“I’ll take willing to go with it. But note to self, no surprise parties for Grace in the future.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “Will I get to meet your friend while he’s here? It’ll be cool to meet someone close to you instead of you always being smothered by Bianchis.”
“Yeah, absolutely. Maybe we can stop by The Body Shop on Saturday between appointments. Just drop off peanut butter crisps and run.”
“Are you trying to make me fall in love with you?” She lifts a brow at me, but she’s grinning.
“Stop trying to ruin the surprise,” I say. “I’ve got this master plan, and yeah, if you’re madly in love with me by the end of it, then…” I shrug.
She looks straight into the camera and murmurs, “I can’t believe we’re going to be alone. Like real grown-ups.”
“Real grown-ups, indeed,” I joke. “Did you smooth things over with your mom?”
We chat a bit about that until I yawn. “Sorry,” I say. “This rock-and-roll lifestyle is wearing me out.”
“I still have a crick in my neck from sleeping on your couch the other night,” she says. “But it was worth it.”
“I think I still have a case of maddening blue balls from the other night,” I tell her. “Totallyworth it. In fact, if you want to wear that same sleep tee and no bra on Saturday…”
She lowers the phone so I get a quick view of her chest. “Already wearing that,” she says. “My favorite sleepwear.”
I groan. “Gracie,” I say on a rough whisper. I see the outline of her nipples through the tee. “The things I want to do to you.”
“The things I want you to do to me,” she purrs. “Want a sample?”
I swallow hard against the sudden dryness in my throat. Is she serious? Now? On live video?
I think of all the things that could happen and all the things that could go wrong. My Wi-Fi network is private. My kids are in bed, and a quick look at the monitor confirms that Cora is sound asleep. I’m sure by this time Luke is completely conked out, but I decide to lock my bedroom door just in case.
“I’m gonna kid-proof my room,” I tell her. “Hold, please.”
I jump out of bed, and the boner I’m already sporting makes it that much tougher to hustle to the door. But I manage to turn the lock with the phone still in my hand. I carefully angle the camera to show her exactly the effect her invitation has on me.
“I’d say that’s a yes to the sample you’re offering.” I practically growl the words.
She smiles then holds up a finger for me to wait. I hear rustling and get an extreme close-up of her tee while she adjusts the camera. It looks like she’s resting it against something. “Aw, fuck, hold on a sec,” she says.
While she figures out how to prop up her phone, I settle back against the pillows and adjust my cock in my sweats. I wonder if I should strip them off but then think that’s too much. I don’t know what she has planned, so I just let my dick chafe the inside of my sweats and wait. My heart is thundering and my palms are damp with excitement when I see the lights dim in Gracie’s room.
“Ambience,” I say softly. “Nice.”
She chuckles and then climbs back into bed. “Good view?” she asks.
“The best,” I confirm. “Gracie…” I don’t know what to say. It seems like we’ve been dating for months, and yet we’ve never been alone for more than a couch snuggle. She is gorgeous and sexy, and I don’t know that I can pretend anymore that I don’t want to go all in. That I don’t want all of her. I don’t care if it’s hard. I don’t care if it’s not a “normal” way to date. Was it normal to marry a woman who wasn’t over her ex? Was it normal for her to have a second kid with me, even though she’d planned on leaving? Has any of my so-called perfect life been anything close to what other people would consider normal?
“Yeah?” she prods. But I lose my words entirely while I watch her circle the fullness of her breast with her fingertips. The tip grows hard, and she tugs at a nipple through the thin fabric of her tee. “You were saying?”
“Nope. I wasn’t saying a goddamn thing,” I growl. I narrow my eyes and watch as she holds the weight of her ample breast between her hands. With her phone propped up, she can use both hands to touch herself.
“I’m open to suggestions,” she says, flicking a glance into the camera.
“Skin.” I practically beg the single word, unable to form complete thoughts. “I wanna see.”
She lifts one of those perfect, dramatic, dark brows and puckers her lips like she’s going to blow me a kiss. Then her hands disappear from view. One second later, the entire top lifts, and she rests the loose hem on top of her cleavage. I drink in the sight of her exposed breasts like a man dying of thirst.
“Holy fuck,” I gasp. “You’re even more perfect than I imagined.”
“You imagined this?” she asks with a smirk.
