Appreciatively, he eyes my breasts. His hands cover them, and there’s no stopping the pebbling of my nipples against his palms.

“Sam and I talked today, and he got me thinking,” August says as an aside, continuing to squeeze my breast, which feels insanely good.

I blink repetitively, trying to surface from the sexual haze he so easily has put me in. “Oh yeah?” I manage to gasp.

August doesn’t answer me. Apparently that line of conversation wasn’t all that important. Instead, he kisses me again. I immediately become hypnotized by the man. I work at the buttons of his shirt, dragging it over his shoulders until it drops to the ground.

August grabs a handful of my hair, pulling my head back so his lips can drag down my neck. “Just a reminder… you need to be quiet. And if you can’t be, just remember I have no problem filling your mouth with something.”

I can’t help but snicker, thinking about the panties he’d stuffed in my mouth last night. The double entendre is clear.

It makes me feel playful, frisky, and powerful. That’s not something I feel often with him since he always seems to dominate me.

My hands go to the button of his jeans, popping it free. “I have a very good idea of what I can fill my mouth with.”

August groans. “Please don’t be joking.”

He kisses me again. I get sidetracked with the magic of his mouth, but then he’s ripping away from me.

August starts to push his jeans down his hips, then gestures pointedly at my lower torso. He wants me to get rid of my shorts so we’re both fully naked.

I can do that. I start to shimmy them down my legs, but I end up freezing when August says, “Oh yeah… back to Sam. He was pointing out you have a lot on your plate.”

I straighten up, my shorts now falling to my ankles on their own accord.

August isn’t looking at me but working his jeans off. “Well, he was pointing out how much you have to do. You are taking care of him, the house, meals, and you are homeschooling him while he’s sick. It got me thinking… maybe we should consider enrolling him in school after the first of the year, so it’ll take one thing off your plate. And, honestly, as long as you’re staying here and until you find a place of your own, I don’t want you doing the cleaning. I’m going to hire someone to do it.”

August’s jeans come off, hitting the floor. He straightens, gloriously naked. His smile is transparent. He’s proud of himself for coming up with these solutions to help me out.

Realizing I cannot let him see how disappointed I am, I work to control my expression. I don’t want him to know how much it hurts that I thought he might be asking me out on a date because it was important to our son, but instead he merely wants to hire a housekeeper to take some chores off my list of responsibilities.

I swallow the bitterness down, and it tastes awful. But I manage to smile and lace my voice with gratitude I don’t feel. “That’s awesome. Thank you.”

I step closer to August, my hands going to his hips. There is no doubt the only thing we will ever have between us is sex. It’s just going to have to be enough for me.

In this moment… right now… it is. I love what he does to me and what I can do to him.

I drop to my knees, wrapping my hand around the thick girth of him. Raising my eyes, I find him gazing at me with a harshly beautiful face.

His voice is thickened and gruff. “You have no idea how beautiful you are while on your knees before me.”

Leaning in, I tentatively lick the base of his cock.

August’s eyes close. His head falls back as he groans, and he admits, “It’s been driving me nuts to know you had your mouth on Declan and not on me.”

Well, I’m glad I can give August something he appreciates, so I take him deep into my mouth.



Nothing brings people together like food. Leighton outdid herself by creating a huge Mexican feast with lots of dishes for us to pass around. Tacos, fajitas, enchiladas, Spanish rice, and beans. Bowls of salsa, guacamole, fresh shredded cheddar, and sour cream. It’s a good mechanism by which to ensure there is at least some conversation because at the very least someone might need to say, “Will you pass the guacamole?”

Admittedly, it was a little awkward when my parents arrived. They had insisted on getting a rental car and driving from the airport. We waited for them on the porch. When the car pulled in, Sam was practically vibrating with nervous energy. The kid wasn’t sure whether he should rush his new grandparents and fling himself into their arms, or if he should politely wait for them to approach for a handshake. I’m sure he had some fear of rejection, which no amount of reassurance from me that my parents loved him already had eased.