Page 105 of Moonlighter

Most mornings I wake up to a stiff knee, and yet I can’t even feel that fucker right now. Because Alex is sucking half of my IQ out through my cock.

I take a deep breath and let myself be pushed over the sweet edge of orgasm. The sound I make is half roar, half gasp. And then I’m spilling myself onto her willing tongue.

Afterward, she rests her head on my thigh with a sigh.

“Baby,” I rasp. “I’m trying really hard here not to fall too deeply in love with you, but you don’t make it easy.”

Alex buries her face against the messy sheets and laughs. “You are such a romantic.”

“I know, right?” I flop a careless hand onto her soft hair. But even if my sentiment lacks finesse, it’s still true.

Alex’s smile says she doesn’t believe me, though. And when she waddles off to the shower a few minutes later, I stare up at the ceiling for a moment and wonder what it all means.

The ceiling doesn’t answer.

Meanwhile, there’s only a few minutes until she’ll be back. So I hop into my boxers and T-shirt, and then scoot into the baby’s room while I have the chance.

At the risk of making Alex angry, I hang both shelves. It takes less than ten minutes. All I need to do is change the drill bit and enlarge the holes to the proper size. Once the mollys fit correctly, it’s a snap to screw in the supports and then hang the star and the moon where Alex had begun them.

I’m just admiring my work when Alex makes a startled sound from the doorway.

Turning around, I brace myself for her displeasure.

But it doesn’t come. Instead, her voice is sheepish. “Thank you.”

“Sure, baby.” I clear my throat. “It still counts, you know.”

“What does?”

“Hanging the shelves. You’re still using your own hands to make this room ready. Even if I helped you a little.”

“I guess. My mom used to cater my birthday parties. But then she made sure to light the candles herself.” She rolls her eyes. “I can probably bake a cake, right? Although decorating them sounds hard. If I keep up this stubborn streak, my daughter is going to have some scary looking birthday cakes.”

I’ll still eat it. The idea just leaps into my brain. As if I’d ever be invited to her daughter’s birthday.

You never know, though. Alex thinks she’ll be rid of me as soon as this latest craziness blows over. But I’m starting to think that it won’t. Craziness seems to hang on to Alex and me with both hands.

And I’m not sure I mind.

She crosses the room and wraps her arms around my waist. “You’re very patient with me,” she says quietly. “I don’t think I deserve you.”

Her belly is stretching her shirt out to a preposterous degree, so I absently place a palm on it and rub gently.

Alex’s expression goes soft. She stands on her tiptoes and kisses my jaw. I palm the back of her head with my free hand and kiss her forehead. “You hungry? I bet you are.”

“Oh definitely.” She gives me a shy smile.

I can’t stop staring into her eyes. This feels so different to me than I often feel with women. I mean—I love women, and fun is fun. But I usually have one foot out the door. Right now I just want to scramble some eggs and ask her where she keeps the coffee.

And the look she’s giving me right back wants all those same things.

“Hey, Engels,” I say, just to break the tension. “Stop looking at me that way.”

“What way?”

“Like I just hung the moon.” I jerk my thumb toward the new shelves.

“Oh, Eric.” She lets out a peal of laughter. “That is a seriously bad joke.”