19. Chapter 18
Chapter 18
S ummer had fantasized about going into the office with Ramiro for a long time. It felt so couple-like. Especially when he held her hand on the drive there.
She made his coffee just the way he liked it—mostly black with a splash of cream. The twisting ache inside her stomach settled when she brought it to him.
Life was back to normal.
Organization was her strength, and Ramiro appreciated it. Over the years, she’d taken on more and more responsibilities for the office. He had a business email set up for the various legitimate things he handled: from real estate to stocks to security requests. Each document or response she took on gave her anxiety at first, but once she’d successfully completed it, she received a burst of satisfaction.
Summer was happy to be able to help Ramiro, even a little .
Being back in the office felt so… comfortable. Maybe she really could hold on to that feeling forever.
For lunch, she ordered his favorite sandwich. He always loved the one with toasted bread and melted cheese and heated meat. She added a simple turkey sandwich on rye with Swiss cheese for herself, but when the delivery arrived, she set it aside on her desk, more focused on bringing him his food.
Ramiro was on the phone but nodded at her when she peeked inside. When she placed his sandwich on his desk, he smiled.
“You’re always so good to me, Summer,” he said.
Heat crawled up her neck. She loved when he said that, even if it wasn’t true.
His smile fell as he listened to the phone. “Shut up, Diego,” he muttered.
The mention of his friend reminded her of the toddler Ramiro had taken care of the other day. He’d looked sweet with a little girl in his arms.
She’d started to think of the baby growing in her belly as a “she.” It was too early to know for sure, but using that pronoun sounded better than “it” anyway.
Summer left him to his call and headed back to the reception area.
She sat behind her desk and reached for her own food. Normally she was fine with turkey, but when she unwrapped the sandwich, her stomach churned from the smell. As she pushed it away, she saw Ramiro leaving his office with his own sandwich. Her nausea twisted into a harder knot. “Is something wrong with yours?”
He shook his head. “What did you order for yourself, baby girl?”
When he called her that, everything inside of her melted. “Turkey and Swiss.”
“Cooked turkey?” he asked, a frown spreading on his face. “I read that you shouldn’t eat lunch meat unless it’s heated. Deli meat can have bacteria that’s not good for the baby.”
Summer stared at him. “You were researching the pregnancy again?”
“Of course.” He said it so simply, as if it was natural. Knowing that he was researching things just for her made her chest tighten. Ramiro didn’t like children. He couldn’t like thinking about pregnancy either.
He took her sandwich. “I’ll trade with you.”
Her eyes widened as he placed his sandwich on her desk instead. “No, I’ll just—”
“No arguments. You need something in your stomach, or the baby will riot.”
Her sandwich looked so small in his hand. She stared at the much bigger wrapped sub. “I got that for you.”
“And I want you to have it.” He leaned down, kissing her on the top of her head. He’d been doing that more lately. She wondered if the constant butterflies it caused in her stomach were really good for the baby, but she’d never ask him to stop.
“I can’t eat all that,” she protested instead .
Ramiro unwrapped it. He lifted half, bringing it to her face. The thing was huge. “Take a bite.”
She managed it, barely. Italian sauce leaked out with the bite and smeared oil on her chin.
Ramiro’s smile was so soft while he watched her chew. “Feeding you during this pregnancy is going to become an addiction.”
When the drip on her chin threatened to fall, she wiped at it with her fingers, and his smile fell, his eyes looking darker despite the fluorescent lighting above them. He put down the sandwich and reached for her hand. When he popped her fingers into his mouth and sucked off the sauce, she let out a gasp at the sensation. His tongue swiped at her, making her pant. He slid her fingers out, and the dampness left behind made her wish he’d suck on them all over again.
“Fuck.” He said it so low, she would have thought she made it up if she hadn’t seen his lips move. He released her hand and reached for the unbitten half of the sandwich. “I’ll eat this half.”
He escaped back to his office like he was running from temptation. No, that was the way she wanted to see it. She wanted him to be tempted by her. She wanted him to want her, even if it would never be as much as she wanted him.
The daydream made every bite of his sandwich taste even better.
R amiro watched Summer move the blue bowl yet again. He needed to buy her a stand for it. The only time she held still with it was in front of the sliding glass door, while moonlight spilled onto the curved sides.
She’d been holding it just like that when she’d fallen apart just from him caressing her neck. He’d relived that moment too often in the days since. Putting her fingers in his mouth today had been a mistake. Hearing her gasp and pant was an even bigger mistake.
The steady ache of wanting to be inside her again didn’t mix well with his need to protect her. The way she’d been looking at him all afternoon, like she wanted him too, chipped away at his resolve to take things slow.
Summer loved him. They loved each other. He wanted so badly to fuck that love into her.
It had been five long years since he’d been inside her, since he’d had sex with anyone. After being with Summer, the thought of being with any other woman had left him cold. He wanted to feel Summer around him, but more than that, he wanted to bring her to orgasm, even if it was simply from sucking her neck again.
He needed to be careful. Seeing her afraid tore him up, and she still had triggers. He wanted to take away her anxiety, not feed it.
She looked anxious even now, holding that bowl. Tension had wound tighter and tighter inside her ever since he’d sucked on her fingers in the office. Was it a tension he could fix by touching her? Or would he just be making it worse?
He didn’t want to be another man that made her endure. He only wanted her to feel good.
Summer sighed, turning around and growing still when she saw him.
“Ramiro,” she said, her voice husky enough to slip over his skin and add to his ache. She didn’t say his full name often, but when she did, he loved the sound of it.
He moved toward her, his hands cupping the bowl around hers.
Summer’s head tilted up, her gorgeous neck there for the taking. It still had a lingering bruise from the other night. He’d known the hickey he was giving her would be deep, and every time he saw it, he grew hard. He wanted to mark her as his even more.
Would she like that? Or would she let him do it because she thought he would like it?
She released the bowl, her hand lifting to cover the hickey and breaking his stare.
He swallowed. “You still haven’t found the right place. I’ll put the bowl back for tonight.” He headed toward the kitchen with it in his hands.
“Oh, I’ll—”
“I want to do it, Summer. I want to take care of things for you whenever I can.” He also wanted a moment to control his erection. His cock wasn’t going to get to slam into her tonight. He doubted she’d ever enjoy slamming.
She liked how hard you went at her the first time , a voice whispered in his head.
His erection wouldn’t go away if he kept having thoughts like that. The memory sent tingles down his spine. He’d eased inside her that first time, but then he’d pushed into her harder and harder.
“I’ll meet you in the room,” he said, the words tight and thick, like other parts of his body.
He listened to the slow pad of her feet as she headed to the bathroom to get ready for bed.
Releasing the bowl, he gripped the counter instead, willing himself to calm down. At this rate, he would scare her for sure.
Could he hurt the baby if he fucked her too hard? His mind spun, and he dragged out his phone to research the answer.
Pregnancy sex was a rabbit hole he might never climb out of. Ramiro read about increased libidos and triggering contractions and a lot of other things. Most had to do with the last trimester.
The first trimester always had the scariest research. Between how ill the mother can become to the high percentage of miscarriages, the articles seemed designed to feed fear, not hope.
At least he was no longer struggling with an erection.
He sighed, lowering his phone. He’d never thought about pregnancy before, more out of a dislike of kids than anything else. Now he ate up every tidbit he could find, but the more he learned, the more terrified he became. He felt so helpless. Each small thing he could do didn’t seem like enough.
Down the hallway, the spare bathroom’s light flicked off, and Summer stepped out. He’d told her she could use the one attached to the main bedroom. The idea of her toothbrush next to his, her soap and shampoo and toiletries scattered among his, both inside and outside of the shower, remained a dream.
Even her clothes remained in the guest bedroom. He’d much rather see them taking up all that space in his closet, to have flowery-printed dresses and skirts not just next to his suits but mixed among them.
She was living with one foot out the door even after he’d told her he was all in. She stared at him when she didn’t think he was looking, and worry remained in her eyes, one he wasn’t sure how to obliterate.
Summer was more complicated than anyone he’d ever known. Each layer he peeled away, each secret mental hurdle he solved, only led to the next one. He could have a lifetime with her and still not understand her fully.
She stood in the hallway, as if captured by his stare. She wore a different pajama set tonight. The white blossoms weaved throughout the gray cotton were almost delicate.
He preferred her in the pajamas with smiling sunflowers.
“Is everything all right?” she asked, her arms curling around her torso, as if holding a part of her inside, hidden from everyone else’s eyes.
He craved that part of her she was hiding. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he had every part of her.
Ramiro’s long strides took him to her side. She squeaked in surprise when he lifted her into his arms.
“What are you doing?” she asked breathlessly.
“I’m thinking about you, baby girl,” Ramiro murmured, rewarded when she relaxed against him. “I’m always thinking about you.”
“That must be very boring,” she mumbled into his bare shoulder.
He snorted. “You are many things, Summer, but boring is not one of them.” The distance to the bedroom shrank as he carried her down the hall. “Ten years, and the way your mind works is still a mystery to me.”
“That’s not true.” The brush of her lips against his shoulder was so light he wondered if he’d imagined it. Summer lifted her head, winding her arms around his neck. “You know me better than anyone,” she whispered, her face drawing closer. “And I want you to know even more.”
Summer was going to kiss him. The realization had barely processed before her mouth moved against his, warm and delicious and not the least bit uncertain.
Summer didn’t just kiss him. She devoured him.
He didn’t have control over the kiss. Summer owned every part of it. She owned every part of him. That was never going to change .
Her tongue pushed inside his mouth to stroke, and his hands found her ass, hauling her against him as her legs wrapped around his waist on their own. The way she sucked on his tongue sent a shudder through him. She buried her hands in his hair, not giving him any room to pull away or stop.
He didn’t want to stop. If Summer wanted to kiss him, he was hers to kiss. Anything she wanted from him, he was hers. Ramiro had been made for her.
Whatever she wanted tonight, she would get. She just had to take it for herself.