LISA
I haul in Lauren's last bag, once again amazed by everything a toddler needs for an overnight stay. "Am I forgetting anything?"
Mom chuckles. "I can't imagine what else there could possibly be."
"She's had her afternoon snack, so you have plenty of time to cook dinner if you start soonish, and she should be set after that. But since you might stay up past her usual bedtime, I packed a couple of applesauce cups just in case, but you'll want to give her those before her bath because she'll get—"
"You already said all that five minutes ago, sugar," Mom says gently, interrupting.
Practically vibrating with anxiety, I look at Dawn. "And you're sure you're okay with this? If not, I can take Lauren right back home, no problem, and you can keep the extra pay."
She's clearly amused. "I promise it's fine. I already agreed to help out, and I love kids."
Lauren grins at me from her throne, a.k.a. Mom's lap. "Me 'n Gamma sumba . . . subber . . . summer party!"
"Yes, my sweet pea, we're having a slumber party. And it's a summer party too." Mom kisses the top of her head. "We're going to play fun games and eat yummy snacks—"
Lauren wriggles and flaps her arms and shrieks in Mom's embrace, absolutely ecstatic.
"—and Dada definitely doesn't have to worry about us, so she should just leave us to it and enjoy her night off." Mom gives me a pointed look, smiling.
I hold up my hands in surrender. "All right, all right, I'll stop hovering and go. Have a good time, and don't hesitate to call if you need anything."
When I get home, the house seems huge and empty and dead silent without my little spark of energy shooting all over the place. It hasn't hit me until now that this will be the first time we've ever been separated for so long.
Tomorrow morning, I'll pick her up and hear about all the fun she had with Grandma, and will bring her back home to our usual routine. And tonight . . .
"Now what?" I ask aloud, and laugh at myself.
I've barely had any free time at all for over two years, let alone twelve uninterrupted hours, so I've forgotten all the stuff I used to fill that free time with, and I'm drawing a blank. Eventually, I remember there was an interesting-sounding movie that came out last month. I search my streaming services until I find it, pour myself a splash of bourbon on the rocks, and sit down to watch. But I've gotten maybe ten minutes into it when there's a knock at the door.
"Christ, never a moment of peace," I mutter, getting up to answer it.
But my annoyance evaporates when I find Jennie on my porch.
"Hi," she says, holding up a large shopping bag. "Sorry for not texting or anything, but I just saw this at the store and I thought it would be great for Lauren." She looks around me, scanning the dim living room. "Where is she? Did you put her to bed early?"
"She's having a sleepover at Mom's tonight." I take the bag and look at the box inside. It holds a tiny stepstool with an attached potty seat, bright purple and decorated with dancing cartoon monsters in a rainbow of colors.
"I figured she's about the right age to start potty training soon, so I thought it'd be useful to help her climb up there." Jennie smiles.
"Wow, thank you. This'll make my life a lot easier—and the design's just the kind of thing she loves." How like Jennie to buy a gift both cute and practical. I try not to read too much into the fact that she was clearly thinking of me, as well as Lauren. "How much do I owe you?"
She holds up her hand. "No way, don't even think about trying to pay me back. Count it toward Lauren's next birthday or something." Her gaze flicks over my shoulder again. "What're you watching?"
"Terminal Honor 3. Just a dumb action flick, but it's not the kind of thing I can watch with Lauren around, and I figured it'd go well with bourbon." An idea pops into my head, and I voice it before common sense can ruin it. "Want to join me?"
She considers, then slowly says, "You know what . . . why the hell not?"
After stashing her gift in the dining room, I pour an extra drink and set it on the coffee table, then sit down next to her on the sofa.
And from that moment on, I do not retain a single goddamn thing about this movie. I'm far too painfully aware of the exact distance between us, the occasional faint whiffs of sweet floral shampoo I catch, how her tight leggings show off every curve of her ass and those long legs, and how fucking badly I need to touch her.
"Hey," she murmurs, her voice like honey. "I dare you to drink every time something blows up."
I snort. "We playing truth or dare now?"
"No, inventing a drinking game. I'll do it too." She raises a challenging brow in my direction.
How can a guy say no to that? "You're on."
As if on cue, a car explodes into an inferno. She laughs, and we each knock back a sip.
Long before the movie is over, I realize two very important things. One, that we'll both probably be dead if we keep this game up. And two, bourbon does fuck-all to distract me from Jennie's unfair sex appeal. The stirring in my pants is a testament to that fact.
"Hey, do you want to play truth or dare for real?"
She blinks at me, then laughs. "Is this high school?"
"You can always say no."
"Hmm . . . sure. Sounds fun." She rearranges herself on the sofa, this time facing me, one leg tucked under her. "Truth or dare?"
I rub my chin, which by this late hour feels like sandpaper. "I choose . . . truth."
She punishes me with an exaggerated frown. "Wuss. Okay, let me think." She considers for a while. "What's your biggest turn-on?"
Every single thing about you. "It's a tie between nice legs and dirty talk."
She gives me a look. "Come on, that's it?"
"You didn't ask me to write a novel." I chuckle. "Your turn. Truth or dare?"
"Truth," she says primly.
"Hey, you can't criticize me for choosing truth and then choose the same thing."
Her only response is to stick her tongue out at me. Call me crazy, but even that I find sexy. I can't help but wonder if I kissed her right now, if she'd taste like bourbon.
Searching for a suitable revenge, I ask, "What's your most embarrassing moment?"
"That's easy," she immediately says. "As a student teacher, I called one kid the wrong name for a month, and when he got up the courage to correct me, I automatically said, 'Oh shit, I'm so sorry,' in front of a whole class of first graders and my mentor."
I offer her a sympathetic smile. "Damn. That does suck."
"Jisoo still makes fun of me for it at least once a week."
I chuckle and shake my head at her. "My friends in New York would do the same thing."
She opens her mouth, and for a second I think maybe she's going to ask me about my friends, about my life in New York, but then her mouth closes and some unreadable expression flickers in her eyes.
The moment passes and her smile fades. "Truth, Lalisa . . . Did you love me?"
I swallow hard, my throat bobbing with emotion. "Of course I did." When she doesn't respond, but her gaze drops to my lips for the briefest moment, I blurt, "I dare you to kiss me."
Her gaze jumps up to meet mine. "What?"
"You heard me." I scoot a little closer. If she refuses, I promise I'll drop it, stop pushing her, but I can feel it. There's still something between us, no matter how hard she tries to deny it.
For a second, I'm certain she's going to say no. But then, with an expression like she's bungee jumping for the first time, she leans in and touches her lips to mine.
It's soft. Barely a kiss at all.
But she doesn't withdraw after a second like I expect. She just . . . lingers, but I don't dare advance—not yet. Everything in me clamors for more, and when she shifts closer, I finally give in and open to her.
And another miracle happens. Her lips part too.
I eagerly take the invitation to touch my tongue against hers. She lets out the smallest, softest sigh, and if it would have been possible to stop before, I sure as hell can't now.
Fuck.
Every horny teenage fantasy I ever had about Jennie rushes to the surface. My arms tighten, pulling her closer toward me. The feel of her soft breasts pressing against my chest drives me insane. I nibble her lip, and she nips back a little harder, and suddenly we're devouring each other, the kiss devolving all at once into a hot, messy feast of lips and tongue. My body reacts accordingly, growing hot and hard.
Her feel, her taste, her smell, her sounds of pleasure and desire, it all brings decade-old memories and emotions rushing back with the force of a late-summer hurricane. But at the same time, everything is an intoxicating surprise. She's changed, grown up into a woman, and I'm eager for the experience of learning everything about her all over again.
My hands roam, eager to linger over every detail both familiar and new, every curve, every inch of creamy skin. I run the pad of my thumb down the column of her neck, stopping until I can cup the weight of one breast in my hand. She rewards me with a soft but rough noise that jolts straight down my spine and into my dick.
Okay, slow the fuck down, Lisa.
I pull back, breaking our connection, and Jennie makes a small confused noise. Her eyes flutter open, and everything I see reflected in them makes my heart throb.
Desire. Hunger. Certainty.
She wants this as much as I do.
But it's not just a beautiful woman I'm seeing before me. I'm seeing her, the true her she hides from the world. I'm seeing the possibility for something real developing between us, something even bigger than what we shared before.
My mouth moves to her neck, where I leave open-mouthed, sucking kisses.
Jennie squirms. "Lis . . ."
Lis, not Lalisa or Lisa.
"Too fast?" I murmur, praying she'll tell me it's not, that she wants to keep going.
When she breathes out the word no, I almost die of happiness on the spot. It's rare for me to have a kid-free evening, and to spend it with Jennie—doing this, of all things—is a dream come true.
She touches my chest, her fingers flexing into the material of my T-shirt. I haul it off over my head. Her tank top comes off next, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from groaning.
Her breasts are high and full, nearly spilling over the cups of her delicate lace bra. She's gorgeous. And I still can't believe she's letting me touch her.
"Shit," I murmur, filling my hands with her breasts. "God, look at you . . ."
Jennie arches, her eyes drifting closed as I rub my thumbs across her nipples. A small choked gasp pushes past her parted lips. With a mischievous look, she bites her bottom lip and begins unbuttoning my jeans.
Holy unexpected plot twist.
My cock jumps, eager for her touch. And when her hand pushes past my boxers and touches my bare skin, I groan out my relief.
"Wait." My voice is little more than a deep rasp in my throat.
Her fingers still, and she meets my eyes with a look of confusion.
"As badly as I want this, and believe me, I do . . ." I draw in a deep breath. "This isn't all I want. You know that, right?"
Her eyes meet mine. "You really want to discuss this now?"
She has a point. Her hand is inside my underwear. Is this really the time to negotiate things between us, and risk the possibility of her walking away? But I have no choice.
"Go out with me." The words tumble from my lips. I turn her face toward mine and press my lips to hers. "Please."
Without missing a beat, she nods. "Okay. One date. For old time's sake."
My relief is instantaneous. Then Jennie wraps my aching dick in her fist and treats me to a slow stroke.
"I should probably warn you . . ." I'm breathless, desperate, and can hardly get the words out. "I haven't had sex in a very long time."
She gives me another confused look. "How long?"
It doesn't even occur to me to try to hide the truth from her. "Since before Lauren was born."
Shock is written all over Jennie's face. I can tell my answer surprised her.
The media in New York dubbed me the penthouse princess. Wealthy . . . pretty handsome . . . one of the city's most eligible bachelors. But the truth was so different. I'm a single parent, not the playgirl everyone assumes.
I don't date. But I want Jennie to be the exception to that rule . . . if she wants to be.
"Then this is going to feel really good." Her mischievous smile returns, and my head drops back onto the sofa as her hand begins to move.
"Oh fuck . . ."
With two fingers under her chin, I tip her mouth toward mine and devour her with kisses. With my other, I help Jennie shimmy out of her shorts. She's sitting on my couch now wearing only a bra and a pair of panties, and she looks good enough to eat.
But since her hand is still moving inside my boxers, I return the favor, touching between her legs, circling her clit as she moans and shifts closer.
Miraculously, she seems to remember exactly what I like—firm, quick strokes—and much too soon, I can already feel myself edging closer to my climax.
When I put my hand over hers, slowing her, she meets my eyes with a look of confusion. "That feels so good. But I'm going to make a mess," I say on a shaky exhale.
Without a word, she slides to the floor between my parted knees and brings her mouth to my swollen cock. If I was worried about embarrassing myself before, with the wet heat of her tongue on my cock, now it's game over.
I gather her hair in my fist and watch her work, her mouth moving over me in slow, languid kisses and sucks. It's erotic and sexy, and wow, I still can't believe she's doing this.
"That's it." My voice is a rough pant.
I reach down to touch her breasts, pinching one nipple through the thin fabric of her bra. I feel her shocked little gasp vibrate around me.
"Fuck. Jen—" I groan. "Gonna come."
She eases her mouth down, swallowing me as I erupt. The feelings of pleasure are so intense, a bolt of white light momentarily blinds me.
When she rises to her feet, I pull her forward until she falls into my lap, her knees pressed into the cushion on either side of my thighs. It's the perfect position to tease and touch and linger over all of my favorite spots.
I tug down her bra, exposing her breasts, and capture one perky tit in my mouth. And when I sink two fingers deep inside her, Jennie begins to unravel.
I haven't forgotten a thing. The way she feels, the sounds she makes, the things she likes. When I find the spot that makes her moan, she begins riding my hand, little jerks of her hips as she seeks her own release. And then she's almost there—right on the edge. One more kiss and she comes apart, her body trembling as the waves crest over her.
Satisfied and breathless, she melts into my arms, resting her cheek against my chest. We just fit—her soft, sensual body against mine. I can feel her heart throbbing as she rests against me, and a smile lifts my lips.
This is so not what I planned for tonight, but I can't deny how happy I am at the change in plans. I don't want this moment to end, but all too soon, it does. She climbs from my lap, straightening her underwear and bra, and begins to get dressed.
We finish our drinks as the credits roll on the movie.
"I guess we missed the ending," she says, glancing at the screen.
I smile. "We did." And it was so worth it.
When I walk her to the front door, Jennie doesn't linger. I want to kiss her good-bye, but she's already opened the door and is stepping outside, digging inside her purse for her key fob.
"I'll call you about that date," I say as she wanders down the stone path to her car, which is parked under the swath of light coming from my garage carriage lights.
"Good night, Lalisa," she calls up to me.
"Night, Jennie," I say, just before she slips into the driver's seat.