Page 93 of Where We Call Home

“Rhodes,” Theo moaned, her head falling forward as her forehead hit the wall. “You fuck me so good.”

My hands that were on her hips, pulling for leverage, released. The moment I saw those pigtails months ago, I wanted to know what they’d feel like wrapped around my fist. Now was my chance.

Reaching up, I grabbed the hair in my hands and yanked her head back towards me. She gasped, looking at me from the side of her eye. My hips stopped, my cock still inside her.

“I’m going to do something. If you don’t like it, tell me,” I whispered in her ear, placing kisses on her exposed neck.

I took my hand, reaching around, a knuckle applying pressure to her behind. Theo moaned, and her jaw went slack.

“Fuck, yes,” She cried, bending more, but my hands in her hair kept her head in place.

“Do you like it when I put pressure there, Honey?” I asked, adding more.

Theo nodded, panting at the sensation. I took her positive response as an indication to keep going.

I fucked her hard as I slammed my hips into her, my knuckle giving her just enough pressure from behind. The room was filled with a symphony of grunts and moans. My legs were burning from how I was angled to pump inside her. Between the slight pain and the slickness around my cock, I wasn’t able to hold back any longer. With a loud exhale, I released inside her, pumping until I knew I was empty and she was filled withme.

“Oh, fuck Rhodes,” Theo panted, as she rode her climax, coming undone around my shaft. “You’re so good.”

I laughed, pulling from her and standing to stretch my legs. Sex with Theo was better than I could’ve ever imagined. She was so responsive. I liked the praise.

Theo spun around, holding her palms up covered in paint from the wall. We both took a look at where she’d been standing, and two hand prints stared back at us.

“I’m not painting over those,” I said, coming up to wrap her in an embrace. Our naked bodies pressed together, and I soaked in the warmth of her bare skin on mine.

“What will we tell people when they come in here?” She asked into my chest. “Two random handprints on the wall?”

“I don’t care,” I replied, kissing the top of her head. Theo giggled and pulled away, looking up at me.

I couldn’t stop the smile spreading across my face. I was grinning like an idiot—a happy, ridiculous idiot—looking at the woman who had reignited something in me I thought I’d lost forever.

One look at her, with those messy pigtails and worn overalls, and I felt something stir in me for the first time in ages. It was her acceptance, her quiet attention, that made me feel cared for again. It was her moving into my house that finally made it feel like a home.

Thirty-Four

30 weeks pregnant

Baby is the size of a head of broccoli

“Theo, Honey, we are going to be late,” Rhodes shouted from the living room as I worked tirelessly to pick an outfit thatactuallyfit.

Finding cute or even remotely presentable clothes to wear in public at thirty weeks pregnant was a challenge. Tonight, Rhodes and I were meeting our friends at Faircloud’s Annual Fall Fest. I hadn’t been to the festival in years—probably not since high school. Other than the summer block party, this would be the first time I’d be surrounded by most of the town. With that came an unavoidable pressure to look halfway decent, a pressure that normally wouldn’t faze me.

After what happened between Rhodes and me in the nursery—the whole “hands on the wall, now” moment—we’d slipped into this unspoken rhythm. The more we saw each other, naked and vulnerable, the more we just... meshed. Things were flowing.

Subconsciously, I wondered if I was obsessing over how I looked because I wanted to prove to the town that I deserved Rhodes' attention.

Finally satisfied that I looked presentable, I shut off the bathroom light and headed to the living room. I’d settled on a pair of maternity jeans, my favorite boots, and a flowy sweater—perfect for when the evening chill set in. Instead of my usual pigtails, I’d gone for a half-up, messy bun perched on the crown of my head.

“You look pretty,” Rhodes said, his voice warm. He stood there looking effortlessly gorgeous in his jeans and backward hat, like he hadn’t even tried.

Ever sincethatmoment in the nursery, my desire for him had been relentless. It was like a switch had flipped inside me, and my once-manageable libido was now in overdrive. His hands. That smile. It all drove me to the brink of distraction.

I bit my lip, letting my gaze travel from his boots to his hat, my imagination running wild with ideas of how we could spend the evening without ever leaving the house.

“Down, girl.” He chuckled, stepping closer and wrapping his large, rugged hands around my biceps. His touch sent a shiver through me. “I can practically see what you’re thinking.” He leaned down and brushed a soft, teasing kiss across my lips. “As tempting as that is, we promised them we’d be there.”

When he pulled away, I groaned dramatically and stomped my foot like a tantruming toddler.

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