Page 25 of Over and Above

Sitting the rest of the way up, he ran a finger through the puddle of our combined come on my belly, lifting it to his lips andlickingthe finger clean.

“Did you just…?”

“Oh.” His eyes flashed with alarm. “Should I not have?”

“No, you should have.” I licked my lips, trying to put together words in a coherent order. “I mean, I’m negative for all the various things. It was just unexpected, you tasting it like that.”

“Gross unexpected or…” He tilted his head, studying me closely. This would be my opportunity to tell him I wasn’t much for come-play, but apparently, I was wrong because arousal thrummed through my worn-out body.

“Unexpectedly a turn-on.”

“Good.” He winked at me. “Because I fully intend to taste a lot more of you.”

“Oh.” I was well past forty and knew perfectly well what he meant, but I couldn’t say as I had a ton of experience with it. My body sure as hell was interested, though, two orgasms not withstanding. “Now?”

“No, not now.” Laughing, he dropped a kiss on my forehead. “We both need to recharge, and you need to head back inside before too much longer.”

“Yeah.” I released a long, regret-laced breath. The real world beckoned.

Magnus cupped my chin and leveled me with a pointed stare. “I’m not done with you yet, Eric.”

A shiver swept through me from the ominous warning, and I should have told him this most certainly was a one-off, despite what he’d said and the promise of fucking me through the mattress. I shuddered again, managing the barest of nods. Yeah, we weren’t done here at all.

Chapter Fourteen

Magnus

I had no milk. This was hardly a surprise because I barely had furniture. The weekend had brought a downpour of Eric’s friends, so much so that I’d escaped to The Heist simply to avoid more offers of outdated dining sets, chairs, futons, knickknacks, and slow cookers. I’d been on my own with Diesel for so many years that having a swirling community was new, but I was grateful for the help. The previous mess of the carriage house’s interior had been replaced with bright bedding, a well-swept front room, a small black dining set, a sturdy loveseat, and other odds and ends that made it start to feel like a home.

Ahome.

Notmyhome, but perhaps that would come with time. And as I looked around the much neater main room, all I could see were memories of the messy sex with Eric on the floor. I’d endure any amount of dust and drink my coffee black for eternity if it meant a repeat of the sweaty orgasm fest.

But if I’d learned one thing the past week—and it had been aweek—it was that wishes were rather pointless. I wished the insurance would hurry up with the claims process. I wished I could catch a moment alone with Eric. I wished the heatwave would break. None of those things had happened. The insurance process plodded along painfully slow, unable to even authorize a cleanup crew at the scene yet. Eric had been busy with friends and kids all weekend, then on call. Here it was, a week after the fire, still hot July temperatures, and me with a decided lack of forward momentum in many areas.

However, my lack of milk for the coffee I’d made in my second-hand French press was immediately fixable as the main house was mere feet away, and I’d watched the kids haul in what looked like four gallons of milk the day prior. Surely, they’d have a splash to spare for my coffee. Eric’s SUV wasn’t in the driveway, meaning he was likely on duty, so it wasn’t like I was looking for a pretense to run into the guy.

Both dogs decided to accompany me over to the house, undoubtedly because they sensed the possibility of air conditioning and treats. Indeed, they went right to the water Eric continued to keep for them in the kitchen, drinking like they didn’t have full bowls at the carriage house and snorting around for food like they hadn’t eaten in a month.

“Um. Hello?” I called out, feeling a little awkward about letting myself into an empty kitchen. “I was looking for milk.”

“In the fridge.” Diesel’s voice sounded from deeper in the house. “We’re in the living room. Come say hi.”

I added a healthy glug of milk to my travel mug of coffee, and not in a particular hurry to head to The Heist, I followed Diesel’s bidding. The living room was rather crowded. Wren was perched like a pelican on the recliner with a notebook out. Maren was stretched out on the couch, head in Diesel’s lap, while a familiar-looking woman with curly dark hair in her mid-to-late thirties sat at Maren’s feet, thumbing through a large three-ringed binder.

“Hi.” I extended the greeting even as I tried to make sense of the gathering. “Uh… What’s this?”

“I’m having a prenatal appointment.” Maren made an airy gesture. “This is Marissa, my midwife.”

“Wonderful. Nice to meet you.” I offered Marissa a hearty handshake before turning my attention to Maren. Her reluctance to pick which OB/GYN practice she wanted for her prenatal care had been the topic of multiple conversations around the house. But something told me Eric would hardly celebrate Maren and Diesel having chosen this particular path. “You’re doing a home birth? Your father may have a coronary before we ever get to the labor part.”

“We’ve got a birth plan for that.” The midwife had a merry laugh. “And he’s the paramedic, right?” She pointed at a silver cane with a metal penguin handle. “He and Jonas and the rest of the hospital staff saved my life back in the late winter.”

“I’m glad you survived.” I used my warmest possible tone, but former patient or not, Eric was going to hate her on the spot. I tried to catch Diesel’s gaze to warn him, but he had eyes only for Maren, stroking her hair as she turned toward me.

“Do you want to hear the coolest thing?” Maren asked, blue eyes sparkling.

“Sure.” Might as well delay the discussion of how to deal with Eric’s reaction.

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