CHAPTER NINE
HONEY
Stretching my arms above my head, I groan.
Everything aches in the most delicious way possible. My thighs are sore, my back has a little bit of a twinge, and there’s a tenderness between my legs that makes me bite my lip as memories of last night flood my brain.
Holy smokes. I had sex with my hot biker neighbor.
And not just any sex. The kind of mind-blowing, toe-curling sex I’d convinced myself only existed in the romance books I hide from the boys.
I turn my head on the pillow, expecting to find the space next to me empty. Instead, I freeze.
Dread is sound asleep beside me, one tattooed arm flung over his head, his bare chest rising and falling with each deep breath.
My eyes jump to the alarm clock sitting on the cardboard box beside my air mattress.
7:03 AM.
Oh shit. Oh shit!
The boys will be up any minute. After everything that happened yesterday, I wouldn’t be surprised if Tommy’s already awake, just waiting for an acceptable hour to come check on me.
I gently poke Caleb’s shoulder. “Dread,” I whisper. “Caleb, wake up.”
He cracks open one eye, and his lips tip up in a slow, sexy grin that does funny things to my insides. Before I can tell him he needs to hurry and leave before my boys catch him in my bed, he reaches out and pulls me under him in one quick yank.
“Mornin’, baby.” His voice is rough with sleep, sending a tingle all the way down to my lady bits.
“Hi,” I whisper back, feeling suddenly shy despite the fact that this man had his face between my thighs last night.
His grin turns into a full-on smile, and it’s unfair how handsome he is first thing in the morning. No one should look that good with bed head and morning stubble.
His eyes rake over my face as I pat at my hair, sure it’s sticking up all over the place.
“Could get used to this,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing my bottom lip.
My eyes rake over every inch of his handsome face. “Used to what?”
“Wakin’ up with a sexy woman next to me.” Caleb shifts his hips, and I feel his morning wood pressing against my center.
I fight a smile. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
If possible, his smile grows even bigger.
“Listen,” I say, trying to focus despite the delicious weight of him pressing me into the mattress. “The boys will be up soon. You should probably go before they find you in my bed.”
He grinds his morning erection against me again. “Ain’t goin’ nowhere, woman. You’re mine now. So are they. And that means they gotta get used to seeing me around ‘cause I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
My heart warms at his claim on me and my boys. It’s ridiculous how much I want to believe him. But still. My kids need to be eased into things, especially after that scene with Eddie yesterday.
I open my mouth to tell him as much when I hear it—the sound of small feet thundering toward my bedroom a second before my door is thrown open.
“Hi, Dread!” Jackson chirps, not the least bit fazed that a tattooed biker’s in bed with his mother.
My cheeks burn as Caleb rolls off me, making sure the blanket stays firmly in place over both of us.
Jackson turns his bright blue eyes to me. “I’m hungry, Mommy. Can we have pancakes?”
Caleb chuckles. “Go find some cartoons on the TV, little man. We’ll be out in a minute to make breakfast.”
Jackson’s face falls. “We don’t have a TV.”
I watch the wheels turning in Caleb’s head.
“We’ll get you guys one today,” he offers without missing a beat.
“Uh, no you won’t,” I protest immediately.
Caleb smirks, and I narrow my eyes at him. Then I turn to Jackson. “Go play in your room while I talk to Dread, okay?”
Jackson’s eyes bounce between us before landing on Caleb. “You’re in trouble,” he stage-whispers before bouncing out of the room.
“In trouble, huh?” His eyes drop to my mouth as he shifts his weight back over me.
“Yeah,” I breathe as his lips touch mine.
He kisses me senseless, his tongue tangling with mine, his hands sliding up to cup my face. When we finally come up for air, I can’t remember what I was annoyed at him about.
“Let’s get your boys fed,” he says, pressing one more quick kiss on my mouth.
“Okay,” I whisper, pressing my fingers to my tingling lips.
I watch as he climbs out of bed, completely unashamed of his nakedness. My eyes trace the tattoos that cover his back and arms, the hard muscles of his thighs, his perfect butt. When he turns around, I blush and look away.
“Like what you see?” he asks, his voice smug.
“Don’t be smug,” I mutter, feeling heat rush to my face.
He laughs and tosses me my t-shirt from the floor. “Put some clothes on, woman, before I forget about feeding your boys and eat you for breakfast instead.”
The thought sends a rush of heat straight between my legs.
We get dressed quickly, and Caleb kisses me again before leading me down the hall to the kitchen. When we get there, he lifts me onto the counter like I weigh nothing.
“Stay put,” he commands, his hands lingering on my hips. “I’m making breakfast.”
“Oh.” I bite my lip. He’s not the only one who could get used to this.
I watch in fascination as he moves around my tiny kitchen, finding the coffee maker and filters, pulling out a carton of eggs from the fridge, and the pancake mix from the pantry.
“You cook?” I ask, surprised.
He looks over his shoulder with a grin. “Don’t sound so shocked. I live alone. It was either learn to cook or live on takeout.”
“Fair enough.”
Tommy shuffles into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He freezes when he spots Caleb, but instead of the suspicion I expect, my oldest son’s face lights up.
“Dread! You’re still here!”
“Yep. Grab a seat. I’m making pancakes.”
Jackson bounces in a moment later. “Tommy! Guess what? Dread’s gonna buy us a TV!”
“Cool!” Tommy’s eyes go wide.
I clear my throat. “I didn’t say yes to that, boys.”
Three pairs of eyes turn to me—two hopeful, one lit up like I’m fighting a losing battle.
“We’ll talk about it later,” I say, giving Caleb a look that clearly says this isn’t over.
He just winks at me and slides a plate of perfect golden pancakes onto the table.
The rest of breakfast passes in a blur of sticky syrup, the boys chattering about what they hope Santa will bring them for Christmas, and Caleb refilling my coffee cup whenever it gets low.
It feels weird, but in a good way.
“We’re gonna buy our Christmas tree today!” I announce, taking a bite of pancake. “I promised the boys we’d go get one as soon as we were settled.”
Jackson’s face lights up. “Yes!”
“Can Dread come with us?” Tommy asks, surprising me. My serious, cautious son who rarely warms up to anyone wants a man to come with us.
My brows go up. This is definitely a weird morning.
“Yeah! He has to come!” Jackson insists, bouncing in his chair.
My eyes meet his across the table, silently asking if that’s okay with him.
His face softens, and he nods his head. “I’d like that.”
“Me too,” I whisper, meaning it.
“Yay!” both boys cheer.
After my boys have finished off the last of the pancakes and their bellies are full, I rinse the dishes and load them into the ancient dishwasher. The thing has to be at least twenty years old.
Not that I’m complaining; beggars can’t be choosers.
With the mess from breakfast cleaned up, I announce, “I’m going to hop in the shower real quick.”
“Need any help with that?” Caleb murmurs as he passes behind me, his hand giving my butt a quick squeeze that makes me yelp.
I swat at him, blushing. “The boys,” I remind him in a whisper.
He grins wickedly. “They’re fine. Tommy’s showing Jackson how to build a fort with the moving boxes.”
I shake my head and head toward the bathroom, very aware of his eyes on me as I walk away.
Once inside, I turn on the water to let it warm up. I grab a towel from the cupboard and set it on the counter, then strip out of my clothes and step into the warm spray.
I’m just getting my hair wet when the shower curtain is suddenly pulled open. I squeak in surprise.
Caleb stands there, gloriously naked, with a devilish grin on his face.
“What are you doing?” I hiss, crossing my arms over my chest even though he’s seen it all before.
He steps in behind me and reaches around to grab the bar of soap. “Saving water. Being eco-friendly and all that shit.”
“My boys—”
“Told you, baby. They’re busy building their fort. Now slide over.”
I step forward an inch to give him some room.
Jeez, Louise.
The ol’ ladies weren’t lying. Bikers are bossy.
Getting his hands lathered up with soap, Dread sets the bar back on the shelf in front of me.
He cups my breasts and pulls me until my back is flush against his chest. I can feel his hardness pressing against my lower back.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He pinches my nipples between his soapy fingers, and my breath catches.
“Caleb,” I breathe, my head falling back against his shoulder.
He growls, the vibration rumbling through his chest and into my back as his hand slides down my belly to the thatch of hair between my legs. He swirls his long finger over my clit, and my back bows.
God, he knows just how to touch me.
“So responsive,” he murmurs against my ear, his teeth grazing my lobe. “So perfect.”
I press back against him, desperate for more contact. His finger circles my clit again, then dips lower to tease my entrance.
“Please,” I whimper, desperate for him to ease the tension building.
“I got you, baby,” he promises, sliding a finger inside me while his thumb continues to work my clit.
My legs start to tremble as pleasure builds low in my belly. My body’s greedy for him.
Caleb adds a second finger, stretching me deliciously while his other hand continues to play with my breasts. His mouth latches onto my neck. He sucks and nibbles, and I know there’ll be a mark.
“Oh God,” I gasp as his fingers curl inside me, finding the spot that makes stars explode behind my eyelids.
“That’s it,” he encourages, his voice rough. “Let go for me, baby.”
His fingers work faster, harder, and the tension in my core winds tighter and tighter until it suddenly snaps. I cry out, my inner walls clamping down on his fingers as waves of pleasure crash over me.
Before I can catch my breath, Caleb spins me around to face him. He lifts me effortlessly, my back pressing against the cold tile wall as he guides my legs around his hip.
“Hold onto me,” he commands, positioning himself at my entrance.
I wrap my arms around his shoulders, clinging to him as he slams inside me in a brutal thrust.
“Fuck, you feel good,” he groans, his forehead resting against mine. “So tight. So wet for me.”
“Just for you.” I tangle my fingers in his wet hair.
He starts to move, his thrusts hard and deep. The water continues to pour over us, steam filling my small bathroom as our bodies move together in perfect sync.
I’m already sensitive from my first orgasm, and it doesn’t take long before I feel the pressure building again. Caleb must sense it because his movements become more urgent, his grip on my hips tightening.
“Come for me again,” he demands, his voice strained. “Wanna feel you come on my cock.”
His crude words send me sailing over the edge. I bury my face in his shoulder to muffle my cries as my second orgasm rips through me, even more intense than the first.
Caleb follows right behind me, his hips jerking as he empties himself inside me with a muffled groan.
For a moment, we stay like this, both of us panting, my legs still wrapped around his waist, his face buried in my neck.
Finally, he eases me down, making sure my shaky legs can support my weight before he lets go completely.
“Holy…” I struggle to catch my breath. “Is it always like that?”
He grins, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Only with you, baby.”
My already heated cheeks get even warmer. Hearing him say that makes me happy.
“You good?” He grins.
“Yeah.” I nod. Better than good.
We finish our shower quickly, aware that we’ve left the boys alone longer than we should have.
As I’m toweling off, Caleb wraps his arms around me from behind and presses a kiss to my damp hair.
“You’re something else, Honey Mitchell,” he says softly.
“Is that good or bad?” I drop my towel and use my palm to wipe the steam from the mirror.
“It’s fucking amazing,” he says with such sincerity that my heart skips a beat.
I turn in his arms and rise on my tiptoes to kiss him softly. “You’re not so bad yourself, Caleb Reeves.”
His eyes darken at the use of his real name. “Say that again.”
“You’re not so bad either,” I whisper against his lips.
“No.” He shakes his head. “Say my name again.”
“Caleb.” I peck a quick kiss on his smiling lips. “Reeves.”
He groans and captures my mouth in a kiss that threatens to lead us right back to where we started.
A loud crash from the living room breaks the moment.
“Mom!” Tommy calls. “Jackson knocked over the boxes!”
I sigh, resting my forehead against Caleb’s chest. “Duty calls.”
He chuckles. “Go on. I’ll be right behind you.”
As I pull on my clothes and head out to see what disaster my boys have created, I can’t help but smile.
Things are looking up.