28. Braxton
28
brAXTON
E very time I see Sofia with Birdie, my heart grows a little bigger. She’s begun taking much more space in my chest, a place I thought would remain empty after Bethany left. Somehow, Sofia fills every nook and cranny left behind and has smoothed the edges to make herself a home.
It’s made my daydreams much more vivid. Having her here during the day. In the mornings. Not just the dirty things we could do with an empty house, but the domestic things like waking up with her in my arms, breathing in her sweet scent first thing, getting to hold onto her for a blissful moment before life and responsibilities seep in.
Every little fantasy builds to something more—like the desire to move her and her son into my house. To make us a real family.
Fuck. I want it so badly that it aches.
I’ve fallen for her, so completely that I’m willing to share her if the other option is not having her at all. As long as she’s mine.
Birdie’s high giggle sounds above my head, tumbling down the stairs and through the open door to my office.
Shaking myself out of the thought of asking Sofia to spend the night, I focus on the paperwork in front of me. I’ve read it over twice. This legal document is full of boiler plate jargon that boils down to officially filing for divorce from Bethany for abandonment.
Two years are long enough to wait.
The sick twist in my gut when I thought of this before doesn’t rear its head. It’s certainly time.
Not that I waited this long in hopes of her coming back.
Because of Sofia, Birdie seems to be okay with the loss of her mother, too. Or more okay than she was before. I don’t think she’ll ever get over that hurt fully.
But even if Bethany does come back, I don’t want her anymore. I don’t want her in my life any more than having her be a mother to Birdie. Our daughter certainly deserves to have a mother.
Maybe it can be Sofia instead.
She’s already doing such a good job with her already.
Fuck, I sound insane, even in my own head.
I slash my signature across the last page and stuff the papers into a manila envelope to drop at my lawyer’s office tomorrow morning.
Standing with a big stretch, I wipe a hand down my face. This is only one step of many. I should be focused more on how my friend is going to respond when he discovers I’ve been intimate with his daughter.
Just thinking about it makes shame weigh my shoulders down. It’s not enough to keep me from her, though.
Neither is the fact that she’s closer to my daughter’s age than mine. Sofia could be her older sister. My rational mind screams that she’s young enough to be my daughter. That this isn’t right. That I shouldn’t feel this way about someone her age.
All of the reasons I shouldn’t have her take a back seat to the turmoil burning me up whenever she’s out of my reach.
I lumber into the kitchen and finish cleaning and putting away the dishes from dinner.
The three of them are upstairs in Birdie’s room as she works on painting her biggest canvas yet. They’re recording it in parts to put together as a whole completed start to finish piece. It’s been a long process. Birdie has been working on it for a month, and she’s putting the finishing touches on it tonight.
Sofia has offered her the footage from her camera glasses, and they’ve set up with her big camera and tripod.
Part of me wants to go up and watch, but this seems to be something my daughter needs to do on her own. Or as close to it as Soph can offer her. A little mentoring and guidance without the parental influence.
By the time Sofia comes back downstairs, I’ve devolved into the cyclical thoughts of what it might mean to keep her here. And then into the ones of her naked beneath me.
My gaze shoots up to meet hers, and she stops halfway through the kitchen to me, eyes wide before a sultry smile fills out her features.
“Noah’s asleep, and Birdie’s getting there.”
I nod, vibrating in place as she takes slow steps toward me, like she thinks that the moment she’s within reach, I’ll snatch her up.
She’s not wrong.
“It’ll probably take one more editing session with her, but we’ve got a great idea for revealing it. We’ll do it in parts, paired with shorts, and then the full process with the end reveal. I think it’s going to be popular.”
“You’re the expert there. I’m too old for social media.”
Her laughter is sweet, and it only makes me crave her more.
“Have you seen how her other videos are doing? People love Birdie.”
“She’s told me a little in her excitement, but I haven’t been checking in daily.” Not like I had when she posted her first few. The comments were positive, and the few that weren’t were easily reported. Birdie didn’t seem affected by the stupid comments as much as she glowed under the attention and praise from other artists.
Sofia takes another step toward me. It’s almost a taunt with how restless I feel when I’m not touching her. “She’s gotten really good at editing them herself. Developed her own style. I’m really proud of her.”
I grin now. “Yeah. Me, too.”
It was hard for her to put herself out there since she’s had such a hard time making friends at school. She’s been getting more messages on her phone from people who saw her videos. Some of her classmates have even sent her texts, complimenting her talent.
And it’s all because Sofia was able to give my daughter a new outlet to feel seen and connect with others in a way she didn’t have before.
What would we have done without her?
“She’s coming into her own now. You handling it okay, Papa Bear?” Sofia’s finally within reach, and I grab her by her hips, reeling her in against me.
“I’m happy for her. Everyone else is finally seeing what I’ve known for a long time. My daughter is special.” I smooth my hands up her waist, pressing us closer together.
Sofia’s palms slide up my arms, shoulders, across my chest as she leans in, head back, mouth a ripe offering.
Capturing her mouth with mine rewards me with a small gasp and a moan. Her body fits so perfectly against mine. I’m so desperate in these moments. I crave the feeling of her all day, afraid to touch her in front of our children.
The moment we’re alone, I’m afraid I’ll maul her. It takes conscious effort not to. Instead, my hand glides low and takes a firm grasp on her ass, rocking her into me just a little.
I break our kiss, rubbing our noses together as I soak her in. “Come sit with me on the couch.”
Not what she expects, but her smile is still joyful. I turn her around and plant a few choice kisses on the back of her neck and shoulder.
We settle on the couch, and I wrap her leg around me, needing to feel her there more than anything else. The intensity between us doesn’t wane, but it does settle into something more romantic. More meaningful.
At least for a while.
When her touch trails down my chest, my stomach, over the fly of my pants, the simple pleasure of her company becomes more. My cock stiffens under her hand.
Sofia presses her mouth under the back of my jaw, nips my neck with her teeth, and I’m a fucking goner.
I yank her into my lap with one sharp move that has her grinning at me until it melts into a soft O as I lift my hips against hers.
Her skirt gives me easy access to her bare thighs, and I appreciate the wardrobe choice. She’s been wearing them more often, even as it gets colder. Like she knows neither of us will be able to help ourselves when we’re alone.
It’s difficult enough when we have an audience.
She’s quiet and efficient as she unsheathes me from my pants and pulls her panties aside. So fucking wet. Slick. Ready for me.
I kiss her as she lowers herself onto me, moaning into her mouth as she sinks and sinks and sinks until our hips are flush and she’s taken all of me.
A slow rhythm has our foreheads pressed together, breathing loudly from the immediate onslaught of pleasure. “God, Soph, you feel like coming home.”
Her hands tighten around my shirt collar. Maybe she’s half as desperate for me as I am for her.
And I know one thing and one thing only. I have to find a way to keep her.