Page 19 of Just This Once (Stone Family #2)

He hands me his bandanna to use as a tissue then cups the back of my head, his fingertips making soft circles against my scalp, tangling in strands of my hair, lulling me into a state of quiet.

In myself and in the world around us. I don’t hear the rustle of leaves or the squirrel skittering off somewhere in the distance.

There is only him and me and this sense of rightness.

“What happened?” he asks, drawing my attention to his eyes, solemn and captivating in how dark they are, almost black.

Makes every quirk of his mouth all the more playful, although he’s not smiling now.

I place my hands on his sides, curling my fingers into the cotton of his hoodie, partly for heat but mostly for solace. He’s not going anywhere.

“Jake had his best friend over, and I went upstairs to ask if he was staying for dinner, but I interrupted them.”

At first, he frowns then tips his chin up as it dawns on him. “Inter—ohh.”

“I didn’t know what to say, but I feel bad because I probably embarrassed both of them.

Holden couldn’t run out of the house fast enough, and I don’t know if he’s okay.

Jake was… He seemed shocked and mad and mortified.

I mean, if my mom ever walked in on me with someone when I was in high school, I would have been scarred for life. ”

Dante agrees. “My mom did walk in on me once. With Annalise Schaffer. I had my hand up her shirt.”

“What happened?”

He chuckles with a shrug. “My mom told Annalise to go home and then smacked me upside the head.”

“That’s it?”

“Basically. And not to make her a grandmother that young. ”

I had Griffin and Ian talk to Jake after Craig and I agreed he would give our son “the talk.” I came to find out he’d tossed Jake a box of condoms and said, “Use them,” and that was it.

I’ve also had conversations with Jake, reminding him to treat girls how he would want his own sister to be treated and harped on consent and consequences, though I’ve never thought about it in terms of same-sex relationships.

“I told Jake we’d talk later,” I explain to Dante, “but I’m not sure what to say to him. Like, first of all, do I need to put rules in place now about Holden in his room? Or other boys? Do we need to have more talks about sex and health? I don’t know.”

Now that I’ve started talking, I can’t stop, spitting out every thought that’s been swirling in my mind for the last few minutes.

“As much as I know no one in my family will treat him differently, I can’t say the rest of the world won’t.

I think of Marianne and her journey of coming out, but Jake’s will be different.

He’s an athletic white kid, and does it make me a terrible person for being glad about that?

” I shake my head, eyes on the ground. “It does, doesn’t it?

That he can move through the world easier because of what he looks like than other queer people.

I’m such an asshole. The worst kind of person. ”

“No.” Dante stops me from backing away from him with my shame.

“You’re not an asshole. You’re a person who knows we have certain privileges, and, yeah, guys who look like me and Jake sometimes do have an easier time with everything.

I’m sure every mom wants their kid to avoid pain at all costs, and I think all me and you and Jake can do is try to make the road easier for other people. ”

I nod, sniffling, letting out the last of it. “I just want him to be safe and happy, and I’m afraid he might be hurt for being who he is.”

Dante kisses my forehead. “I’m not sure anything I say can take that worry away, but I’m really happy Jake has you as his mother. He’s a lucky kid.”

I blow out a breath, tucking my hair behind my ears, hoping I don’t look too raccoonish.

Dante’s hands follow, his fingers tracing the same trail with my hair and under my eyes.

I like it better when he does it anyway.

He’s more careful about it. More appreciative.

Touching me as if he can’t believe I’m allowing him to.

“You know,” he starts with a shrug, “this might all be nothing. Could be a couple of kisses to experiment. He might not know what it is either.”

I tip my head, studying this beautiful yet work-roughened man. He’s coarse but refined, like he’s been carved from a pine tree by the hand of God. And that’s how I know God’s a woman. Because She would make sure her creations understood social justice.

“Why does that sound like it’s coming from experience?” I ask, and he offers me a sheepish smile.

“I may have done a little…experimenting in the past.”

“Yeah?”

He leans against his worktable, tugging me next to him. “It’s not a big deal. I can’t speak for all guys, but I feel like we’re all a little curious. You know? Like if I could suck my own cock, would I? And if I did, what does that say about me?”

I can’t help it. I laugh. He does too.

“And, I don’t know… I really do think sexuality is a spectrum, and we’re all fluid in some respect.”

“I’ve never been with a woman or have even wanted to try.”

He hums curiously, his eyes roaming over my face as if in search of an answer, but I don’t know what the question is. “Never wondered what pussy tastes like?”

My skin heats, my cheeks on fire, and the way he licks his lips lets me know he knows.

“I feel bad for all the people who’ve never tasted yours. Sweet like honey. Hot like fresh coffee.”

Before I can stop myself, I admit, “That’s the entire world, except for two.”

He inhales sharply and turns to fully face me. “You’re telling me I’m one of two people who have ever had the pleasure of eating you out?”

When I nod, he goes positively wolfish, baring his teeth like he might bite my neck. I might let him.

“Fuck me, Taryn. I shouldn’t like that so much, but I do. I really fucking do.”

I ignore how blood pools between my legs, my core tingling with desire. “You were saying you did some experimenting…?”

He moves to stand in front of me, caging me in with his hands on the table on either side of me.

I briefly worry about the kids seeing us, but we’re mostly hidden by whatever he’s building.

Besides, I can’t concentrate on much of anything other than what it feels like to be the center of his attention.

I think I’m starting to crave it.

The moment when his pupils expand.

The way he watches me so closely.

His gaze is a phantom touch everywhere it glides over me.

I’d always worried about addiction running in the family. Who knew it would be the way this man makes me feel—wanton and lustful—that is my new habit?

“I used to hang out with this guy who was in my one community college class,” Dante tells me, forcing my attention to his voice and away from the painful way my nipples have pebbled beneath my shirt, how my blood has pooled between my legs.

“It was this required writing course, and I was failing, of course. So, he said he’d help me out, and…

” Dante lifts a careless shoulder, even though his gaze is set on my mouth.

“One ni ght, one thing led to another, and he gave me a blow job. I liked it, so I returned the favor, but I’ve never really thought too hard about what that makes me.

I’ve never felt the need to label myself. ”

He shifts, his hands slipping under my coat to my waist, hips pressing against mine. “An orgasm is an orgasm, right? Does it matter how you get it or who gives it to you?”

I swallow thickly. I’ve never thought about it like that.

Although I have no time to answer, because he goes on, his lips grazing my ear.

“Unless it’s the best orgasm you’ve ever had.

Then it matters, huh? When you’ve had a taste of heaven, you want it again.

” His thumb finds my bare skin under my shirt.

“I want to taste heaven again, duchess. Let me taste it.”

I almost— almost —let him. But as much as I want to say yes, I have to say no. I need to provide dinner for my children and then have a discussion with Jake.

I have my whole life to consider.

He doesn’t have the same constraints, and it’s easy for him to play it off as only sex.

I can’t do that.

Before I even speak, Dante knows my answer. He backs away, his fingers trailing my hips until they completely fall away. “If you need anything, I’m here for you.” With a glance to the house, he adds, “And the kids.”

“I appreciate you,” I say, avoiding touching him as I pass by, heading for the back door, when I remember his bandanna that I have stuffed in my coat pocket. I lift it, ready to throw it to him, but he holds up his hand.

“Keep it. I’ve got, like, seventeen of them.”

“Of course you do,” I say more to myself than him, chewing on the inside of my cheek to refrain from smiling.

Inside, I order a few cheeseburgers and fries from Benny’s then head upstairs to Jake’s room, where I knock on the door. His voice is weary. “Yeah?”

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

He’s splayed out on his bed, a soccer ball in his hands. He keeps his eyes on the ceiling when I sit on the end of the mattress. “I ordered dinner.”

He doesn’t answer.

“Got you the double bacon cheeseburger, fries, and milkshake.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

“Do you want to talk now?”

He shrugs.

“I hope you know you can tell me anything. I hope I’ve never made you feel like I would get mad or shun you or anything like that.”

This gets his attention, and he sits up, shaking his head. “No.”

I pat his knee and take a deep breath. “I was worried that you felt like you couldn’t talk to me about this.”

He pitches his gaze toward the wall. “I don’t really know what to say. It’s…confusing.”

“Okay. That’s…probably hard for you, but it’s okay to be confused or not have the answers right away. Or, ever, really.”

He runs the side of his fist over his mouth and then plows his hand through his hair.

It takes him a while to look at me again, and when he does, I see the baby who made me a mom.

The tiny screaming thing who lay on my chest in a blue cap.

The toddler who refused to be potty-trained until I told him he couldn’t go into the swimming pool unless he stopped wearing diapers.

I see him on his first day of school with his Iron Man backpack.

I see the middle schooler who twisted his ankle in a game and refused to cry until he was home with me.

I see the man who he’ll hopefully become, one who works hard and leaves the world a little better than he entered it.

And I have no other words for him besides the ones that have always been true. Will always be true. “I love you.” I brush my hand over his head then down the side of his face. “I will never stop loving you. No matter what.”

His eyes well with tears, and I tow him into me. He’s no longer my little boy, yet he’ll always be my little boy. Even when he’s taller than me. I kiss his cheek, his temple, his ear, wherever I can reach. “I love you so much. Always and forever.”

His breath is shaky, and my shoulder feels wet when he lifts his face, though his cheeks are dry. “I love you too.”

“When you’re ready to talk more, we can. Okay?” I stand, pointing to the door. “But for now, when anyone is over, your door is going to stay open.”

He easily agrees, and I drop one last kiss on the top of his head. “I’m going to pick up dinner. Your sister wants to watch Wicked again. I’d really like it if you watched it with us.”

It’s a fifty-fifty shot, and just when I think our lovely little family moment will carry over into a lovely little family evening, he scoffs. “No way.”

Like I asked him to hold a tapeworm for me.

“Then why don’t you go outside and ask Dante if he wants help?“

Jake rolls over to peek out his window. “What’s he building?”

“I don’t know. But go tell him I ordered him dinner too.”

My kid doesn’t need any more prodding. He pulls on a hoodie and steps into his sneakers before heading outside, and I watch from the window as he exchanges a few words with Dante, who easily strikes up a conversation that I can’t hear.

Though it’s not long until Jake’s got a hammer in hand and Dante’s instructing him.

And an hour later, after we’ve all shared dinner at my kitchen table, Maddie invites Dante to watch the movie with us in the living room, and when he decides to stay, so does Jake.

That’s how I get my lovely little family evening.

With Dante.

And my kids.

And Frankie eating leftover popcorn between us.