58. Trevor
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
TREVOR
“ F atherhood looks good on you, bruh.” Hunter furiously taps the GamePlay controller, keeping his eyes on the TV screen.
“Bro, it feels good.” My eyes drop to my Lyla Belle snuggled up on my chest, staring for so long I crash into a wall on the racing game we’re playing. I can’t help it. She’s perfect. “Being a dad is my favorite thing.”
Hunter leans back on the couch and smirks at the baby. “You think you’ll have any more?”
“Nope. I mean, if Willa really wanted to, I’d do it. But I’m good with one.”
He nods and tips his head over the back of the couch, stretching out his back. “Things still going good there?”
“Yeah.” Except for the fact I want to lose myself in her, but she doesn’t want me to touch her. “I think.”
He pops his head up with a quirk in his brow. “What you mean, you think ? I saw you two before she left. You’re gonna tell me that’s not good?”
“Man, I don’t know. It’s all fine, but we still haven’t…” I hesitate to share this. I’m not into giving details of my sex life, even to friends .
“Haven’t what? Joined bank accounts?”
“We haven’t had sex since before the baby.
She hasn’t been ready, and I’m trying not to be that guy.
” Lyla shifts and turns her head to the other side, making the smiling koala on the back of her onesie wiggle side to side.
“It’s so hard, bro. All I can think about is getting that connection back, but she doesn’t want it. ”
“Naw, this isn’t about you.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Willa and I have a lot of the same issues,” he says.
I tilt my head, eyebrows dipping. “Hey, I go to therapy too. I know I have problems.” He laughs and sits forward to slide the controller onto the coffee table.
“Bruh, trust me when I tell you, she’s in her head, and it has nothing to do with you. ”
The front door opens, and I turn my head slowly, knowing I’m about to get in trouble.
Willa takes one look at Lyla on my chest and crooks a pointed finger at me with an annoyed glare.
I tip up a shoulder with a grimace. “Look at her!” I say defensively.
“She’s so comfy. How could I move her? Just look at how cute she is. ”
“She is pretty cute, Wills.” Ashlie perches next to me on the sofa arm and sweeps a thumb over Lyla’s curls. Hunter starts unhooking the game from the TV.
“Great,” Willa says to Ash. “So when she wakes up in the middle of the night screaming, I’m calling you to remind you just how cute she can be.”
Willa’s purple sundress hugs her waist, and my heart thumps wildly, just imagining my hands all over her hips.
I’m so thirsty for her, it’s ridiculous.
Like I’m kneeling at a trickling stream in the forest but too racked with fear of what’s in the trees to guzzle for survival.
I just need to know what’s in the trees.
I have to talk to Willa about this, make sure I’m not missing something.
Lyla stretches and blinks up at me before that lip quiver starts.
Willa rushes over from the front door and swoops the baby in her arms, then walks her into the kitchen.
I watch the sway of Willa’s hips, hung up on her silhouette and what’s underneath.
No panties ? “Did she eat anything while I was gone?” Willa asks, popping open the fridge for some thawed breastmilk.
We have so much stored from her overproducing days, Willa’s no longer breastfeeding.
She slides the bottle into the warmer and sways those hips while she waits . I need to get a fucking grip .
“Nope.” I clear my throat, swatting away my dirty thoughts. “She slept the whole time.”
She puffs out a breath. “Of course she slept for you.” She smiles down at Lyla. “Can Mama get that same courtesy sometimes? Hmm?”
Hunter packs up his gaming system and stands behind Ashlie. “Well, we’ll leave you to it.” He smirks at me, and Ashlie shoots a sly grin over to Willa. “Maybe check your condom for holes this time, though.” He dodges a shove from Ashlie.
“Bye, Hunter.” Willa rolls her eyes and, with warmed bottle in one hand and Lyla in the other, turns toward the nursery. “I’ll see if I can get her back down,” she calls over her shoulder. I lock the front door and take the temporary freedom to hop in the shower.
Adjusting the top of the towel around my waist, I step from the bathroom and nearly walk into Willa, her fingers clutched tightly.
“Everything okay, Gem?” I ask nervously.
The worry etched on her face sets me on edge.
But then she steps toward me and smooths her hands over my ribs.
Her touch sends a frisson across my body, igniting at the tips of her fingers.
Gripping the back of her neck, I tug her toward me.
I just need to get lost in this— in her —for a fraction of a second before my worries take over again.
Her breathless moan into my mouth sends my body into overdrive, and I crush her to my chest. The towel on my hips threatens to fall, but how bad would that be, really?
“Tre,” she whimpers around my lips when I graze her nipple through the sheer bodice of her dress.
We need to have this conversation, but I can’t find the motivation to unlatch myself from her. “Is it me, Willa?” I ask, trailing my lips from hers, across her jaw, until I reach the coconut scented pulse on her neck. “Did I do something? ”
“What?” She pulls away enough for me to see her mouth gaping. “No. You’re…perfect, Tre. This is me. It’s all me.”
“Please talk to me. I’m floundering here.”
She bites her lip, her eyes sliding down to the space between us. “I’m scared shitless.”
“About what?”
She puffs her cheeks as she breathes out. “So many things.” I brush a knuckle over her cheek, and she leans into my hand, shaking her head. “I don’t want more kids.”
“Great. Me either.”
Her eyes pop wide, and she searches my face. “But before, when we were talking about future things, you said you always wanted to be a dad.”
“Good thing it only takes one kid to make that happen.” I smile, pulling her back to me. My thumbs caress her back. “What else?”
“How do you know there’s anything else?”
“Because I know you, Willa,” I say, dipping down to kiss the tip of her nose. “So tell me. What else?”
“I’m starting to feel like my old self again. I can be a lot to deal with…”
Staring into her eyes, I take in the full weight of her fear, and it’s devastating.
She thinks I’ll stop loving her . “Gem, the people who convinced you that you’re hard to love were never worthy in the first place.
” I press a kiss to her lips, then her chin, and down to her neck.
“Loving you is easier than breathing,” I whisper across her skin, smiling at the goosebumps rising.
“I was crazy about you before Lyla. Now that I finally have you, there’s not a chance in hell that’s changing.
” Sucking on her neck earns me a moan filled with desire, and she tips her head back to give me better access.
“What else?” I murmur. I know that’s not it.
Those things aren’t what’s actually stopping her from dragging me to bed like she used to.
“I’m not the same as before. My body, I mean. Things are stretchier and lumpier.” She looks down at her chest. “Lower. I just don’t want you to be expecting an unblemished body.”
I jut my head back and scan her face. That’s what this is all about ?
She purses her lips, curling her hands into fists to quell that finger habit.
She’s worried I’m not attracted to her anymore, and I’m so speechless I do the first thing that crosses my mind.
I spin her around and march her to the full-length mirror across from the bed.
When I rest my chin on her shoulder, we stare at each other through the reflection, neither of us blinking while we take each other in.
I slide my hands over her shoulders, then caress the soft skin on her upper arms. “Willa, all I’ve wanted to do is melt with you, touch you, feel your sweet body shuddering around me.
This body”—I whisper in her ear—“is a goddamn masterpiece. It handcrafted my greatest treasure. If you think, for one second, I don’t love every single part of you…
well, I guess I’m gonna have to show you.
” She inhales sharply, eyes fluttering when my hand slips under her dress.
I trail up her thigh, stopping when I reach her ass.
No panties . “Do you like when I touch you like this?”
She nods, biting her lip.
“Do you want me to keep touching you?”
She nods again, eyelids hooded to slits as my thumb brushes her nipple. Hissing a breath, she leans back against my chest, giving my towel the last bit of permission it needs to break free of the knot and drop to the floor. “I need your words.”