And he follows me moments later and then collapses on me. When we find our way back into our bodies, he slowly pulls out and disappears behind the false wall into the bathroom. I turn my head into his pillow, take one last deep breath of his scent, and slowly sit up. The euphoria is replaced by melancholy as I do it.
I don't want to go back to my room, but I know he expects me to. He wants me to. I'm holding the duvet to my chest and leaning over to grab my clothes from the floor when he appears again. He's naked, and not hiding a thing. His dick is soft but still formidable as it hangs between his legs. His skin is still flushed and his muscles still taut from exertion.
He walks around the bed, crawls under the covers on the other side, and wraps his arms around my waist. He pulls me backward, towards the center of the bed and him.
“What are you doing?” I ask, fighting the smile that wants to bloom on my face.
He nestles against me like the big spoon and I have no choice but to lie there with my head on his bicep because he still has a bulky arm around my waist holding me in place. “Cuddling before we fall asleep. I’m new at this so if I’m doing it wrong, help me out.”
“You’re doing it right,” I reply and let that smile bloom. “Where is Tate? What have you done with him?”
“Shut up.” His laugh tickles the back of my neck. “Listen, I want you to be there with me. When I call my parents.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. You are part of this. My life. Dylan’s.” He pauses and tugs me in a little closer. “I need you.”
“Okay.”
“Thank you, baby girl.” I feel his lips press to my shoulder.
We lie there in silence for a long time. I feel his muscles soften, and his grip around my belly loosens. His breathing gets deeper. My eyelids get heavy, my mind stops running, my limbs get loose. But… when I drift off it’s not a deep sleep. I’m still on alert, waiting for the switch to flip. For old Tate to turn back on. To be asked to leave. To be told I’m just the nanny with benefits.
Hours later when I slip out of bed to pee, he grabs my wrist. “Don’t go.”
“Bathroom.”
“But you’ll come back to bed? This bed?”
“If you want me to.”
“I want you. Here. With me.”
“Then I’ll be back.”
And when I come back from the bathroom, he holds the covers open for me and I crawl right in, resting my head on his chest, and drift off. I don’t dream for the rest of the night. My subconscious knows it can’t compete with real life now.
Chapter22
Tate
Iam freaking the fuck out. There is no point in trying to hide it. It’s barely seven in the morning but Dylan woke up earlier than normal. Mallory thinks it’s just the new environment, not more sleep regression, which is good. She offered to take him downstairs alone but I got up with her because the impending weight of what I have to do today would make more sleep impossible.
“When are you calling them?” Mallory asks me as she chops up a banana onto the tray on Dylan’s new, proper high chair.
He's fisting the pieces and putting them in his mouth as soon as they drop. He's also already eaten one of my protein pancakes and loved it. I watch him as I pour Mallory and me fresh cups of coffee. "Nine our time. That's noon in Maine and Dad usually gets home from his morning gym session by then. ."
She nods and shoots me a confident smile. “You’re doing the right thing and it will be fine.”
I nod and sip my coffee taking too big a gulp and burning my tongue. “Fuck!”
“Fuuu! Fuuu! Fuuu!” Dylan tries repeating and my eyes flare.
Mallory’s are wide too as she says, “We should start watching our language. If his first word is an F-bomb, I will die.”
“Me too,” I reply. “Tenley will laugh her as—butt off though.”
“Have you told her you’re telling them?” Mallory wants to know.
