Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 67675 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67675 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
I wanted to ask if it was what he wanted, but there wasn’t time. The elevator shot us up to his floor, and then we were distracted by the long, drawn-out process of getting Emma to bed. She woke up fully when she had to brush her teeth and threw a fit when she couldn’t watch TV.
“It’s late, baby,” I said soothingly. “Get in bed. We can watch TV tomorrow.”
There was no reasoning with her though. She didn’t want a story, she didn’t want to hear Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star. She wanted Bluey and she wanted it now. I blew out my breath in frustration, half wishing I hadn’t insisted she brush her teeth. The half-finished conversation with Landon was weighing on me.
Landon saw my face and said, “Let me try.”
I hesitated. I’d always done the hard part with Emma and Landon had done the fun parts. I felt strange leaving the room and letting him take over.
“Trust me,” he said quietly.
I couldn’t argue with that. Even though it was difficult, I kissed the top of Emma’s head and said, “Good night, baby.”
She watched, shocked, as I backed out of the door.
Before I even got to the end of the hall, I heard her picking out what book Landon could read to her, no trace of tears in her voice.
When Landon came out into the living room several minutes later, I clapped quietly. He dropped his head in a mock bow, then raised his eyes to assess my face. “That’s a new thing for us,” he said quietly, stating the obvious.
I nodded, still unsure of how I felt about it. “It’s good,” I said slowly. “It’s just–”
“New.”
I nodded again. “I’ve always been the one to handle things with her. The good and the bad. Having a partner is going to be an adjustment.”
“You don’t have to tell me how hard it is to delegate.” Landon crossed the room and slid his arms around me. “You tell me when I’m overstepping. I’ll tell you when I need you to back off. We’ll figure it out.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck, leaning my head back to keep my eyes on his face. “I think we’ll be good co-parents. Which, incidentally, I guess is what you could introduce me as to your mom.”
“As my co-parent?” Landon raised his eyebrows. “Sure. Or I could just call you what you are.”
“Which is?” I waited, breathless.
Landon’s eyes darkened as he looked down at me. “Important.”
“Because I’m the mother of your child?”
“Not just because of that.”
I waited, breathlessly.
“I’m worried you’re becoming necessary,” Landon murmured, staring down at me. “What word encapsulates that?”
I didn’t know, but I felt the same way. Every day that Landon and I spent together, he became more and more integral. Not just because he could handle Emma’s shifting toddler moods even when I couldn’t, but because I cared more and more about him. Boyfriend was too simplistic a word for what he meant to me. He was Emma’s father, my lover, our protector. I loved him even though I knew doing so might break my heart.
I wanted to put how I felt into words, but something held me back. What if his love for Emma was coloring how he saw me? Would I feel so important and necessary if I’d only brought myself back to LA – if I wasn’t the mother of his cherished daughter? I wanted to think so, but I wasn’t sure.
So instead of telling him, I showed him. I pulled his face down to mine and poured all of the unspoken love and pent-up passion into kissing him. Landon responded swiftly, reaching down to roll the thin material of my dress up to my hips. I slipped my hands down between us, working at the buttons of his shirt as he backed me against the couch.
The curtains were open, but this time, I didn’t ask him to close them.
This time, I felt safe.
21
LANDON
I wanted to go slow, but her hands were around my waist now, tugging my shirt free from my pants. Her slim, cool fingers slid between the material and my back, and I felt her nails scratch lightly across my skin. The erotic juxtaposition of pain and pleasure went straight to my groin, and I had to fight the urge not to push her down to the carpet and pound into her. I’d likely snap eventually, but for now, I wanted to feel her.
The dress she’d worn was soft, but it was nothing compared to her warm skin. I pulled it over her head, disheveling her hair. The length of it frothed over her shoulders, cascading over her bare breasts in the moonlight. I pushed the dark sheaves aside, and my mouth went dry at the generous swell of flesh.
“You’re beautiful,” I whispered hoarsely. I didn’t tell her that often enough. She was stunning, in clothes and out of clothes. It wasn’t just the dips and curves of her gorgeous body or her full, pouting lips or the damn hair that kept sliding back to obscure my view of her breasts. It was everything. The sweetness in her smile, the kindness in her eyes. They were half closed now, her breath coming unevenly through her parted lips. It was the mere fact that she had carried and borne my child.