His lips travel downward, kissing and licking a path down from my neck. I look down and see the faint, plum-colored marks on my chest from last night—hickeys that should probably make me feel like a reckless teenager, but they don’t. He doesn’t seem to care either. He slides my nipple into his mouth and his tongue circles it, slow and torturous, then flicksacross it in a way that makes my back arch off the bed. I start squirming underneath him involuntarily, my hand tightening in his hair, tugging harder than I mean to.
He moans against my skin and I realize he likes that. He likes when I pull his hair, when I lose my grip on the “polite nanny” persona.
I tug his hair again, a little more insistently this time, and the feel of him against me is doing something to my central nervous system that would probably make for a very interesting, very scandalous research paper. His tongue hitches, a jagged little movement that feels entirely too good, and then his hands are sliding to my thighs—heavy, warm, and utterly certain—parting them just enough to settle himself into the space I didn’t realize I was saving for him.
“Leo, wait—”
He pulls back just enough to rest his chin on my chest, looking infatuated and annoyed in equal measure—like a kid who just got told to stop eating dessert before dinner. I could laugh.
“What do we do from here?” I ask, winding his curls around my finger again. “What about Emma?”
He doesn’t say anything right away, but he traces my collarbone with one finger.
“She’s going to wake up,” I continue, the Great Wall of Reality finally starting to rebuild itself brick by brick. “And ask why I’m still here, in yesterday’s clothes. We need some sort of game plan. Something to say.”
He lets out a long, slow sigh, his breath warm against my skin. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? The man with the PhD in Brain Stuff doesn’t have any idea of what to say to a five year old?”
“I don’t know that there’s one right way to do this. Or one right thing to say.” He looks up at me, his eyes serious now. “I just know I want you here. With me.”
“Here for…for what exactly?” I ask, my breath catching as I try not to get my hopes up. “A rainy Tuesday? A few hours of wine-induced bravery? A few days? Or—”
“For as many days as you’ll give me, Annie. For all the days.”
My chest does something complicated—a strange, tight ache that feels like hope and terror had a head-on collision.
“What if we’re not thinking, Leo?” I whisper. “What if we’re just being a little too…”
“Ridiculous?” He smirks, that lopsided, brilliant grin that usually makes me want to argue with him just for the sake of it.
I swat his arm, trying to keep a straight face. “I was going to sayhasty.”
“Weren’t you the one giving me the ‘Fortune Favors the Bold’ speech at four in the morning? The one telling me to take risks? To be—”
“I know, I know what I said,” I cut him off, my voice softening as I look toward the hallway, toward Emma’s room. “But there’s a small human involved here. It’s not just about us. It’s…it’s high stakes. If all of this—”
I stop. I can’t say it.If this fails. If we break. If all of this doesn’t work out.
He reaches up, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear, his touch so gentle it hurts. “I want to go slow. I want to spend time with you that doesn’t require a wine bottle or a crisis. I want to justbe. With you.” He pauses, searching my face. “That’s enough for me right now. Can it be enough for you?”
I nod.
“Good,” he grins, the mischief slipping its way back in. “Can I go back to the part where I was incredibly busy kissing you?”
I laugh. “You’re an idiot.”
“I’ve been told.”
And then his mouth is on me again and we spend the morning learning exactly how many ways two people can sayI want youwithout using words at all.
* * *
“Annie?”
I crack one eyelid open just a fraction, and there she is. Emma is currently the world’s cutest morning jumpscare, standing by the bed in an oversized 101 Dalmatians t-shirt that reaches her knobby knees, her blonde curls a riot around her head. Her eyes are wide, blue, and dangerously curious.
Shit.
