Page 91 of Your Second Chance
“We’re just supposed to be picking out flowers at a market, then?” I confirmed as I stood in Nova’s room.
The room she never sleeps in.
“Yeah. Just looking at flowers at the market, and then they’ll be there for a photo, and that’s it. No interaction with them or anything.”
“Right.” My gaze wandered until it landed on the frame of her mum sitting on the dresser. I picked it up carefully, running my thumb along the edge of the frame. “She’d be proud of you.”
Nova paused, her makeup brush stilling midair as she turned to glance at what I was holding. Her expression softened, and she smiled, the kind that reached her eyes. “She would.” She turned back to the mirror. “She wouldn’t have been proud right away. She would’ve been worried for a while. But... I think living in this house, being here, she would’ve understood. I don’t have words to thank you enough for that.”
I stayed quiet, watching as she carefully swiped color across her cheeks. I’d noticed something about Nova—when she wanted to have these conversations, the ones that really mattered, it was hard for her to face me directly. Doing hermakeup gave her a sense of control, a way to process as she spoke.
I didn’t mind. I’d take her however she needed, in any way she could give herself, because I was in love with her.
I told her daily, quietly, sometimes in passing and sometimes after long moments of quiet intimacy. “I love you,” I’d say, soft but certain. And every time, she never said it back.
Yet, I didn’t care.
I’d keep telling her, keep showing her, because I knew one day she would. If she didn’t, it wouldn’t change how I felt.
“Aunt Mae called again today. She told me she showed her new boyfriend how to make coquito this winter, like Mami used to make, and they got absolutely fucked up.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “That sounds wild.”
Nova smirked, glancing at me briefly in the mirror before turning back to finish up.
“I’m glad you talk to her when she calls,” I said after a moment, my voice softer. “It makes me—her—feel involved.”
When she was done, I stepped forward, reaching down to help her up. She took my hands, her grip firm but trusting, and I pulled her to her feet with ease.
She looked stunning. Her pregnant belly, full and swollen with life, pressed beautifully against the tight black dress she wore. Her black Doc Martens added a casual edge, grounding the look, while the small black leather jacket she draped over her shoulders gave her that effortless confidence she always carried.
Her cheeks were painted with the perfect shade of pink, the warmth of her glow making her look more radiant than ever. Her hair framed her face just so, and the way she adjusted the jacket over her belly had me groaning under my breath.Fuckkk.
Her eyes shot to mine, narrowing slightly. “Don’t give me that look.”
“A taste,” I murmured, stepping closer. “I’ll be quick.”
She sighed dramatically, but didn’t pull away, and I took that as my cue to close the distance, leaning down to brush my lips against hers. Even a taste of her was never enough.
I couldn’t stop myself. I shoved her jacket off her shoulders, and my hands were on her, gripping her hips as I guided her toward the edge of the bed. She let out a small gasp, half a protest, but the way her body melted into my touch told me she didn’t mean it.
Her feet rested against the footboard, legs spread enough for me to trail my hands up her thighs, bunching up her dress higher and higher until it was shoved up over her chest, her round belly and the swell of her tits on display.
“I can’t leave the house without a taste,” I moaned.
Her breath hitched as I hooked my fingers into the edge of her underwear, pulling them to the side, exposing her completely to me. I sank to my knees, pressing kisses along the soft curve of her inner thigh before diving in, my tongue finding her heat, her sweetness overwhelming every sense.
She let out a sharp gasp, her back arching as she gripped the sheets beneath her. “Fuck,” she groaned, her hips thrusting toward me, chasing the movements of my mouth.
I devoured her, gripping her thighs to keep her steady as my tongue worked against her, tasting, teasing, pulling her closer to the edge with every flick and stroke. Her body trembled, the tension building in her as her moans filled the room.
“Don’t get me messy,” she managed to say, her voice breaking on a gasp as her legs shook around me.
I smirked against her, my tongue circling her swollen clit before pulling her farther into my mouth. “Too late.”
She pressed firmly against my shoulders and pushed me back. My mouth was still wet with her taste as she managed to stand. With a single motion, she pulled her dress and underwear off before she tossed them to the side.
“Sit,” she commanded.
