Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-eight
ISAIAH
“Good to be home?” Will inquires.
His honeymoon is over. I should’ve opened the conversation with that line.
Instead, I shrug at the camera and welcome his presence. His sidekick, Ben, isn’t part of the conversations anymore.
As much as I’ve hated staying in this house, I made the best of it. Not to mention, I put Vespa in charge of having the entire place boxed up.
Well, all except Kylie’s room. I’m going through her effects before we hit the road again. I’ve thought it over and it shouldn’t take too long. I doubt my wife left anything incriminating at my house. Her house in California? I’ll tackle that another time.
Seeing as it’s something I plan to pass onto Aria on her eighteenth birthday, maybe I will leave it as an actual time capsule to allow her a chance to get to know the woman who brought her into this world.
Since I intend to chuck whatever I find upstairs, I asked Cassidy what she thought of the idea; to give Aria a gift to open as she entered adulthood that no one else could truly understand the value of. I’d hoped Cassidy would bring up the proof of Aria’s father being there. But she didn’t.
In hindsight, I’m grateful. I can’t wrap my brain around giving a child I love to someone I don’t know. I can’t see my life without the baby’s dimpled smile. Or Aria’s constant mmms , which she uses to get Cassidy’s attention. Yet, I don’t bring up that our doe-eyed little girl is asking for her mother because I’m uncertain Cassidy recognizes what Aria believes. She’s completely filled that hole in the baby’s life. I don’t want to take a child away from Cass that I placed in her arms. I don’t want to tear Aria away from another mother. I don’t want them to lose one another.
I feel guilty that I’m filling another man’s shoes. And after almost a year, I’m more reluctant to give the shoes back than when I squeezed into them.
“Is it the baby, the girlfriend, or performing that’s got you exhausted?”
“All three?” I chuckle, running a hand through my hair. “Not in a bad way. Everything is perfect. I wouldn’t change it for a million bucks.”
Though it’s at an ungodly hour, the proximity to the show venues allows me to climb into bed with Cassidy. After waking, I find my girls still in their pajamas, playing in the nursery. We spend most of our family time there since there’s not much in Aria’s room she can get hurt by or that we have to tell her not to touch.
This morning, while I was stretched out on the floor, Aria pulled herself up using the crib slats. She cruised around, bouncing happily. Then one, two, three, she took her first steps. She fell forward with a loud squeal of delight, her chest colliding with mine. I was so proud of Aria I clutched her tight and told her so. But afterwards, I immediately did what any dad worth his weight would do. I tossed her in the air and made her shriek some more. When I looked over at Cassidy to make sure she saw, she was wiping tears from her eyes.
Last spring, I hadn’t considered how I’d feel when Aria began walking. Her milestones were hers alone. Nowadays, they’re mile markers for how far we’ve come. They’re part of our story.
“Your net worth far exceeds a million, so I’m glad,” Will replies, cheekily.
Will and I discuss the usual. Endorsement deals, interview requests, maintaining the party-line on the red carpet at the Country Music Network awards show while Cassidy is on my arm. Will says the interest in Cassidy has gained momentum. I’m not surprised. She’s bright. She’s beautiful. She’s a talented chef. What else could anyone wish for in a partner?
The call ends and I catch a whiff I haven’t smelled since we left Kingsbrier. In a bizarre twist, it makes me homesick.
I follow my nose to the kitchen. It’s apparent Cassidy’s been busy during my morning meetings with Vespa and Will. Grocery brown bags litter the floor. Mixing bowls, pans, and cooling racks I didn’t know I owned are scattered over the range and countertops. Interspersed are measuring cups of wet and dry ingredients. In the midst of the baking explosion is a barefoot Cassidy. She’s piled her hair on top of her head to keep it from getting in the way. From my vantage point, she’s wearing a pair of pink short shorts and a ribbed tank top and she’s tied an apron in a bow above her pert little ass.
“Where’d all this come from?” I ask, watching her peel a banana.
Now that I’m in the kitchen, and can see Cassidy from the front, I notice the apron hides her clothes. I’m half-hard imagining what her mouth could do with the banana and envisioning her nakedness underneath the dusty, flour-covered smock.
As soon as I smacked my head on the fridge, I began struggling to act like a gentleman. Then I got a taste of Cassidy and her cooking. Both are irresistible. Unable to help myself, I reach for a cooling muffin.
“Wait! That one’s good. I have another that the top popped off of.”
“You’re feeding me seconds?” I joke.
Whatever. They taste the same and I’m going to slather butter on the muffin, so she’s cut down a step.
“I’m trying to make sure that I’ve baked enough for everyone.” She pours batter into an eighteen slot cupcake pan, slides it into the oven, and sets the timer.
“Chou, there are three people here and one has four teeth. You’ve got,” I stop to count and lose track. “Enough to feed an army.”
“Exactly. I wish I could bake this many on the bus.”
“Hold on. Are these for the band? The roadies?”
“Who did you think they were for?”
“Me,” I state matter of fact. “I want all your muffins… Or I did until I saw how many I’d have to eat.”
“Funny, you’ve never had a problem indulging in seconds with my muffins before.” She bites her lip and her cheeks turn a subtle shade of red.
“I walked into that.” I slide around the counter, slipping a hand around her middle and drawing her back to my front.
“Damn straight.” She leans into my chest, unable to hide her laugh.
I grin, kissing the top of her head. “I missed this. You and me in the kitchen.”
“Oh, yeah?” Cassidy stops messing with the bowls and spatulas. “Going to elaborate?”
“I might have a fantasy about you,” I admit.
“Another one?” she teases, spinning around and pushing against my chest.
This isn’t the first time or even the second I’ve told Cassidy the dirty things I want to do to her.
My arms slack at her waist, but I’ve still got a grip on her hip. “This one includes an apron.”
She looks down at her bare legs and sees what I do. “ Hmm…” she hums, focusing below the belt at my body’s reaction to our banter. My jeans constrain the thick bulge in my pants. Her eyes flick to mine. The subtle satisfaction that she’s unintentionally turned me on is apparent.
“Am I wearing anything else?” As she stares at me, waiting for an answer, her nimble fingers go to work on my belt buckle.
“No. But it’s not tied in the back.”
Cassidy unzips my pants and takes me out. She twists her grip, caressing the pad of her thumb over the tip of my oversensitive cock.
I slap a palm on the granite, clutching the countertop to steady myself. “Goddamn that feels good.”
“You were telling me where it’s tied?” she asks, sweet as pie.
“It’s—it’s binding your wrists.”
“To what?” Her voice is innocent. Light and carefree. Like a melody you’d sing on a back road on a sunny day.
“To whatever I can find to tie you to so I can fuck you.”
“But not my legs?” She doesn’t let up, sliding her hand up and down my shaft.
“No.” I clench my jaw. “Fuck, chou, yeah,” I mumble as she reaches lower to cup my balls.
“Why don’t you want my legs tied?” Cassidy purrs.
“When your pussy’s drenched…” I pause to swallow. “When you let go, when no one is around to hear, you dig your heels into my ass.”
“And you like me spread out for you. Taking your cock deep inside of me. Pushing you further inside while you’re fucking me. You want to have your way with me on the kitchen floor at the B&B.”
Cassidy shifts her hips, rubbing her thighs together. I love how she gets off hearing the filthy things I want to do to her. That she’s not afraid of my bluntness and plays along with my mind’s eager inventions.
“There. Here before I sell this bitch.” Anywhere I can have her.
I lift the apron and tug at the waistband on Cassidy’s cotton shorts. Pressing my lips to hers, nipping and biting, delving into her velvety mouth, I dip my fingers inside her panties.
“Isaiah,” she moans my name, lifting on her toes with anticipation as I tease her folds.
She’s so slick. I glide two fingers in and out of her pussy, spreading the wetness onto my palm, and rub it against her clit. She opens wider for me, wrapping one leg around my ass the way I knew she would. I take her weight and guide us to the runner on the floor. Then, with my cock hanging out and dripping, I watch her breasts heave and her back arch. Cassidy is gorgeous when she loses control.
“All of you.” She begs for more as her walls flutter and she comes undone.
My dicks all in favor, except like a needle on a record, our lust-filled moment comes to a screeching halt.
“Fuck. We have to run upstairs for a condom, chou.”
“The muffins will burn. We only have three minutes till the timer beeps.” Cassidy becomes pensive. “We’re safe, right? I’m on the pill. You can pull out.”
“You have a lot of faith if you think I’m going to last an entire three minutes bareback inside of you.”
She giggles. “Gotta start somewhere. Practice makes perfect.”
I push her shorts and underwear down. She kicks them off, tugging my jeans over my butt. I grab Cassidy’s thigh and set it at the crook of my elbow, rolling on top of her, so she can’t pin me with her heels. If she does, all bets are off.
“Dear fucking god, Cass. You feel incredible.”
She kneads my bare flesh, drawing me in as close as two souls can get. I snap my hips, thrusting into her tight channel. In the recesses of my mind, I ponder the risk of not being the man she needs me to be. Had I known this was what I was missing…
It doesn’t take long for the white hot sparks to fly down my spine. My balls tighten. I pull out and warmth explodes on our stomachs. I promised her I’d make an honest woman of her before we brought another life into the picture. I won’t break my promise, but I kiss Cass so she understands I’m now the one starving for more.
Or maybe I always was.
Our lips part and I rest my forehead to hers. Staring at Cassidy, I blink one eye closed, then the other open. “Where were you all my life?” I ask, catching my breath.
She answers with another kiss. “Lately, I’ve wondered if I would have lost out on this if I left Kingsbrier when my cousins had. What we have surpasses everything I wanted. I suppose having country’s hottest superstar for a boyfriend will do that. I can’t believe Isaiah Roomer is the love of my—Wait? Did you say you’re selling the house?” In an awkward attempt to untie the damp apron, she’s also stretching her legs to reach for her panties with her toes without my spunk spilling everywhere.
The oven timer beeps.
“I am. But I don’t want to talk about that at the present.”
I take the apron from her and use it to wipe the puddle I left in her belly button. The thin fabric has outlived its effectiveness by the time I’m cleaning myself off.
When Cassidy is decent, she scrubs her hands, grabs a pot holder and removes the latest batch of muffins.
The cold bite of the tile nips my glutes as I pull my pants back up. I shimmy onto the carpet runner.
“Did you want butter on this muffin top?” she asks.
“Yeah. C’mere.” I tug her onto my lap, wrapping my arms around her. Cass feeds me a bite of muffin over her shoulder. I groan my appreciation for her culinary talents and nuzzle her neck.
“Do you intend to return to the B&B this fall?” I skim four fingertips around her left ring finger.
To say my first wife was career oriented is an understatement. Conversely, I’m not looking for someone to keep the home fires burning. Cassidy had hopes for her future before I came along. I won’t hold her back. The same way she mixes and stirs, I’m formulating plans to support whatever she wants.
“I still feel the need to be a part of my family’s legacy, but I don’t think I can work for my sister anymore,” she sighs. “It has little to do with the fight we had. The B&B was Gracyn’s dream. I need one of my own.”
“Then what do you dream about? What’re you going to do when we’re done making and raising babies? Or while we are?” I mean, I know we’ve got making them on pause.
“I dream about you and baking. Not always in that order,” she smarts.