The Last Letter(52)

“Maisie will have time to make her choice.” I had no right, but the thought wouldn’t leave, so I voiced it. “Do the kids ask about him? Jeff?”

“Sometimes. They’re curious, of course, and Father’s Day is always a touchy subject, but I’ve been really lucky to have Larry, and the kids have been pretty secluded from other kids out here. This was their first real year at school.”

“What do you tell them?”

“That of course they have a father, because babies have to have a father and a mother. But they don’t have a dad. Because while all men can be fathers, not all of them are qualified to be daddies, and theirs just wasn’t.”

Because your loser dad didn’t want you. He wanted the next fix more than a screaming piece of shit like you. My mother’s words banged around in my head like a ball set loose in a pinball machine.

“You are a terrific mother. I hope to God you’ve heard that often, because you really are.” My thumbs grazed her wrist, just over her pulse.

“I didn’t do anything anyone else wouldn’t have done,” she refuted with a shrug.

“No. Don’t shrug it off. Because I am the product of someone who didn’t do what you did—what you do every single day. Don’t ever doubt that. Also, if I ever meet Jeff, I’m going to knock him out.”

She gifted me with a small smile. “Don’t do that. He’s a lawyer in Denver now. He’d probably sue you for breaking his precious nose. You ever want to hurt Jeff, you have to hit something he cares about—his pocketbook. And honestly, we’re better for him leaving. Life with him would have been miserable, and I wouldn’t want the kids learning from that kind of father, especially Colt.”

“I get that.”

Her gaze flickered to my mouth and away.

She’s not thinking about kissing you, I lied to myself. Because if I admitted the truth, I’d have her under me in three seconds flat. My hands would be in her hair, my tongue in her mouth, her gasps in my ear.

Silence stretched between us, screaming with the countless possibilities of what could happen next.

Slowly, I let go of her wrists and moved back to my side of the couch. “I should probably get going. It’s late.”

“It’s nine.”

“Help me out here, Ella.” And now my voice sounded like sandpaper. Awesome.

“Help you out of what?” she asked, shifting her position so her legs were under her.

“You know what. Don’t make me say it.” The minute I said it, we were both screwed, and not in the physical sense. Well, okay, that, too.

“Maybe…maybe I want you to say it,” she finished in a strangled whisper.

“I can’t.” Not yet. Not while I’m a walking, talking lie. If she looked at my lap, I definitely wouldn’t need words. I’d gone rock hard the minute she’d looked at my mouth.

“Oh. I get it.” She sat back on her butt, and alarm bells sounded in my head.

“Get what?”

“Like I’m going to say it?” She laughed in self-deprecation.

“Ella.” It was a plea to speak, to not speak. Hell, I didn’t know anymore.

“You don’t see me like that. I totally get it.” She reached for the TV remote.

“How exactly do I see you? Please, enlighten me.” I leaned forward, stealing the remote. She’d opened this box and had better well dish it.

She huffed in annoyance. “You see me as a mom. As Colt and Maisie’s mom. And of course you do, because that’s what I am. A mom with two kids.”

“Well, yeah,” I said. Her motherhood—that selfless devotion she had to her kids—was one of her most attractive attributes.

She rolled her eyes with a little sigh, and the metaphorical light bulb went off in my head.

“You don’t think I want you.”

She shot me a look that confirmed my guess and blushed the same crimson of her couch. “You know, you’re right. It’s late.” She faked a yawn. “Suuuuuuper late.”

“I want you.” Damn, it felt so good to say the words.

“Yeah, okay.” She gave me a goofy look and a thumbs-up. “Please don’t make me feel any more idiotic than I do right now.”

Yeah, enough of this bullshit.

I pounced in one smooth motion, taking her back to the couch, sliding over her as I gathered her wrists in one hand above her head and settled between her open thighs.

Home.

“Holy shit, you move fast.” There was no fear or rejection in her eyes, just surprise.

“Not in every arena,” I promised.

Her lips parted.

“Ella. I want you.”

“Beckett…you don’t have to.”

Yeah, that soft little sigh she did was going to be my undoing.

I let go of her wrists, letting my fingers trail down her arm until I had one hand weaving my fingers into the hair at the base of her scalp and the other at the curve in her waist.

“Feel this?” Then I slid forward, letting my dick stroke along the seam in her pajama pants hard enough for her to gasp at the contact. I couldn’t remember ever wanting to shred a piece of fabric so much in my life. “I’ve never wanted a woman as much as I want you.”

I moved again, and her eyes slid shut as she let loose the sweetest moan.