23. Austin
TWENTY-THREE
AUSTIN
My chest tightens as I push open the door to my house, ushering Paris inside with a hand on her lower back.
She came in briefly the day we rode to the pond, but I didn’t give her a full tour.
It was probably rude of me not to, but I knew that if I saw her in this space, looking like she belonged here, I’d never let her leave.
When I bought this place, I imagined a family rushing to welcome me home at the end of every day.
I wished for laughs and hugs, and a heart so full that I felt like it could explode at any moment.
Up until recently, they were just faceless figures—placeholders until I filled my life with a family of my own. Not anymore, though.
Lately, those same daydreams are so vivid that I couldn’t ignore them if I tried.
Paris on the couch in her oversized T-shirt and cotton shorts, scrolling on her phone.
Rowan and Rhys watching a movie on the big screen above the fireplace, playfully pushing and shoving like they always do.
Lennon right at her mama’s side with a smile on her face and a colorful book in her hands.
I want it more than anything.
It’s been hard to go slow with the way my head, heart, and body seem to be on the same page.
At first, I was so scared of being hurt again that I thought it was best to stay away.
But that didn’t last long when I realized how pure and perfect she was, and how good it felt to serve her.
I can easily see myself doing it forever if she’d let me.
I just have to show her that, while I truly enjoy caring for her, it doesn’t mean she has to let go of everything she’s worked so hard to build after her divorce.
There’s so much power in giving up control, and tonight, she’s going to find that out.
“This is it,” I say, taking her hand in mine as I lead her toward the living room.
Her eyes are wide, ping-ponging from the custom Italian leather furniture to the white oak beams that run along the vaulted ceilings.
I chuckle when she nearly loses her balance, stumbling over her own feet and bumping into me as she looks directly overhead.
“Austin, this is incredible,” she whispers.
Instead of stepping away, she stays with her back pressed to my chest, her head resting right over my heart.
My arms snake around her waist, and I lean down, dropping a kiss to her lobe.
Her sweet scent envelops me, making my stomach tumble with excitement.
She likes it so far, and that makes me a happy motherfucker.
“How about I show you the kitchen next,” I ask, my warm breath fanning over the shell of her ear. “I can make you a cup of tea, or if you’re hungry, I could throw together a snack.”
She turns, lifting her chin. Her eyes sparkle, her thick, dark lashes fluttering as she tilts her head coyly.
“Or”—she slowly drags one lavender fingernail down the valley between my pecs, the move causing sparks to ignite beneath the fabric of my shirt—“you could show me your bedroom, and I’ll see the rest of the house tomorrow. ”
My hands slide over her hips, the luxurious material of the sexy little number she still has on from girls’ night smooth against my fingertips.
I toss up a thank you to Mother Nature for the extra warm summer night she gave us, without which I’m sure I’d be running my hands across a much thicker barrier right now.
Don’t get me wrong, Paris is just as stunning in leggings or shorts as she is in lingerie, but I’m loving the easy access this nightie provides as I find the bare skin of her upper thighs.
“That’s a really good idea, Baby Girl,” I mutter, lowering my head but stopping when our mouths are just millimeters apart.
Her breath catches, the quiet gasp causing her tits to brush against my chest. My cock begins to thicken inside my boxer briefs, memories of the way she was writhing under my touch just a few hours ago flooding my mind. “Let’s go.”
She whines pitifully when I back away, leaving her plump, pouty lips unkissed.
I take her delicate hand in mine, threading our fingers together before leading her toward the staircase.
My limbs tingle with anticipation, my heart suddenly pounding louder—faster—as we ascend to the second floor.
I want this night to be perfect for Paris, and the pressure to fulfill every one of her desires is somehow both heavy and exciting at the same time.
I step through the doorway to my bedroom, allowing her a moment to take it in.
She drags her gaze from left to right, past the French doors that lead to the balcony and stopping at the king-sized canopy bed.
The frame is made of dark, rich mahogany, the wide posts nearly touching the ceiling.
If she notices the small iron rings that run up their lengths, she doesn’t let on, but they may as well have flashing arrows pointed right at them with the way they’re calling to me right now.
I imagine her bound, silk scarves tied around her ankles and wrists, stretching her wide open for me to feast. The mental image has me stifling a groan, and I almost get lost in the fantasy before her soft voice cuts through the lust-filled haze.
“Austin? I…” she says, turning toward me.
A shaky exhale pushes past her lips before she licks them and tries again.
“I want…” I bring my eyes to hers, noticing the hint of apprehension that’s hidden behind them.
Her shoulders curl inward, her hands fidgeting with the hem at her thighs, and without even knowing the exact thoughts that are plaguing her, I feel the desperate urge to make them all go away.
I lift my hand, pinching her chin between my thumb and forefinger and forcing her gaze to remain on mine. I speak with a gentle tone, unwavering certainty in my expression. “What do you want, baby? I’ll give you the fucking world, no questions asked. All you have to do is say it.”
She nods slowly in understanding. Apparently, my words give her the reassurance she needs, her shoulders pushing back and chin stiffening beneath my fingertips.
The unease that was looking up at me just seconds ago melts away, to be replaced by a fire I’ve only seen embers of up until now.
Her lips part, one brow lifting the smallest amount as she speaks her desires into existence.
“I want you to fuck me.”
Hell yeah.
Pride plucks one corner of my mouth into a smirk, and I take a deep pull of oxygen, letting it fill my lungs.
“Atta girl,” I rasp, tightening my hold on her chin before pressing my lips to hers in a chaste kiss.
It’s quick, but effective, showing her just how fucking happy I am that she’s chosen me to give herself to.
“I’m going to make you feel so good, Paris,” I tell her. “Tonight is all about you. I want to take my time learning what makes this hot little body of yours tick. Then, I’m going to do it over and over until you can’t possibly take another ounce of pleasure. Is that what you want?”
“More than anything,” she replies on a rushed exhale. “Make me yours. Please.”
That’s all the green light I need, crashing my mouth to hers in a messy, searing kiss.
I plunge my tongue inside, licking and tasting as she feeds me the sexiest little moans.
My hands roam her curves, my palms flattening under her ass as I lift her from the floor.
She immediately wraps her legs around my waist, the heat of her center radiating through my pants and warming my growing erection.
“I can’t get enough of you,” I murmur, walking over to the bed and dropping her down without breaking the connection.
My hips are cradled between her supple thighs, my length pressed deliciously against her pussy.
I suck on her tongue, then trail my lips across her cheek until they’re hovering over her ear.
“I think it’s time to see if your cunt is as sweet as your kisses are. Can I taste you, Baby Girl?”
“Oh my God,” she whimpers. “Yes. I want it so bad.”
I lift off of her long enough to peel her nighty up her body, pulling it over her head.
It’s on the floor a second later, leaving her in a strapless black bra and the same panties she soaked for me just hours ago.
I don’t even take a breath, quickly losing my shirt before tossing it aside.
More impatient than I’ve ever been, I undo my pants and shove them down my legs, adding them to the pile.
All that separates us now are two thin layers of material, both damp with the evidence of how badly we want this.
I take in the sight before me, nearly losing the breath in my lungs at how perfect this woman is.
Moonlight filters through the glass doors and windows, splashing across her gorgeous body like a piece of priceless art.
But it’s not enough. I’m about to have Paris naked for the first time, and I’ll be damned if I don’t get to see every mouthwatering inch of her.
Stretching toward the nightstand, I click on the bedside lamp. Immediately, she stiffens, her arms crossing over her midsection between us.
“Hey,” I say gently, pushing back up onto my heels.
Her head is turned, her stare dropping to my abdomen as a bright red flush creeps across her cheeks.
She’s completely disconnected, and while I want to do whatever it takes to placate her—to bring her back to the way she was a few seconds ago—I know we need to communicate. “Look at me.”
She doesn’t acknowledge my request, her knees pulling tightly to my hips as she continues shielding herself. Her hands are balled into fists, her eyes moving, but still not finding mine. So, I try again, this time firmer—more demanding.
“Paris. Look at me.” The change in my tone does the trick, her gaze slowly crawling up my chest, neck, and face before finally locking onto mine. She’s welling with tears, her expression and posture very loudly telling me what caused her to change so quickly.
She’s ashamed.
And I’m not letting it slide.
“Tell me what’s wrong.” The command is ground out through clenched teeth, anger flowing through my veins like hot lava. It’s not her I’m mad at, though. Not in the slightest. I just want to know what she was told and by who, so I can erase every bit of it from her mind.
The air between us goes thick, but I don’t fill it with more words. This moment may be uncomfortable, but the only way to the other side is to go straight through it…together.
She sinks her teeth into her lower lip, her chin quivering.
I reach out, quickly pulling it free before giving her a stern look that says I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me.
Awkward seconds fall off the clock, but I don’t relent, keeping my undivided attention right where it is until finally, she speaks.
“I want to keep the light off.” It’s barely a whisper, so much pain and torment behind the words that I want to physically rip my own heart out and hand it to her. I remain unbothered—at least on the outside—shoving my tongue into my cheek for a moment to gather myself before I reply.
“Okay,” I say matter-of-factly. “I’ll turn it off. After you tell me why.”
“Because I don’t want you to see me.”
I nod. “Alright. And why is that?”
“Because…” she croaks, holding herself tighter, “I’m not a supermodel.”
I quirk a brow. “Could’ve fooled me.”
She huffs an annoyed breath, her beautiful brown eyes rolling. I want to flip her over and turn her ass red for the sassy attitude, but this isn’t the time for that. At least not until after I ease her mind.
“I’m serious, Austin. I’m not like the women you’re used to being with.
I have stretch marks and dimples where I shouldn’t.
I still haven’t lost the weight I put on when I was pregnant with Lennon.
” Her chin dips, her voice going even quieter.
“I’m okay with the fact that my body wasn’t made for the runway, but that doesn’t mean I’m comfortable being on display like this.
Especially when I’ve seen the women who were here before I was. ”
“Don’t do that,” I tell her, shaking my head.
“Don’t reduce what we have to a handful of meaningless hookups and one serious relationship that, in the end, made me second-guess what I brought to the table.
We’re different, Paris. Our connection is a million times stronger than anything I’ve ever experienced, and we’ve only just begun.
And as for your body”—I pull her arms from her midsection, thankful when she doesn’t fight me—“you couldn’t be more wrong. ”