Chapter 35
thirty-five
JOSEPHINE
“According to the moms, the kids are all saying the same thing,” Josephine said while cutting up vegetables for a beef stew for their dinner. Making the correct quantity was always tricky. She never knew whether her son would eat at home or at Laith’s, or whether both boys would show.
In a house with large, starving Scotsmen continually waltzing in and out, food never went to waste. She glanced at her husband, who had yet to acknowledge she’d spoken. He was brooding. He’d been brooding since he realized their dream of having Gray home was slipping through their fingers.
Jo set her knife down and joined Thomas at the table. “Scootch back.” He eyed her warily but pushed his chair from the table.
Jo sat in his lap and looped her arms around his neck. “Kiss me,” she whispered against his lips.
She yelped in surprise as he took her mouth quickly. It was her intention to relieve some of the stress tensing his shoulders, but the assault of his tongue and hands relieved her of everything, including her mental faculties.
Somehow, her clothes littered the kitchen floor, and she was straddling her husband’s lap, where he used her hips to glide their clothed sexes together. “Christ, Thomas, your mouth is sinful.”
He let one of her nipples pop from between his lips to kiss her again. She sucked in deep lungfuls of oxygen when he finally let her up for air.
“Take me out, baby. I want you riding me right here, right now,” he growled, nipping her bottom lip.
Thank heavens for sweatpants and well-hung men. He was already halfway out of his pants. It had been months since they had been this ravenous for one another.
He lifted her easily and lowered her down slowly until his hard length disappeared inside her. “Thomas,” she moaned as her body adjusted.
“Josephine,” he hissed her name between clenched teeth. “I'll never get enough of you.”
This was one of those times she loved her long legs. She was able to plant her feet on the floor and ride her husband to her heart’s content. Every time she bottomed out, she would give him her full weight and circle her hips.
“I won’t last,” he gasped, “if you keep moving like that.”
“I’m not going to last either,” she panted, feeling her orgasm begin to shake up her thighs.
“Touch yourself,” he demanded. When Jo complied, she groaned at how good that felt.
“Come for me, baby, and then I’m going to fill you up.” Thomas took control of the momentum because she could no longer keep pace.
One moment she was riding the edge, and the next she was crying out. Her orgasm had her back bowing. A hoarse cry left her mouth just as Thomas roared his release, and she would swear the dishes rattled.
She let her head drop to his shoulder while he rubbed her back in soothing circles. “I love you,” she said, kissing the side of his neck.
“Christ, Josephine. Love has never been a strong enough word for what I feel for you.”
All these years together, and he still surprised her with his romance. “I’d better get dressed before your son gets home, and our current state burns his eyes out.”
“Fine, but I’d rather stay inside you.”
“There’s always tonight.” He gave her behind a light slap when she bent over to pick up her clothes to dress. “Now, Mr. MacGregor, I’m going to work on dinner, and while I do that, you and I are going to discuss your daughter.”
“Fine,” he grumbled, rearranging himself beneath his sweats.
The front door slammed open, surprising them both. Laith and Lochlann came tumbling into the kitchen, dumping their rugby gear in an untidy heap on the floor and going straight to the refrigerator for drinks.
Josephine tried to quickly do up the rest of her buttons. “What are you boys doing home so early?” Two minutes earlier, and they all would have had an embarrassing moment.
“Coach’s daughter puked all over his shoes. He called it,” Laith offered.
“What’s for dinner?” Lochlann sniffed, opening the pots on the stove.
Before she could answer, Laith answered. “I think your parents already had dinner if your dad’s semi and your mom’s crooked buttons are any clue.”
Thomas lunged out of his chair and had Laith’s shirt fisted in a heartbeat. “You want your ass beat, boy, keep running your mouth about my wife,” he threatened. “Get your asses upstairs.”
“I’m going to order pizza for us, Ma,” Lochlann muttered. Both boys took their sports drinks and gave Thomas a wide berth as they exited the kitchen.
As the boys started down the hallway, she heard Laith say, “Good call, Loch. Who the fuck knows what’s on the table.”
“Shut your mouth, Laith. I saw your dad last month taking Aunt Cat against the side of one of her greenhouses.”
“No, you didn’t,” Laith replied hotly.
“I did. She was screaming your da’s name just like in the mov—” Lochlann was cut off from describing the event further—probably from a jab to his side from Laith. Thank the Lord.
“I’m dead. How mortifying.”
“Loch,” Thomas hollered after them, “order your mom and me a pizza. We have unfinished business this evening, and it will free up her time.”
“Not a word, dickhead,” Lochlann hissed before his bedroom door slammed shut.
“Thomas,” she whined. “He shouldn’t even know about sex.”
“He’s a month from sixteen, love. There isn’t a whole lot he thinks about that doesn’t involve sex. Coll and I spoke with the boys last year.”
“Fine, but it had better have only been the highlights. I don’t want to discuss any of,” she hesitated, “that.” Scooping the cut veg she’d been working on into a plastic zipper bag, she turned to her husband, who was smirking, clearly thrilled with tugging the boys’ tails.
“Now we’ve the time, sit and I’ll tell you what the word is from Dublin.” She poured each of them a shot of whisky to complement the tall glasses of iced tea. She’d finally converted Thomas into an unsweetened iced tea connoisseur.
Ripping the band-aid off, she started with, “Ciar is moving to Dublin with his daughter this week. The building he bought for him and Gray, which she had cancelled plans for, he actually finished.
“According to River and Raven’s boys, he’s moving back to Dublin, with his child, to try and convince Gray to take him back. He doesn’t know she’s pregnant. She’s supposed to tell him before she comes here for Christmas break.
“I don’t know more than that, really. Gray is being tight-lipped. Probably afraid we plan to snatch her from her bed in the dead of night.”
Thomas ruminated over the information dump, steepling his fingers under his chin. “I’ll give Gray the time to tell him as she will. His response will determine mine.”
“He’ll always be Gray’s son’s father,” Josephine said quietly. She was exuberant about becoming a grandmother and knew Gray would take to motherhood as she had, but the Ciar issue clouded the excitement with concern.
She had no doubt that Ciar would take responsibility for his son, as he had for his daughter, but where did that leave Gray? Her daughter was a strong woman, but as her mother, Jo never wanted her to feel unwanted or not good enough.
Jo waffled between begging her to come home and encouraging her to take charge of her new life. She also wanted to visit Ciar and bash him upside the head with a rolled-up newspaper.
Plan C, and it was beginning to look like the promising choice, was to send her own mother to Dublin to sort things out.
Grandma Mary O’Connor would descend on Gray’s life like an avenging angel, having her in a fashionable home and hiring a nanny, chef, and house cleaner within hours.
Her father, Dean, would have security posted along the perimeter to ensure there were no unsupervised visits to his granddaughter and great-grandson.
She was leaning closer to Plan C every day, but that level of interference had to be reserved for drastic times, and Thomas was right, it all came down to Ciar’s response to Gray’s announcement.
Jo picked up one of Thomas’ heavy hands from the table, bringing it to her mouth to kiss his knuckles before resting her cheek against his palm.
“No matter what, we’re going to be grandparents. I can’t wait.”
“Our grandson,” Thomas said quietly, switching their position and bringing her hands to his lips. “I can’t wait either.”