Chapter 37
Thirty-Seven
Harper
The front door closes, Smitty’s voice still echoing through the wood, and I move to Leo, start to wrap my arms around him.
“Hold that thought,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb over my bottom lip.
Then he’s backing away, his footsteps echoing on the floor—
The lock clicks.
I grin, survey the kitchen, but even though everyone’s been lingering over their goodbyes for the last hour, there’s nothing much for me to do.
Family takes care of family.
And family shows up for family.
For my part, I’m just glad the food didn’t go to waste—my client canceled when I was literally on my way to deliver her three-course meal for twenty.
Also, yay for strict contracts and credit card numbers on file so I still got paid even though she no longer needed my services.
I rinse my glass and put it in the dishwasher.
The baby kicks, and I gasp, my hand going to my belly.
That wasn’t a flutter, wasn’t butterflies floating through my stomach.
It was a tap, distinct and clear—
“What’s wrong?”
I hadn’t heard him return. “Leo,” I whisper. “Come here.”
He’s in front of me a moment later and I take his hand, press it to my belly. “What—”
“Shh. Just wait.”
He goes still and the baby kicks and—
“Is that—?”
“Yeah,” I breathe. “It’s the baby.”
We stand like that, his palm flush against me as the baby kicks, as I count those little taps and pushes, the flutters Leo can barely feel.
Until finally the baby quiets down, falling asleep or shifting positions to where we can’t feel her any longer.
“Fuck, Mama,” he rumbles, cupping my jaw and turning my face up so I can meet his gaze. “That’s what you’ve been feeling?”
I nod, throat suddenly tight.
His forehead settles against mine. “Fuck,” he whispers again. “That’s incredible. You’re incredible.”
Then he’s kissing me, our lips molding together in the sweetest, gentlest kiss I’ve ever been lucky enough to be given. Gentle and slow, languorous and slick, on and on and on it goes.
When he pulls back, I don’t gasp in air, desperate to breathe.
I inhale slowly.
Then sharply when he kisses his way along my jaw, down my throat, laving at the dip at the base.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs. “Mine.”
He nudges the strap of my dress down, then the other, his mouth tracing over my exposed skin.
My collarbone, the tops of my breasts, pressing his face between them and nuzzling gently. “Leo,” I whisper.
“Mine,” is all he says in reply, reaching beneath my arm and tugging down the zipper.
The material parts slowly, and a tug has it pooling at my hips, another skating down my thighs to puddle on the floor.
My breasts are larger and the rest of me is as well, rounded and thickened and maybe I might feel insecure at how much I’ve changed over the last few months if not for the heat in his eyes, the gentle way he traces my curves, his soft groan as he cups one of my breasts through my bra, lightly runs his thumb over my nipple.
Pleasure shoots through me like lightning, and it’s only been weeks since I’ve had him last, but right in this moment, it feels like an eternity.
“I need you,” I murmur.
Or maybe beg.
But he doesn’t move faster, doesn’t even take off my bra.
He just…worships me.
Long, slow strokes of his fingers, chased by his lips and tongue. Only when I’m a ball of sensation, every cell on heightened alert does he undo the clasp, push down my underwear.
I’m standing in the kitchen, every flaw illuminated by the fluorescent lights overhead.
But he still looks at me like I’m the most beautiful woman on the planet.
Even as I’m thinking that, he’s banding his arms around me, kissing me—albeit not slowly in the least this time—as he sweeps me up and carries me down the hall.
Softness on my back, a hard body pressing me into the mattress as he kisses me and kisses me.
“Leo,” I moan when he pulls back, dragging his mouth along my jaw, down my throat, between my breasts, and then—
“Oh!”
He rolls one of my nipples between thumb and forefinger sending sensation skittering through me…sensation that explodes into an inferno when he suckles the other, taking it deeply into his mouth and making me arch off the bed.
His groan vibrates through my flesh, and I press my thighs together, the ache there building to a fever pitch.
Then big, warm hands settle on my thighs, push them apart.
The sudden waft of cold air makes me shiver, but it’s the heat that scorches me in those deep brown eyes that leaves me trembling.
Kisses down my abdomen, to the top of my pubic bone…
And in between.
I gasp, bucking against his mouth as he drags his tongue through my pussy. He takes his time, finding every sensitive spot that makes me moan, makes me dive my hands into his hair and hold him against me.
Hot breath, soft lips, the sweetest abrasion of his beard against me.
A finger stroking into me.
Another.
And then it’s there, my orgasm hovering so close I can almost taste it.
“Now, baby,” he murmurs, and that’s all it takes.
I explode, the flames threatening to turn me to ash. But, oh, what a wonderful way it would be to go, I think as pleasure sends every muscle taut and then lax, bliss filling my every cell.
“Mine,” he whispers again after he’s coaxed me down, the word a hot damp puff that reminds me for as good as that felt, as beautifully devastating as it was to my senses, my body still aches for more.
“I need you.”
His eyes burn with desire, but he’s gentle as he kisses his way up my body, takes my mouth in a slow, deep kiss. He breaks apart only to stand and quickly get rid of his clothes, coming back over the top of me naked and hot and…
Hard.
“Oh,” I moan as his hips settle between mine and he oh so slowly strokes into me.
I want him to move, to thrust into me fast and deep. To fuck me into oblivion.
But he doesn’t hurry, not even when I beg. He goes slow and holds me close and makes love to me until I’m coaxed so gently over the edge into another orgasm it takes me by surprise, pleasure rolling through me in tender waves of bliss.
He’s only a heartbeat behind me, softly groaning my name.
Watching him come apart may be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Or maybe that’s the way he draws me into his arms, stroking back my hair, holding me close as we both catch our breath.
Perhaps it’s the way he cares for me afterward, gently carrying me to the bathroom and wetting a washcloth, waiting for me as I clean up.
But as we crawl back into bed, his arms around me once more, his breathing going slow and steady, mine right alongside his, I know it’s none of those things.
Because just as I’m drifting off I hear,
“I love you, Mama.”
And as his lips press to my temple and dreams take me under I know, know that everything is finally perfect.