Cordy had already contacted a lawyer about Reed’s will. She’d let the Saxons know she’d done it, and Mrs. Saxon had replied “okay” to her message. It was neutral enough that Cordy counted that as a win. Things were in motion. She might have access to the house very soon.
And yet, she couldn’t make herself say anything. Instead, she swaddled the baby doll again, telling herself there was no point until matters were settled.
Chance didn’t let himself think.
Not about the situation with Cordy, not about what would happen after the baby came, none of it.
He liked coming home to her, so he just enjoyed that. He liked feeding her, so he enjoyed that. And he loved making her come every night, so he reveled in that.
He broke out in a cold sweat whenever he tried to think about what might happen once the baby was here. So he didn’t. They had a week to go; he didn’t have to worry yet.
Chance studied the chicken on the grill, wondering if he ought to baste it again. Probably. He didn’t want it to get dry, not when it was for Cordy.
Barbecuing was good for zoning out and not thinking, so he was taking advantage this evening. He brushed the marinade over the chicken, careful not to let it drip too much into the coals. The spicy scent wafted up, along with the hint of smoke. Oh, Cordy was going to love this. She had a taste for food with a kick.
Cordy pushed open the screen door with her hip, her hands filled with a salad bowl. She’d been craving the wildest saladslately, filled with all kinds of vegetables, raw, pickled, and roasted, along with beans and fancy cheeses. Chance had grown up on iceberg lettuce and ranch dressing and hadn’t realized what he’d been missing.
“Chicken’s almost ready,” he told her.
The pleased smile she gave him made his entire day.
Afterward, he couldn’t remember exactly what they’d talked about. What they’d done that day, this and that, he supposed. He threw chicken to the dog when she wasn’t looking. She put her bare feet on the chair next to her, toes flexing in a beam of sunlight.
The evening was good. Better than good.
They could do this every night.
That thought had him pushing out of his chair and disappearing into the kitchen to clean up, cold sweat beading on the back of his neck.
The rhythms of washing dishes settled him enough to get his mind properly blank again.
Cordy was waiting for him in her bed once he was done. That was part of their routine, too. She went into her room and got ready for him while he cleaned.
She wasn’t shy anymore. Cordy was laid out on the bed, all bare skin and spread thighs and glistening folds. It hit him hard every time he saw her, so much so that he had to catch his breath.
She looked like a ripe peach that would drip juice down your chin the moment your teeth sank in.
That raised all kinds of interesting scenes in Chance’s head.
He stalked over to her. She already had her lower lip caught between her teeth, anticipating his arrival.
“I’ve got an idea.” He ran his hand up her thigh, savoring the feel of her.
God, but he loved touching her. Being with her night after night, discovering what she liked and what she loved, was an unfamiliar experience. He didn’t have to learn her body anew each time—he knew what she liked, what she needed. He knew the sensitive patch behind her knee would make her squeal when he licked it. It was like it was directly connected to her pussy. He knew her nipples were more sensitive some days than others, and he always had to check before he could touch. He knew she loved having her hair pulled. And he’d found it satisfied something primal inside him, having her at his mercy, neck bared, held fast in his grip.
“What?” Her voice was already high and breathy.
Chance kissed her because he loved doing it so damn much. “You’re going to sit on my face.”
She gasped into his mouth. “Oh. Oh, yes. Please, yes.” Cordy pulled back, her brow creasing. “Wait, will that work?”
“Can you kneel comfortably? We’ve got all these pillows to help.”
“I can.” She climbed to her knees, her lush tits swaying. “Why do you have these? You don’t do frills. Like pillows.”
He tucked one under her hips, then added another one for good measure. “That good?” When she nodded, he went on. “Ruby decorated this guest room. I got furniture for the rest of the house, but I ran out of caring when I got to here. Put an army cot and a sleeping bag in and called it good. Ruby was horrified.”
Cordy shifted her hips, her knees spreading wider. The dark, damp curls at her core peeked back at him. Goddamn, but she was an erotic dream come to life.
