Until You (The Redemption, #1)(46)

I wonder if it’s of me.

The thought comes easily. Naturally. And when I normally would overanalyze everything about that thought, somehow I don’t. Instead, I sink into the pillow, enjoy the feeling of having him beside me, the contentment of some damn good sex, and relive everything about last night.

Sitting in my house last night, wishing Crew could have stayed and then realizing no car had come up the driveway to drop the girls off. Then summoning up the moxie to come up here, and if I’m honest, ask for more.

I scrunch my nose at the thought.

I’ve never been that forward in my life. I’ve never wanted to be . . . and yet with Crew . . . it just feels like things are different. In the short time I’ve known him, he’s made it okay to be both strong and weak. To own both.

My eyes trace over the tattoo that goes from his bicep to his shoulder. The one that masterfully covers the scar of a bullet wound. One I would have never noticed unless my own tongue hadn’t slid over it. One my own mouth hadn’t kissed.

Because the shower was nice. Soapy, slippery hands. A cold shower wall against my back. A seat he hoisted one of my legs up on to open me up while he used his mouth to explore and pleasure and masterfully destroy my senses.

Then the conversation after when we were wrapped in towels, sitting cross-legged on the bed with glasses of wine in hand.



“So much for sticking to my guns,” Crew says as he eyes me above the rim of his glass. His hair is half dry with its wavy locks falling every which way, the corners of his mouth curling up.

“About?”

“You.”

“Me?” I say in mock surprise while secretly wanting to know more.

“Yes, you.” He huffs out a laugh. “I’m pretty sure I wanted this to happen from that first bite of horrible pea-ridden lasagna, but I swore I couldn’t let it happen. That I couldn’t complicate my life more than it already is.”

“Should I be offended that you’re calling me a complication?” I say and laugh.

“In all the best ways.”

Crew leans forward and kisses me with a casualness that seems so natural I don’t give it a second thought.

“Truth?”

“Truth.”

“I may have had the same thoughts as we ate Oreos on the front porch.” I purse my lips and nod. “And I also might have told myself it was ridiculous to want the hot landlord.”

“Well, good.” He gives a resolute nod. “At least we both know we suck at resisting each other.”

“They do say resistance is futile.”

“Tell whoever they are, that they’re right because I’m going to want a lot more of this,” he says and then smothers my laugh when he leans forward and presses his lips to mine. He tastes of wine and desire, and my insides melt from the sensation overload of the last few hours.

“No complaints about that on my end.”

“Good to know.” He kisses me again.

“Another truth?”

“Lay it on me.”

“I convinced myself I didn’t need this, that it didn’t matter . . . but after tonight, I’ve been proven wrong.”

“Care to define this and it for me?” He narrows his eyes, and his playful smile makes butterflies take flight.

I take the hand he holds out and twist my fingers with his. “Sex. Physicality. Companionship. Connection.”

“Everybody needs it.” He squeezes. “Why would you want to deny yourself that?”

I shrug and try to explain it the only way I can. “The past has a way of screwing with you.”

“Don’t I know it.” The wink he gives me makes me feel less stupid for admitting it. “Which, truth be told, is probably the same reason I was trying to stick to my guns and avoid you.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Me too.” Another kiss that ends with his hand on the side of my face and our foreheads resting against each other’s. “Since we’re putting it all out there, I do need to address the elephant in the room.”

I lean back so I can meet his eyes. “What’s that?”

“The girls.” His sigh is reticent. “I wouldn’t be a good father if I didn’t talk about . . .”

“About?”

“I know I might be jumping the gun in saying this because this has just happened and who knows what happens next, but they really like you, Tenny. Like they talk about you all the time, like you.”

“Okay.” I say the word but silently revel in hearing this. It’s always nice to be liked—but by tween girls? That’s a feat in and of itself.

Teaching people in their late teens and early twenties at the studio was one thing. I could relate easily to them. But being an only child and never really having a chance to babysit or interact with younger kids, I never knew how I’d be.

To say I wanted kids with Kaleo is an understatement. It was one of the only things we argued over. He wanted to wait. He tried to tell me that my dancing and teaching days would be over if I got pregnant and that we should hold off.

But that never lessened my desire to have them. Lucky for me, we didn’t.

Like they talk about you all the time, like you.

My smile grows even wider.

“They may seem well-adjusted, but they’ve been through a lot in the last eighteen months. Me in the hospital, their mom up and leaving them. I just don’t want them to get too attached to you, to think that we’re more than we are, and then get hurt again and think yet another person they love is leaving them.”