But that old friend started to get a readership, kept pumping out more books, started recommending Katie around.
Eventually, Fiona got on the case, building Katie a social media platform, automating her web presence, showing her how to build a brand.
And, before we knew it, Katie was living out a dream she'd told me about years before, one she never truly believed she would fulfill.
That said, it meant long hours of necessary silence. And, well, we had a kid. And another on the way. So Katie tended to take to the office for a couple hours late at night and a good chunk of the days on the weekends.
I missed having her around, but it also gave me some one-on-one time with Kade. He was a momma's boy for sure, but he also loved going out, kicking a ball, swinging a bat around. Rarely ever at a ball, mind you, but kids would be kids.
"Comet!" he squealed, holding out his arms when our old dog came barreling out of nowhere.
My stomach tensed. Comet was a big brute of a dog and not one prone to gentleness either. He also had a big thing for Kade, which meant he ran up to him at full-speed, knocking the kid over, then licking every inch of his face.
Luckily for me—since Katie would be pissed if I let him get hurt—Kade was a rough and tumble kid. He took a fall like no other kid I'd met.
"He's all you," Katie would tell me, watching him hanging off the edge of the couch, completely unconcerned with the hard floor beneath him.
He definitely had a lot of me in him.
But he loved to help Katie in the kitchen. He would go running down the hall when she asked if he wanted to read some books.
There was some of her in him too.
A good mix of the two of us.
I couldn't help but wonder what our daughter would be like.
We would be finding out in a couple short months.
That was why Katie was busting ass now, to get ahead of work, so she could take some time off after.
"Mama!"
"We'll see Mama when she's done with work, bub," I reminded him.
"Mama!" he called again, smiling big.
He saved that smile for his mother, making me turn, finding her walking out onto the back deck, a big cup of tea in her hand, giving us a smile.
"Hey, buddy," she called. "Were you good for Daddy?"
But he wasn't paying attention. Because Comet had found a spot to dig and was going hard at it, making Kade walk over, dropping down on his diaper-clad butt, digging with his bare hands.
"We can clean his nails later," I reminded Katie, reading that horror on her face.
"You can scrape his nails later," she said, shaking her head. "He screams bloody murder when I do it."
"Are you on a break, or did you finish?" I asked, moving up onto the deck, moving behind her, pressing a hand to her belly.
"I finished. You'll never guess who just emailed me, though."
"Who?"
"Remember that book that inspired our tufted headboard?" she asked.
"Yeah. Went off the radar since."
"Well, until now. She has a new one coming out. And she wants me to edit it."
"No way."
"I know, right?"
"Does it sound good?" I asked, wrapping my arm around her.
"It sounds really, really steamy."
"So then... yes," I concluded, smiling down at her when she smirked up at me.
"But nothing blows up and no one goes on any car chases."
"I'm always down for a good bed-breaking session," I told her. "And not only because we broke ours making this," I told her, tapping my fingers on her belly.
"God, that was humiliating to have your brothers over to help you cart it out."
"Speak for yourself," I said, chuckling. "It was one of my proudest moments."
"You would—Kade!" she called, making my gaze follow hers.
Comet was relieving himself on a bush.
And Kade thought it was a keen idea.
"If it's any consolation, girls don't tend to pee on bushes," I reminded her as she let out a mom whimper.
"This is true," she agreed. "Oh no," she said, lurching forward when Kade fell forward and let out a shriek. "You don't think he's..."
"Covered in his own, and the dog's, piss? Yep, I do," I said, sighing.
"Go get him. I'll run the bath," she said, half frustrated, half amused.
This life shit, it wasn't always glamorous.
But there was no one else I'd rather wash dog pee of our kid with than Katie, that was for damn sure.
Kate - 12 years
"Hello?" I called, trying to balance the phone between my ear and my shoulder as I folded warm towels from the dryer.
"How was your day?" Rush's voice asked, making my brows knit together as I moved to the doorway out of the laundry room, looking at him sitting on the couch in the living room, legs propped up on the coffee table.
"Ah, it's the same as it was when you asked me when you came home twenty minutes ago," I told him, smiling because he was being weird.
"A little stressed, huh?" he asked.
"I mean, we have three children. So I'm always a little stressed."
"I can take that away for you, baby," he told me, making my lips curve up higher as an old, familiar wobbly feeling moved through my core.
How long had it been since I'd felt it, since we'd done anything even remotely sexy?
A couple weeks?
God, a couple months?
I was pretty sure it was a couple months, right before the stomach flu ripped its way through our family, leaving everyone feeling depleted and awful for a full two weeks afterward.
I mean, droughts happened.
I think after Kade was born, we didn't have sex for like four months. We were too damn tired. Even with all the help.
But we didn't have the new baby excuse now. Or even the 'everyone is getting over being sick' one either.
In fact, we had no reason not to since the Mallick crew had just swooped by to take our mongrels to the movies at the beach.
"Oh yeah?" I asked, tossing the towel back into the dryer, moving into the doorway, watching my husband as he sat there pretending I wasn't just a few feet away.
"You know what would make you feel better?"
"What's that?"
"If I buried my face in your pussy and make you come until your legs won't hold you up anymore," he told me, making my thighs press together as the need started to grow.
It didn't matter how long it had been, when Rush started his dirty-talking, I was right back where we first started, in my old apartment, fantasizing about a man I was sure could never be mine.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he asked, tone getting deeper, huskier.
So many nights, on that phone, I heard that same sound, wanting to believe he wanted me, but believing it was impossible.
"Yes," I told him, feeling my breathing get faster, more shallow.
"Are you wet for me?" he asked. "Run your fingers down your pussy for me," he demanded.
My hand slid down my body, going into pajama pants I'd put on after my shower at five p.m. because I knew there was no chance I was going out, slipping under my panties, hearing the catch in my breath as my finger moved over my clit, already swollen, already aching.
"Wet, right?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Finger-fuck yourself for me," he demanded, reaching to undo his jeans, reaching inside to pull out his cock, already hard and straining, making the pressure on my lower stomach start to ache as my fingers slid inside myself on a low moan.
A sexy, familiar rumbling noise worked through Rush's chest as he started stroking himself.
"You want my cock, don't you?" he asked.
"Yes," I moaned.
"Yes, what?" he demanded.
"Yes, please," I told him, watching as his head finally swiveled in my direction, eyelids heavy, eyes hungry.
"Then come over here and ride me," he demanded, ending the call, tossing it toward the coffee table
where it bounced off and hit the carpet, completely forgotten as I dropped my phone into the laundry basket and made my way toward him, stopping in front of him on the couch.
His hands moved to my hips, slowly drawing down my pants, my panties, going slowly, like we had all the time in the world, like my body wasn't begging for release.
Once I stepped out of the feet, his hands slid around, cupping my ass, drawing me closer as he leaned up, pushing his face between my thighs, running his tongue up my cleft, making my thighs tremble as he found my clit, started working it in soft, slow circles, driving me up.
His hand slipped from my ass, going between us, two fingers thrusting inside me, turning, raking over my G-spot, making my hands slap down on his shoulders so I could keep my balance as he kept working me, kept building the pressure.
But pulling away at the last possible moment, refusing to let me come.
"Rush," I whined, as he tilted his head up to look at me.
"If you're going to come, baby," he said, sitting back, "I want it to be around my cock," he told me, grabbing his cock at the base and waiting for me to move onto the couch, to straddle him, to lower my hips down.
Every ounce of my body wanted me to slam down, to ride him hard and fast and put an end to the ache inside.
But I took a deep breath, sealing my lips to his, then slowly sliding down his length, feeling him stretch me, settle deep. My hips did a little circle, feeling that much-missed fullness, the friction that promised amazing things.
"I missed this," Rush told me, his hand brushing my hair off my shoulder, his hand settling on the side of my neck as he started to thrust gently upward.
"Me too," I agreed.
"Thank God I haven't lost my touch with that phone," he added, eyes dancing, smirk very self-satisfied.
"Mmm," I agreed, rolling my hips as he kept doing those perfect little thrusts, driving me up slowly.
"Missed my cock, huh, baby?" he asked, thrusting a little harder, a little deeper.
"Yes," I moaned, my breathing getting shallower, my muscles tensing.
"You want to come?" he asked, his hand sliding between us, working my clit.
"Yes," I whimpered, feeling myself getting close.
"Yes, what?" he asked, smile devilish.
"Yes, please," I moaned.
He thrust harder, faster, his finger working my clit, driving me to that edge, then throwing me over.
"Fuck, baby," he groaned as my orgasm slammed through my system, walls clenching around him, feeling his body jerk as he came with me.
I collapsed forward, pressing my face into his neck, trying to calm my breathing as the aftershocks started.
"You know... in a couple years... those kids are going to be in college," he said, making me push back, looking down at him, my brows furrowed.
"So we can do it anytime and anywhere?" I asked, trying to get on his wavelength.
"Well, yes. Abso-fucking-lutely. That goes without saying. But if we need to make some extra cash, it's good to know my phone sex game hasn't gotten rusty," he said, smiling at me.
"Nuh-uh," I said, shaking my head, running my finger across his lower lip. "This mouth is all mine," I told him.
"Well, when you're right, you're right," he agreed, sealing his lips to mine, kissing me until my lips felt tingly. "Hey, you know what I am thinking?" he asked, making a laugh bubble up and burst out.
Because I did.
Of course, I did.
Some things never changed.
His dirty mouth.
And his hungry stomach.
"Crêpes," I said, sitting back to look down at him.
"Does my woman know me, or what?" he said, grinning.
"You're lucky I love you," I told him, taking a deep breath, climbing off of him.
"Don't I know it," he agreed, grabbing me, pulling me back over his lap for one last kiss. "Now, I was thinking... marshmallow fluff and peanut butter," he said as soon as his lips left mine.
So then I got up and made my man his disgusting marshmallow fluff and peanut butter crêpes, then sat down on the couch while he ate, reading my book with a delicious little ache between my thighs.
It wasn't a grand life.
Neither of us wanted that.
But it was ours.
And it was its own little version of perfect.
"Oh shit," Rush said when we both saw the headlights coming up the driveway.
His hand grabbed mine, dragging me through the house and up the stairs, doing a nearly-naked dash all the way to our bedroom where we fell into quiet laughs as we heard Fee and Hunter bringing the kids home.
"Why are Mom's clothes here?" Elle, our middle, asked.
There was a short pause before we heard Fee's clear voice up the stairs.
"It seems like your dad was giving your mom the weather report," she called, making me press my hand over my mouth to stifle my surprised giggle.
Oh, yes.
Some things changed.
But the best things didn't.
Our love.
Our family.
And Fiona Mallick's euphemism game.
#
Keep turning for a steamy bonus story from one of the 'books' Rush and Katie discuss in "Pull You In."
BONUS CONTENT
Elias + Juliet
I wanted to shove the man through one of the endless floor-to-ceiling windows in his fancy hotel.
Was that the appropriate response to have toward a man who was paying me an exorbitant rate to get the job done in under a month, so he could launch the remodel for the busy holiday season?
Nope.
But it was also a reaction entirely out of my control.
And also entirely warranted, if you asked me.
"Absolutely not, Mr. Kole," I said, yanking the sample book away from him, slamming it shut, and holding it against my chest.
"I want the wooden headboards."
"Yes, well, tough shit," I said, watching as one of his dark brows arched up.
"Excuse me, Miss Welch?" he asked, unfolding his giant frame out of the metal chair he'd been casually lounging in, his big hand going to his gray jacket buttons, refastening them. It was ridiculous of me, but I found that gesture incredibly sexy for reasons that were beyond me.
If I were being honest, most things Elias Kole did were sexy to me.
It didn't help that the man was insanely good-looking. Six-feet-four-inches of long, lean, suit-clad man. His face was straight out of a cologne ad, all perfectly proportioned, strong of the jaw with a stern brow over brilliant green eyes.
I'd had a visceral reaction to him when he'd first called me in for a meeting.
What can I say?
I'd been mentally focused on my career for a long time.
And my body decided it wanted a piece of my new boss.
It was never going to happen.
First, because I wasn't a dumbass. This deal could set me up for life, would pad my portfolio, would land me a ton of other high-paying jobs. I would never risk the success I had worked so hard for just when I was on the precipice of getting it.
Secondly, he was—as I was convinced all stupidly handsome, sexy, mega-rich men were—a complete and utter dick.
Now, a certain part of me was maybe attracted to that trait.
But all the other parts of me were repulsed.
"I said tough shit, Mr. Kole," I repeated, lifting my chin, refusing to be intimidated even as he moved closer to tower over me.
I'd always been envious of really tall women. It gave you a level playing field with big men.
I was at my tallest at five-six. In five-inch heels.
"You are going to want to watch the attitude, Miss Welch," he warned in that velvety smooth voice of his. I swear it made me get goosebumps sometimes. Ones that I promptly pretended to ignore or attribute to the glacial temperature of this place.
"You are going to need to temper your expectations, Mr. Kole," I shot back. "You already decided on the headbo
ards. Two weeks ago. They've been ordered. Half of them have arrived. The rooms have been designed around them as they are a prominent feature. This is not a part of the design up for debate at this stage."
"I'm the one signing the checks, so I'm the one deciding what is, or isn't up for debate at any stage of this process."
"Not if you want to open back up on time," I told him, jerking my chin higher as he stalked closer. "Changing the headboards sets us back two weeks. At best. And we all know nothing goes off without a hitch in a project of this scale. The headboards work," I told him, tone firm.
"Show me," he demanded.
The dirty little slut in my mind said I had a lot of things I wanted to show him.
But I told her to keep her damn panties on, and walked him toward the elevator, pressing a manicured nail into the button for the top floor, as we were working our way from the suites down.
The suites, like most of the rooms, had floor-to-ceiling windows that lined two full walls, showing off the views of the city.
The design plan had been for something sleek and upscale that blended into all the grays and blacks of the city below us.
The suite opened up to a sprawling sunken living room with a slate sectional facing the wall where a TV popped out of the cabinet with the press of a button.
He'd already approved the living room. After nit-picking over the art for a week. So long that I lost the original bid on the prints he ended up wanting the most, making it so he had to pay twice as much as he would have if he had just trusted me in the beginning.
"These chairs," he said, waving to the small round tête-à-tête dining space right near the windows, where the guests could sit and drink their coffee, read their paper, while they looked down at the city.
Oh, good lord, no.
"You signed off on the chairs," I reminded him, reaching for my notebook. "I have the signature right here."
Yes, I'd started to resort to making him sign off on every single thing we'd moved into the rooms. Just to avoid him claiming he hadn't been consulted. Like he'd done about the lamps.
Oh, good grief, the lamps.
I wanted to beat him over the head with one of those by the time we were done.
Pull You In (Rivers Brothers Book 3) Page 20
