Control yourself, idiot.
I bought all the practical stuff Paige would need if she was staying here, which she absolutely was, because I’d chain the door shut before I let her go back to that asshole. I selected a few options in what I hoped were the right sizes, added expedited shipping, and clicked purchase before I could overthink it.
Lily started rooting against my chest, making little frustrated sounds, and I realized with growing alarm that she was trying to nurse through my shirt.
Okay, woah.
“Wrong equipment, kid,” I muttered, adjusting her position. “Sorry to disappoint.”
She responded by biting down on my pectoral through the thin cotton of my t-shirt.
“Ow! Jesus, you’ve got sharp teeth!”
The water shut off, and I heard movement in the bathroom. I felt the surge of heat knowing she was just feet away completely naked.
A few minutes later, the bedroom door opened, and Paige walked out. She was wrapped in nothing but a towel that clung to the soft curve of her breasts, barely covering them.
Fuck me.
My brain short-circuited. I tried my best not to stare at her bare legs or at how her damp hair brushed her shoulders.
She froze, one hand clutching the towel at her chest. Her face was clean, free of the mascara tracks and the professional mask she always wore at work, and she looked so fucking beautiful that I had to clear my throat twice before I could speak.
“I, uh... I’ll take care of Lily?” I said, nodding at the baby, who was babbling. “Let you get dressed?” Even though I saw you give birth and nothing about you should ever be covere—hold it, idiot.
I was losing my composure. I had to get out of the room before I did something unforgivable. Like tugging off that damn towel and pinning her on the bed. Or drop to my knees and beg her to let me worship every inch of her.
“Oh. Yes,” she said, color slashing her cheeks. “Thank you.”
I went downstairs with Lily, who immediately started fussing again, her little face scrunching up in a way that warned of an impending meltdown. I bounced her, walking in circles around my living room while trying not to think about Paige in my guest room, towel barely holding on, her skin dewy and flushed from the heat of the shower.
That’s your assistant and long-term friend, idiot!
“Don’t tell your mom I was blushing,” I whispered to her. “That stays between us.”
She babbled something that sounded vaguely accusatory, and I sighed. “I know you’re right. I’m a complete disaster.”
To distract both of us, I headed to the kitchen. Donna, my housekeeper, had left chicken parmesan in the fridge before she’d gone home for the weekend. I pulled it out, set the oven to reheat, and made grilled cheese sandwiches because Paige always used to love those when we were kids.
Lily settled once I started moving around, her head resting against my shoulder while I worked one-handed. She was warm and heavy, and every few minutes she would try to gnaw on my shirt again, reminding me that she was probably starving.
But other than that, she was a quiet kid.
I was flipping the second sandwich when I heard footsteps on the stairs.
The sight of her stopped me cold. Paige was in the kitchen doorway wearing one of my t-shirts and a pair of my sweatpants that she had rolled at the waist and ankles. Her hair was still damp, falling in soft waves around her face.
The thin, faded gray t-shirt was too big, hanging off one shoulder and revealing soft, smooth skin.
My clothes. On her body. In my kitchen.
She looked perfect. So fucking gorgeous that made my chest ache. She looked as if she belonged there.
Fuck. I need some air.
She had gained weight since having Lily, and it suited her. Made her look soft and womanly and so kissable.
“Hey,” I said. “You look... comfortable.”
