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Pursing his supple lips, he tilts his head. “Yes, Queeny. I won’t hug a woman without consent.”
Why does it feel like he’s saying something else?
“Yeah.” That came out breathier than I wanted it to, so I clear my throat and try again. “I consent, Remington.”
This makes him peel with laughter, and something lightens on my shoulders, clearing my head and calming my nerves.
He pulls me to him, still rumbling with mirth. I’m lost in the solace of his chest. He’s gentle, comforting, and smells like fresh laundry right out of the dryer. I want to dig my nose into his shoulder and take a big, dramatic whiff like I do with Isabel.
Jay is the only other person I let get close. Even when I was dating Brad, we were never really affectionate outside of the sheets. I was naïve, thinking we would fall in love. Looking back on it, I don’t even think I liked the person as much as I liked the idea of being in love.
How could I ever like a man like him? Stupid.
I guess I had a void that needed to be filled, so I was blind until I saw the horrifying light. Now that I have Isabel, that hole has healed. I’ll never make the mistake with men like Brad again.
But I can’t deny that this is nice. That maybe, someday, I’ll trust enough to want something more than platonic relationships.
He pulls back, still holding my arms. His irises swirl with liquid caramel as his mouth twists up. “Go get ready for work. I’ll get Isabel and make us all breakfast.” His voice is low and husky, every whispered syllable tickling my eardrums.
His words are telling me to go, but we’re locked in this moment, neither of us making a move to leave. Air zaps around us. I’m surprised my hair hasn’t been lifted by the static. As I take in the magnificence of him, my eyes blink slow and dreamy.
The amusement painting his face dissolves into ardor as if to say, I promise I got you. Some kind of understanding passes between us, but I can’t articulate what it is because there are no words for it. Even though I just met him, there’s contentment here. A seed of trust.
When I lick my dry lips, his eyes heat.
Is it my imagination or did his chin inch closer to mine?
His breaths brush across my mouth, arousing anticipation for a kiss. As illogical as that seems—by his demeanor and mine—it’s just as possible. It’s a pause before the spark that will ignite the inferno consuming us.
The trajectory of my physical attraction unfurls in my my mind—kiss, suck, fuck, bliss. My head is screaming with hurricane warning sirens to evacuate, but my body betrays me as a bolt of desire shoots through my gut. My lids drop at half mast, and I tilt toward him.
Remi sucks in a breath, and his jaw goes slack.
Christ, he’s going to kiss me. And God damn it to hell, I’m going to let him.
My daughter’s whimpers echo through the monitor, breaking the captivation, and we jump apart. I’m twisting the back of my neck to dispel the arousal thrumming through me. He’s scrubbing his face for absurd reasons I won’t acknowledge.
Remi puffs out his cheeks with an exhale and, like a mirage, erases all hints of whatever that was between us. With a saucy grin, he tips his head toward the family room. “Before I go… Just to confirm, you think I’m hot?”
Dick. I shake my head, clearing away the remnants of desire. He certainly knows how to break the tension.
Eyes rolling back into my head, I push him away with a playful hand. “Get outta here, you cocky little shit. You know you are.”
I turn away and start toward the steps because, after what just happened and my subsequent confession, I need to get the hell out of here.
“Queeny,” he calls.
Oh, he’s going to get it. I sigh in resignation and turn around with a crooked smile. “What, Manny?”
Surprised delight coats his features. “I hope your wiener shirt is going to make another appearance. It’s my favorite.” Hands on his stomach, Remi cackles like he’s the funniest man on the planet. He looks more boyish than anything else.
“We’ll see. Only if you’re a good boy.” I wince. That came out way weirder than I meant.
Mortified, I backtrack until he says, “I can be a good boy for you.” He’s all charming dimples and glinting irises.
I’m all shifting feet and sweaty palms.
He’s as heartwarming as he is body-heating.
