Chapter 7
Seven
Conway
“M ore wine?” I ask Grace as I stand from the table.
“Oh, uh…” She looks from her empty glass back up to me. “Sure. Just one more, but I’ll go with you to the kitchen. I gotta frost the cupcakes before the kids hound me.”
As we all ate, I don’t think Grace looked up at me once. All three kids kept the conversation flowing, talking about school and baseball and the birthday party last weekend, so nothing felt awkward. But now that everyone is finished eating and the kids are playing catch outside together, I’m finding myself wanting to bring it up, if only to get a rise out of her. See if she’ll deny being turned on, give me a snarky retort, and show me that same feisty face she always gives me when she’s bickering with me. The crinkle in her brow, the tick in her jaw, and the way her gaze narrows. It’s fucking adorable.
I don’t know which would be more satisfying, having her outright admit she was turned on too, or having her deny it and play it off like she’s unaffected. To be honest, probably the latter. What does that say about me, that the teasing and charged banter coming from her makes me hotter than the idea of her simply folding. The back-and-forth with her feels a hell of a lot like foreplay, at least in the last few weeks. Seeing her on a more regular basis, and outside of playdates, is getting to me. I should reel it way on back, but it’s like my brain and my body are on two very different wavelengths.
In the kitchen, I grab the wine bottle, bringing it up to Grace’s cup. Our eyes meet for a long beat before she looks away. What I would give to know exactly what she’s thinking about. Once I’ve refilled my glass too, I rest my hip against the counter while I watch her work. The music’s still on from before dinner, and my lip twitches as I watch her gently sway along to it like she did before, focused as she frosts each individual cupcake.
Seeing Grace bake in my kitchen, looking comfortable, after having her eat dinner at my table, makes my heart race. It’s domestic, but whereas usually that would fill me with dread and discomfort, like to the point of making my skin crawl, right now, it just…doesn’t. The sight of her in here only turns me on more and puts me strangely at ease. All the heat from before rushes back to me. Once she’s finished frosting them, she grabs one, peeling the liner back before taking a bite. A groan sounds from her as she chews, the sound a double shot of arousal to my dick.
“Good?” I ask, eyebrow cocked.
“So good,” she groans, turning to look at me. “Want a bite?”
“Please.” The supercharged energy from before dinner surrounds us again, somehow amplifying, as I take three steps toward her, holding her gaze as she hands me the partially eaten cupcake. Instead of grabbing it from her, a smirk tugs on my lips as I lean in and take a bite off the end while she continues to hold it up. Grace’s breath hitches as my lip brushes against her finger, and her pupils blow, heat flickering in the darkened orbs.
As I chew, I watch her swallow and lick her lips before appearing to regain some of her composure as she clears her throat and stands a little taller. “Was that really necessary?” she quips, enough annoyance in her tone to make me think she’s cool, calm, and collected. Or at least that’s what she probably thinks, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.
“Yeah, I think it was,” I mutter after I swallow the bite. “You make a mean cupcake, Sin.”
Grace rolls her eyes, lip twitching to fight a smile. “You have frosting on your lip,” she drawls, setting the rest of the cupcake on the counter.
“Where?”
Giving me her best bored expression, she breathes out a sigh, then points to the corner of my mouth. “Right there, you idiot.”
My body warms, heart pounding harder. “Clean it for me.”
“Fuck you,” she says with a chuckle. “Clean it yourself.”
Keeping my voice low, I say, “Why would I do that when I know how bad you want to?”
She snorts, folding her arms defiantly over her chest. “You don’t know shit.”
“Clean. It. For. Me,” I repeat, voice deepening.
Watching as the humor drops from her expression really shouldn’t fill me with as much excitement as it does. For a moment, she doesn’t move. I’m not even sure if she takes a breath. Waiting for the inevitable “fuck off” to come, I’m pleasantly surprised when, instead of saying that or walking away all together, Grace lifts her hand up to my face like she’s about to wipe it away with her finger, but before she can, I grab her by the wrist again and yank her into me.
Her eyes fly up to mine, a breathless, “Oh fuck,” falling off her lips.
With my free hand, I brush the hair out of her face, her pulse racing against my fingers on her wrist. “That’s not what I meant, Sin,” I murmur, no louder than a whisper, bringing my mouth closer to hers.
I wonder if she can feel how fast my heart is beating against her hand. Time stands still as we look at each other. Her breath is hot and sweet as it fans my lips. When she doesn’t say anything or move after another few seconds, I think maybe I’ve read the room wrong. Maybe she doesn’t feel the connection between us right now. But then she tugs her hand free and grabs onto either side of my face, flicking her tongue along the corner of my mouth. My breath catches in my throat as our lips brush, and the pillow-soft feel of hers has me wanting to turn my head to find out what it would be like to kiss Grace for real. But before I can, the kids come barreling through the back door, Grace and I jumping back from each other before they can see the predicament we’re in.
“Is it time for cupcakes?” Willow whines as all three round the corner into the kitchen.
“Yeah, we’re starving ,” Blakely adds, rubbing a circle around her belly. “Can we please have cupcakes now?”
Grace spares me one last glance, cheeks flushed, before clearing her throat and looking at the kids. “Okay, well, you’re not starving, you just had dinner. However, yes, you can each have a cupcake, but then we have to get home, you two. We’ve got school in the morning, and it’s getting late.”
I decide to excuse myself, needing to put some space between us before either of our kids pick up on anything. “Gonna go water the plants outside,” I mutter before hightailing it out of the kitchen.
I don’t know how long I stay out here, but when Blakely and Beau pop their heads out the backdoor to say thanks for dinner and goodbye, it’s clearly been too long. Following them back inside, my gaze connects with Grace’s as she’s coming out of the kitchen.
“Don’t forget to take your cupcakes with you,” I murmur when I realize she’s empty handed.
“I left you the rest,” she says nonchalantly as she slips into her shoes.
“You don’t have to do that. There’s plenty, we can share.”
“That’s okay, I just ate, like, half of them anyway.” A small laugh bubbles past her lips that sounds more nervous than anything, and she won’t look at me.
It’s not until later, when I’m climbing into the shower, after I’ve gotten Willow to bed, that it hits me. We didn’t talk at all about the calls we made for the auction…which was the whole reason we met up this evening. I’d love to say I wonder how we managed to forget about the plan, but I’m not dumb. How could we have remembered to do anything with all the tension simmering the whole night. Hot water cascading down my back, I replay every interaction I had with her from the moment she showed up.
Grace making herself comfortable in my kitchen.
Watching her lick cake batter from her finger. Having her watch me do the same to her.
The way my eyes couldn’t help but gravitate toward her any chance they could while we ate, and the way I couldn’t recite a single word spoken by any of the kids during the whole meal, gun to my head, because I was too lost in her every expression. The way her eyes widen with mirth as she listens to the kids tell us a story, face relaxed, giving them her undivided attention. The soft, angelic sound of her laughter and the way it sends a rush of…something to my stomach. It’s a sound I would record if I could and listen to it over and over.
Then, with the cupcake after dinner. The brush of her finger against my lip, featherlight and barely there, before taunting her enough to feel the hot, wet tip of her tongue lick the frosting away. How it felt to feel her lips brush against mine. How badly I want to devour her irresistible fucking mouth, feel her sharp little tongue roll against mine while I kissed her hard enough to steal her breath and make her beg for more.
Cock throbbing and stiff, I wrap a tight fist around it, pumping with fervor as I imagine how fucking incredible it would be to hear her beg me.
Beg me to kiss her again. Fuck. Pleasure rips through my body.
Beg me to feast on her dripping wet cunt. I slap a hand against the tile on the wall, letting my head hang down.
Beg me to let her come. My balls throb as my hand flies up and down my length, but it’s not fast enough.
Beg me to fuck her. God, she’d be so tight, so needy, so ready for me to split her open.
My breath comes out in harsh, shallow pants as the heat builds and spreads, my skin tingling the closer I get. The vision in my head is filthy and so fucking good. Grace’s bare-naked body spread open for me and writhing, sweat glistening all over her skin, muscles tense as she cries out, begging me, once again, to let her come. Voice hoarse from how hard she’s moaning, how much she’s crying out for me.
Then I imagine her adding two little words to her plea, and my balls tighten up.
Fuck me, Grace would look breathtaking as she chased her next orgasm, her face twisted up in pleasure, out of breath and sweating. She’d look up at me, eyes overflowing with desire, and she’d cry out, “Please, Daddy, let me come.”
“Fuck,” I bite out as the first wave hits me, my cock pulsing in my hand as thick, white ropes coat the wall. Imagining filling her sweet pussy instead has my release going and going and going until nothing is left. Until exhaustion washes over me, but also a deep sense of excitement because as I step out of the shower and dry myself off, I decide I’m going to do whatever it takes to make that fantasy come to life.
I don’t know how I’ll do it, but I’ll have Grace’s writhing, hot body underneath mine, and I will fucking relish it. Relish the feel of her, the sound of her, but most importantly, relish knowing without a shadow of a doubt, I’d be proving her wrong. I’d blow her mind, putting every man before me to shame.
And as I climb into bed, I do my best to shove away the fact that my son is one of those men, and how this plan should be the furthest thing from my mind.