I bow my head like I’m being knighted. “Yes, Your Highness.”
Dahlia and Chloe both giggle, sounding so similar, except Chloe’s is much higher.
When I glance at Dahlia, I see the place on her neck where I sucked early this morning. She catches me staring and her lips part, just enough to let the air between us crackle.
Chloe puts her hands in my hair, yanking strands as she tries to get it all out of my eyes. Her tongue is out on one side as she concentrates. She’s so stinkin’ cute. When she finally gets the holder where she wants it, my hair still flops into my eyes, but it’s contained in the holder, which satisfies her.
Next, she produces a glittery clip shaped like a star and puts it on my other side. The clip holds the hair back better than the ponytail holder.
I glance at Dahlia, who’s trying not to laugh, and she says, “So pretty. You’re in deep now.”
“Worth it,” I say.
And she’s right, I am in deep. One minute, we were tearing each other’s clothes off, and the next, we were whispering curses when we realized her last name is Granger and mine is Whitman. We’ve decided to fuck the feud, fuck the risk, and to fuck each other, at least for now.
“Mama, yook. Dyyan’s a princess!”
Dahlia laughs. “Yes, he is.” Her eyes are bright when she looks at me. “She doesn’t normally warm up this fast to strangers,” she whispers.
“She must be able to tell that we’re all friends.” I smile down at Chloe, and she lifts her arms out for me to pick her up.
My eyes meet Dahlia’s in surprise over Chloe’s head as I lift her and set her on my lap. She yawns and leans her head against my chest. I wrap an arm around her and sigh in contentment. Wow. This is unbelievably sweet. It’s hard not to judge Christian right now. I usually pride myself on not being a judgmental prick, but I can’t claim that right now.
Because how could her dad live across the country from her? Doesn’t he want to be with her every minute? She’s already tugging my heartstrings. I can’t imagine if I’d been there the day she was born, how intense that bond would be.
“You’re good at this,” Dahlia says as Chloe’s eyes start to close.
“At what? Letting a sweet little girl pretty me up?”
“At letting her accept you.” Her voice catches, and she shakes her head. “Sorry, I’m overly emotional from lack of sleep and the drama of the past few days.”
“I don’t know how you could be anything else. She’s magical, Dahlia. I’ve been holding her, wondering how anyone could ever be apart from her.” I pause, realizing how that sounded. “I know it’s complicated when parents aren’t together. One will always have to be without the child…but across the country?” I blow out a long exhale. “I can’t imagine. I have mad respect for the sacrifices parents have to make in order to co-parent well.”
“I’ve been struggling with that too, believe me.” She slumps back against her chair. “And same, mad respect. But Christian isn’t the typical doting father. He didn’t want to have her in the first place, and now I don’t buy this sudden effort he’s putting in. I hope I’m wrong.”
Chloe makes a noise in her sleep, and we both smile.
“You can lay her down. Rest your arms,” she says.
“I don’t mind holding her.”
She smiles. “Maybe I’m ready to have you to myself for a little while.”
I stand immediately and lay Chloe down in the portable crib, making Dahlia laugh under her breath. When Chloe turns to lie on her side, we stand there for a moment just watching her.
And then Dahlia takes my hand and leads me into the kitchen, where we can hear Chloe, but there’s no chance of her seeing anything we might do.
I free the clip and then tug my hair from the holder, letting it fall back into place. Dahlia runs her hands through it, and I lean into her like a puppy.
I back her against the wall, and our mouths crash together in a kiss that’s all heat and urgency. I lift her up, her legs wrapping around my waist, and I pin her there with my hips.
She gasps, her nails digging into my shoulders. I trail kisses down her neck, her pulse racing under my lips. I lift her shirt, exposing her skin, my hands exploring every curve I want to memorize. I can’t get enough of her, can’t get close enough. She arches into me, my name on her lips.
I undo my belt one-handed, the other holding her steady, and undo her jeans. I set her down long enough to pull them down and then mine, and when I pull a condom out of my pocket, she whispers, “I’m on the pill.”
I pause, studying her face. “You want me to go bare?”
She swallows hard and eventually nods.
