Bringing Home the Bad Boy (Second Chance #1)(85)

She squeezed her eyes shut to dam the tears as Asher turned Lyon toward the house. “Come on, kid. Ice cream.” He sent her a small smile as they disappeared inside.

The moment they were gone, she lost it.

A great mom. A boy. A family.

Evan pulled her close and she collapsed into his chest and sobbed for a few brief seconds while he shushed her.

“Ace.” Hands rubbed her back and she lifted her face and wiped away the tears on her cheeks.

“Sorry, I’m—”

“You’re what?”

She laughed a watery laugh at the fact that she’d said the “S” word. “Nothing.”

With a grin, he let her off the hook. “Want some ice cream?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.” He kissed her lips, took her hand, and led her inside.


*


Finally.

Finally, finally, finally.

The word echoed in Evan’s head, though he was surprised any words could penetrate the canvas of lust covering his brain.

Things had been good between him and Charlie over the last few weeks. Really good. Until this moment, he hadn’t thought they could get better. Now, watching her take his cock deep into her mouth, he reconsidered.

Definitely better.

Lyon had started school last week and since then, Charlie joined them each morning for breakfast. Sometimes she was already there, having stayed the night with him; other times she slept at her house but came over.

He accepted this.

He accepted this because of the moment in his studio when he’d stated that if they threw down again, she would do the throwing.

Lately, and more since his son started school and was gone for the day, Charlie had done a lot more throwing.

As was the case now.

This morning, she’d walked through his back door, as per her usual. He had poured himself a cup of coffee after dropping Lyon off at school. Prepped for a run before painting—painting had to happen today—he was wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung shorts.

Ideally, nighttime was best for him to work, but deadlines loomed and he and Asher had received a surprise announcement from the publisher requesting a third book in the Mad Cow saga. That would keep him busy in the upcoming months, which he was not dreading. The nightmares had all but ceased, and when they did come, he’d go to the studio. But the darkness he used to paint on canvas didn’t come. Instead, farm animals in capes and surly cows poured from his brush.

Thanks to Charlie.

He was getting used to the new “normal” settling in around here. Asher was back in LA, Glo was back to selling anything and everything she could. Including some of Charlie’s photos she’d relinquished after Glo had forced Rolling Stone to pony up the dough for the shot of Evan.

And if this was the new “normal,” he thought, watching Charlie’s lips take him in again, hell. He was all for it.

She wore some sort of calf-length sheer wrap-thing over her hot pink bikini, blond hair spilling down her back, wide eyes looking up at him. And her tits—God help him. Cleavage for days.

Enough to make his brain check out. He couldn’t think.

Thankfully, his dick didn’t need his brain to function.

“Ace,” he said on a growl.

When she first sank to her knees, his eyes cut to the back door, and he hoped no one in town popped in for an impromptu visit. If so, he wasn’t stopping to shoo them away. It’d take an act of vengeful, abnormal weather—Sharknado, he decided with a small smile—to get Charlie to stop what she’d started.

If then.

Now, his eyes rolled back as one hand came to rest on the back of her head. He tightened his fingers in her hair each time she slid her lips up his shaft, and she let him press her back down, which he did gently. Carefully. She was exquisite: all cheeks, tongue, and lips. The sensations rippling over his body built fast, and built hard.

“Ace.” He opened his eyes to watch what she was doing, what she was enjoying doing, and promptly closed them again. Not that he didn’t want to see, because God, did he ever want to see… But if he kept watching her do what she was most definitely enjoying nearly as much as he was, he’d come, and he’d come hard.

“Baby,” he tried again, his voice slightly more firm.

“Mmm?” He watched her, his mouth dropped open, but she wasn’t stopping.

His grip tightened on her hair and the countertop, his eyes welded to hers. He took several short, fast breaths and tried to think of anything except the woman of his dreams going down on him in his kitchen.

Shit.

Impossible.

“Ace, I’m going to come.” He fisted her hair as he gave her a warning he hoped sounded sincere.

Her eyes snapped wide and she let him go with a soft pop. Then she smiled and licked her lips— Licked.

Her.

Lips.

Then she said, “That’s what I’m counting on.” And dived back in.

He didn’t have to be told twice.

A few more accurately, and lovingly, placed licks and sucks, and he let go. She drank him in, every last drop, drawing a long groan and breath from his chest.

His knees quit holding him up. When he opened his eyes, his entire body was buzzing and his ass was on the floor.

She was on the floor, too, so he pulled her on top of him, all that soft flesh bursting out of her bikini, and held her tight.