Page 27 of Daniil
“Oh.Sure.”She closes the door and locks it once I’m in the house.Then she leads me to the kitchen, where something smells amazing.
“I don’t know if anyone bought you flowers after you gave birth,” I say gently.“And my father taught me that a woman should always get flowers after major events.”
She looks surprised but then dips her head graciously.“Thank you.And no, no one brought me flowers.”
“Not even Landon?”
“He spent five grand equipping me with everything the baby would need, so flowers weren’t necessary.”
“Well, I also brought chocolate.”I thrust the box of gourmet chocolates I picked up in her direction.“As well as dessert.”
“I made dessert,” she murmurs, “but this looks good.”
I don’t even know what I bought.All I saw was something that looked beautiful on the outside—chocolate and caramel and hand-made edible flowers—that the bakery assured me would be delectable.
“Thank you.This stuff wasn’t necessary.But it’s…sweet.”
“Where’s Micah?”
“In his swing, watching Sesame Street.”
I glance toward the family room and there he is, in a swing contraption, chewing on his fist and completely mesmerized by the characters on the screen.
“Are you hungry?Everything is ready.”
“I’m starved,” I admit.“I haven’t had much appetite the last two days.”
“I’m sorry.”She glances up, green eyes shrouded.Always on guard when she’s with me.Well, not always.Not when she was naked on my lap, riding me like a fucking porn star turned up to eleven.She never held back when we were together like that.
Too bad we’re not there now, in my suite at the palace.Sprawled across my lap, eyes cloudy with lust instead of trepidation.Body on high alert as I thrust into her, hard and fast and?—
“I’m sorry, what?”I ask when I realize she asked me a question.
“I have a light Chablis, if you’d like wine.”
“Oh.Are you having any?”
She shakes her head.“I don’t drink much anymore.”
“Then I’ll pass as well.I have to drive anyway.”That’s something I almost never say.
We settle at a small kitchen table set for two, with Micah in his highchair between us.She has a bowl of something that looks like gruel in front of him, and I squint at it.
“What is that?”
“Baby cereal.It’s oatmeal mixed with formula.”
“He’s not ready for solid food yet.”
“No but he’s getting there.He’s growing fast.”
“How big was he when he was born?”
“Seven ten.Twenty inches long.”
“He’s…beautiful.”
“He is.”
