Page 19 of Shielding Soledad

“Hey,” I murmured.

“Soon,” he said, rising back over me to kiss my lips, my cheeks, my forehead.

“Tease,” I said, as I pressed my fingers into the hard muscles of his butt.

“That’s me,” he agreed with a soft laugh. Seconds later, his hand touched me between my thighs, stroking over me and almost sending me into an orgasm. “Jesus, you’re so hot and wet.” His voice was a reverent whisper now.

“And you’re hard.” I clasped his dick again, making him gasp. “I think I remember what comes next.” I smiled up at him. “The condoms are still in the nightstand drawer.”

We’d always been careful about sex. Except for that one time nearly a year ago. I couldn’t regret that, but neither of us was ready for another child. With his long reach, Alex opened the top drawer and pulled out a packet. I took it from him, yanked open the foil, and rolled the condom onto his hard length. My body tightened in anticipation of what came next.

“How?” I asked, knowing he would understand my question. How did he want me?

“So I can see your face,” he answered, starting another kiss and shifting his hips to enter me. He eased into me, taking me inch by inch, not letting me rush the moment. I hooked my legs around his waist, tilting up to him, but still he controlled the movement. I’d thought I’d die with frustration, but then he started a rhythm of give and take, deep and shallow strokes, until I was panting for release.

“More,” I demanded, almost too breathless to speak.

He shifted the angle between us, changed the rhythm, and I felt myself fly apart, felt everything in me scatter and contract at the same time, and then the pleasure rolled through me. With one more stroke, I felt Alex shudder with his release. He lowered himself on me so our bodies connected completely.

“Christ, Soledad, that was amazing,” he whispered, his head buried against the curve of my shoulder.

Exactly how I felt. Bone deep, I knew that this was how we were meant to be.

9

SOLEDAD

Iwoke early and stretched, feeling simultaneously guilty and grateful for how well rested I was now that Alex and I had been sharing a bed for a week. When Luke had become fussy around midnight, Alex had cared for him. From the bedroom, I’d heard Alex’s soft footfalls and soothing words as he calmed our crying son. I’d gotten up once, offering assistance, but Alex had waved me away with a smile, telling me to get some rest.

I had, falling into a deep and dreamless sleep. That may have had something to do with my general state of contentment. Somehow, Alex was an even better lover than I remembered, and I wondered how that could be. Our lovemaking was more tender, more intimate, but just as sexy as it had ever been.

I studied Alex, who was now asleep on his side, his back to me. The sheet was pushed down to his waist, so I could see the sleek contours of his body, the width of his shoulders and the narrowness of his lean hips. Beneath the sheet, I knew, were long, muscular legs. His body was rock hard and gorgeous. He’d lost none of his physical fitness in the weeks he’d been home.

Reconnecting with him as more than co-parents had brought easy smiles to my face and a sense of happiness that I’d thought was no longer possible. It might be temporary, but, God, it was so good being with Alex again, letting myself touch him whenever I wanted.

I reached out a hand to stroke his back but stopped myself when my fingers were just inches away. As much as I craved the feel of his warm skin and the attention he would surely give me, I should let him rest after the long night of caring for Luke.

I withdrew my hand and slid out of bed, careful not to disturb Alex. I padded quietly across the hall to check on Luke. The baby was out and probably would be for a while yet. He’d had a few similar nights, and we’d left him zonked the following day. I glanced out the window to where sunlight flooded the backyard. The golden light of just past dawn, my favorite time of day, had always drawn me out for a morning run in the past.

I felt a twitch in my legs. Yeah, they wanted the run: the pounding, the buildup of lactic acid, the satisfaction of covering miles. It had been so long since I’d had that. With another check on the sleeping baby, I returned to the bedroom where Alex still slumbered. I could be out and back before either of my men woke. Quietly, I dug in my drawer for running shorts and a tank top before creeping down the stairs. I waited until I was just inside the front door before putting my shoes on. Sticking my phone in a pocket, I disarmed the security system and stepped outside, gently tugging the door closed behind me.

When I stood on the front walk, I stretched my arms upward, taking in a deep breath that filled my lungs. I lowered my hands to my heart, centering myself before taking off. I’d learned that trick from a coach in college and always found it soothing and energizing at the same time.

I started off slow, setting little goals for myself. I’d jog to the next light post and then sprint to the stop sign. As my breathing became heavier and my muscles burned, I remembered the sheer joy of moving that had sustained me as a teenager and college student. This was a unique kind of freedom, one that I’d been without for too long. When Luke got a little bigger, I’d buy a jogging stroller and get back to running daily.

After about two miles—hardly a warm-up, back in the day, but it would take me a while to regain my stamina—I slowed to a walk, happy that I’d avoided getting a cramp in my side. I was near the downtown area of Springwell, and I looked in the windows of stores and restaurants as I went past. Distracted, I turned a corner and nearly collided with two women I recognized from the department store where I had worked.

“Hi,” I said as I came to a stop, still a little breathless.

“Soledad,” they exclaimed in unison. We all exchanged hugs and greetings, excited to see each other for the first time in several months.

“You look fabulous,” Caitlyn said. The chic older woman had worked in the store’s bridal salon and wedding registry.

“Walk with us a bit so we can catch up,” Lauren suggested. She was in her early thirties and had managed the better women’s dresses section. I had always admired her sense of style and eye for detail.

“I’d love to.” I turned to head in the direction they’d been going, glad to have other women to talk with. Alex’s in-laws were welcoming and kind, but my former coworkers knew me so much better.

“I want to see baby pictures,” Caitlyn asked as we walked.

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