Page 87 of Only and Forever
He stares down at me, another harsh swallow. “There’s no rush. Just relax.”
I frown, searching for hidden meaning in those words. Does he notwantme to touch him the way he’s touched me?
Worry itches at my thoughts. He wants this kind of intimacywith someone he loves. He’s told me that. But he also said he wanted to be... flexible, to move beyond how he used to think about things. He told me that, too. Does this apply?
I take a deep breath, fortifying myself, finding my courage to ask him, when the doorbell rings.
Viggo’s eyes widen to saucers. Mine do, too.
“Shit,” he hisses, snapping upright on the sofa, untangling himself from me. I feel absurdly bereft. Self-conscious, I tug down my dress, straightening my underwear as he scrambles over me for his phone on the coffee table. I watch him swipe it open, tap his calendar, scroll down.
“Fuck.”
I sit up slowly. “What is it?”
“My niece and nephew.” He leaps off the sofa, takes one look down at his massive erection, and tries—unsuccessfully—to tuck it away. “I invited them over to come meet the animals. “Freya and Aiden, they have some fancy dinner to go to, and I said not to bother with a sitter, I’d have them here to hang out and meet the pets. Shit.”
“Okay.” I smooth back my hair. “Well, I can make myself scarce if—”
“What?” Spinning around, he stares at me. And then all traces of his anxiety vanish. He grips me by the hands, tugging me up. I tumble into his arms and he clutches me to him, pressing a hard, sweet kiss to my temple, breathing me in. “I want you here. I don’t want you to go. I just... have tiny people about to come into my house, when I have a raging boner and all I want to do is lay you down and make you come again.”
Relief whooshes through me. “There’s time for that,” I whisper. “Later.”
He sighs against my hair, then pulls back, cupping my face. “Yeah. You’re right.”
I peer down at his shorts and the very significant problem he’s still dealing with. “Tell your dick to get the memo.”
He groans. “I can’t. You’re here, all flushed and sexy. I have you all over my hand.”
“Viggo Bergman!”
A grin lifts his mouth. “Wow,Ifinally scandalizedyou.”
“Wash your hands,” I tell him, stepping back, smoothing my hair. “I’ll handle the tiny humans for now.”
I start past him, but Viggo stops me, his hand clutching mine, pulling me close. A swift, hard kiss. He smiles down at me. “Thank you.”
I smile up at him. “My pleasure. In more than one sense of the word.”
Groaning, he rushes past me, jogging toward the bathroom. Only after the door clicks shut do I realize I’m laughing. Loud, happy, satisfied.
Like I’ve hoped, wanted, waited to.
Smiling to myself, I walk toward the door. “Coming!”
TWENTY-FIVE
Viggo
Playlist: “Mess Is Mine,” Vance Joy
I figured Tallulah would be good with my niece and nephew. She’s voluntarily spent time with little kids at the church she used to attend. She’s handled my unruly U-10 soccer team twice now, like a pro. She was, according to Charlie, more of a mother to her little sister than their own mother was.
But watching it unfold is entirely different from abstractly knowing it. It’s a thousand times better.
I sit on the sofa, stretched out, Theo sprawled in my lap as he crunches sleepily on handfuls of dry Cheerios, mesmerized by the entertainment that is Tallulah and Linnea making up a handshake, an effort that has Linnea bursting into fits of giggles.
“No, Lula Blue!” Linnie yells.