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The smile is back in her eyes. ‘You have a favorite part? What?’
I drag my knee up, bracing it on the cushion. Lowering my body on top of hers, making sure to support my weight on my forearms beside her. ‘They give you ideas.’
She wiggles under me, rubbing against my dick, obviously hard under my play clothes joggers. ‘Seems like you’re the one with ideas.’
I press my pelvis down. ‘True. I remember reading a particularly inspiring passage from your book on the plane.’
Her mouth drops open. ‘You did not.’
I circle my hips, the shock of what I read having ingrained the words in my brain – both my big and small ones. ‘“His cock swelled, throbbing. With a roar, he found his”—’
Her hands cover my mouth. ‘Oh my God.’ She laughs, the contractions doing great things to the place we’re pressed together. ‘Stop.’
‘You want me to stop?’ My cheeks tighten, the muscles still unused to smiling so often.
Alice slow blinks. She likes it when I smile as much as when I laugh.
‘No.’ Her hands tunnel into my hair and she pulls me closer. ‘Don’t stop.’
Kissing Alice is ever-changing. Sometimes fast, sometimes slow. But always addictive.
I rock my hips as we kiss, the friction building the heat between us.
Not wanting to crush her, but definitely wanting to touch her, I rest most of my weight on my right forearm, leaning against the back of the couch so I can lift my left.
My core tightens as I balance and I’m thinking I need to add some yoga into my workouts.
Just as my fingers trail down her side, slipping into the waistband of her panties – my phone rings.
Startled, my balance fails and I collapse.
‘Ooof.’ Alice’s breath expels across my ear…
‘Damn it.’ It takes me a minute to leverage up from the thick couch cushions, reminding me of my age. ‘You okay?’
Alice, having gotten her breath back, giggles.
Grabbing my phone off the side table, I almost smile with her until I see my lawyer’s number on the screen. Silencing the call, I lean over and kiss Alice’s cheek. ‘Why don’t you head to bed?’
Face falling, she struggles up on her elbows. ‘I—’
‘I’ll be up in a minute.’ I stride out of the room before Alice can say anything else, turning toward the back stairs. The basement is closer than my office on the second floor and will give me more privacy.
A few steps from the bottom, I slide my thumb across my phone’s screen. ‘Henry.’ I flick on the overhead pot lights, blinking as my eyes adjust. ‘What’s wrong?’
Henry, used to working past office hours by now, doesn’t even grumble or apologize for the late call. ‘I got a call from the state today, right before closing, saying they couldn’t find yours and Alice Truman’s marriage license.’
‘Shit.’ I glare at myself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror behind my bench press cage.
‘I suggested there might have been a clerical error and they seemed okay with it, but now they want a copy of your and Ms Truman’s marriage license.’
Pivoting on my heel, my foot slicing across something sharp. ‘Fuck.’
‘I’ve already procured the apartment we talked about earlier. The one in the contract. I know you said you didn’t want to use it, but it would ensure Alice could continue fostering the child.’
Even staring in the mirror at a man I don’t recognize, a man in sweats and socks with hair tousled, still half-hard from Alice, I don’t want to concede his point.
I stare at the Barbie camper, now parked under my dumb-bell rack.
