She stretched, arching her back and straightening her legs while he caressed his hand over her hip. “Sore?” he mumbled, slipping his fingers between her legs and cupping his hand around her mound.
“Yes.”
“That’s normal.” He kissed the back of her head. “Shouldn’t last more than a day or two.”
She grinned at the doctor’s tone he’d used and turned to face him. “So does this mean we can’t have morning sex?”
“That’s up to you.” He cracked one eye open, and the heat in his stare sent a blast of desire straight to her core. “But there’s more than one way to have morning sex, buttercup.”
“Will you teach me?”
“Teach you?”
“Yeah, you know, show me what you like.”
“Baby, when it comes to you, there’s nothing I don’t like.” Both eyes now open, and his gaze locked on hers, he spread his fingers over her ass cheek and hauled her tight against him. “I’m more interested in discovering whatyoulike.”
“Baby,” she teased, sweeping her fingers over his temple and tucking his hair behind his ear. “When it comes to you, there’s nothing I don’t like.”
They lay still, grinning at each other, neither interested in vacating their cocoon anytime soon. Heck, she’d stay in bed with him all day if it weren’t for—
“Halia!” Summer’s muscles tensed as reality set in, and panic coupled with a hefty layer of guilt hit her. Way past due for her feeding, the baby should’ve been awake by now, hungry and crying her little heart out.
“She’s fine” The arm slung over her waist tightened, preventing her from springing from the bed. “She woke at four, and I fed and changed her.”
“Oh.” Her heart turned over. He’d taken care of Halia. Risen during the night. Fed her. Changed her. Cuddled with her. Had a little precious daddy-daughter time while Summer had slept through the whole thing. His way of watching over them both. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I love taking care of my girls.”
His girls. Not his responsibilities. Not his job. They werehis girls, and helovedtaking care of them. Happiness swelled inside her, and a sudden bout of shyness had her gaze dropping. “We like being your girls.”
“Good.” He lifted his arm and cupped his hand under her jaw, coaxing her head up with a little gentle persuasion until she once again had her eyes locked on his. “You’re mine, Summer. Halia is too. And I’m one hundred and ten percent yours. I need you to know it. Deep down. Without a doubt.”
“I know it.” She lifted her chin and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I just need a bit more time to get used to it.”
“Fair enough.” He rolled onto his back and settled her into the crook of his arm. “I’ll try not to crowd you too much.”
“I like being crowded by you.” Her head on his chest, she smoothed her palm over his hard abs, pushing the covers down his body until she exposed the thick head of his cock. Big and blunt, a bit of pre-come seeped from the tip, and she’d never wanted to touch or taste something so much in her life. “Can I…”
“Can you what?”
“Touch you?”
“Summer, you own me.” He scooped her hand, kissed her palm, and guided it to his dick. “You can touch me wherever, whenever, and however you want.” He wrapped both their hands around his shaft, and shocked at the hardness and the heat, she moaned when he pushed his cock through their tight grip. “Yeah, you like that?”
“Yes.”
“Then feel free to explore, baby.” He lifted both arms over his head, and resting the back of his skull against his palms, he looked down at her. “Like I said, I’m all yours.”
CHAPTERTHIRTY-EIGHT
Her sigh fallingon oblivious ears, Summer regretted making the weekly phone call to her mother instead of sending an email. Melanie didn’t care enough to ask whether she was happy, healthy, or taken care of. Forget about sharing the most important changes in her life.
She was in love with Jamie. Had a daughter named Halia. And an extended family who embraced her. Her mother had no idea. She hadn’t paused her monologue long enough for Summer to get a word in. Not that she’d give personal information to Melanie. Not anymore. She had no maternal instincts and would only find a way to exploit it.
No. She had no desire to share any of her happy news with the woman on the other end of the phone. They had no connection beyond monthly bank deposits. Four hundred dollars on the first of every month. A one-way transaction that had never been reciprocated—no matter how destitute she’d been.
Guilt money she no longer felt any reason to pay.
