of yellow roses. I told her it was way too much, but she likes doing nice things for people.
I nod again and give her a little smile of assurance, but I’m lying.
William answered the door in his swim trunks when I showed up for Cassandra’s birthday this afternoon. I was already nervous, and the fact that I had to wait a while for someone to let me in didn’t help. I guess in a house this size it takes a long time to get to the door.
And when he did finally get to the door?
I clutched my big black floppy hat by the brim, clawing at it a little bit harder when I saw him. My other hand was holding the soft handle of my tote bag, and I felt myself fist the leather harder, my heart suddenly hammering in my chest.
I had met this man before, just about one year ago. He was kind to me. Sweet. He paid attention to me in a friendly, innocent way. We’d made small-talk. Over the course of the evening, I’d developed an innocent crush.
But today, when he greeted me at the door? Today was different. Today cast him in an entirely new light.
He was barefoot and bare chested, with sparkling dark blue eyes, a chest that nearly took up the entire doorway, and dark brown hair. A tattoo, etched onto one side of his chest, forced my eyes to take on a mind of their own, wandering from his built, perfect chest, up to his neck, where the tattoo ended. He put one hand on the doorframe and towered over me as I announced in a meek voice that I was there for Cassandra’s birthday.
He put out his hand to shake mine, which seemed strangely formal for a man wearing almost no clothing. When our hands met, a delicious spark of energy ignited between us, sending a curling, ribboning probe down into my belly. His handshake was firm and even, and I think he held on a little bit too long. Or maybe I was the one who held on too long.
“Hello,” I’d said, “I’m Joanne. I don’t know if you remember me?”
I had no choice but to introduce myself. It’s what you do when you show up at someone you barely know’s house. I never liked my name, and I think I actually shuddered a little bit as I watched his face change when I said it. If only my name was something like Samantha or Juliet, something pretty and sexy.
“Hi,” he said, his lips pulling into this crazy sexy smile. “Sorry, what was your name again?”
Ugh. He’d made me say it twice.
“Joanne,” I’d repeated.
“Right, how could I forget,” he said, holding the door open for me. “Please, let me show you inside. Can I offer you anything?”
They should make a law against men looking this good. I followed him inside, marveling at the big, open concept of the home. The high ceilings, all the glass looking out to lush greenery around the house. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of white wine, grabbing two glasses from a cabinet below the counter.
I felt my heart stammer as he poured two glasses and handed one to me.
“How did you know I like chilled white wine?” I asked, bringing the glass to my lips.
“Don’t you remember?” He flashed a smile that made my knees go weak. “At graduation, your mom and dad said you should have a glass of wine if you wanted. And you said you wanted something cold.”
“I guess I don’t remember that.”
He shook his head and laughed, causing a low, rumbling vibration to hum through my body.
This man was pure, hot perfection. And why didn’t I remember him like this? I mean, I could never forget that he was hot, but I didn’t remember him quite like this. Probably all for the best, I’d thought to myself, because if I’d been envisioning this man greeting me at the door, it’s likely that I wouldn’t have come here today at all.
“Come on,” he’d said, grabbing his glass and the bottle, “you’re late.”
And now I’m lounging around with Cass
andra and trying to keep my eyes off her father.
I pull my sunglasses off because the daylight’s nearly gone now, and I’d look awfully silly still wearing my sunglasses at night. Of course this means I have to be a little bit more subtle about checking William out. I smile over at my friend.
“Everything’s good.”
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Also by Lauren Milson
Hometown Series (holiday standalones):
Jack Frost
Dirty Treat
Falling for my Friend’s Dad
Night Series (standalones):
Night Fever
Night Moves
Night Shift
Bump in the Night
All Night Long (coming soon!)
Extra Steamy:
Burn
Touch
For Him Series (holiday standalones):
Always For Him
Only For Him
The One and Only Series (standalones):
Buy Me, Love
All My Love
Crazy In Love
Non-series standalones:
The Wedding Date
Summer Crush
Her Friend’s Father
Her Cowboy
All His
With Daniella Cole
Mechanic Next Door Page 8
