Oh.Then she’s kissing me. Tongues, hands, legs, everything’s tangling. There’s no hesitation left in the way she’s grinding against me. I forgot how good this can feel. What it’s like to chase a high and race toward a finish line. I need her on this counter. I thread my arm around her waist and then I’m jerking her on top of the surface.
Her lips split into a laugh when her heel bangs into a drawer, metal rattling inside of it.
I have no idea how far to take this. I’m leaning into what she wants, and right now that’s my face between her thighs as she pushes on the crown of my head. I rip my glasses off, sliding them toward the sink, and kneel before her. Both her legs wrap my shoulders, and her head knocks against the cabinet behind her.
“Shh,” I whisper, blowing a breath right where she wants me. Her hips buck with the swipe of my tongue. So many sounds are tumbling out of her mouth, every one of them coaxing the fire inside that’s threatening to burn me alive. She’s no longer holding back what she wants.
Faster.
Right there.
Don’t stop.
Her muscles tense and release beneath my hands as I hold her steady. I can tell she’s close when she clamps down on the two fingers I’m pumping inside her. Spots are popping up in my vision, my world rapidly tipping on its axis.
“Everett…” Her hand sinks in my hair. “If you don’t stop…” She rocks against my face. “I’m gonna come…”
“I’m counting on it,” I growl as she cries out. I carry her through her release until she slumps, sated, against thecupboard behind her. Only in the silence between the ragged breaths we share do I hear my name being called.
“Da-eee?”
With a sudden rush, I leave Summer, running for the stairs.
23
SUMMER
Iopen my eyes to a foreign ceiling. It’s less textured, more swirled. A sparkly chandelier replaces the dull glow of the boob light I’m used to. This isn’t Julia’s office.
The sleepy fog lifts and everything from yesterday comes rushing back… the move, his kiss,the kitchen. Things that would have never happened if I were anyplace but here. Crisp white sheets cover the shirt he peeled from my body last night. The one I swept off the floor after his daughter called his name.
I got married too young to ever experience a one-night stand. Does a person usually feel anything but confused the next day? I stood in the kitchen for an embarrassing amount of time after he left. He never came back.
We share the same priority, Everett and I. I would never have expected him to return if Quinn needed him.
She has her first speech therapy appointment today, and I intend to expend all of my focus and energy into that. I know deep down her progress is important to him, and once a week with a professional is not very much time to accomplish that. I’ll need to glean as much as I can from this session to work with her every other day of the week.
A cool draft of air meets my bare legs with the comforter tossed to the side. I catch a glimpse of my appearance in the ornate mirror suspended above the dresser—disheveled hair, rosy cheeks, swollen lips—all signs of what we did. I could really use a shower. I snag an outfit from the suitcase I never unpacked because I was so busy dissecting our hallway kiss. That warm cup of coffee was a lame excuse for why I was even awake in the first place.
Their rooms are empty when I dash to the bathroom to get ready. The spray of the shower and the drone of the fan block any signs of people being awake. Once they’re both turned off and I’m dressed, I hear his voice. It’s muted, but I think he’s singing in the living room. He soundshappy. I let that settle in for a second. At least last night didn’t make him spiral.
With the smoky smell of bacon absent from the air, I decide to help with breakfast. I see them before they see me descending the stairs. Everett’s still in the same sweats. The sight makes my stomach clench.
Quinn climbs on top of her blanket that’s splayed out on the carpet. Everett squats down and bunches each corner into one fist. He lifts her off the floor and swings her like a pendulum. Her head pops through a small opening between the edges.
“Summa! Woot at me! Win-a-wa!”
Everett turns over his shoulder. He’s wearing his glasses again and has never looked more handsome to me.
“Good morning,” he says between verses of “The Lion Sleeps Tonight.” Quinn squeals through her made-up win-a-wa version of the lyrics.
“Good morning,” I choke out. Emotion seems to be invading my voice.
This is the happiest I’ve seen them together since I showed up on their doorstep three weeks ago.
Near the end of the verse, he sends her sliding across the polished wood floor near my feet. She jumps up to hug me.
“You have a fun daddy,” I tell her. I’m looking at him; he’s looking at me. There’s nothing but admiration in his eyes.
