Page 103 of Every Thought Taken

Weeks have come and gone without bumping into Anderson’s parents. The stress of seeing them, of sharing secrets with Lessa, has vanished.

And over the past month, Anderson and I have settled into a new way of life. A new love.

Unofficially, Anderson has moved into my apartment. One day bled into the next, and less than two weeks after the party, he crawled into my bed each night, held me in his arms, and never left. Lazy Sundays and movie nights on the couch. Grocery shopping and cooking meals together. His jacket on a hook near the door and shoes in the basket beneath it. His toothbrush in the holder on the bathroom vanity and shampoo on the ledge in the shower. His laundry in the basket with mine. And his van parked next to my car out back.

All of it is so normal. Natural. Us.

The only part we haven’t eased into yet… Sex. There is no shortage of desire. No lack of passion. I feel his want in every soul-consuming kiss. Feel his need every time he gropes my breasts or fists my hips. Hear how much he craves me with each growl as he grinds his underwear-covered cock over my pajama-clad center.

I won’t push Anderson to take a step he isn’t ready for. Doesn’t mean I won’t show him what he is missing.

Anderson left late this morning to help Lessa at the coffee shop. Since the whole fiasco with Myrtle Payne and all the havoc she caused, Anderson spends more time with Lessa during the week. Mostly cleaning and restocking in the back, then the front when the door locks for the day.

He works to pass the time and catch up with his sister. When she insisted on adding him to the payroll, he refused to accept payment. She is his family and he wants to help. He earned a hefty wage on the road and doesn’t need the income. He would prefer the money go back into her business than his pocket. Still, she wants to pay him.

So he accepts the money. Then he turns around and secretly adds twenties to the tip jar once or twice a shift. I sit back, laugh, and let them duke it out.

Earlier, I messaged Lessa and asked if she would keep Anderson at the coffee shop until at least four. I have plans for tonight and need to set up first. She sent a thumbs-up and wished me luck.

Tote bag slung over my shoulder, I unlock the apartment door and zip inside. After toeing off my shoes and giving Smoky a quick head scratch, I dash to the kitchen and unload the bag—takeout from Black Silk and sweets from Harvey’s Handmade Candies.

Smoky weaves between my legs, mewling as she turns around and makes a figure eight.

“I’ll get you a treat soon. Just let Mama finish up.”

Portioning the main entrée onto two plates, I set them on a sheet pan, turn the oven tokeep warm, and set them inside. The sweets from Harvey’s and the side salad for our dinner go in the fridge.

“Alright, lil’ Smoky.” I open the cabinet where I store her food and crack open the treat jar, grabbing a couple. “Always my good girl.” I set them on the floor and give her a full-body scratch.

She gobbles them down, looks to me for more, then headbutts my leg. I chuckle at her antics.

“Mama has to change clothes.” I give her one last scratch then shuffle toward the bedroom.

I strip down, tossing the denim and long-sleeve cropped sweater in the dirty pile, and grab what I know will drive Anderson crazy. Oddly enough, my comfy clothes are his favorite. I step into forest-green leggings and an off-the-shoulder cream top that hits the top of my thighs.

As I head for the hall, the front door opens and Smoky meows.

He’s home.

I take a deep breath and slowly make my way out to the open living space. Squatted with his head down, his fingers in Smoky’s fur, he doesn’t see me right away. And for a beat, I soak in the sight of him. In my space, in my home, in my life.

Getting this second chance with him… damn, I am a lucky woman.

“What smells good?” he asks just before his blues meet my greens. He hisses, straightens to his full height, and pads across the room until his breath hits my lips. “You give me strength, but damn, you make me weak.” Then his lips crash down on mine in a dizzying kiss. And before my mind catches up with my body, his hands are on my hips. Kneading. Massaging. Pulling me impossibly closer.

I love Anderson’s soft side. Love his sweet kisses and tender touches. But there is a new side to him I love more. The severely passionate side. TheI need my mouth and hands on you nowside. A side he didn’t have when we were younger. A side that has me eager and hungry and desperate for all of him.

He breaks the kiss and drops his forehead to mine as we catch our breaths. His hands continue to knead my hips as he drops one peck, then another on my lips. “Is there a special occasion I forgot?”

“Uh, no.”

Straightening his spine, his hands release my hips and come to my face, cupping my cheeks. He drops another chaste kiss to my lips. “Well, something smells divine.” His lips move to the exposed skin of my shoulder. “And this shirt… you know how much I like it, don’t you?” Bolder, darker blue irises slam into my greens as his fingertips dance over my collarbone.

I shrug and try to appear unaffected. Shift my gaze to anywhere but at him as I push out my lips. “Maybe.”

“Grr.” He takes a step back, toes off his shoes, and tosses them in the basket. “Come on, Smoky. Dad needs to change.” He pads down the hall, Smoky on his heels.

Dad?

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