Some Sort of Love (Happy Crazy Love #3) (19 page)

It groaned under our weight, and she smiled. “Oh, dear.”

“I don’t care,” I said, kissing my way down her body. “Let’s keep them up all night.”

I’d planned on spanking her, teasing her, tormenting her—making her “pay” for being such a bad girl in the car. But I didn’t feel that way now. I simply wanted to worship her, adore her, devote myself entirely to her pleasure in bed the way I couldn’t in real life. Once we left this place tomorrow, I couldn’t give her all of me.

But tonight I could.

And I didn’t give a fuck about the noise.

She sighed and moaned as I undressed her, then devoured her breasts one at a time. When one hard nipple was under my tongue or between my teeth, the other was between my fingers. She arched and gasped, whimpering as I fucked her with my fingers, and then my tongue, and then used them both on her at the same time, my mouth sucking greedily at her clit as her pussy tightened and throbbed. And she cried out when I slid my cock inside her, my name on her lips, my hands in her hair, my body rocking into hers with deep, powerful strokes.

But nothing was louder than that fucking bed—it whined and groaned and creaked and squeaked, louder and quicker, perfectly matching the rhythm of my hips as momentum built. It went finally, blissfully silent when we came together, the climax paralyzing every muscle in my body, my awareness centered only on the pulse shared between us.

If we hadn’t been so carried away, we probably would have laughed.

Instead she cried, tears dripping from the corners of her eyes as she clung to me, her hands pulling me in tighter to her, as if she couldn’t get close enough. And I understood her tears, fought hard against my own.

I brushed her temples with my fingertips, kissed them, tasted the salty sweetness of her tears. Resting my forehead on hers, I whispered her name like a prayer, desperately wishing I could have this, have
her
, every single day of my life.

But something inside me wouldn’t believe it was possible.

We went from the bed—which screamed louder than I did—to a chair by the fireplace to a rug on the floor, and only when the clock said three-thirty did we fall back into bed, happy and exhausted and laughing that we’d probably kept everyone else up too.

“No more bed and breakfasts for us,” Levi said, pulling my back against his chest, his knees tucked into mine.

I giggled. “At least not until we’re old and don’t care about sex anymore.”

“Bite your tongue. I will never be too old to care about sex with you. When I’m ninety, if you’re still around, I’ll be trying to get in your pants.”

“Of course I’ll be around.” I snuggled back against him, trying not to let my feelings get ruffled by the comment.
He’s teasing. It was a joke.

“Good.” He kissed my head once more and we fell asleep, our breathing synced like I wished our lives could be.

• • •

We woke up so late we missed breakfast, but I didn’t care. Waking up next to Levi was even more amazing than I thought it would be. He lay on his back with his arms around me, and I cuddled up against his side, one leg thrown over him, one palm on his stomach, my cheek pressed to his chest. I felt warm and peaceful. Happy. Loved.

“Probably better we don’t have to face anyone down there anyway,” he said.

I squeezed my eyes shut. “We wouldn’t even have to introduce ourselves. They all know our names because they heard us shouting them all night long.”

“Totally.” His hands stroked up and down my back. “And they’d be angry because they didn’t get any sleep.”

I burrowed in closer. “Let’s never leave. This is like a dream.”

“I don’t want to go back to real life yet either.”

“Maybe they’d let us stay all day.”

He sighed. “I wish I could.”

“Hey.” I picked up my head and looked at him. “We can have this feeling in real life, you know. There’s nothing magic about this room.”

“No? Felt like it.”

“No. The magic is you and me together, and we could have that anywhere.”

“You’re right, sorry. I’m being grumpy about everything I have to get done today. Come back.”

He tugged me back down, and I nestled against him again. “Why don’t you let me help you out today?” I asked. “I’d be happy to do something for you.”

“You sound like my mom.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Ew. That is not romantic.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean that you remind me of her, just that she’s always wanting to do things for me. She thinks I’m incompetent or something.”

I sat up again. “It’s not the same, Levi. I don’t want to do things for you—and maybe she doesn’t either—because I think you’re incapable of doing them yourself. I’m trying to help you. Accepting help from someone who cares about you doesn’t mean you couldn’t do it all yourself; it means that you’re willing to let someone share the burden who
wants
to.”

“I don’t want to burden you with anything, Jillian. It’s bad enough that I can only see you once a week. I’m not going to ask you to do my fucking laundry.”

I stared at him. “I don’t understand. Are you never going to let me into your regular, everyday life because you think I won’t find it romantic? I’m thirty-one years old, Levi. I get that life isn’t all sunshine and rainbows. Relationships aren’t always whiskey and sex. There are good times and bad. Beautiful things and ugly things. Rib eye steaks and fast food hamburgers. It’s not either, or. I don’t expect you to be perfect all the time.”

“Shhhh, hey, come here. Don’t get upset.” His tone contrite, he reached for me again, pulled me down. “I know what you’re saying. I promise I do. I just…” He squeezed my arm. “I just want this for a little longer, OK? I want it to be only us, whiskey and sex. Beautiful things. We said we’d take it slow, right?”

Immediately I felt bad for pushing. “I’m sorry.” I threw my leg over him again. “I know we said we should go slow. I just love you and want to be close.”

“Me too.” His voice went husky, his hand covered one breast, and his cock stirred beneath my inner thigh. “What do you think about getting close in the shower before we get dressed?”

I slipped a hand between his legs. “I’m all for it.”

• • •

“God, I couldn’t even look Bob in the eye at checkout,” I said as we drove back to Traverse City. “And Jenny’s face was so red!”

“I know.” Levi laughed as he switched to the left lane. “We gave them a night to remember, that’s for sure.”

I groaned, slapping my hands over my hot cheeks. “I think you were right. Hotels from now on.”

“Definitely.” Levi patted my leg and then left his hand there, steering with the other.

I looked out the window as the scenery rolled by, happy we’d had such a great night together, and grateful for all the birthday surprises, but something nipped at the edges of my contentment. I felt closer to him than ever before, and yet I still felt this reluctance on his part to really let me in. Even though I know we said we’d go slow, it was hard not to feel a little hurt that he didn’t want me to meet his family yet. Especially his son. I understood the need to be cautious, but from what he’d said this morning, it seemed like he wanted to keep me separate from his home life for the foreseeable future, while we enjoyed the beautiful things. But for how long?

And I was glad that he’d smoothed things over with his mom and that Scotty had been fine last night, but that would make it even easier for him to lead two lives—one where he was with me, and one where he was Dad.

I wanted to know both sides of him.

Why wouldn’t he let me?

• • •

In the weeks leading up to Thanksgiving, I became Levi’s Girl Friday again, and we’d have our one incredible night together—twice he was able to stay over—and I’d go Saturday through Thursday missing him and wishing he was ready to take the next step. My feelings for him grew stronger, and he told me he loved me every single day. I believed him, but I also grew increasingly nervous that while our feelings continued to grow, our level of commitment had somehow stagnated. It was always us alone, and once we’d met up with Skylar and Sebastian for dinner, but he’d yet to introduce me to his son, and when I invited him to Sunday dinner at my parents’ house, he always had a reason why it wouldn’t work. More than once, I’d offered to come to his house on a Friday night, but he never wanted me to, and his reason was usually sexual.

“I know, it’s totally selfish of me,” he’d said tonight in my bed. “But I can’t bear the thought of having to go another week without being this close to you. Without getting my mouth on you. Without making you come.” Then he’d moved down my body and buried his face between my legs, making it impossible to argue with him.

I know. It was selfish of me.

Because I did want the sex every week. I craved it. I loved our phone conversations and our texts too—I’d never been emotionally needy or clingy, and my job kept me so busy during the week, the days went quickly. But there had to be more, didn’t there? Maybe I was the only one who wanted it. Maybe he didn’t see the future for us that I did.

I decided to ask.

As he pulled on his jeans and t-shirt, I lay on my side watching him, my hands tucked under my head. “Hey.”

He looked at me. “Hey.” Then he came over and planted a kiss on my shoulder. “You look way too good lying there. It’s tempting me to stay.”

“I was hoping we could talk about that.”

“Sorry my mom couldn’t do the overnight this weekend. I was hoping for it too.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

He glanced at me before pulling his sweater on and sitting to tug on socks and shoes. “Oh? What’s up?”

Be brave. Be brave. Be brave.
“I feel like you don’t want me to meet Scotty.”

He sat up straight. “That’s ridiculous. You know I do.”

“It’s been two months, Levi. When?”

“Soon. I don’t want to rush it, Jill. He’s had so much trouble with school this fall, and then with me going away overnight…” He ran a hand through his hair. “Plus, I like keeping our time together sort of sacred. Private. Romantic. Don’t you?”

“Of course.” I frowned. He was hard to argue with. “But being a father is such a huge part of your identity. And I hear you talk about it a lot, but I feel like I’m not allowed in to that huge part of your life. I just want to know why…is it because you don’t think this will last? And you don’t want to introduce me to Scotty because you’re planning on leaving me when the sex gets old or something?”

“Of course not.” Immediately he pulled me up against him, gathering me in his arms. “I love you so much. And I’m sorry if I’ve hurt your feelings by not introducing you to Scotty yet. I just…it’s a big deal, Jillian. It’s not something I take lightly.”

“I completely understand that,” I said, fighting tears. “But
you’re
not something
I
take lightly. I miss you when we’re apart all week long.”

He exhaled, resting his chin on my head. “Somehow, in my mind, it’s easier to balance being a good father and being in a relationship with you if I keep it separate. No confusion for me, for Scotty, or for you. When I’m at home with him, I’m Dad, and when I’m with you, I can completely devote myself to you. It’s a respite for me.”

I nodded. Hadn’t I known that already? Hadn’t I, in fact, relished the idea of being his respite, his escape from everything that made him feel as if he wasn’t enough? Now I was adding to that, and maybe he’d leave me because of it.

Don’t ruin this with your stupid insecurity. He loves you and you love him. Let that be enough for now.

“I understand.” I sniffed. Took a shuddery breath. “I’ll try to be more patient.”

He kissed my head. “And I’ll think some more about the introduction.”

“Thanks.”

We kissed each other languorously, his arms wrapped around me, and some of the tension and fear and unanswered questions melted away.

But some remained.

• • •

On Thanksgiving, which I spent at my parents’ house with my family and he spent in Charlevoix with his, my sisters wanted to know how things were going. The three of us stood in the kitchen, Natalie making stuffing, Skylar peeling potatoes, and me slicing the ends off green beans. Our mother had gotten the turkey in the oven earlier and had gone up to take a shower, and our dad was watching football in the family room with Miles and Sebastian.

“It’s going fine,” I said, forcing a casual tone. “He’s at his mom’s house today.”

“No plans to meet his son yet?” Natalie asked. Her ultrasound had recently revealed she was having a son, and both she and Miles were over the moon. Skylar was still insisting it could be a girl, and refused to believe she’d been wrong.

“Nothing concrete,” I admitted. “But I keep telling him I’d like to.”

They exchanged a look.

“What?” I said, looking back and forth between them.

Skylar cleared her throat. “We’re only hoping you don’t get hurt. He seems really into you, and it’s obvious you’re into him, but it feels like he’s asking you to be his side dish.”

My cheeks burned. “That’s not true. You have no idea what it’s like to be him and have to balance being a full-time single parent, work a full-time job, and have a relationship.”

She held up both hands. “You’re right. I don’t.”

“He’s doing the best he can,” I snapped.

“Easy,” said Natalie. “Skylar didn’t mean to attack Levi. We think he’s great. We only mentioned being worried because we can’t imagine being in a relationship with someone you love where you only see that person once a week.”

“It’s hard,” I admitted. “I don’t love that part of it.” And I knew I shouldn’t jump down their throats for seeing the same things I did and asking the same questions. But I couldn’t help but defend him.

“As long as you two are communicating, that’s the main thing,” Skylar said. “Fuck what we say or anyone else. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”

Her apology was what brought a few tears. “It’s OK. The truth is, I want more than he’s giving me too, but I feel like I can’t ask for it.”

“Why not?” Natalie was indignant.

“Because I’m scared he’ll leave.” The tears spilled over. “We made this agreement when we first got together two months ago or whatever, that we’d go slow and be cautious. I said I understood not being his first priority, and he warned me he could never give me all of himself. I still get that.”