Her voice sounded behind him, low, throaty, and not what he’d been expecting. “Pot roast, if you’re hungry. But maybe you’d like a little appetizer?”
A prickling up the back of his neck as he turned, the good kind. A fast pulse of anticipation deep in his belly.
And then he caught sight of her.
Holy shit.
She transported him back through time, all the way to the day they’d met, that cool fall afternoon outside the liquor store. The Maggie standing before him now, one hand braced in the kitchen doorjamb, was the Maggie of his violent mid-twenties’ obsession. She wore a denim miniskirt that hugged her hips and flashed every inch of her long pale legs. Black boots. White tank top that left nothing to the imagination. She’d teased her thick blonde hair. And her lips – bright flawless red.
His mouth went dry, and every drop of blood in his head fled to places south.
“Mags.” He advanced on her slowly, taking in the low-lidded eyes that had first snagged his attention all those years ago. All she was missing was the cigarette. “You feeling nostalgic?”
“Hmm.” Her smile was mysterious, knowing, full of feminine power. “A little bit.”
“Any particular reason why?” When he put his hand on her waist, he felt the surge of electricity in his blood that had accompanied all those first forbidden touches between them. He always claimed to have been shocked and appalled when he’d learned that she was only sixteen. He had no attraction to underage girls; he’d been disturbed when she’d told him.
That, of course, wasn’t true. Their age gap was as exciting to him now as it had always been.
So he was a bastard. What else was new?
Her hair rustled as she tipped her head back to look at him. “You’ve been really stressed, and I thought you might like a little walk down memory lane.”
When he kissed her, she leaned into him, pressed her breasts against his chest, clutched at his biceps and let her neck soften. He loved that reaction. Maggie could be as hard-nosed and tough as she wanted during the day, but when he kissed her, she melted.
Every stroke of her lips against his stripped a year away. He felt younger, stronger, lighter by the second as her hands kneaded across his chest and her mouth opened for his tongue.
They needed more moments like these, he decided. Moments in which they weren’t just parents, grandparents, the voices of reason – but moments for the two of them. Husband and wife time.
Ghost pinned her back against the doorframe and bunched up her skirt. She was naked underneath.Damn. He was just discovering that this was exciting for her too when she pulled back.
“Ghost.” Her tone froze him cold. Her eyes, when they lifted to his, were cool and serious…if not a little heavy-lidded still, because, as he could feel against his hand, she was deeply invested in the sex that was about to happen.
She sighed. “Okay, I can’t do this.”
He slid his fingers through the slippery wetness between her legs. “Pretty sure you’re all ready for it, sweetheart.”
A quick smile. “Oh trust me. Ineedit, baby. Bad.” She lifted her hands to frame his face, her touch familiar, grounding, sweet. But possessed of the command of any general. “I’m supposed to be keeping you distracted.”
A warning signal pinged in the back of his mind.
“But that goes against every maternal instinct I’ve got,” she continued, growing more urgent. “Your son needs you tonight. All of your boys need you.”
~*~
Ava glanced up from her laptop as Mercy came into the living room.
Cal was asleep on the couch cushion beside her.
Remy was chewing on the ear of his favorite stuffed dog, fighting sleepiness. His little dark head swiveled toward the door when Mercy entered, arms pumping up and down like useless wings in excitement.
Mercy’s smile melted Ava’s insides to sugar-sticky goo. It was a smile without a trace of cockiness, mockery, or restraint. A true, face-splitting smile. A man with such demons…and such joy.
“Big Man!” he greeted Remy, and scooped the boy up in one effortless movement, hoisting him up against his chest. “You taking good care of Mama? Keeping her safe?”
Remy babbled happily in response.
“God, he’s your mini-me,” Ava reflected, smiling. “If I hadn’t pushed him out, I wouldn’t be convinced I had anything to do with it.”
