* * *
I clutched both sides of the doorframe as I stumbled out of the car. My legs nearly gave way when I landed on my feet.
I held out my arms for Blake. “I’ll take him.”
Patrick ignored me, paid the driver, and collected all my things. He jogged up the steps to his townhouse, juggling everything to unlock the door.
“Are you coming?” He flipped on a light in the foyer.
“I need to go home,” I croaked, the taste in my mouth vile.
“You need to take it easy.” He motioned upstairs with his head. “And brush your teeth. I’ve got extra strength mouthwash.”
I laughed, the sound foreign coming from me. Of all the inappropriate times, and Patrick was the one to elicit it.
“Can he sleep in the bed?” He glanced over his shoulder, already halfway up the stairs.
“We’re not staying. Just let me rinse my mouth out.” I remained rooted at the base of the staircase.
“Whatever you want.” He continued until he’d disappeared.
My stomach churned again for a completely different reason. The last time I’d been there—up there—it hadn’t exactly gone well.
“Do you have any crackers?” I called, more as a means of distraction.
He poked his head out. “In the pantry. You remember where the kitchen is?”
My cheeks flamed. The kitchen was a worse idea than upstairs. I’d committed, so I’d see it through.
As soon as I entered the spacious room, I was assaulted with memories. Him at the stove. Me on the island.
I rubbed my forehead in an attempt to erase the images. Jack’s smiling face came to the forefront. I’d betrayed him by doing something domestic with Patrick.
“Find them?” I jumped. Patrick placed a hand on my shoulder and reached around me. “These okay?”
He held up the box. I nodded, accepting the sleeve of crackers from him.
“I’ve got ginger ale. I always like that when I get sick.”
“Please don’t be nice to me,” I pleaded.
He unscrewed the cap on a cold glass bottle of the drink and offered it to me. I sipped the fizzy liquid and sagged against the counter.
“You could use a shower.” He wrinkled his nose and followed it up with a playful smirk.
“You’re an ass,” I said half-heartedly.
“Nicest thing anyone’s called me all day.” He snatched a cracker from my fingers. “Want me to wash your hair.”
I tensed. “I should go.”
“Blake’s already out again. He’s had a busy day. Let him sleep.”
I nibbled on a cracker. “I—”
“Have you been feeling okay? Do you think it was something you ate?”
“I’m fine.” The nausea had nearly subsided.
“I’ll take these upstairs.” He swiped the box off the counter. “You can use my shower. It’s got the best pressure.”
“You’ve tried the others?” I asked as I followed him upstairs.
“You mean you haven’t at your place?”
“Only once when the master bath was messed up.”
Blake was stretched out in the middle of a navy duvet, mouth open. That kid . . . sometimes I wondered how he was mine. He was sweet, and I wasn’t. He was loving, and I wasn’t. He was strong, and I was barely holding our lives together.
Patrick turned on the taps and hung a fresh towel and washcloth over the door. “I think I have lavender or vanilla or some shit if you’d rather have that.” He motioned to the shampoo.
“This is fine.” He kicked off his shoes and loosened his tie. “What are you doing?”
“Getting ready for bed.” I stared as he undid the top few buttons of his dress shirt. “Oh come on, Wicked. Don’t tell me you’ve gotten shy.”
My skin flushed as he shrugged off his shirt. “I’m not showering with you.”
His lips flattened, unimpressed. “I know that. We’re not in kindergarten. I think you’ll survive if I brush my teeth while you’re in there.”
He unbuckled his pants. They hung open, revealing the gray waistband of his underwear. I stood motionless as he shoved a toothbrush in his mouth.
“Want me to wake up Blake with this noise?” he asked around the toothbrush.
Screw it.
I turned my back to him and stripped my shirt off as I took off my shoes. Reaching one hand behind my back, I unhooked my bra and added it to the growing pile of clothes. My hands trembled by the time I slid my fingers beneath the strings of my panties.
“You’ve lost weight.”
I froze, silk pooled at my feet. He shouldn't have noticed. That would make him something I didn't want him to be. More than my brother’s observant best friend. It has nothing to do with you. Maybe if I repeated the lie enough I’d start to believe it.
I squared my shoulders and stepped into the shower, letting the door slam behind me. Seemed lying had become something I excelled at. I’d sworn I’d never be back in this house again.
Yet here I was. No, here we were.
And Patrick was right. I’d needed this respite. A moment where someone else looked after my little boy . . . and me. But . . . why was he doing it? What was happening to my walled and angry heart?
That’s called thankfulness, Linley. Why can’t you say those words to this man?
Because the last man I said thank you to, apart from my dad, didn’t return home to me.
Chapter Ten
Patrick
Idiot. Dumbass. Fucking moron. Dumbass.
Shit, I’d already called myself that. What in the actual fuck had I been thinking bringing her here? Why hadn’t I put Blake in a guest suite? Shown her there instead of behaving like there was no other place to sleep besides my room.
I brushed my tongue with aggressive strokes and tried to forget the sight of her bare ass on display in all of its beauty. Or the fact she was thinner than the last time I’d seen her. She needed to take care of herself—why did I care what she did?
Wicked had made it perfectly clear where I stood. And it wasn’t anywhere near her.
Yet my dick hadn’t gotten the memo. He punched at my boxer briefs, begging for a chance to feel her heat.
I splashed cold water on my face to no avail. How was I supposed to go back in the bedroom with a boner that could poke her son in the eye?
I’d have to run through the room to take a cold shower in another bathroom and rub one out. That was all there was to it. Because this shit wasn’t going down.
“Dude, what is it about your mother?” I grumbled as I moved past his sleeping form.
She’d done something to me. It was the only explanation. Now, I couldn’t think straight when it came to her.
“Crazy. Batshit crazy.” Ice cold water hit my chest when I turned on the taps in the guest bathroom shower. “Shit.”
I fisted my dick and braced my forearm on the wall. That long spine gave way to her round ass, which led to those slender legs. I pumped faster, my balls already drawing up. It was the legs. They did it to me every time.
Smooth skin. Defiance she wore like a crown. Thighs that gripped like a vice. The legs. Those goddamn legs.