“I hope you don’t mind, but my clothes are in your dryer,” he continues, speaking words I can barely register around the dirty fucking places my mind is going.
It might be highly inappropriate considering the circumstances, but hell’s bells, I can’t stop thinking about what it was like to be with him. He was my first real lover, and he did not disappoint. If anything, he set the bar really high for all the men who came after him.
Maybe that’s why you almost kissed him last night…
“Maria? Everything all right?” he asks, obviously tiring of his one-sided conversation. I blink out of my walk down Sexy Memory Lane.
“Yeah,” I say, clearing the cobwebs from my throat. “O-of course. I’m fine. Everything is fine.”
He smiles down at me, and I almost hate how there are so many gorgeous parts of him, I can’t even figure out where to look.
In an instant, I mentally put my foot down on the crazy vortex my mind wants to suck me into. I am not going to go there. I can’t go there. My life is a train wreck of epic proportions and thinking about kissing Remy or seeing him naked is the very last thing I need to be doing. I’ve had my fun, but now, well, it’s over. Time to concentrate on the head that doesn’t ejaculate.
“So…you stayed last night?”
He nods, and I swear, his grin almost looks as though he can hear what I’m thinking. For my sanity, I ignore it completely. “You looked so peaceful sleeping.”
I snort a laugh. “Wild Saturday night, huh? I hope you didn’t have plans.”
“I didn’t. But even if I had, this was more important.”
My chest squeezes with memories of just how amazing of a guy Remy is and how it feels to be on the receiving end of it, but I try my damnedest not to pay attention to any of it.
“You should’ve woken me up.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I did exactly what I needed to—let you get some well-deserved sleep.”
“I feel bad,” I say and step back to put some much-needed distance between us.
He furrows his brow. “Why would you feel bad?”
“Because it’s not your job to take care of Izzy. You shouldn’t be put in the position of rearranging your night just so you can help me.”
“Ria,” Remy says, stepping toward me and closing off the distance I gained less than a minute ago. “I stayed because I wanted to. Not for any reason other than that. Your guilt is unnecessary, okay? Don’t think twice about any of it. I wanted to be here. I wanted to help you.”
All I can do is nod.
But then I also add, “Thank you.” Because hell, it’s been weeks since I’ve gotten a full night of sleep. One hour here, two hours there, that’s about all I’ve managed since Izzy was born.
And let me tell you, that starts to make you feel like a crazy person.
“Why don’t you go grab yourself a cup of coffee, and I’ll finish up in here?”
“Yeah, okay.” Anything to get me away from your deliciously naked body.
Once he’s safely behind the closed door of my bathroom, I can’t stop myself from walking into Izzy’s nursery to verify she’s okay with my own eyes. Not that I don’t trust Remy, but the maternal instinct is too strong to deny. I swear, I spent the first week of her life checking her every ten minutes to make sure I could see her chest rising and falling with breaths of air.
But I find her exactly where Remy said she was—sleeping inside her crib.
“Girlfriend, I’d really love to know why you refuse to do this for me, but for Remy, you’re all in,” I whisper down toward her, smiling at the way her eyelids flutter in her sleep. “I guess I can’t really blame you. He just has a way about him, huh?”
She doesn’t answer, but then again, she doesn’t have to. I wouldn’t be Mr. Miyagi-ing myself out of sexual thoughts every second and a half if Remington Winslow didn’t have a way about him.
Her eyelids flutter some more, but her eyes remain closed and her breathing steady. I’d say she’s going to be out for a while. Releasing the guilt, I pledge to savor the hour or so of calm before she wakes up so that I can be better and more present when she wakes up.
Back down the hallway, past the bathroom where my brain tries to remind me that a naked Remy resides, I head into the kitchen and make myself a fresh cup of coffee.
Man, what a strange turn of events the past twenty-four hours have been.
The past twenty-four hours? More like, the past year. I can hardly believe everything that’s happened in such a short amount of time. Everything I’ve gained, everything I’ve changed—everything I’ve lost.