Chapter 31
Luna
I don’t know what is going through his mind, but it is like a switch has been flipped.
Before I know it, the bill has been paid, my coat is on, and a hand on my lower back is hurrying me towards the car.
Not one of us speaks a word as he opens the door and I slide in.
I watch him come around to the driver’s side.
Then, like a starved man, his fingers slide urgently into my hair, and his lips are on mine—insistent and a little rough.
My hand slides down his hard chest to caress him through his pants as he groans into my mouth and tries to pull me over the gear stick.
Then, suddenly, he is withdrawing and looking straight ahead with unseeing eyes and a clenched jaw. The abrupt switch almost gives me withdrawal symptoms. I watch owlishly as he fights for control for long minutes before letting out an aggrieved sigh.
“I think getting arrested for indecent exposure or outraging public decency with a sexual act is not exactly what I want my daughter to find out in the future.” He growls.
I can’t help but smile.
“I can’t imagine making that phone call to Manon. Maybe we should call Kel.”
The heavy ache between my legs is building.
He seems to be having an internal conversation before making some kind of decision and reaching over to pull my skirt up all the way to the waist. Then, he starts the car up and eases out of the park.
He does a double take and slows down almost to a halt, only to have the car behind us honk.
We are lucky the way home is short and in the thirty-thirty-mile zone.
Driving at snail’s pace, he reaches the edge of my panties and slips his fingers under the fabric.
I feel him slide against my skin and graze my clit before unerringly pushing his finger inside me, and I let my head fall back.
“Fuck,” his voice rumbles. “You’re so wet.
” His eyes are on the road, and this is a bad idea, but we have never done anything like this before.
I glance down at his lap and can see the shape of him against the smooth fabric of his pants.
Then, he withdraws his finger and fists the thin lace of my panties in his hand.
“Take it off,” he demands in a voice I have never heard before. In a daze, I obey, sliding the tiny slip of fabric down my legs and placing it in his open hand. I watch as he brings it to his face and smells it before pocketing it.
Time seems to stretch endlessly until we pull into the driveway. I’m warm and curled up in my seat with this constant simmering awareness of Isaac beside me. And the fact that my seat will need a deep clean.
He follows me up the drive, and, before I can reach for the keys, backs me up against the front door, turning me around and kissing me breathless.
I can feel his hand skimming across my waist and sliding to my hip.
I can feel the way his fingertips graze my lower back all the way to where his thumb presses against the soft give in front of my hip bone.
It catches me completely off guard. One second, I’m fumbling with my clutch, and the next, I’m pressed against the door, Isaac’s hands holding me flush to him while his mouth crashes against mine like the floodgates just opened.
I cannot stop a startled gasp against his lips.
“Isaac—”
He kisses me again, his tongue exploring my mouth while his hands wander to my hips.
My hands clutch him close, but I can’t lose myself.
“Your parents,” I whisper when he finally lets me breathe.
“Mm.” Another kiss against the corner of my mouth. “They both know how Amelie was born. Too late for the birds and bees talk, love.”
I choke on a laugh as he swoops in again.
“Oh my god.”
His grin flashes briefly before he kisses me again, softer this time.
Through the glass panels beside the door, I can see movement from next door.
I pull back slightly. “We are giving the neighbours a show.”
“Don’t care. Fae looked like she was enjoying the Chloe drama.”
“You are very brave to mention her name to me,” I grumble.
“Fuuuck …” Isaac says, closing his eyes. “Can we just pretend the last comment never happened?”
When I look like I am considering my options, Isaac just kisses me again, sharp and rough, making me forget my own name.
My husband looks maddeningly pleased with himself as he pulls away, like he is examining his handiwork.
Then, with a gentleness that makes me all kinds of emotional, he smooths his hands down the sides of my dress where it has ridden up slightly against the door. The movement makes my heart feel so full.
His fingers brush briefly against my hips before he steps back and clears his throat like a man attempting to remember that he is capable of behaving normally.
“Ready?” he asks.
I nod, still breathless.
“You better walk in front of me because Little Isaac is ready for action.” He grins despite the situation.
“You need to stop calling your dick that.” I sigh at his antics, but I am enjoying myself.
Instead of ringing the bell, Isaac fishes the keys from my clutch and opens the door.
Manon is just on the other side, like she has been debating on whether she should make a quiet retreat. I can’t help the blush that colours my cheeks.
She stands here, looking suspiciously awake for midnight.
Behind her, the house is dim and quiet.
“Everything okay?” I ask instinctively, already peering past her.
Manon’s expression softens immediately.
“She’s fine, Luna. Asleep. She has been such a good little girl. She did seem upset in the beginning, but I guess she is used to us.”
Relief loosens the knot in my chest. Amelie has only recently started sleeping through the night consistently, and I am still a light sleeper, worried that something will go wrong.
“She took the bottle with no fuss and nodded off just half an hour ago,” Manon adds, and there’s unmistakable grandmotherly pride in her voice. “She is a heavy sleeper. Didn’t wake, even when Kel dropped the spoon drawer.”
From somewhere deeper in the house, he shouts, “It was one spoon! How did it become an entire drawer?”
“One spoon is not impressive enough, Kel,” Manon calls back calmly.
Isaac snorts beside me.
“She didn’t wait up for us?” he asks, looking a little let down. He is usually the one who rocks her to sleep if she wakes up after a feed. They have long conversations about her future career plans and about what dinosaurs liked to eat.
Manon nods.
“We should frame this date,” I mutter to Isaac. “It may be the last peaceful evening we ever have. She is going to remember we left her and went out to have fun.”
“I already told you,” he says solemnly, “she’s lulling us into false complacency before her villain arc.”
Manon rolls her eyes fondly. But then she looks at us again, and a relieved expression flickers across her face.
“You both look happy,” she says quietly.
The words catch me off guard because we do.
I am tired some days and still healing in many ways. Life still feels complicated, but also blessed. Isaac’s hand slides to the small of my back again.
“Thank you,” Manon says as she pulls her coat on. “For letting me do this.”
I know what she is not saying.
Thank you for giving me this second chance with you.
“Good night, Manon,” I say softly.