“Yes?”
“Do you think Henwy Miwwer is an angel like Unkee Kwiss?”
That familiar burn hits my eyes and nose at the mention of Henry Miller and my brother. We lost Henry Miller less than a year ago. The veterinarian diagnosed him with cancer. We kept him comfortable and loved him up so much, but it wasn’t enough. He was a good cat and my best friend for a long time. I haven’t told Sam this yet, but if this little one is a boy, I want to name him Henry.
I wonder what he’ll say to that?
Wiping away a little tear, I sniffle, “I’m sure he’s an angel. He’s up there chasing squirrels as we speak.”
We’ve talked a lot about my brother and now Henry Miller in heaven. Even though Sam never met Chris, he brings him up a lot, too. It was important to me that they know about him.
“If I make a wish, will Henwee make it come true?”
I giggle at her question. When I see how serious her little face is, I stop immediately. “Henry isn’t that kind of angel. He’s the kind that will watch over you and make sure you’re okay.”
“So he knows when I’m bad?”
Like she could ever be bad. “He’s not like that either. He’s like me and Daddy. We watch out for you to make sure you’re safe.”
“But…”
“Lillie. Come on. Aunt Candy-Cane wants to get ice cream.”
“Yay! Ice cweam!” She races out of the bathroom, and I feel like I was just saved by the bell. Her questions about death get increasingly more difficult to answer. But I’ll figure it out. Or we will—Sam and me.
The minute the kids are gone, I use my come-hither finger. I want him. Now.
“We should get ready,” he says, smirking again.
“Not until I’ve…” What? Until I’ve had about ten orgasms?
Sam moves closer. “Not until I’ve made you come?”
“And I’ve made you come.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“Me, too.”
Standing in front of me, Sam skims his palm over my arm. “You want to take the lead?” He’s been letting me boss him around in bed recently. I don’t know if it’s because his business has grown so much and now it’s more stressful—therefore he likes me to boss him around in the bedroom—or if he knows I like to do it now and then.
“Why don’t I start us off and we’ll see where it leads?”
“Okay.” He takes one step back and stands with his arms at his sides. He looks at me expectantly.
Like I said before, I’ve been giving this night a lot of thought. A lot of sexy thought. Sitting down on the sofa, I cross my legs and lean back. “Strip.”
Sam looks a little surprised.
“Slowly.”
He may have been surprised, but doesn’t hesitate. He reaches back behind his head and slowly pulls off his tee.
God, I love it when men take off their shirts like that. Don’t you?
As it slides up, it reveals his abs and that line of hair that leads down into his jeans. I love that line. When his shirt is off, he kicks off his shoes, then his socks. Turning, he looks back over his shoulder, and I can tell by the movement of his arms he’s undoing the button on his jeans. Then, the sound of his zipper moving down fills the room.
“Slower,” I say in a voice deeper than I thought possible.
