Page 38

Xavier

Vivi stands at the nursery door swirling the wine in her glass, watching as I get Holland ready for a nap. The one she took at the planetarium was too short and she fussed the whole drive home.

"You already promised her a pony last time. What are you going to bribe her with this time?" she asks playfully.

I chuckle. "You're going to be good and go down easy for me aren't you, áine." I press a kiss to Holland's head before lifting her from the changing table and laying her down in the crib.

"What was that?"

I glance up from where I'm swaddling my daughter. Vivienne is still in the doorway, her shoulder propped against the frame like she's in this for as long as it takes. "What was what?"

"What you called her: áine." She does her best to match my inflection. "What does it mean?"

"It's Irish." My hand pauses over Holland's chest, my gaze going back to the door. "It was my mom's middle name. It means radiance and brightness. That's what my mom was to me. That's what Holland is to me."

"Hmmm," Vi hums, letting her glass hang at her side as she pushes off the wall and joins me at the crib.

"Hmmm?" I hum back.

"It fits is all. And it's kind of on-theme with your musings about people and stars earlier."

"Is that all?" I ask, amused. Vivienne is guarded but doesn't hold back her words and I can tell there's more to it. But I like the fact that she's spending time with Holland and me too much to dig into it further.

Vivienne bumps me with her shoulder. "No bribe needed, down like a champ."

"She's a terrible chaperone." I turn towards Vivienne. She's so damn pretty like this--at ease in my space. It makes me want things I have no right to.

"Think of all the trouble we can get into without her supervision." Her arms link around my waist.

"Movie time?" Taking her wine, I back her up toward the door and bring the glass to my nose for a smell. It smells fancy--tastes fancy too.

"Do I get to pick?" she asks, taking the glass from me for a sip of her own.

"Why not. I don't actually plan on watching it."

"Oh really. What exactly do you plan on doing?"

With an arm looped around her waist, I walk us backwards out of the room. "Are you familiar with the age-old tradition of making out?"

"I think I've heard of that before. It's the one with kissing, right."

"Kissing. Pfftt." Pressing her back to the wall I lower my mouth to her ear. "Kissing is for amateurs. This is going to leave you breathless, with swollen lips, and a bone-deep ache for more."

"Sounds fun," she rasps, arching off the wall.

"I'm a big fan." I spin her around and bend to kiss her neck.

"Is making out all you're going to do with me? I don't remember it being on the list." She presses her ass back into me.

This fucking tease.

"Seems like a gross oversight to leave it off," I say.

Pushing her hair to the side, I nip at her pulse point, making her whimper softly when I add, "And no, I have much bigger plans for tonight."

"Care to enlighten me?"

"Later, when we have hours of uninterrupted time, I'm going to spend all night buried inside you, making you come over and over again. On my fingers, on my tongue, on my cock. And when you think you can't take any more, you're going to do it one more time, so I can prove to you that you can."

She sags against me, my dirty promise pulling her under. Her teeth rake over her plump bottom lip.

"So what movie are we watching?" I ask.

"Movie?" she asks, breathlessly.

"What are we going to not-watch while I kiss you senseless?" I suck on the spot below her ear making her shudder beneath me. It's a miracle I don't spill her wine.

"How about the one with that guy."

"I'm going to need more than that, sweetheart."

"You can't honestly expect me to think after that, " she whines.

"Of course I do. You're so focused and smart, I trust you can come up with something if you put your mind to it."

She growls a cute little frustrated noise and I hold back my chuckle.

"The one where he rents a lake house with his childhood friends. The funny one."

I know the slapstick comedy she's talking about, and it's perfect for tonight because I've seen it before. Still, I can't resist messing with her. "Does this movie have a name?"

"It definitely does." She tilts her head, giving me the access I want.

Taking her hand, I lead her to the living room, setting her wine on the end table and pulling her into my lap. My hand cups her neck, turning it so I can kiss her. Her pulse is frantic against my palm. My lips ghost hers. It's a fraction of the taste I want, red wine heady on her lips. I need more but I force myself to slow. We have plenty of time, and right now I'm really enjoying teasing her. "The name of the movie? So I can start it."

She huffs out a frustrated sigh. "Um, the name . . . the name is Growing Old ."

"Hmm. That doesn't sound right." I run my hand up her leg and she lets her head drop to my shoulder. How no other man could see how responsive this woman is baffles me. She blossoms under every touch and I love that it's my hands making her this way.

" Grown Ups ." Her hand comes up and grips the back of my neck, holding me hostage. "It's called Grown Ups . I've seen it a thousand times--the twins love it."

"If you've seen it that many times, why did you pick it?" With each kiss I leave on her neck she melts into me, pining my already hard length between us.

"Because it won't distract me from the making out," she huffs.

Flustered Vivienne is cute.

I lean around her and grab the remote, turning on the TV and starting up the movie. We don't even make it through the funeral before my hand finds its way under her shirt.

"I love making out." A contented sound hums in the back of her throat.

"It's very underrated," I say.

"I wouldn't know. I've never done it--not like this. It was always rushed, with one end in mind."

Our kisses are leisurely and unhurried--there's nothing rushed about them.

"I like taking my time with you."

I pull back. "Tell me you only dated idiots before me, without telling me . . ." She smacks my shoulder and I laugh into the crook of her neck.

"Kissing has always been rushed and a means to an end, but it's different with you. I've never been with someone I cared for . . . not until now," she says, pulling me to her, by the back of my neck, demanding a kiss.

There's so much I want to tell her--that I want to keep caring for her no matter how many orgasms I've given her. That this isn't about the list anymore. That being her friend when this is over might not be enough. That there's more life in my life than I thought and she fits in so perfectly that it must be fate.

But I don't, because that is a surefire way to end this thing here and now, and I'm not ready for that. So I give her what I can: the best make-out session of her life. Kissing her until our lips are raw and Holland's cries blare through the monitor.