Page 20 of Single Mom's Undoing

Matty pauses, realizing that I’m okay, then he starts laughing, too.

Shiloh reaches out and starts fingerpainting all over my jeans. Lenora is briefly frozen, not knowing how to react while holding back a chuckle, as Damon smiles and helps me up.

“It seems our kids have decided you’d be a more fitting canvas.”

“Pretty sure there’s a compliment somewhere in there,” I say, holding on to his strong arms as I struggle not to slip again.

“Okay, let me get the kids cleaned up,” Lenora says, springing into action. “Clara, you should wash up, too. Damon, take her to my room, honey, I’ve got some clothes in there she can borrow.”

“Oh, thank you, Lenora,” I say. “You’re too kind.”

Damon snakes an arm around my waist, and I feel his hot breath on my face. For a moment we lock eyes on each other, while our kids giggle, giving his mother a hard time with the cleanup operation. She can handle it, though, so I let Damon guide me away from the living room.

“Come on, let’s get you out of those clothes.”

Twenty minutes later,I step out of the steamy shower, sparkling clean and ready to dry myself with a towel. Except I don’t see a towel anywhere, so I walk out into Lenora’s bedroom and head straight for the chest of drawers to find one.

I pat myself dry, checking the sides of my neck to make sure I didn’t miss any paint, my mind wandering back to Carter, then Damon, then Jace. For as long as I can remember, I’ve orbited around them somehow. Three suns that were always in some kind of sync.

My three-body problem.

The air thickens as I feel a presence.

Turning my head slowly, I find Damon standing in the doorway. A hungry, dark look is in his eyes as he measures me from head to toe. I’m practically naked, only parts of me hidden beneath the towel. I stand perfectly still, staring at him.

“I forgot to knock,” he says.

“Sure you did,” I mumble.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, Clara.”

“One childbirth later,” I chuckle nervously, suddenly insecure about my curves and the stretchmarks on my hips and lower belly.

“Nonsense. Motherhood has made you even more beautiful,” he says as he steps into the room.

The distance between us shrinks until only a few inches are left. It happens so fast that my fingers twitch, and I drop the towel on the floor. I stand naked before him, my breath coming short and my pulse quickening. My nipples harden under his burning gaze.

“Every inch of you is beautiful, Clara. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise,” he says, his voice low, sending shivers down my spine. “Every mark tells a story.”

“You have some marks of your own, don’t you?” I whisper.

“Battle scars, yes.” He looks deep into my eyes and I’m damn near close to fainting. “I’ll tell you all about them soon enough. We’ll study each of them in great detail.”

“Will we?”

He raises his hand, knuckles subtly brushing the side of my breast as he brings it up to cup my cheek and pull me closer. His cologne—a mixture of orange blossom and tobacco—fills my senses, throwing my mind for a treacherous loop. My lips beg for his, but I say nothing.

The anticipation builds.

The tension rises.

I can almost taste him.

“We most certainly will, Clara. You’ve eluded us for long enough, but not anymore,” he growls. “It’s a matter of when, not if.”

He steps away.

I shiver all the way to my core, slick between my legs as Damon nods at the clothes on the bed. “I’ll see you downstairs. The kids are cleaned up, too.”