Summer with the Single Dad, page 16
Her lips parted after that last word.
“I have no idea what is going on between us, but I know that I want to be around you whenever I can. That I need to touch you. To smell that body wash or shampoo, or whatever you use. I haven’t properly slept since Monday, since we …”
She swallowed.
“You might not think you deserve forgiveness, but I do. And if I have to forgive you for yourself until you can do it, then I will. But I’m not going to stop trying to convince you to find joy again and to let go of the guilt.” He cupped her jaw. “I’m going to kiss you.”
She blinked up at him through the rain.
“I’m going to kiss you with tongue.”
More blinking.
“I’m going to kiss you so that we both feel it. So that the guilt in your heart has no choice but to take a backseat to the joy. To the pleasure.” He lifted his brows slightly. “Okay?”
She could barely nod since he held her jaw firmly, but his pinky finger rested against the pulse in her neck and it beat wildly. “O-okay.”
Then he kissed her.
He kissed her like he’d never kissed her before and this was the first time their lips ever touched. He kissed her like she was in air and he’d been trapped underwater, desperate for just one more breath. He kissed her like she needed to be kissed, which was hard, thorough, and with a lot of tongue.
She melted into him, wrapping her arms around his neck as he deepened the kiss even more, taking her by the waist and pressing his body to hers. The rain fell around them, on them, and soon they were both drenched. By the time they broke the kiss, you could wring out their shirts like a beach towel.
But she was smiling.
And that was like the clouds parting.
“Come on,” he said, taking her hand and turning them back toward the property.
“Wh-where are we going?”
“To get some exercise.” Then he hauled her forward until she caught her feet and kept pace with him. They reached his office in no time and he punched in the code for the door, opening it and letting her step inside first.
He was back on her as soon as the door closed, pushing her up against the door, cupping her face and devouring her once again.
She moaned into his mouth and grappled at his soaked shirt.
It was not easy stripping out of their wet clothes. Nearly as difficult as it had been on Monday when they were sweaty. But this time everything was as wet as if they’d jumped into the ocean and it took a bit of patience—which neither of them really had—to get undressed.
“Dear god, just cut them off me,” Justine said with a frustrated growl, reaching for the scissors on his desk. “Just cut off my pants. I have more. Just cut them off!”
He snorted and took the scissors, but didn’t use them. “Slow down.” He put the scissors back on his desk and reached for the hem of her leggings, then he dropped to a crouch as he carefully rolled the sopping Lycra down over her waist, her hips and her thighs. Her skin turned a sexy pink as the cool air of his office hit her, igniting a wave of gooseflesh to rise.
He reached her ankles and gently helped her out of her shoes before removing the leggings completely.
All she did was watch him, a fire in her brown eyes that mimicked the one he felt in his entire body.
Standing back up to his full height, he reached for the hem of her long-sleeve shirt and removed it, then the tank top, and finally the industrial-strength, multi-clasp, probably-made-for-NASA-or-some-shit sports bra, which admittedly, she needed to help him with.
But then, she was naked besides her underwear. He quickly stripped as well, down to his boxers, and before he could reach for her, she was lunging at him and jumping up onto his hips.
He folded her over his desk, sending his meticulously organized papers, pens, and keyboard crashing to the floor.
He did not care.
Their lips collided, their teeth nipped and scraped as he fished his cock out of his boxers and pushed her panties to the side.
He broke the kiss for just a moment and their eyes locked. “Feel this,” he said, notching himself at her center and slowly pushing inside. “Feel this.”
Her lips parted and a small, sexy gasp snagged her in her throat as he pushed his way deeper into her hot, slick channel.
“Feel this, Justine. Feel me.”
She nodded and her lips parted a little more.
“No guilt here, okay? Not right now. Got it.”
She nodded again, and her short-trimmed nails raked across his shoulders and down his back.
“I want to hear it.”
“I …”
“I want to know, Justine.” He bucked up into her harder and she moaned.
“I feel you,” she whispered. “I feel … joy.”
“That’s a good girl.” Then he picked up speed and fervor, and started to really hammer into her. Her legs came up and wrapped around his waist to hold on, and when he broke their kiss for a moment to rake his teeth across her jaw and down her neck, he caught a glimpse of her perfect tits bouncing back and forth with each rock of his hips.
Drawn to the dark brown nipple like a moth to a flame, he latched his mouth around it and sucked, reveling in her cry of pleasure and the way her pussy tightened around him. He never broke his cadence, never slowed down. He sucked on one tight bud, then the other while still driving in and out of her, knocking his pubic bone against her clit and hitting her as deep as he could.
“Don’t hold back,” he grunted. “Feel it all. Let it all out.”
“Oh god …”
“That’s right.”
Her pussy fluttered around his cock as he drove deeper and tipped his hips up a little. She squeezed him every time he plunged, then released when he withdrew. But then next time he pulled out nearly to the tip, she tightened her muscles so damn much it was a bit of a struggle to slide back in. But fucking hell, did it feel good.
He lifted his gaze and caught her smiling.
The sexy minx knew exactly what she was doing.
Growling, he nipped that delicate spot where her shoulder met her neck, and she mewled, then squeezed her muscles around him again.
She was playing.
She was finding and feeling joy.
As much as he wanted this to go on forever, he could tell she was getting close. She could no longer meet him thrust for thrust and keep with his rhythm. The way her pussy juices flooded out and her channel swelled, had his balls cinching up against his taint and that familiar, warm buzz in his belly intensifying.
With no warning, she broke.
Her nails dug deep wells in his shoulder blades and, like it had a heartbeat of its own, she pulsed around him with each wave of her release.
When she tightened her muscles mid-climax, that was when he felt it was okay to leap off the ledge and join her.
Stilling his movements, he dropped his head to the crook of her neck and poured himself inside her, allowing the orgasm to tear through him with no remorse until he was boneless, satiated, and worried he was crushing her.
“Not yet,” she croaked, wrapping her arms tighter around his neck when he went to pull off her. “Just another moment … please?”
Smiling, he nodded and kissed that tender spot on her shoulder where he’d apparently sunk his teeth. He didn’t even remember doing it.
“Thank you,” she whispered a minute later, releasing him.
He stood up and reached for the box of tissues on his filing cabinet, handing it to her. She grabbed several and shoved them between her legs, her eyes scanning the floor for their scattered soaking-wet clothes.
“We, uh … we didn’t really think this one through,” she said. “I can’t put anything but my shoes back on.”
He refused to let the guilt of their impetuous behavior swamp their high. So he shook his head and rummaged through the Rubbermaid plastic tote in the corner. “I’m sure we can find something in here. Hang on.”
“Is there a bathroom somewhere?”
“I use the one in the brewery.”
“Right.”
“Ah-ha! Here.” He tossed her a pair of swimming shorts and a hoodie. They were from their lost and found. “They’re washed. If we find something in a cabin and nobody comes back to claim it, it goes in the lost and found. But we wash everything first. These should fit, right?”
She picked up the men’s board shorts, which were probably at least eight sizes too big. But they had a drawstring, so hopefully she could cinch it tight enough around her waist. And the hoodie looked to be a youth small.
She put them on, and sure enough, the pants swallowed her up, but she made them work, and the hoodie was way too short in the arms and more of a crop-top.
He threw on a pair of navy sweatpants he found in the bin for himself, but went without a shirt. “It’s still really early in the morning. Nobody will see us if we’re quick.”
She still hadn’t said anything, and that was unnerving him, but she was probably just wondering how the hell they were going to get up the hill without alerting all the guests to their impromptu quickie in his office.
He gathered up all their wet clothes and held them against his chest. “After you.”
Unease shone brightly in her eyes, but then a twinkle emerged and the cutest little smile tugged at the side of her lips.
That sealed the deal for him, and he dropped the clothes in his arms, slammed the door shut and pressed her back up against it, taking her mouth all over again.
And she let him.
They made out for five or so minutes before she pressed her hand to his chest and pushed him away. “We should get back.”
He nodded. “We should.”
Scooping the clothes back into his arms, he thanked her when she held open the door for him. “Are you filled with regret and guilt?” he asked as they quietly made their way across the gravel parking lot and up the hill to the security gate. She used her code this time.
“No.” It was a soft, quiet “no.” But she accompanied it with a headshake and a small smile.
They reached the house and thankfully—not that he would have cared—Jagger was turned away from them on the couch and snoring like the bear he resembled.
“You shower first,” he said to her, jerking his chin toward the stairs.
Like the rest of her expressions, her smile and nod remained small. But they were genuine. She was happy. He could tell.
He just hoped that the shower didn’t wash away all those endorphins and good feelings, leaving her with nothing but guilt and regret.
Good thing he planned to take the entire day off to bake cake and cupcakes, because he might need to spend some of that time reminding her to find some joy.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Even after her shower, Justine couldn’t get rid of the smile on her face. She thought for sure the guilt would eclipse her euphoria by the time she turned off the tap and stepped out onto the heated tile of the bathroom floor, but all she felt was good. Scratch that. All she felt was amazing.
Staring at herself in the mirror, with one fluffy white towel around her body and another one twisted up in her hair, she brought her fingers to her lips.
That kiss …
The one in the rain.
If he hadn’t been holding onto her, she’d have crumpled to the ground for sure, because Bennett McEvoy was an expert at knowing how to sweep her off her feet.
Then there was that kiss in his office once they were dressed again—sort of.
The board shorts were way too big for her, and the hoodie was too small, but at least she wasn’t naked running up the hill to the house. And she’d kept her underwear on, despite how damp they were, and they kept the tissues in place until she was able to use the bathroom properly.
Memories of their impromptu morning made her smile grow wider. His stubble rubbed a bit of a rash on her cheeks, but she didn’t mind. Moving her fingers there, she touched the red splotchy skin gently and a small giggle pulled in her throat.
A soft, but determined, knock at her door diverted her attention. “Justine?”
Double checking that her towel was tight around her body, she went and opened the bedroom door to find Aya. “Good morning.”
Aya’s smile nearly touched her ears. “You’re awake!”
“I am.”
“You haven’t been awake the last three days when I knocked. Were you sick?”
Justine shook her head. “I, um … I had earplugs in. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
Aya frowned, but it only lasted a moment before she smacked the big smile back on her face. “Are you coming to breakfast?”
“I, um …”
“Please. Please come.”
Justine sighed. “Okay. Just give me a few minutes to get dressed.”
Aya bounced on her toes. “Yay. Okay. Don’t be late.”
“I won’t.”
Then the little girl skipped toward the stairs. The bathroom door in the hallway was closed, and it sounded like someone was in the shower. Probably Bennett.
An image of him naked, wet, and soapy, flitted into her mind and her belly grew warm—along with other places too.
Hiding a smile behind her hand, she closed the bedroom door, flung the towel off her body and went searching through her drawers for something to wear. It was going to be a rainy day. So she decided on jeans that rolled at the ankle, a loose, black tank top and a gray jersey cardigan.
She hated having wet hair, so she quickly dried her straight strands with her travel blow dryer, dabbed a bit of lip gloss on her lips. Just as she was closing her bedroom door, her phone vibrated in her back pocket.
She sighed when she saw that it was another text message from her dad, and a pang of guilt made her buoyant heart deflate a little. She hated avoiding her parents—particularly her father. But she just wasn’t ready to face them or tell them the truth about what happened in the OR or between her and Tad. Plastering on another smile, and determined to keep her good mood from this morning going no matter what, she made her way to the kitchen where arguing little girl voices had her smiling.
“I can do it myself,” Aya said with frustration in her squeaky voice. “Let me do it myself, Emerson.” She growled out her sister’s full name and tried to jerk the gallon-jug of milk out of her sister’s hand. The jug was full, they’d probably just opened it, and of course, Aya was just an itty-bitty little thing with twigs for arms and the force of her yank, combined with her sister’s resistance, was an obvious recipe for disaster.
The jug fell to the floor and milk began to glug, glug out immediately.
“Ugh!” Emme said with exasperation. “I told you it was too heavy for you.”
“No, it’s not!” Aya shouted back. “You just wouldn’t let go.”
“Dad!”
“Dad!”
Neither child had bothered to actually pick up the jug and stop it from dumping anymore, so Justine swooped in and did it. “All right. Let’s get this cleaned up, hmm? The worst thing in the world is the smell of sour milk. So we need to make sure it doesn’t seep under any appliances.”
That seemed to snap the girls out of their rage fugue and Emme was quick to grab a tea towel from the oven handle and drop to her knees to help.
“Do you have a washcloth too?” Justine asked.
Emme leaped back to her feet and grabbed one that’d been draped over the faucet.
“If you’d just let me do it myself,” Aya said, standing over them with her hands on her boney little hips.
Justine glanced up at Aya. “It was a very full jug, sweetheart.”
“I’m strong. See?” She brought her arms up like a bodybuilder but didn’t actually know how to flex her muscles. And even if she was flexing, nothing popped out.
“I’m sure you are, but you’re also not at a great height for the counter. Your sister was just trying to help.”
“To stop a mess like this from happening,” Emme grumbled under her breath before standing up to rinse the washcloth. She returned a moment later to mop up more. They also required a couple more tea towels since the milk made a terrible mess.
Aya stuck out her tongue at her sister.
“What’s going on here?” Unnerved by the way Bennett’s smooth voice echoed inside her, Justine jumped. Her gaze popped up to his and that sexy smirk on his talented lips.
“Aya snatched the milk jug from—”
“No, I didn’t!” Aya stomped her foot and growled, sneering at her sister. “Emerson wouldn’t let me do it myself. And I can, Daddy. I’ve done it before.” She looked on the verge of tears now. The anger was getting the better of her, and her little body couldn’t cope. Justine knew all too well what that was like.
Bennett crouched down to her level and pulled her onto his knee. “I know you have, Little Bug. But last time, the milk jug wasn’t brand new and full. Remember?”
She sniffled.
“You’re a big kid now, for sure, but the counter height is awkward for such a big jug of milk. Emme was just trying to help.”
“I don’t need her help.”
“How about we find a smaller jug that we can put milk in, keep it in the fridge, and that will be your jug, hmm?”
Her bottom lip wobbled, but she nodded. “Okay.”
He kissed her cheek. “That’s my big girl.”
Aya glared again at her sister and Emme let out another exasperated sigh. “I was only trying to help,” she murmured to Justine. “She’s so stubborn.”
Justine offered her a sympathetic smile. “I know you were.” They finished cleaning up the tile floor. Even though the milk made a terrible mess, when she glanced at the jug, less than a third was actually gone.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Bennett said, offering her his hand to help her up.
An electric zap from where they touched raced up her arm, through her abdomen, and took up residence between her legs. He must have felt it too—in his finger—because warmth flickered in his eyes and his smile widened.
She shrugged. “Not a problem.”
They were still holding hands now that she was standing, both of them smiling like idiots.
“Can you find me my own jug, Dad?” Aya asked, breaking the spell between Justine and Bennett.
“I have no idea what is going on between us, but I know that I want to be around you whenever I can. That I need to touch you. To smell that body wash or shampoo, or whatever you use. I haven’t properly slept since Monday, since we …”
She swallowed.
“You might not think you deserve forgiveness, but I do. And if I have to forgive you for yourself until you can do it, then I will. But I’m not going to stop trying to convince you to find joy again and to let go of the guilt.” He cupped her jaw. “I’m going to kiss you.”
She blinked up at him through the rain.
“I’m going to kiss you with tongue.”
More blinking.
“I’m going to kiss you so that we both feel it. So that the guilt in your heart has no choice but to take a backseat to the joy. To the pleasure.” He lifted his brows slightly. “Okay?”
She could barely nod since he held her jaw firmly, but his pinky finger rested against the pulse in her neck and it beat wildly. “O-okay.”
Then he kissed her.
He kissed her like he’d never kissed her before and this was the first time their lips ever touched. He kissed her like she was in air and he’d been trapped underwater, desperate for just one more breath. He kissed her like she needed to be kissed, which was hard, thorough, and with a lot of tongue.
She melted into him, wrapping her arms around his neck as he deepened the kiss even more, taking her by the waist and pressing his body to hers. The rain fell around them, on them, and soon they were both drenched. By the time they broke the kiss, you could wring out their shirts like a beach towel.
But she was smiling.
And that was like the clouds parting.
“Come on,” he said, taking her hand and turning them back toward the property.
“Wh-where are we going?”
“To get some exercise.” Then he hauled her forward until she caught her feet and kept pace with him. They reached his office in no time and he punched in the code for the door, opening it and letting her step inside first.
He was back on her as soon as the door closed, pushing her up against the door, cupping her face and devouring her once again.
She moaned into his mouth and grappled at his soaked shirt.
It was not easy stripping out of their wet clothes. Nearly as difficult as it had been on Monday when they were sweaty. But this time everything was as wet as if they’d jumped into the ocean and it took a bit of patience—which neither of them really had—to get undressed.
“Dear god, just cut them off me,” Justine said with a frustrated growl, reaching for the scissors on his desk. “Just cut off my pants. I have more. Just cut them off!”
He snorted and took the scissors, but didn’t use them. “Slow down.” He put the scissors back on his desk and reached for the hem of her leggings, then he dropped to a crouch as he carefully rolled the sopping Lycra down over her waist, her hips and her thighs. Her skin turned a sexy pink as the cool air of his office hit her, igniting a wave of gooseflesh to rise.
He reached her ankles and gently helped her out of her shoes before removing the leggings completely.
All she did was watch him, a fire in her brown eyes that mimicked the one he felt in his entire body.
Standing back up to his full height, he reached for the hem of her long-sleeve shirt and removed it, then the tank top, and finally the industrial-strength, multi-clasp, probably-made-for-NASA-or-some-shit sports bra, which admittedly, she needed to help him with.
But then, she was naked besides her underwear. He quickly stripped as well, down to his boxers, and before he could reach for her, she was lunging at him and jumping up onto his hips.
He folded her over his desk, sending his meticulously organized papers, pens, and keyboard crashing to the floor.
He did not care.
Their lips collided, their teeth nipped and scraped as he fished his cock out of his boxers and pushed her panties to the side.
He broke the kiss for just a moment and their eyes locked. “Feel this,” he said, notching himself at her center and slowly pushing inside. “Feel this.”
Her lips parted and a small, sexy gasp snagged her in her throat as he pushed his way deeper into her hot, slick channel.
“Feel this, Justine. Feel me.”
She nodded and her lips parted a little more.
“No guilt here, okay? Not right now. Got it.”
She nodded again, and her short-trimmed nails raked across his shoulders and down his back.
“I want to hear it.”
“I …”
“I want to know, Justine.” He bucked up into her harder and she moaned.
“I feel you,” she whispered. “I feel … joy.”
“That’s a good girl.” Then he picked up speed and fervor, and started to really hammer into her. Her legs came up and wrapped around his waist to hold on, and when he broke their kiss for a moment to rake his teeth across her jaw and down her neck, he caught a glimpse of her perfect tits bouncing back and forth with each rock of his hips.
Drawn to the dark brown nipple like a moth to a flame, he latched his mouth around it and sucked, reveling in her cry of pleasure and the way her pussy tightened around him. He never broke his cadence, never slowed down. He sucked on one tight bud, then the other while still driving in and out of her, knocking his pubic bone against her clit and hitting her as deep as he could.
“Don’t hold back,” he grunted. “Feel it all. Let it all out.”
“Oh god …”
“That’s right.”
Her pussy fluttered around his cock as he drove deeper and tipped his hips up a little. She squeezed him every time he plunged, then released when he withdrew. But then next time he pulled out nearly to the tip, she tightened her muscles so damn much it was a bit of a struggle to slide back in. But fucking hell, did it feel good.
He lifted his gaze and caught her smiling.
The sexy minx knew exactly what she was doing.
Growling, he nipped that delicate spot where her shoulder met her neck, and she mewled, then squeezed her muscles around him again.
She was playing.
She was finding and feeling joy.
As much as he wanted this to go on forever, he could tell she was getting close. She could no longer meet him thrust for thrust and keep with his rhythm. The way her pussy juices flooded out and her channel swelled, had his balls cinching up against his taint and that familiar, warm buzz in his belly intensifying.
With no warning, she broke.
Her nails dug deep wells in his shoulder blades and, like it had a heartbeat of its own, she pulsed around him with each wave of her release.
When she tightened her muscles mid-climax, that was when he felt it was okay to leap off the ledge and join her.
Stilling his movements, he dropped his head to the crook of her neck and poured himself inside her, allowing the orgasm to tear through him with no remorse until he was boneless, satiated, and worried he was crushing her.
“Not yet,” she croaked, wrapping her arms tighter around his neck when he went to pull off her. “Just another moment … please?”
Smiling, he nodded and kissed that tender spot on her shoulder where he’d apparently sunk his teeth. He didn’t even remember doing it.
“Thank you,” she whispered a minute later, releasing him.
He stood up and reached for the box of tissues on his filing cabinet, handing it to her. She grabbed several and shoved them between her legs, her eyes scanning the floor for their scattered soaking-wet clothes.
“We, uh … we didn’t really think this one through,” she said. “I can’t put anything but my shoes back on.”
He refused to let the guilt of their impetuous behavior swamp their high. So he shook his head and rummaged through the Rubbermaid plastic tote in the corner. “I’m sure we can find something in here. Hang on.”
“Is there a bathroom somewhere?”
“I use the one in the brewery.”
“Right.”
“Ah-ha! Here.” He tossed her a pair of swimming shorts and a hoodie. They were from their lost and found. “They’re washed. If we find something in a cabin and nobody comes back to claim it, it goes in the lost and found. But we wash everything first. These should fit, right?”
She picked up the men’s board shorts, which were probably at least eight sizes too big. But they had a drawstring, so hopefully she could cinch it tight enough around her waist. And the hoodie looked to be a youth small.
She put them on, and sure enough, the pants swallowed her up, but she made them work, and the hoodie was way too short in the arms and more of a crop-top.
He threw on a pair of navy sweatpants he found in the bin for himself, but went without a shirt. “It’s still really early in the morning. Nobody will see us if we’re quick.”
She still hadn’t said anything, and that was unnerving him, but she was probably just wondering how the hell they were going to get up the hill without alerting all the guests to their impromptu quickie in his office.
He gathered up all their wet clothes and held them against his chest. “After you.”
Unease shone brightly in her eyes, but then a twinkle emerged and the cutest little smile tugged at the side of her lips.
That sealed the deal for him, and he dropped the clothes in his arms, slammed the door shut and pressed her back up against it, taking her mouth all over again.
And she let him.
They made out for five or so minutes before she pressed her hand to his chest and pushed him away. “We should get back.”
He nodded. “We should.”
Scooping the clothes back into his arms, he thanked her when she held open the door for him. “Are you filled with regret and guilt?” he asked as they quietly made their way across the gravel parking lot and up the hill to the security gate. She used her code this time.
“No.” It was a soft, quiet “no.” But she accompanied it with a headshake and a small smile.
They reached the house and thankfully—not that he would have cared—Jagger was turned away from them on the couch and snoring like the bear he resembled.
“You shower first,” he said to her, jerking his chin toward the stairs.
Like the rest of her expressions, her smile and nod remained small. But they were genuine. She was happy. He could tell.
He just hoped that the shower didn’t wash away all those endorphins and good feelings, leaving her with nothing but guilt and regret.
Good thing he planned to take the entire day off to bake cake and cupcakes, because he might need to spend some of that time reminding her to find some joy.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Even after her shower, Justine couldn’t get rid of the smile on her face. She thought for sure the guilt would eclipse her euphoria by the time she turned off the tap and stepped out onto the heated tile of the bathroom floor, but all she felt was good. Scratch that. All she felt was amazing.
Staring at herself in the mirror, with one fluffy white towel around her body and another one twisted up in her hair, she brought her fingers to her lips.
That kiss …
The one in the rain.
If he hadn’t been holding onto her, she’d have crumpled to the ground for sure, because Bennett McEvoy was an expert at knowing how to sweep her off her feet.
Then there was that kiss in his office once they were dressed again—sort of.
The board shorts were way too big for her, and the hoodie was too small, but at least she wasn’t naked running up the hill to the house. And she’d kept her underwear on, despite how damp they were, and they kept the tissues in place until she was able to use the bathroom properly.
Memories of their impromptu morning made her smile grow wider. His stubble rubbed a bit of a rash on her cheeks, but she didn’t mind. Moving her fingers there, she touched the red splotchy skin gently and a small giggle pulled in her throat.
A soft, but determined, knock at her door diverted her attention. “Justine?”
Double checking that her towel was tight around her body, she went and opened the bedroom door to find Aya. “Good morning.”
Aya’s smile nearly touched her ears. “You’re awake!”
“I am.”
“You haven’t been awake the last three days when I knocked. Were you sick?”
Justine shook her head. “I, um … I had earplugs in. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
Aya frowned, but it only lasted a moment before she smacked the big smile back on her face. “Are you coming to breakfast?”
“I, um …”
“Please. Please come.”
Justine sighed. “Okay. Just give me a few minutes to get dressed.”
Aya bounced on her toes. “Yay. Okay. Don’t be late.”
“I won’t.”
Then the little girl skipped toward the stairs. The bathroom door in the hallway was closed, and it sounded like someone was in the shower. Probably Bennett.
An image of him naked, wet, and soapy, flitted into her mind and her belly grew warm—along with other places too.
Hiding a smile behind her hand, she closed the bedroom door, flung the towel off her body and went searching through her drawers for something to wear. It was going to be a rainy day. So she decided on jeans that rolled at the ankle, a loose, black tank top and a gray jersey cardigan.
She hated having wet hair, so she quickly dried her straight strands with her travel blow dryer, dabbed a bit of lip gloss on her lips. Just as she was closing her bedroom door, her phone vibrated in her back pocket.
She sighed when she saw that it was another text message from her dad, and a pang of guilt made her buoyant heart deflate a little. She hated avoiding her parents—particularly her father. But she just wasn’t ready to face them or tell them the truth about what happened in the OR or between her and Tad. Plastering on another smile, and determined to keep her good mood from this morning going no matter what, she made her way to the kitchen where arguing little girl voices had her smiling.
“I can do it myself,” Aya said with frustration in her squeaky voice. “Let me do it myself, Emerson.” She growled out her sister’s full name and tried to jerk the gallon-jug of milk out of her sister’s hand. The jug was full, they’d probably just opened it, and of course, Aya was just an itty-bitty little thing with twigs for arms and the force of her yank, combined with her sister’s resistance, was an obvious recipe for disaster.
The jug fell to the floor and milk began to glug, glug out immediately.
“Ugh!” Emme said with exasperation. “I told you it was too heavy for you.”
“No, it’s not!” Aya shouted back. “You just wouldn’t let go.”
“Dad!”
“Dad!”
Neither child had bothered to actually pick up the jug and stop it from dumping anymore, so Justine swooped in and did it. “All right. Let’s get this cleaned up, hmm? The worst thing in the world is the smell of sour milk. So we need to make sure it doesn’t seep under any appliances.”
That seemed to snap the girls out of their rage fugue and Emme was quick to grab a tea towel from the oven handle and drop to her knees to help.
“Do you have a washcloth too?” Justine asked.
Emme leaped back to her feet and grabbed one that’d been draped over the faucet.
“If you’d just let me do it myself,” Aya said, standing over them with her hands on her boney little hips.
Justine glanced up at Aya. “It was a very full jug, sweetheart.”
“I’m strong. See?” She brought her arms up like a bodybuilder but didn’t actually know how to flex her muscles. And even if she was flexing, nothing popped out.
“I’m sure you are, but you’re also not at a great height for the counter. Your sister was just trying to help.”
“To stop a mess like this from happening,” Emme grumbled under her breath before standing up to rinse the washcloth. She returned a moment later to mop up more. They also required a couple more tea towels since the milk made a terrible mess.
Aya stuck out her tongue at her sister.
“What’s going on here?” Unnerved by the way Bennett’s smooth voice echoed inside her, Justine jumped. Her gaze popped up to his and that sexy smirk on his talented lips.
“Aya snatched the milk jug from—”
“No, I didn’t!” Aya stomped her foot and growled, sneering at her sister. “Emerson wouldn’t let me do it myself. And I can, Daddy. I’ve done it before.” She looked on the verge of tears now. The anger was getting the better of her, and her little body couldn’t cope. Justine knew all too well what that was like.
Bennett crouched down to her level and pulled her onto his knee. “I know you have, Little Bug. But last time, the milk jug wasn’t brand new and full. Remember?”
She sniffled.
“You’re a big kid now, for sure, but the counter height is awkward for such a big jug of milk. Emme was just trying to help.”
“I don’t need her help.”
“How about we find a smaller jug that we can put milk in, keep it in the fridge, and that will be your jug, hmm?”
Her bottom lip wobbled, but she nodded. “Okay.”
He kissed her cheek. “That’s my big girl.”
Aya glared again at her sister and Emme let out another exasperated sigh. “I was only trying to help,” she murmured to Justine. “She’s so stubborn.”
Justine offered her a sympathetic smile. “I know you were.” They finished cleaning up the tile floor. Even though the milk made a terrible mess, when she glanced at the jug, less than a third was actually gone.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Bennett said, offering her his hand to help her up.
An electric zap from where they touched raced up her arm, through her abdomen, and took up residence between her legs. He must have felt it too—in his finger—because warmth flickered in his eyes and his smile widened.
She shrugged. “Not a problem.”
They were still holding hands now that she was standing, both of them smiling like idiots.
“Can you find me my own jug, Dad?” Aya asked, breaking the spell between Justine and Bennett.
