Fool For You (Made for Love Book 4) (92 page)

I set my bags down when I hear her small feet come running. As she rounds the corner, I squat low and wait for her to come crashing into me.

“Daddy!” she squeals, throwing her arms around my neck. She squeezes me as tight as her little arms can manage, and I hold her against my chest as I return to my full height.

“Hi, sweetie,” I murmur, burying my nose in her hair.

I inhale her scent, fully aware of just how much I’ve missed it.

“Don’t go away anymore,” she demands.

“I won’t go away for a while,” I promise, holding her a little closer.

I usually don’t leave my girls for so long, and this trip reminded me why.

“I told her you wouldn’t be back until tonight. I thought you didn’t get in until after five,” says Teddy, drawing my attention to the mouth of our entryway—and then to her mouth.

I crook my finger at her, beckoning her toward me, and she comes without delay. As soon as she’s in reaching distance, I slide my hand around the back of her neck, burying my fingers in her hair before I lean down and kiss her firmly.

“I wanted to come home,” I mutter, kissing her once more. “I switched my flight.”

“I’m glad you did. We missed you,” she says, wrapping her arms around my waist.

“I missed
you
.”

I lean down to kiss her one more time, Frankie still clinging to my neck. As I pull away from my wife, she smiles at me before she reaches up to run her fingers along my stubble-covered jaw.

“Haven’t seen this in a while.”

I smirk at her in reply, thinking back over my weekend. Since Friday, I’ve been going non-stop, tying up loose ends on an important business transaction back at the home office. I neglected to shave, thinking I would get around to it before I flew home. This morning, I had been too preoccupied with arranging another flight to worry about a shave, and after over forty-eight hours without the razor, I’m sporting a healthy shadow.

I got rid of it when Francesca was born. She didn’t like the way it felt against her face—but I loved her face, loved the way her soft, newborn skin felt against my lips, so I did what any sane man would do and shaved it off. Now, she kisses and touches my face so often, I try to keep it clean.

“Daddy!” Frankie gasps, popping her head up to look into my eyes.

“What is it, sweetie?” I ask, my gaze admiring the features I haven’t seen in too long.

She inherited Teddy’s freckles; however, with my skin complexion, hers are a little darker. Sometimes I swear she gets a new one everyday—my beautiful girl. Her eyes are the exact same brown as her mother’s, and they’re big and expressive, surrounded by her long, dark lashes. She’s got my nose and my lips, and while she and I have the same color hair, hers is long and wavy, like Teddy’s. Every time I look at her, I know I’m going to have to break dicks over her.

“Me and mommy are—”

“Mommy and I,” I correct, brushing a bit of hair behind her ear.

“Oops,” she says shyly, covering her mouth with both of her hands.

“It’s okay, Frankie. Go on. Tell me what you and mommy are doing.”

“Mommy and I are going to go swimming,” she proclaims, reaching her hands out to touch my face. “Will you come?”

“Sure.”

She scrunches her nose before she asks, “Why does your face hurt? Are you going to be like Uncle Louie?”

Teddy laughs, propping her head against my shoulder, and the sound makes Frankie smile. She likes to make us laugh and she’s always quite proud of herself when she accomplishes such a feat without even trying.

“Is my face prickly?”

“Yeah,” she says with a nod, rubbing her hands up and down the length of my jaw. “It’s really prickly.”

“You don’t like it?”

“It hurts my hands,” she replies, shaking her head at me.

“I’ll shave it off tomorrow. I have to keep it for today, though. I think mommy likes it. Deal?”

“Okay.” She claps her hands together, finished with her perusal of my face. “Now we go swimming?”

“Yes,” I say, pressing a kiss against her forehead. “We can go swimming now.”

She wiggles in excitement and I set her down on her feet. She doesn’t waste a second before heading for the stairs, hurrying her way to her bedroom. Teddy starts to follow after her, but I stop her, grabbing hold of her waist from behind. I pull her back against me, bringing my lips to her ear.

“Wear the purple string bikini I like.”

“Okay,” she breathes, arching her back as she presses her ass against my crotch.

“Mommy!” Frankie yells before I can get in another word.

Teddy twists her neck, tilting her head up as she looks at me with a coy smile. “Welcome home.” She pushes herself up on her tiptoes and kisses my chin before she pulls away from me, heading for the stairs. “Coming, baby.”

I watch her ass until she disappears from sight and then I grab my bags and follow after my girls. Fifteen minutes later, we’re all in the pool. I’m playing with Frankie while Teddy lays stretched out in her floating pool chair. She looks fucking gorgeous—her hair piled on top of her head, her skin on display for me to see. I mutter a curse under my breath every time my lingering stare causes my dick to rise. After a week, I’m a man deprived, and it’s been
too long
since I’ve claimed what is mine. Nevertheless, I know I won’t be able to have her until later.

Naptime will come soon enough
.

“Daddy, watch me!”

Obediently, I return my gaze to my daughter, watching as she kicks her little legs wildly, closing the distance between us. I praise her for her efforts and she beams at me before she insists that I watch her do it again. Amazingly enough, I could watch her for hours and it wouldn’t bore me. For years, the thought of kids was completely unappealing to me. Honestly, it still is—but Frankie is different. Frankie isn’t just some kid, she’s
mine
, and I love her in ways I never thought possible.

“Are you watching?!” she squeals, her back to me as she makes her way to the side of the pool. My girl is going to compete one day—and she’ll kick ass in the water, I’m sure of it.

“I’m watching, sweetie. Can you swim back to daddy?”

“Yeah!” she replies, turning herself around. “Here I come!”

I watch Judah play with Francesca for an hour, adoring every moment before I sneak inside to throw something together for lunch. I’m still no master chef in the kitchen, but I’ve learned quite a bit since I first moved in with Judah. Today, I just put together a couple sandwiches, grabbing some goldfish and a sippy-cup full of water for my sweet girl.

We picnic by the pool before I insist that we’ve had enough time out in the sun. Frankie whines, a tell tale sign that she’s ready for a nap, and Judah takes her inside for a quick bath. I offer to help, but after he settles her into a shallow bit of water, he changes into something dry and tells me he’ll be back to bathe
me
as soon as he gets her down. With that in mind, I throw on my thin cover up and head to my office to answer a few emails.

When Jude first showed me this house, I thought he was crazy. Two stories, six spacious rooms, and four and a half bathrooms seemed a bit much. I told him we needed more space, but I wasn’t birthing an army—just one little girl. It was beautiful, though—the architecture made up of modern, sleek lines. It
screamed
Judah, and I could see why he loved it. Then he told me how he planned to change the inside…

He knocked out a room and built me a closet bigger than the one we shared in Colorado. Our bathroom is almost just as spacious, and complete with the most gigantic tub. He kept Frankie’s room the way it was, decorating it beautifully in teal and peach hues. She, too, has her own bathroom, which has come in handy over the last couple of years. Then, the third upstairs bedroom was turned into a gym. It’s not nearly as big as the one he had in our old house, but he’s never complained.

On the main level, he set up the two extra rooms as an office for each of us. At first, I thought it silly that we each had our own. I couldn’t fathom why
I
would need an office, but Judah was dreaming big for me and he insisted that I have it. Now, I’m so grateful that he did. Owning my own business is a reality that I never thought I’d step into, but I love it.

Wishing to kill a little time while I wait for Judah, I settle myself behind my computer to check my email. Before I know it, forty minutes have passed, and I realize I haven’t heard any sounds coming from upstairs. I decide to go check on things and make my way to Frankie’s room. What I find sends me straight back to my office to grab my camera.

Judah is slouched in the overstuffed armchair that sits in the corner of our little girl’s room. The book he must have been reading to her is still open in one hand, while his other arm is draped around her as she lays cuddled against his chest. They’re both sleeping, creating an array of images I must capture.

This—this
is what Judah always saw in me, my desire to grab hold of a moment for posterity. I always said that it was just a hobby, but both Judah and Francesca made me realize that it’s so much more than that. It always has been. It always will be.

After Frankie was born, I was taking her picture all the time. She is our miracle, and Judah and I both knew that it’s possible that we might not ever have another child again. I didn’t want to take a moment of her life for granted. As I started editing and developing the images of our daughter, I realized that not everyone is capable of capturing a moment like I can. At first, I doubted myself, thinking that offering my services to parents of newborns was somehow arrogant—but Judah pushed me to start up my business, photographing babies—and it’s been such a joy and a pleasure to be able to share my gift in such a special way.

When I’ve taken a few pictures of my little family, I leave them to sleep while I go upload the images onto my computer. I will admit that I’m a little disappointed that Jude fell asleep before our promised alone time. However, something tells me that his nap will work in my favor later, so I won’t complain.

I spend the rest of the afternoon editing the photos of the two loves of my life. As I work, I’m reminded that I am blessed beyond belief. I have more than I could have ever thought to ask for—the result of loving such a generous God. My friends, my family, my work, they all mean so much to me. But above all else, my husband and my daughter are my world. I’ll never be able to thank Him enough for them.

My forever.

My miracle.

It isn’t until after I wake up from my nap that I realize the consequences of falling asleep. For the rest of the day, my dick aches—longing for my woman. Everything she does turns me on.

When she bends over to pick up a toy.

When she reaches into the pantry for a box of pasta.

When she sips her glass of wine at dinner.

I’ve got a fucking semi all night, each minute that passes more unbearable then the last. I’m relieved when Frankie doesn’t insist that I be the one to put her down for the night. No way in hell would that have gone over well. My patience is nil, and as much as I love that little girl, hearing her beg for one more bedtime story would have been the death of me.