RAIN
Chapter thirty-eight
Kids ruin your sex life. This little weasel just obliterated every plan I had to see Rome’s erotic face pinned to his hood. He hasn’t admitted he loves me, but him buying me flowers confirms it.
Rome slides a full bagel to me, as I sit beside him at the dining table. He then cuts his, giving the kid half. I snatch his plate and slide the full one in front of him.
“I’m fine with half.” He reaches to take it back.
“Eat.”
“What kind of name is Rain?” The kid’s stuffed face looks me up and down from across the table.
Fucking little shit.
Now, I don’t hate kids; I love them, but my aching cock is begging for Rome, and it’s making me a little more irritable than I already was. “What kind of name is Isla?” I ask, taking a bite.
“A pretty one,” she snips back, and Rome smiles. Isla swallows and looks to Rome. “Do you like boys? Grandma told Mum you do.”
“Uh…” he trails off, swallowing thickly. He stares at his plate for a beat, then lifts his chin. “Yeah, I do.”
She smiles. “That’s cool, but he’s mean.”
“He is sometimes.”
Maybe I should pick her up by the back of those overalls and carry her across the street so Rome and I can resume what my cock is begging for.
As much as I wanted to act on that thought, we’re now all walking back to her grandmother’s house so she can play with Rome. The only person who plays with Rome is fucking me.
“Be nice,” Rome whispers to me as he opens the side gate, and the kid runs toward the grass.
“I had a great thank you planned for those flowers.” I reach for his cock.
He steps back, trying to seem angry, but I catch his lips twitch with a smile. “You can give me that later.”
“Can you do it, Rome?” the gremlin asks, kicking the ball toward him.
One thing she and I have in common, is that star-struck gaze when looking at Rome.
His cream trousers and cashmere sweater shine in the sun as he dribbles the ball to the grass, flicking it up with his foot and bouncing it on his knee a few times before letting it fall back to his foot.
Watching him control of a football makes me so goddamn hard.
He bounces it up and down before swinging his foot around it in a circle to catch it again.
“Again!” she shouts.
That bright grin I haven’t witnessed since the first night I saw him brings out those dimples as he repeats the movement once more before kicking it back to her.
Okay, they’re friends, and this kid loves him, I get it, but he’s fucking mine.
The gremlin fails at trying to flick up the ball and groans, “You make it look easy.”
“It’s just practise, Isla. Keep trying,” he encourages.
Fuck him, his adorable accent, and kind nature. We could be fucking against a car right now, but noooo.
Asshole.
“Morning, dear.” I look up at the weasel’s grandmother watching on her back porch.
“Morning, Mrs Parker.” Rome smiles. “I apologise for the intrusion.”
What a fucking gentleman.
She waves him off. “Always happy to have you, dear. Would you like a tea?”
“Yes, please, thank you. Isla had a juice box and half a breakfast bagel at my house. I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course.” Her disapproving gaze slides to me. “Would you like a tea?”
“No thanks. I only drink tea Rome’s made.” Which hasn’t happened yet, but it will.
“Suit yourself.”
Rome stares at me, pointing to a decaying wicker seat across the backyard. I refrain from being a petty child and splashing water from the bird bath onto this nuisance as I pass.
The chair almost snaps beneath my weight, and my lips curl in disgust at the overpowering smell of twenty different fucking flowers lining the garden. I watch them kick the ball back and forth and Rome stretches out, stopping it with his foot.
“That went wide. Tell me why?” he asks.
She looks to her foot. “Um…I dunno.”
“Watch my foot. I’ll kick it how you just did.”
He kicks it back, and it goes left of her. “You kicked it more with your toes,” she guesses.
“Good.” He smiles proudly. “What should I do to have better control?” She bends down, tapping the inside of her foot. “Well done, try again.”
I shouldn’t be jealous of a kid, I know that, but I am, because he’s had that same captivating grin this entire time, and not once has it appeared because of me.
Mrs Parker places a tray on the table between us. “He’s great with Isla, is he not?” I nod, continuing to watch him encourage her and give pointers. “He’s her godfather.”
“What? You’re fucking with me, right?”
“Language.”
“Like yours is any better.”
Taking her tea, she watches them both lovingly.
“My daughter Cathy has no siblings. Her husband Mark has a brother, but he’s in the army, stationed in another country.
Rome has only known Isla for two years, but he’s incredible with her, and she has a special bond with him.
Cathy, Mark, my husband, and I saw that.
They asked Rome to be her godfather, and he accepted. ”
Rome, this weasel… Her parents and grandmother are all about to hate me.