29. Cooper
TWENTY-NINE
Cooper
I came home last night to find my two girls asleep in the living room and after putting Lizzie to bed, I returned to the living room and contemplated leaving Meghan for all of ten seconds before carrying her to bed too.
She must’ve been exhausted, because she didn’t wake up or stir at all while I carried her to my room.
Lately I’ve been wanting to be near her, to drink her in, twenty-four-seven and it’s killing me that she isn’t ready for that yet.
She’s getting there. I can tell in the way her gaze lingers on me for a while when I walk into a room or how her breath hitches when I get too close.
It’s been amazing having her here in my space, and I love that she’s added love and laughter to my apartment, that had felt so cold and lifeless for so long.
The time we spent with her dad and seeing her with Lizzie has really helped me forgive her for not telling me when she first found out she was pregnant. That and talking to my therapist.
When I came to my senses, I put a plan in place to make her mine.
I want her to be mine in every sense of the word .
Even though to me she already is, I need her to realize it too.
Meghan is currently curled into the crook of my arm with a leg draped over one of mine. I’m roused from my sleep by sweet kisses being dusted across my shoulder. A hand sweeps up my thigh before rubbing over and squeezing my already semi-hard cock.
Not wanting to disturb her, partly because I’m curious as to what she will do, I stay still and wait for her next move. Her tongue darts out to lick across my nipple, and I bite my lip to stifle a moan.
“You taste so good, Cooper,” she purrs with a moan of satisfaction. “I can’t wait to ride your beautiful cock. It’s been way too long, baby.”
I must have died and gone to fucking heaven.
Her hand slips into my boxers as she grips my now painfully hard cock in her delicate palm. When she strokes me, once, then twice and I can’t help but gently thrust my hips into her hand.
It was a mistake to move because she rips her hand out of my boxers, causing the elastic on my boxers to snap against my skin in her haste.
I hiss from the unexpected pain and the arm that’s around her waist tightens to keep her in place, while she pushes against my chest in an attempt to move away from me.
“What the fuck, Cooper?” she demands, sitting up.
“What the fuck, what?” I ask, opting to play dumb, but by the look on her face, that wasn’t the right thing to say.
She slaps her hand across my chest, making me flinch away as I laugh.
“You know what I mean. Why am I in your bed?”
“Because I wanted you here. It’s not a big deal,” I reply, simply.
It is a big deal.
“That’s not what we have, Cooper. And you know it. You should’ve left me on the couch. We agreed to co-parent, nothing more.” She pushes away from me and climbs from the bed, making her way out of the room.
“I’m going to make you see that this is exactly where you belong,” I call to her as she walks out of our bedroom.
That’s it, I’m officially moving to Plan B—operation Make Meghan Mine… For Good is a go.
I tried to give her the time to come to terms with the fact that I’m not going anywhere, and that this is the real deal, but she keeps pushing me away. I know she wants me as much as I want her.
Plan B consists of delegating work so I can be home early, sending her flowers and gifts, teasing her with my body because I’ve seen her staring, rubbing her feet when we’re watching movies or TV and just generally going above and beyond for her .
I go to the door and listen to the sounds of her getting Lizzie up and ready for the day, before quietly closing it.
Walking to the walk-in closet I open the draw that holds my socks before reaching into the back and pulling out the Harry Winston ‘The One’ three carat cushion-cut diamond engagement ring.
I bought the ring before I’d gone to California, my plan being to propose to her and get her to come home, but with Lizzie literally arriving the moment I laid eyes on her, it didn’t feel like the right time to ask.
Especially after the revelations she made about Hayley—I need to get her to believe that she’s it for me.
I regret not setting her straight when she brought Hayley up. The truth is, I was overwhelmed with everything that had happened that day, from finding out I was going to be a dad, to the fact that Hayley was the reason she’d left.
I’m sure if I’d proposed to her in California and confessed my undying love, she would have thought I was only asking because she’d had Lizzie.
It's half past four when I get home that evening and I find Meghan in the bathroom, covered head to toe with water and bubbles. Lizzie’s in her tub inside the bath and is ferociously slapping her arms against the water letting out adorable gurgling giggles.
It’s the perfect scene and I shake my head as I let out a laugh, leaning against the doorjamb. Meghan turns around and lets out a startled yelp, one hand reaching for her chest, just above her heart, as the other supports Lizzie’s head.
“What are you doing here?” she asks.
“Last time I checked, I lived here.” I smile back at her.
She rolls her eyes before responding, “I know that. You don’t normally get home this early, I wasn’t expecting you. I was going to finish bathing Lizzie and start on dinner.”
“What were you going to make?”
“I hadn’t really gotten that far.” She laughs.
“Why don’t you finish my princess’ bath, I’ll get her dressed and then you can have a nice long soak, while I figure out dinner?” I suggest.
She assesses me for a minute before her head tilts to the side in question. “Are you okay? Do you have a temperature? Is that why you're home early?” she asks, turning back to Lizzie to finish her bath.
“I’m fine,” I reply, my brows drawing down in confusion.
“If you insist. But when I worked for you, we never left the office this early,” she says, shrugging as she pulls Lizzie from her tub and wraps her in a towel, turning to face me.
She walks toward me, and it takes great effort not to drop my eyes down her body to watch the sway of her hips or to stare at her puckered nipples visible through the now wet fabric of her t-shirt.
When she’s in front of me, she places the back of her palm to my forehead, causing me to let out a low chuckle .
“Huh, no temperature,” she affirms, removing her hand and placing Lizzie in my arms.
I watch, transfixed, as Meghan lifts her wet t-shirt over her head before dropping it in the sink and turning away to run the bath.
“I told you… I’m fine. I just wanted to come home and spend time with you both. What do you want for dinner?”
“Surprise me,” she murmurs, looking at me over her shoulder as begins to undo her jeans.
I audibly swallow, before nodding in confirmation and turning away from the door to give her some privacy.
I’m going to get Lizzie ready, I’m going to get Lizzie ready , I chant to myself. Meghan is pure temptation and it takes a great effort to not put Lizzie in her crib, walk into the bathroom and carry Meghan to bed.
Lizzie’s nursery is decorated in pale pinks and whites, her crib is across one wall, with a mobile hanging over it and in the corner, with a view across the city, is a rocking chair.
Cradling her tiny body against my own, I walk into her closet and grab a onesie and diaper before returning to her nursery and laying her down on the changing table.
I drape her towel over the edge of the table, before smoothing over her various lotions and potions, and playing this little piggy with her dainty toes, eliciting giggles from her tiny body.
“I’m going to need my little pumpkin to help me with mommy,” I whisper to her as I continue to play with her feet.
Putting on her diaper, she wiggles around on the table, as I continue with my one-sided conversation. “Mommy doesn’t know that Daddy loves her…”
When she frowns up at me, I’m quick to reassure her, as if she has a clue about what I’m saying. “Don’t worry, I love you too… but Mommy is going to take some convincing that she belongs with Daddy and that she should marry me.”
Lizzie waves her arms in the air in what I’m taking as her agreement.
“I’m glad we’re on the same page.” I chuckle as I get her into her onesie before picking her up, carrying her into my room, and creating a pillow fort around her on the bed. Undressing from the confines of my suit I change into a pair of gray sweatpants, leaving my torso bare.
I contemplate for about half a second whether I should put some baby oil on for good measure, before scrapping the idea. I’m not auditioning for Magic Mike . I’d only scare Meghan away if I showed her my dance moves.
Taking Lizzie into the living room, I sit on the couch and place her on my lap with my feet resting on the edge of the coffee table so she can look at me. We play while I update her on my plan, and I keep an ear out for the sounds of Meghan in the bathroom.
Her Soul playlist is on, so I know she’ll be in there for a while and long after the water has gone cold.
With Lizzie in her bassinet, I call Meghan’s favorite Italian restaurant and order us a couple of dishes—one Bucatini All’Amatriciana and one Orecchiette con broccoli é Salsicce Italiane with a side of homemade bread and olive oil and balsamic for dipping.
Opening a bottle of red wine, I leave it to air on the kitchen island before placing an order for a pint of strawberry cheesecake ice cream and waffle cones from the ice cream parlor a few blocks over.
I couldn’t have timed it better, because everything arrives just as Meghan is walking out of the bathroom.
Her slender body is covered by a white fluffy towel and with another wrapped around her hair, she looks like a goddess.
Coming to a stop by the front door, I can’t help but take in the sight of her.
“It smells amazing,” she exclaims as she goes to walk past me to the spare room. “You ordered from my favorite Italian place. I’m starving. I could kiss you,” she exclaims and her cheeks go a shade of red at her statement.
“I… uh… I accept kisses. From you, I accept kisses,” I stutter like a damn fool, leaning back against the door, as if I don’t argue cases in court for a living.
I want to tell her that for nearly two years, it’s only ever been her I’d accept kisses from, but by the time I open my mouth to speak she’s disappeared out of the room.
In the kitchen I take a moment to lean against the counter, composing myself and willing my cock down from its semi-aroused state.
Meghan arrives ready to eat wearing the skimpiest shorts I’ve ever seen and a tank top with no bra underneath. I barely stifle the moan she elicits from me—I swear she’s trying to torture me.
Someone send help, and send it now.
As we eat dinner, I’m further tortured by her moans of delight at the food, as she takes bites in between our steady conversation about our days. I deserve a damn prize for not swiping the dishes off of the table and bending her over it.
After dessert, we move to the couch and I pull her feet into my lap, sure to keep them away from the evidence her torture has created. I massage her feet while we watch a movie and it isn’t long before she falls asleep.
Switching off the TV and checking on Lizzie, I carry Meghan to our bed, careful not to wake her.