Just My Type(72)

“It wasn’t his fault!” I shout, throwing the door open and walking out into the hallway, two matching sets of green, Hastings eyes turning toward me.

I start to get a little nervous that Lincoln’s eyes are so big and round as he stares at me in shock.

I’m helping you clear your name, man. At least smile at me.

But when I see the same wide-eyed, surprised look on Ember’s face, I calm down a bit, because I’m pretty sure she didn’t forget I was still here. My dick was in her mouth less than five minutes ago, so the shock must be from something else.

I changed my name in her phone to Big Dick Dangler. She damn well better not forget my dick was in her mouth less than five minutes ago.

“Nice shirt.” Lincoln snickers.

“Very pretty,” Ember agrees, her own lips twitching.

I look down at myself when both of them bust out laughing, holding their stomachs, throwing their head backs, and howling with it.

“You stole my shirt,” I mutter under my breath to Ember, tears running down her cheeks as she continues to laugh.

I grabbed something that felt like cotton. I was in a hurry, dammit. Like I honestly meant to grab a tight, white, V-neck shirt with giant, red, sparkly lips on the front. And since it’s Ember’s shirt I ripped off the hanger, this thing barely reaches my belly button.

I’m wearing a fucking crop top with sparkles on it.

“All right, no more making fun of Baker for his fashion choices,” Ember finally tells Lincoln, a few stray chuckles still coming out of her mouth. “If he wants to feel pretty and sparkly, we will support him in feeling pretty and sparkly. Now, let’s get back to the pee on the toilet seat thing.”

Lincoln opens his mouth to argue his innocence again, and I quickly hold up my hand in his direction before he says anything else. Stepping closer to Ember, I dip my head down by her ear.

“Sooooooo, that pee is probably from me,” I whisper.

Ember pulls her head back to look at me.

“Seriously? You’re a thirty-four-year-old man. This is almost worse than you possibly being a serial killer,” she whispers back.

“Listen, I got up in the middle of the night, it was dark, and I was still kind of asleep. Your—” I glance over at Lincoln to see he’s picking at a hangnail and not paying attention to us. “—ass was rubbing up against me in your sleep. I woke up semi-hard and had to pee. It’s called a piss boner, it makes you pee in two streams instead of one, it looks like a goddamn spitting cobra, and you can look it up.”

Satisfied with my scientific answer, I shove my hands in my pockets and smile at her.

“What’s a piss boner?” Lincoln asks. “I want one. Can I have one?”

My smile instantly falls, and before I can come up with some kind of outlandish definition for piss boner—“It’s a new bone they found in the human body made only from pee! Don’t ask your teacher. It’s a top secret pee bone.”—I get the extreme satisfaction of watching Ember become Super Mom. She immediately changes the subject and tells Lincoln he can have whatever he wants for breakfast since they’re out of milk. He runs down the hall, most likely planning on opening up the can of sugar and doing lines on the kitchen table.

If Ember’s okay with it, I’m okay with it. That was fucking awkward.

My hands are still in the front pockets of my jeans, and Ember comes up to me, sliding her arms through the crooks of my elbows and around my waist, looking up at me.

“Good morning,” she says softly, lifting up a little to kiss my chin.

Good thing these jeans hide my morning wood. Which is starting to turn into full-blown, “need to be inside of Ember immediately” wood.

“Morning,” I reply back softly, pulling my hands out of my pockets to press them against her cheeks.

She lifts up, I dip my head, and we meet in the middle so I can kiss her.

Since that night in the laundry room, we’ve had sex all over this fucking house. One night with Ember bent over the bathroom sink while I pounded into her from behind. One night in the front seat of my Jeep parked at the curb, where she bounced up and down on my cock, and I accidentally smacked the horn instead of her ass when I came. And one especially memorable afternoon in the shower, where I used my mouth and the detachable showerhead between her thighs, and she shoved a loofa in her mouth when she screamed my name. Twice.

We’ve snuck away while Lincoln was distracted with a movie, and we’ve waited until he’s gone to sleep. I was completely honest with Ember when I told her it didn’t matter to me where or when. I understood she was a mother and that Lincoln came first, but I also quickly understood that she was a determined, creative, hot as hell woman when she wanted something. I just happened to be the lucky bastard she wanted.

We’ve also cuddled on the couch and watched a movie, shopped for groceries, took Lincoln to see a movie, built a blanket and pillow fort that took up the living room and the kitchen, convinced Ron Jeremy it was okay to take a nap on Ember’s chest, cooked dinner together, and fought about the GPS in my Jeep giving out the wrong directions.

I knew where I was going, goddammit. That fucking computer was wrong.

Every day things, mundane things. But they weren’t mundane. They were the best two weeks of my life, because I spent them with a woman who makes me laugh, and a kid who gets my jokes and doesn’t hate me because I’m dating his mom.