Getting Real (Getting Some #3)(59)
“Yeah, she’s cool,” Aaron agrees.
“Okay.” I nod. “Great.”
A sweet, warm contentment spreads through my chest that I haven’t felt in a long time. It’s that calm, satiated happiness that comes when life is just going good. Good for the boys, and for me and Violet . . . good for all of us. Together.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Connor
After our day at Great Adventure and my talk with the boys, Violet starts staying over a couple nights a week. I clear out two dresser drawers; her shampoo and strawberry-scented body wash take up residence in the shower and her lavender toothbrush sits in the holder beside mine.
The boys handle the transition of having a woman around the house well—the only discernible change is that they’re now putting on shorts in the morning instead of walking around in their underwear. Violet gets along great with them—and it’s all just so . . . easy. Awesome and amazing.
The week before they’re set to go back to school, on a Wednesday, Vi and I both have the day off and Garrett gives the football team a rest day, so he and Callie come over with the kids to swim in the pool and barbecue. Violet’s in my bedroom changing into her suit, and when I walk in, she’s standing in front of the floor-length mirror turning left to right, her decadent lips curved down in a pouty frown.
“What’s wrong?”
She tugs her bathing suit down in the back, trying to cover the sweet sliver of ass cheek peeking out.
“I’m not sure about this bathing suit.”
The suit is hot—a high-cut black bikini scattered with dainty white daisies that I plan to slowly peel off her later with my teeth.
“What do you mean? You look gorgeous.”
Her skin is golden and warm as I splay my hands across her hips, pulling her back against me and rubbing against the semi I’m sporting, in case she had any doubt of just how gorgeous she looks.
Vi tilts her head toward the mirror, still concerned.
“That’s what I’m worried about. Do you think it’s inappropriate to wear around the boys?”
I will never not fucking love that. How she’s always thinking of them, always putting their well-being before anything else. It just comes natural to her, and that makes me an even luckier bastard than I already know I am.
“It’s not inappropriate, Vi—though I wouldn’t mind seeing you in something that was.”
My mind floods with tantalizing images of her languidly lying on a lounge chair wearing a brightly colored, barely-there, thong string-bikini. Or even better—at a topless beach.
“The boys know what a woman in a bathing suit looks like.”
She fidgets with the triangular top, tucking her breasts in—and my palm tingles to be where her hand is, cupping and kneading that soft, pillowy flesh.
My dick goes from semi to full-fledged hard-on in no time flat. Because it’s like my desire for Violet compounds daily, feeds off itself—every moment we’re together only makes me want her more.
I crave her deeper today than I did last week, harder than yesterday, crazier than even this morning. It’s a constant, insatiable need that dwells equally in my head, my cock, and my heart.
“I don’t know,” she sighs. “Maybe I should buy a few one-pieces.”
I shrug. “If it makes you feel more comfortable, go for it. But don’t do it for the boys’ sakes. Trust me, you’re my girlfriend—that means you no longer qualify as an actual woman to them. You’re in the same category now as their aunts . . . and Angela and Callie wear bikinis too.”
I wrap my arms around her waist, kiss her cheek and nibble at her jaw.
“Besides—if your goal is to ugly yourself down, don’t delude yourself. You could walk around in a garbage bag and you’d still be smokin’.”
Her shoulders lose their tension and she aims her smile at our reflection. She turns in my arms and brings her lips close to mine as her hands coast down into the waistband of my swim trunks, squeezing my ass.
“You’re pretty sexy yourself, Dr. Daniels. In case I didn’t mention that yet today.”
Then Violet kisses me—with tongue. And I love my life right now.
*
Having your entire family living within a ten-mile radius is kind of like eating Pringles potato chips—you can never have just one. So, while only Garrett and Callie and their kids come over in the morning, the entire family tree is here by the afternoon.
Ryan worked the night shift, so after a power nap, he, Angela, and my two teenage nieces, Frankie and Joey, show up. Tim’s already at my parents’ house doing laundry, so the three of them arrive shortly after.
Food isn’t an issue—with three healthy, perpetually starving boys in the house, I keep the freezer stocked with chicken, burgers, and hot dogs. Callie and Garrett baked cupcakes and cookies, Angela brought enough pasta salad and sliced watermelon to feed a small army, and since my mom likes to store up food like a doomsday prepper, she whipped up a ton of potato salad, macaroni salad, and canned peach crumble.
By 2 p.m. the sky is cerulean and cloudless, the sun is scorching. The Rolling Stones are blasting from the speakers scattered around the yard and everyone except my parents and baby Charlotte, who naps on a towel beside them under the shaded protection of the sun umbrella, is in the pool. Engaged in a heated game of water volleyball.