Two Bar Mitzvahs (No Weddings #3)(44)

Hannah blinked. “Right. Informal.”

I chuckled as I roped my arm around her shoulder again and turned us back toward the house. We passed one of the planted pots that overflowed with flowers. “The pots are new this year. She may keep them, not sure.”

Hannah paused in her step.

Trying not to laugh, I nudged her forward. “Go on. I know you want to.”

I sighed, enjoying these quiet stolen moments we had together, away from the hectic pace of business, protected from the nastiness of exes. The weekend had only begun, but all the tension and stress that had been plaguing us had already washed away.

Leaning down to the pot filled with colorful blooms, she bit her lip in that tempting way that drove me wild, but glanced up with a joy-filled innocence—completely at odds with my guttered mind. And then the woman I loved embraced the little girl inside her and gripped a red flower by its jaws, making it sing while she gave it a voice.

“La, la, laa, la, la, laaa…” Her cheeks pinked by the time she released the flower. She nudged back into my side but kept her gaze down at the pool decking, trying to hide her widening smile behind the curtain of her hair.

But I’d caught a glimpse of it and an ache spread through my chest as I kissed her temple and led us back into the house. A selfish part of me knew why I’d insisted on snapdragons: not only because she loved them, but because I loved seeing the side of her she hid from the world—the uninhibited child she kept under lock and key, except for a rare occasion when she trusted and set it free. For me.





19


Surrender


After securing Ava into her crate for the night in the adjoining bathroom, we settled down into my double bed in the childhood room that had grown up with me. A Mets pennant hung on the wall from when Dad had made time on my tenth birthday to take me to a ballgame. A couple of trophies sat on the tall dresser in the corner, both from rowing crew. The wall also held photos: some from vacations with family, others from wild spring break trips I’d taken with friends. The only photographs of girls anywhere were of my sisters.

Hannah pulled the covers over her head.

I laughed, ducking under with her. “Whatcha doin’ under here? Should I grab a flashlight? Are we playing fort?”

She made a frustrated noise. “I can’t believe I’m sleeping in the same bed with you in your parents’ house.”

I dropped my voice low. “I think they know we’re not sleeping.”

Her jaw dropped, and she smacked my chest.

“What? I’m sure they had sex when they were our age. Actually, they were younger than we are when Kristen was born.”

“And did the two of them stay the night in the same bed in your dad’s parents’ house?”

“Don’t know. Want me to go ask?” I ducked out of the fort and moved to get off the bed.

Her hand clamped down on my wrist, her whisper fierce. “Don’t you dare.”

Chuckling, I pulled down the covers, baring her pretty face. The T-shirt of mine she wore had slipped down one of her shoulders. I pulled the material up over her head, baring her breasts. Moonlight flooded in through the uncovered window, making her skin seem to glow. Her nipples hardened as I watched her.

“I’m not having sex with you in your childhood bed.”

I snorted. “But the shower was okay?”

“That’s different. You…”

“I…”

Her eyes narrowed. “You coerced me.”

My brows shot up. “Coerced? That’s a strong word.”

She turned her head and glanced toward the bathroom, relaxing her expression. “Convinced.”

I trailed my fingers along those tempting exposed breasts. When I brushed along the outer curve, her breath hitched and her eyes fluttered shut. I leaned over and teased my lips along the crook of her neck until she shivered. “More like seduced,” I whispered.

She swallowed hard.

With a light touch, I swirled my fingertips over the swell of her breast until my palm grazed her nipple.

On a gasp, she arched up into my touch, seeking more. “You’re doing it again,” she mumbled.

“Doing what?” I murmured against her skin, teasing her earlobe with my teeth.

She smiled. “Coercing me.”

“Oh, we’re gonna play that game, are we?” I pulled my hand away and dragged the backs of my nails along her ribs. “We’re arguing the subtleties of semantics. Your word sounds forceful. Perhaps you need a more thorough demonstration.”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“Easy, Maestro.” I drew out the words as she relaxed her shoulders down. “No need to worry. I’ll give you what you want. But by the time you get what you need, it’ll be after I’ve teased you, slow and thorough. When I have you trembling and shaking, your words incoherent, then maybe we’ll decide together that the word you’ve been looking for is ‘seduced.’”

In a flash of movement, she shoved hard on my shoulder, and I found myself on my back. Before I could process the surprise, she straddled me. “Maybe I don’t want to be seduced. What if I want to be the seducer?”

“I’m confused. You had an issue with our sleeping in the same bed only moments ago, but now you’re ready to ride me with wild abandon?”