Until December (Until Her/Him #8)(39)

“Christ.” I lean her farther over the counter, and she moans loudly as I grind hard, going as deep as I can. I move my hand from her breast to cover her mouth and feel her teeth sink into my palm, seeing stars as I follow her over the edge.

Completely spent, I drop my forehead to her shoulder and try to catch my breath as she attempts to do the same. Once my legs don’t feel so weak, I slide out of her warmth, turn her to face me, and gather her against my chest. “You okay?” I use my fingers under her chin to force her gaze up to me and study her.

“Yeah.” She gives me a small, tired smile.

“How about a shower?”

“A shower sounds good,” she says, resting her body against mine while wrapping her arms around my waist. I hold her against me and walk to the shower, turning it on. Once the water is warm, I help her inside.

“Are you asleep?” I ask, looking down at the top of her head, and she tips her head back toward me.

“Maybe.” She smiles sleepily.

“Let me get you washed up and into bed,” I say quietly, kissing her before grabbing the bar of soap from the cutout in the wall. Being quick, I wash her and me then shut off the water and get out.

Still dripping wet, I grab a clean towel and hold it out for her, and she steps toward me. “Thanks,” she whispers as I wrap it around her.

“Let me get you a shirt.” I reach for a towel for myself and place it around my hips. Going to my closet, I grab her a shirt and find a pair of boxers then help her into both. When she’s dressed, I lead her to my bed, and she doesn’t make a peep as I tuck her in. “What time do you need to be up?”

“Normally, I get up at six, so probably five.” She yawns.

“I’ll set my alarm.” I touch my lips to hers, and when I pull away, her eyes are closed. Shaking my head, I go back to my closet and drop the towel around my hips then slip on a pair of boxers before going out to check on the boys once more. Seeing they are still asleep, I set the house alarm, turn out the lights, and then head back to my room. When I open the door, I find December has moved to the middle of the bed and is now wrapped around my pillow. Smiling, I set an alarm on my phone, shut off the side lamp, and get into bed with her.

“Gareth,” she calls as I tug my pillow from her hold and get into bed, dragging her closer.

“Sleep, baby,” I order.

“Okay,” she agrees, curling herself into a ball under my arm and falling back asleep. And with her in my arms, in my bed, under my roof, I sleep easy.

_______________

I stand on the opposite side of the island from the boys, watching the two of them scarf down the breakfast I made them like it’s a race to see who can finish first.

“Done!” Mitchell proclaims himself the winner while chewing the sausage patty he shoved into his mouth whole.

“Should I get you a trophy for your accomplishment?” I ask, and he grins at me as he slides off his stool with his plate to take it to the sink.

“Dad,” Max calls, and the tone of his voice has me focusing on him. “I...” He presses his lips together then looks past me toward his brother, and I look over my shoulder at my oldest.

“What is it?”

“Max was wondering when we’d have another movie night with December,” Mitchell says, and I turn back to Max.

“You want to hang with her again?” I question, setting my cup down. I didn’t ask him last night if he liked December. I didn’t want to make him feel like he had to say he did by questioning him.

“She’s nice,” he says, ripping his toast into tiny bits, not looking at me. “I guess it would be cool to hang out with her again.”

“I’m sure we can set something up. Maybe not a movie night, since you boys have school this week, but we can have dinner with her,” I tell him.

He looks up and gives me a half smile. “Right on.”

Feeling relief, I dip my chin toward his plate. “If you’re finished, dump your plate in the dishwasher and get packed up. I’ll meet you and your brother in the driveway.”

He gets up, taking his plate with him, and after he rinses it and drops it in the dishwasher, he leaves the kitchen, heading around the island and down the hall toward his bedroom.

“He liked her a lot,” Mitchell says as I’m taking a sip of coffee, and I turn toward him, resting my hip on the counter, and lift my chin for him to continue. “He didn’t think he would, but he does, and now he’s worried about what will happen if you and her keep seeing each other and Mom shows up.”

Shit. Their mom can be a handful on a good day, so I know his concern is valid. I also know I’ve been done with taking her shit for years, so if she shows and tries to stir up trouble, I won’t let it happen. “That’s not something you or your brother need to worry about.”

“I know, but Max still thinks Mom is cool,” he says softly. “He doesn’t get that she’s nuts and that she’s only around when it’s good for her.”

I study my boy, wondering when he started to see things as they are. There was a time he saw his mom the same way Max sees her now, and a part of me wishes he still viewed her in that same light, that he didn’t know how selfish his mother is.

“He doesn’t get it,” he adds.

“Get what?”