Page 97 of Forgotten Romance

The third is a speck of snow, drifting past the window.

Then it’s Kiera’s and Van’s smiling faces as she innocently asks, “Did you have fun, Daddy? We were racing you.”

I don’t see anything after that because I burst into fucking tears.

30

Mack

Davey doesn’t say anything about the pudding tasting like shit, and he’s speechless that his Falcon is rebuilt. We cave and give the kids a present each early, then curl up on the couch together with his spiked eggnog while a Christmas movie plays.

My heart is so fucking full while I hold him, and then once the kids are in bed, I take his hand and lead him into our room.

“You’re incredible,” he rasps, pulling back until I hit his chest. He wraps his arms around me, nose sliding down the side of my neck.

“Was that okay? Sorry I had you drive all over town, but I needed you out of the house, and I didn’t like the idea of you being on your own for hours at Christmas.”

“It was perfect. I’d worry about you being an evil mastermind if you weren’t so damn precious.”

“Precious.” My laugh rumbles softly through my chest. “You’ve always seen too much good in me.”

“Or exactly the right amount. Here …” Davey holds his phone up in front of us.

“What are you doing?”

“I want a photo with you. To remind me of tonight.”

“Oh. Ahh …”

He kisses my neck this time, and a pleasant shiver runs through me.

“Photo, yes. Okay.”

Davey cuddles me tight from behind as he lifts his phone and takes a couple of shots. Then, like it’s been planned, I turn my head to kiss his cheek, and he goes to do the same. Our lips meet, and I have no idea if he gets a shot of that or not because as soon as we connect, the photos completely leave my mind.

There’s nothing I don’t love about kissing Davey. His soft lips, his strong tongue, the taste of eggnog and rum between us. But the thing I love most is how familiar he is. I don’t need excitement—though I’m thrumming with that too—I just need the way my chest is full when I’m with him.

Having sex wasn’t part of my plan for the day, but I feel so close to him it just seems right.

Unlike the frenzy of last time, I’m not in a hurry to get him naked. I let myself enjoy it for what it is, my hands exploring every strip of exposed skin they find, and Davey does the same.

Kissing, touching, loving. I moan at the sound of his pants hitting the floor before he breaks away from me and pushes his underwear down too. He’s got dark chest hair and thick thighs, a once-six-pack that’s softly padded but makes a reappearance when he clenches. Like when I run my fingers down his soft V and his whole body draws tight. His cock pulses at the movement.

I’m breathing heavily already when he unbuttons my pants. Davey sinks to his knees, my pants following in a torturously slow path after him.

When my dick springs back and hits my stomach, it’s an effort not to beg him to suck it. Not to tilt my hips closer to him.

His beautiful eyes study it for a moment before drifting closed as he leans forward and sucks it into his mouth.

The heat he surrounds me with has lust pooling in my balls, and even though he takes his time, stroking me reverently with his tongue and kissing my tip before ducking down to suck on my balls, my toes curl over into the carpet. I could easily blow from this. From all that buildup and need over the years being fulfilled, piece by piece, every time we’re together.

His wet finger slips into my crease, and I relax against the feel of him stroking it over my hole.

“Gonna make love to you tonight,” he murmurs. “Going to fill up this sexy hole.”

My thighs twitch. “Fuck yes.”

He presses his finger in, following that same path he has countless times before, and it kills me all the years we spent not doing this. All the times we had to enjoy each other and chose not to. Things had turned stale, but without us knowing that, without us both wanting to move on, nothing ever would have changed.

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