Page 38 of Desperation

“Is that what’s inside here?” she asked, pointing to the picture.

“Want to open it and find out?”

“Yes!” she squealed.

I pulled out my pocket knife and sliced through the tape, pulling the pieces out. She clapped excitedly as I put it together. “I figured since he was almost six months old and about to start eating table food, he might like to dine with us grown-ups.” She stepped back and took in the highchair, a level of excitement I didn’t expect shining through her eyes.

“I love it!” She threw her arms around me, and I squeezed her back. Neither of us let go right away, and something shifted between us, the embrace becoming something more. She pulled back slightly, her forehead grazing my chin. We stayed close, close enough that if she tilted her head back, I could kiss her. “Thank you.” She breathed the words into my neck, and I swallowed thickly before pressing my lips to her forehead.

“You’re welcome.” My voice was thick and full of need. If she noticed, she didn’t let on.

“Are you ready to eat?” she asked as she stepped back.

“Yeah.” I was ravenous, but I didn’t think dinner would fulfill me.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Hannah

Jameson was overjoyed to be up where he could see everything. He squirmed a little, offering minor resistance when I placed him in the highchair and secured the tray. I cut up a few green beans in little bite size pieces for him and let him go to town.

Devon’s surprise had been unexpected, but boy was I more appreciative than I could express. Of course, I’d wanted to get a highchair soon, but it wasn’t like I had much money. I’d grabbed the stash of bills and loose change I kept hidden from Drake before I left, but I wasn’t sure how far that money would need to take me. For now, I was surviving off of other people’s generosity, but it wouldn’t be like that forever. I didn’t want to mooch off anyone. I wanted to make my own way.

After dinner I bathed Jameson, washing the mashed potatoes and smashed up green beans from his hair. When we finished, the kitchen was clean, and the leftovers were stored in the fridge. It was still hard getting used to a man who helped around the house. It almost made me uncomfortable, like I wasn’t pulling my weight somehow, and when I’d mentioned that to Devon, his features turned hard.

“That’s not true. You cook. You take care of Jameson. You do most of the cleaning. You don’t have to earn your keep around here, and I apologize if I’ve ever made you feel that way.”

“You haven’t,” I assured him. That was all Drake, but I wasn’t going to bring him up. Devon wasn’t him. I was certain they weren’t even the same species.

We settled in for a movie after that. We were quickly developing a routine, and I kind of liked it. I knew what to expect, and that offered me a great deal of peace.

The temperature outside had dropped considerably the past couple days, and I couldn’t seem to get warm. The fireplace was blazing, and I had a barrage of blankets covering me, but I still felt chilled.

“Are you okay?” Devon asked, looking over at me from his side of the couch. I was shivering and tucking blankets in around me as tightly as I could.

“Yeah, I can’t seem to get warm enough.”

“Come here,” he demanded softly, his voice low and gravelly. A shiver ran down my spine, but it had nothing to do with the temperature.

I obeyed and slid over to him. He lifted his arm and tucked me into his side, covering us both with the blanket I'd brought with me. His warmth engulfed me, and I snuggled deeper into his side, laying my head against his shoulder so I could still see the TV. His muscled arm came down to rest across my back, and I tried not to let it affect me when his hand cupped my shoulder. My breath caught a moment later when his thumb started rubbing gentle circles on my upper arm. I didn’t think he even realized he was doing it.

Desire, hot and delicious, coiled tightly in my lower belly, and I shifted, trying to quell the ache. I planted my hands beside me to push myself up higher, and he sucked in a sharp breath when my hand gripped his thigh.

“Sorry,” I replied automatically.

“Nothing to be sorry for.” Warm air tickled the back of my neck when he spoke. My stomach clenched, and I dropped my head back with a sigh.

Ah, what was this man doing to me? I waited for him to make a move, to show me he wanted me, but he didn’t. He held me and kept me warm until Jameson grew tired and fussy, reaching for me for comfort.

“I’ve got him.” Devon stood and retrieved him from the playpen, planting a soft kiss on his forehead before handing him to me. The sweet gesture sent my heart fluttering. Before I could scoot back to my side, Devon sank down beside me, wrapped his arm loosely around my shoulder, and covered me back up with the blanket. I was relieved with his newfound level of comfort with Jameson and me. He wasn’t looking at me like a sex object but treating me like one would any mother feeding her child, something Drake hadn’t even accomplished in the plentiful time he’d had with us. He still made comments about my boobs and wanted to touch them all the time, even when they hurt. He had no respect for my body or my boundaries, and I didn’t even realize it until I was around someone who did.

When Jameson fell asleep, I took him to bed and left the door cracked so I could hear him if he started to cry. Returning to Devon, I hesitantly took the same spot I’d vacated only moments ago. His arm went around me once more, and I relaxed into him. As the movie went on, his hand drifted lower until finally his palm was splayed over my ribs. I wanted his touch. I craved his hands on my breasts, between my legs, everywhere. But it never strayed from my side. It had been so long since I’d wanted something this badly, but I was afraid to initiate anything deeper. Maybe he only wanted friendship, and that was why he made no move to kiss me. What we were doing could be considered platonic. It didn’tfeelplatonic to me, but that didn’t mean that wasn’t his intent.

He clicked off the TV when the credits began to roll, leaving only the shimmering glow of the fireplace. Neither of us made a move to get up. There were no words, just two people enjoying each other’s company and watching a crackling fire. He tightened his grip on me and placed a kiss on the side of my head. It was sweet but lacked the sensuousness I yearned for. What would he do if turned around and climbed onto his lap, pressing my damp heat against his pelvis? Would I find him hard and ready, or would he push me away, rejecting my advances? I wasn’t sure of the outcome, so I stayed where I was.

“Are you ready for bed?” His voice was so low I barely heard it, but I felt it. The deep timbre always landed right in my core.

“Yes,” I breathed, and I could swear his hand tightened on my ribs ever so slightly. He stood and reached for me, pulling me to my feet. When he let go, I felt the loss of his touch right in the center of my chest. We walked to the bedrooms, stopping at different doors. He turned to me, a look of pained longing flashing in his eyes.Come to me, I pleaded silently. I wouldn’t turn him away. But he didn’t.

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