Page 34 of Sheltering Lily

“How so?” I asked, feeling a glimmer of selfish hope.

“I told you when I first met you that I couldn’t commit to being a nanny long term because I was still trying to figure out what in life would truly make me feel happy and fulfilled. And now I’m sure I know what I need.” She looked me in the eye. “You and Sofia.”

A conflict raged in my chest. I could have her in my life, but at what price? She’d have to give up an amazing opportunity at the career that she wanted. I couldn’t do that to her.

Slowly, I shook my head. “I don’t want to get in the way of your dream.”

“Aren’t you hearing me?” Her soft voice was growing in strength. “The internship is not my dream.”

“Not the internship itself, no—but it’s a foot in the door to the comic book world. That’s what you want,” I argued, wondering why even as the words came out of my mouth.

“That’s what I used to think, but now I’m not so sure. I do love art—that has always been true. And I want to keep working to develop my skills. But are comic books really the right medium for me? I love to draw, I love to paint, I love to sculpt—I just want to create art out of what I see, what brings me joy. Being a comic book artist is all about creating characters and stories, and that’s not the part of art creation that really grabs me. I think the reason I assumed it was right for me was because I had my aunt’s example. She was proof that you could be an artist, have a successful career, and be happy. But her way is not the only way. I need to find my own path for my art. And before you ask, I don’t know what that is yet. I’m still figuring it out. I do know one thing, though: I know that whatever future I have, I’ll only be happy if you and Sofia are part of it. A big part of it.”

When she ended her speech, her cheeks were pink. I could relate. I forced myself to suck in a breath as I processed the full force of what she’d said. She intended to stay with us, with me. Everything else was secondary to that.

I reached for her, hauling her onto my lap.

“Your arm,” she cautioned, even as she put hers around my neck.

“Isn’t bothering me a bit,” I said, beginning a kiss that held all the passion I’d pent up during the past days. I nipped at her lips before sliding my tongue into her mouth. I groaned at the contact. I wanted more of that, more arousing friction between us, everywhere between us. I loosened her shirt from her jeans, tugging it upward and tossing it behind me.

“Do you want to go upstairs?” she asked between kisses. She knew my preference for making love in bed, but I was thinking the living room couch was looking just fine. We’d get to my bed later.

“Here,” I said, unsnapping her front-closure bra. She shimmied out of it, the movement of her breasts ramping up my desire. As if that needed any help. I was hard and ready to enter her, but I had so many things I wanted to do first.

“That’s unlike you,” she commented as she helped me out of my T-shirt, easing the sleeve over my bandaged arm.

“I’ve loosened up,” I said.

She leaned back, studying me. “Have you? Or have I just come to understand you? I think inside,” her fingers walked up my bare chest, “you wanted some color in your life, some clutter, strange clay creatures baking in the oven, and finger paintings.”

“I think I did,” I agreed, “and you’ve brought them to me. Now that I’ve had them—and you—I can’t live without them.”

“You won’t have to,” she said. It wasn’t like me to need assurances, but she seemed to understand that tonight I needed to hear the words. “I promise I’ll be here for as long as you want me.”

Forever? I wanted to ask, but that question could wait for another time, for the perfect time. My lips slowly tracked down her neck to the crook of her shoulder as my hands slid past the waistband of her low-waisted jeans to cup her butt.

“Less clothes,” she murmured and stood to undo her jeans. She pushed them down her hips with a seductive wiggle. I thought about helping, but I was enjoying the show as her pink panties decorated with little artist palettes were revealed.

“Cute.” I grinned. “Those are so you. Now, take them off.” A devilish gleam showed in her eyes at my command. By the time her panties were on the floor, my dick was pressed painfully against my zipper. “My turn.” I rose and worked my pants down, taking my boxers along with them to save time. I looked at her and caught her smiling as her gaze dipped to my erection.

“I think I’d like to sculpt you,” she said, reaching out to stroke me, “just like this.”

“You couldn’t exhibit that anywhere,” I pointed out, wildly turned on by her suggestion.

“It would be just for us. I’d have to study you very closely. That’s the way with artists, you know. We like to examine and get hands on with our subject matter.” She tossed a pillow on the floor and dropped to her knees in front of me. Her hands gripped the backs of my thighs as she drew my dick into her mouth. When she dragged her teeth the length of me, it was all I could do to stay upright.

“Get a good enough look?” I gritted out a few minutes later. At some point, I’d sunk my hands into her thick hair. She put one openmouthed kiss on the tip before looking up at me. God, she was beautiful and sexy—and mine.

“For now.” She rose and placed her hands on my shoulders, pushing me down on the couch. I went willingly. When I stretched the length of it, she lay on top of me, rubbing her cunt against my erection. “I like that,” she breathed as she dragged her breasts against my chest, “and this.”

She had led our lovemaking for long enough. I was enjoying the hell out of it, but I wanted to pleasure her. I said a word of thanks for long arms as I slid my hands over her butt and touched her between her thighs from the back. She gasped in surprise, but I didn’t relent, playing with her as she had me. Finally, when she was panting my name, I reached over to snag my jeans so I could get the condom out of my wallet. Once it was in place, I guided her onto my erection.

We moved together as one, pleasuring and pushing, kissing and nipping, until our orgasms hit at the same time, rocketing through us.

Afterward, she rested her head against my chest, falling asleep almost immediately. I grabbed an Afghan and draped it over us. I’d take her upstairs soon, but I wanted her to rest first. I had plans for the remainder of the night, plans to show her how much she meant to me.

18

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