The Guy on the Left (The Underdogs, #2)(108)

“Baby, I’ve done some shit in my days, but this…”

“Days I don’t need to know about.”

He pauses behind the door. “Good point. Let’s never have that talk.”

“Stop stalling and get your butt out here.”

“Is this about the new gardener? Is he putting the moves on you? Cause I’ll kick his ass.”

“He’s like…sixty years old.”

“You and I know age ain’t nothing but a number.” Just as he says it, the bathroom door bursts open, and my man stands at the threshold wearing nothing but a leaf blower, his fists on his hips, his head cocked to the side.

Laughter bursts from me as he points the hose in my direction. “I knew it. This is payback for something.”

“Not at all,” I manage to say as he stalks toward me. I lift my hand to stop him and circle my pointer in demand. He narrows his eyes but slowly turns, giving me full view of his perfect ass before turning back to give me the better view.

“I really would have preferred a cape.”

“No, this is much better, even better than my fantasies.”

“Yeah? You like this, weirdo?” He turns again as I nod repeatedly. “This is what turns my wife on?” I nod and nod as he models my present. Yes, I bought a leaf blower and had my husband open it in front of my children and best friend—the only other person who would understand my fantasy. Sue me.

“So, this really is more for you than me, huh?” He’s smiling, and it steals my breath. He would do anything for me, even wear a power tool buck naked on Christmas Eve.

“I love you so much,” I murmur before lifting on all fours, moving toward him on the prowl. He meets me on the edge of the bed and grips my face in his hands.

“I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand you, and I love it.”

“Weirdo means I’ll never be boring, right?”

“Never that,” he murmurs as I drink him in. He’s the picture of innocence as he gazes down at me curiously while completely vulnerable, just the way I like him. My mouth waters as he hardens due to my needy stare. For the last week, I’ve put him through the wringer, making him service me at my every whim. I’ve gotten little complaint, until tonight.

“You’re insatiable and getting scarier. I don’t even know what to think,” he says, as I grip his delicious length in my hand.

“Don’t think, baby, just let me do this.”

I wrap my lips around him and hear a low groan from above before I take him to the back of my throat. Enthusiastically, I bob, digging my nails into his ass, pulling him closer to swallow the whole of him.

“Fuck, if you’ll suck me like this, I’ll strap a fucking dishwasher on my back.”

I giggle around his cock, and it jumps in my mouth.

“Shiiiitttt,” he manages to get out through his clenched jaw as I suck him like he’s my last supper.

“Damn, baby,” he says, his eyes glittering down on me as I work him with my mouth. “I’m,” bob, “making,” suck, “a list,” lick, “right now of all the power tools I can g-g-get on my back. The list is long,” he grits out. “Take your time down there.”

“I want you so bad right now,” I murmur to him through my mouthful. He looks down at me with so much love, so much adoration, I feel complete. Blissfully, I suck him, acting out my fantasy from years ago. I love that I married the man I fantasize about. I love that he humors all my childish whims, but most of all, I love the way he looks at me the same way he did the crazy year we fell in love. Thinks of me the same, treats me the same, touches me the same. He never lied to me again after the night we met and has yet to break a single promise. And my love for him has only grown.

There’s nothing between us now but our messy love, trust, and respect, along with the three little reminders that we made the right decision with each other.

We could have so easily given up. At one point, we had every reason to. We did everything backward and went through the hard years to get to the honeymoon.

We grew up together. And that’s a feat, in and of itself.

We could be living completely different lives if we hadn’t woken up, and that would have been the real tragedy. And what a honeymoon it’s been.

“Clarissa,” he grunts, running his fingers through my hair, his gentle caress spurring me on, “baby, I need to touch you.”

“Just a few more minutes,” I murmur gazing up at him while pumping him in my hand.

“No way,” he says, his eyes pooling with desire while I alternate my licks between his shaft and crown. “I’m not going to last long if you keep that up.”

“I’m so…mmmm,” I mumble around him before letting him go with a pop. “I haven’t been this horny since I got pregnant with Zoe.”

All activity ceases, especially mine, as I try and recall my last period, and Troy’s eyes widen.

“No,” I whisper yell, “no way. I’m on the pill and the foam, and I’ve been putting in the diaphragm.”

“You’re pregnant,” he murmurs, running a hand along my jaw, his eyes welling with emotion before he shakes his head with a chuckle. “Birth control doesn’t exist for us.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Negotiations closed. Please, no.”