Game Ender, page 8
I don’t get the rest of the word out because I’m hooked around the waist by a strong forearm and pulled back down into Thomas’s lap, shrieking as I go. Yes, I said his lap before I can protest, I’m shifted to the side so my ass is on the couch, my legs are draped over his, and my chest is plastered to his side.
My head snaps to his and his dancing eyes meet my wide-eyed expression, my mouth dropped open like a fly catcher. “Don’t need the heat up when you’re right here.”
Okay that makes me blush and I narrow my eyes at him, wondering what his game is.
“Thomas, I’m not—” I’m stopped when his hands move to my bare feet, his fingers deliciously kneading my soles.
“You’ve been busy all day and as much as you try to hide it, I know you’re tired and I want to give you a foot rub.”
“You don’t have . . . to . . .” I reply, my cheeks heating as my voice turns breathy.
“Amz, relax. Let me do something for you for a change.”
“You have been doing stuff for me since Brody was born,” I explain.
“This is adult time. Everything else has been helping out with Brody, and I’ll keep doing that as long as you need me to.”
“But I—”
“Or want me to.” That shuts me up and in the silence that follows, his body heat seeps into me and I decide that resistance is probably futile and crazy. I mean, it’s Thomas and he doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do. He never has for as long as I’ve known him and I doubt that’ll ever change.
Fuck it, if he wants to rub my feet while we watch a movie, so be it. I’d be a fool to say no when his hands are working miracles against my skin. Men are weird and Thomas might have a foot fetish for all I know. Who am I to judge?
“Everything set for the christening this weekend?” he says softly, like it’s a normal everyday occurrence to give me a foot rub and have a casual chat.
“I’m starting to see how you do so well sorting businesses out.”
He chuckles but doesn’t stop his almost orgasm-inducing foot rub. “Why’s that?”
I nod to my feet, trying not to moan like a wanton hussy as he digs his thumbs in. “If you want something, you make it happen.”
“You have no idea,” he murmurs but by the time his words register in my head there’s a loud crash from the TV and—in my mind at least—the moment is gone.
And as I decide to let that particular comment go and instead focus on the movie, I relax my body and let myself enjoy the moment, however fleeting it may be.
I open my eyes to be met by a blank-screen television and a warm soft—but hard—body beneath me. Oh shit.
Brody’s frustrated grunts and gahs come over the baby monitor on the coffee table and I throw my hand out to quickly turn down the sound so I don’t wake my unintentional mattress.
Stamping down the freak out fighting inside of me, I gently ease myself off him, freezing when his hand on my hip drifts down to my ass and tenses.
My eyes snap to his, a silent sigh of relief escaping me when I see he’s still asleep.
Having to face him right now would definitely cause me to lose the tight hold I have on my mortification.
The last thing I remember is cuddling into him—at his insistence—and despite being tense at the start, I soon melted into his side as his warmth seeped into me.
He didn’t try anything, he wasn’t angling for a grope or even looking to start something. It seems he genuinely just wanted to snuggle down and watch the movie.
But that was hours ago, and now I’m disengaging my body from his, to get to my baby boy in the next room.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying I haven’t imagined—read: fantasized about—getting close to Thomas, beside him, on top of him, beneath him . . . but where both parties are willing and awake.
Once I’m free and standing beside the sofa, I check one last time to make sure I haven’t disturbed him before quietly leaving the room and down the hall to my son’s room.
“Hey, baby,” I coo when I reach his crib, reaching down and lifting him up to bring him to my chest. “You saved Mommy from doing something stupid.”
Of course he says nothing but as I move to my nursing chair in the corner of his room, part of me wishes he’d miraculously become a baby genius and say “you can thank me later, Mama.”
Getting comfortable, I gently rock him while he assumes his position and helps himself to the never ending milk bar.
Stroking his head as he feeds, I can’t stop thinking about how and where I woke up moments ago.
“Mommy doesn’t know what she’s doing,” I say quietly. My voice the only sound in the room. “You saved me from a world of embarrassment. Maybe a possible bad decision too.”
I sigh, remembering back to how nice the night with Thomas was. How easy it is to be around him, how different he is to my original impression all those months ago.
“I’m so far in the friend-zone, I’ve got my own area code. Takeout and movies and he didn’t even try to cop a feel. No twitchy fingers, no wandering hands, no sexy eyes hinting at more. I mean, I didn’t think I wanted a man in my life other than you but sometimes a mommy doesn’t mind some male attention.”
“I’ve still got it, don’t I? I’ve got boobs, hips, and ass. My face isn’t paper bag worthy, why wouldn’t he make a pass at me. Unless he doesn’t like me like that.” Then, like the messed up hormonal mess I am, I try to reason with myself. “But he did try and come on to me when I was pregnant, surely that means something, right?” Brody looks up at me and smiles around my nipple, like what I said was the funniest thing in the world.
“At least you woke me up and saved me a whole lot of awkward. I think I maybe drooled on his chest. How sexy is that? All he did was come over for dinner and he ends up being my mattress. God, I’m a hot mess. Lucky you love me, right baby?”
I hum to Brody while I rock my legs back and forth, watching as his whole body melts into me, totally milk drunk and adorably sleepy.
Fifteen minutes later, I tip toe out of his room after settling him back in his bed, making my way out to the living room where I find the TV turned off and Thomas nowhere to be seen.
If I didn’t remember every part of his body I was lying on top of and how good it felt, I’d think I had dreamed it all.
It’s not until I check my door is locked that I see a note written on the little magnetic whiteboard stuck to my fridge.
Snorting with laughter, I’m still grinning, even when I get into bed.
One thing is for sure, any disappointment at finding Thomas gone faded away the moment I saw that note on the wall and now, I’m definitely looking forward to our next TTT.
It’s not eavesdropping if you hear over the baby monitor, right? Because I heard every word that Amy said to Brody last night when she thought I was still asleep.
I probably should’ve turned it down or left. Maybe drowned the speaker in water to remove any and all temptation to hear what she thought of me—of the potential of us—but . . .
I couldn’t. I mean, who would?
I’m a curious guy, always have been and probably always will be and there’s something to be said about hearing the woman you’re potentially interested in express her feelings like that.
I heard Brody over the monitor at least a minute before Amy woke up. After remembering where I was, I focused on more pleasant sensations, like how fucking great it felt to have a woman in my arms. No, it was good to have Amy lying on me, chest to chest, legs tangled with mine, her warm soft body melding against my hard one.
I thought she was beautiful before she had Brody, but now she’s off the charts hot. Those curves, her eyes, and her dark auburn hair that shines so bright I have to stop myself from touching it. Her smile, her attitude, her infectious energy and total commitment to her son, all of it is amazing.
So yeah, guilty as charged, I heard her talking to Brody when she thought she was alone and let every word sink in. When I knew she was finishing up I decided to save her the awkward turtle moment and leave. She felt embarrassed enough and there was no way I wanted to make her uncomfortable. But I made sure to leave her a note, one that hopefully made up for my hasty departure and also put a smile on her face.
For the first time since I made my vow to Cade, I find myself wanting to spend time with Amy like last night, when I’m there just for her; to spend time with her, talk to her, rile her up and smirk when she scrunches her nose up in frustration. The old me might have been freaked out by the fact that Amy has a child but it’s different because it’s Brody. That little guy and I had a bond the minute we locked eyes in the cereal aisle. I’ve got his back, he’ll have mine when I’m old and gray. Wait . . . did I honestly just go there?
But now, I’m on a mission. I’m playing the long game but first, I need help and Mia is first on the list.
With the first step in my plan decided on, I pull out of my building’s parking garage and into traffic.
I push a button on my steering wheel and activate my phone’s Bluetooth.
“Call Mia,” I say to the car at large, pulling to a stop in the daily traffic jam that is now an integral—even if annoying—part of my morning routine.
“You do know it’s like eight a.m. right?” Mia says by way of greeting. “At least my husband knows how to wake me up right,” she grumbles, making me chuckle.
“Morning to you too, sunshine.”
“Thomas, unless you got laid, hurt, or at the very least maimed, you better have a good reason for calling me so early.”
“You have a daughter. I figured you’d be awake.”
“Yes I do and she’s sound asleep in the bed beside me. Matt carried her in once he’d finished his husbandly chores.”
“I doubt it’s a chore for him, Meems,” I muse.
“You’d be right. Never known him to turn down breakfast à la Mia when it’s offered.”
“And this conversation just went weird,” I mutter as Mia’s giggle fills the cab.
“So do tell me Mister hot cleaning man, how can I be of service?”
“Do you know what kind of clothes Amy likes?”
“What, are you going to do her laundry now too?”
“No,” I reply a bit too quickly. “I need you to buy her an outfit.”
I hear a muted girly shriek over the phone and a rustling of sheets, then what sounds like a door closing.
“Why . . . ?” Her voice is almost a shrill, an over excited, far too telling one.
“Sounds like you’ve realized why, Meems.”
“You’re asking her out?”
“Yes, but it needs to be done right. I want her to be comfortable and ready. She needs to want to go out with me, not feel she’s doing it out of obligation.”
“You’re not going to have any problems there,” she mutters but I hear every word.
“Say it again?”
“Never mind,” she replies quickly before changing the subject. “So where, when, level of dress, just the outside or are we talking the whole shebang?”
“Top to toe and everything in between. I don’t want her having to worry about anything, and I mean anything, Mia. Whatever she needs is whatever you’ll buy. Just make sure she feels as beautiful as I see her.”
“Oooh, you’re totally giving her the pretty woman treatment aren’t you.”
“I’m going to give her everything she deserves. Do you think you can come by my office to grab my credit card?”
“Major swoon alert, Thomas. If I wasn’t happily married I might just take a walk on the abstinence-ending side.”
“Very funny, Meems.”
“You’re a catch and I’m liking the idea of you with my best friend the more I think about it. You’re a good guy, Thomas Caldwell, cocky attitude notwithstanding.”
“Good to know,” I muse wryly, “considering who you’re married to.”
“He’s a lucky man. He’s also lucky he knows it and shows me every day,” she says and I can hear the happiness in her voice. “Now, when do you need all of this done by?”
“Two weeks. Will that give you long enough?”
“I’d get it done in a day if it meant Amy gets some.”
“Mia . . .” I warn.
“Sorry, sorry. I’m getting ahead of myself.”
“Let’s see if she actually wants to go out with me first, shall we?”
“You really don’t see it, do you?” she says bizarrely.
“See what?”
“Never mind. You men are all the same. Anyway, text me your address. I’ve never been to your office so I’m going to need directions.”
“Will do.”
“Cool. Let me get Emma fed and dressed and we’ll see you in a few hours. We can talk more then.”
“Mia . . .”
“Bye, Thomas,” she says cheerfully before ending the call.
“Eyes on the prize, Caldwell,” I say to myself, knowing that I’ll probably get the same grilling from Mia that I had from Abi but as long as Mia can do what I need her to do, I’ll take whatever she dishes up.
We’ve had two more takeout Thursdays, and watched two more superhero movies—she wasn’t kidding about being a Marvel fan—and I’ve found myself looking forward to each one more than the last.
Nothing has been said about falling asleep together on the couch but there’s no way either of us have forgotten about it. I’ve seen Amy studying me when she doesn’t think I’m looking and I’ve been unapologetic the times she has caught me doing the same. But it hasn’t gone any further than that.
I’ve still got my game plan in play and Mia rang me just yesterday to update me on her progress with her allotted tasks.
Today is Brody’s christening though, so definitely not the day to do anything other than play the role of friend. It’s made easier by the fact that this whole ‘friend zone’ situation has an expiry date because I’ve decided that next Thursday is going to go a hell of a lot different than those that have gone before.
There’s just one last piece of the puzzle to fall into place and it will be game on.
And from my baby monitor eavesdropping, I know exactly how to make the first move, one that will leave her with no doubt as to where my feelings lie.
In fact, I’m not going to give her the option of saying no because the one thing that my year of abstinence has taught me it’s that hard work is always rewarded. So far it’s been in business, this time, it’s going to be making sure I look after Amy and Brody in all the ways a man can.
After the ceremony at the church where both Abi and Sean stood up as godparents for Brody, we all gather back at Noah and Zoe’s place for lunch.
A few hours later after we’ve eaten and put the younger kids down for a nap, I change into my swim shorts before diving into the pool.
Having donned swim shorts, and wearing out the older kids in the pool by becoming the Uncle Thomas water playground that throws and dunks and throws again, I spot Zoe, Mia, Abi and Amy lying out on sun loungers and make my move.
Deciding they might also be hot, and in need of some water, I do what any good man would do. Quietly exiting the pool, I grab my towel on the way before shaking my head, throwing drops of water all over them.
“Thomas, you got my shirt wet,” Zoe shrieks.
“You’re not the only one,” Amy mumbles under her breath and my ears prick up. I definitely don’t miss the way her eyes hone in on my chest, legs and everything in between.
“Heard that,” Mia muses, making my lips twitch. Amy blushes and I cover my mouth to hide my laughter.
“Bitch,” Amy hisses, poking her tongue out.
“Caldwell, did you get my wife wet?” Noah says from across the backyard.
“That’s what she said,” I retort, turning his way.
“He did get me wet,” Zoe says with a giggle. “But in my defense, I’m sure I heard Amy say she was wet too.” I don’t even try to hide my chuckle this time.
“Why are we talking about people getting wet?” Mac asks, walking through the French doors leading out from the kitchen.
“You don’t want to know,” Sam says, an uncharacteristic wry smile playing on her lips as she pulls up a chair and sits with the girls.
“If it’s enough to make Sam smile like that, I do wanna know,” Mac replies, sidling up to Daniel who’s standing with the rest of the guys.
I hook my towel around my neck and rush her, plastering my damp chest to hers.
“Thomas,” she shrieks. “Now I’m dripping,” and the whole group laughs, Daniel grinning down at his wife after he pulls her away from me.
“You totally walked into that one, gorgeous.”
She makes a harrumph sound which is equally hilarious.
“My job here is done,” I say proudly before throwing Mac a smile. Turning around, I make my way over to where Amy is lying down on the sun lounger, shooting her a wink and earning a gorgeous smile, one I wouldn’t mind seeing again and again.
It’s then a whimper comes out over the baby monitor, one I recognize as Brody straight away. She starts to move but I put my hand on her shoulder to stop her. “You don’t have to, Thom—”
She stops talking when I give her the ‘what did I say’ look, biting her lip adorably and invoking images in my head of all the other ways I could make her look like that. And right on inappropriate cue, my dick decides to twitch to attention.
I’m abstinent not a monk, and my dick may hate me for my life choices but he’s not adverse to making his presence known, like right now.
Wrapping my towel around my waist, I move across the backyard and into the house, ducking into the downstairs bathroom and getting changed back into my clothes before making my way upstairs.
I walk into Noah’s son’s bedroom where Amy set up Brody’s Pack ‘n Play when we arrived. Peering over the side, I meet a pair of big and extremely curious hazel eyes.
“Hey buddy, have a good nap?” I ask him as I lift him in up into my arms and cradle him into my chest the way he likes. When he doesn’t answer—because seriously, babies are rather selfish in the conversation stakes I’ve discovered—I continue chatting as I scan the room for his diaper bag, and move it toward the change table set up in the corner of the room.
