At that moment, the sight of him sent a bolt of lust down her spine, reminding her of what she’d been missing for well onto a year now. They hadn’t communicated much beyond logistics, either, since the three boys sucked so much energy from them both, not to mention the fact that Love Brewing was attempting to expand, and negotiations with real banks had been underway for about a month.
Dom dropped off to sleep, as he usually did after his mid-morning meal, releasing her nipple with a pop, milk dribbling out of one corner of his pursed lips. Anton just watched them, hands in his jeans pockets, a small smile playing at his lips. She burped Dom, inhaling his baby smell, and wondering what in the world could have torn her husband away from his precious brewery at ten thirty in the morning.
“Let me,” he said, taking the small, curled-up boy and cradling him close. “Why don’t you take a bath?”
She frowned, taking in the chaos that passed for her kitchen these days. Antony was at the church pre-school, terrorizing his friends and teachers, no doubt. Kieran was still in bed. That kid would sleep until noon if she let him. She got up and stretched, wincing at the ache between her shoulder blades.
Wandering out into the living room, she was thinking about lying down and catching up on an hour of sleep herself when she heard the water running into the tub. She went in to find Anton filling it, sitting on the side and adjusting the water temperature.
“What in the world?”
He rose and went to her, smiling. She cocked her head, curious, but also getting hornier by the second. Without a word, he unbuttoned her shirt the rest of the way, slipping it off her arms and to the floor. Her unclasped nursing bra joined it, as did her sweat pants and panties. She stood, a bit self-conscious of her soft belly and the still-red scar above her pubic bone. He dropped to his knees and pressed his lips there, licking along the edges of the line where they’d opened her and taken Dominic from her quickly failing body.
He gripped her hips, keeping her close while he slid his fingertips between her legs. She gasped at the sensation of him, touching her there, of his lips and tongue, teasing her softest, most intimate parts. It felt so illicit, and wrong, and yet utterly perfect. Leaning against the wall, she threaded her fingers through his thick, black hair and draped one leg over his shoulder.
He gripped her even harder and she tilted her hips to give him the access he wanted and she required. He teased her flesh, and when he slid fingers inside her, her entire world coalesced around a flash of pleasure so bright and so intense she couldn’t help but cry out. Her hips moved against his face and hands. Her breathing came in loud gasps. The death grip she had on his hair, holding him in place so she could ride out the incredible orgasm would make his scalp hurt later. They’d joke about it.
But it was a moment long in coming, and one they both required. She let go of him and slumped against the wall, every inch of her thrumming with satisfaction. He got to his feet, unzipped his jeans and gripped his erection. The glistening moisture at its tip made her lick her lips and grab at him, kissing him while he backed up until he had to sit on the closed toilet lid.
“No, no, I don’t want to hurt … oh dear Jesus, God in heaven, yes …” He hissed as she lowered herself onto his lap, taking all of him, even though it hurt a little. Grinding down, gripping the towel bar behind his head, she let herself relive that first time in the shed, sitting on the hay bale.
She stood again, almost releasing him, just for the sheer joy of feeling it inside her, his dick, his cock, his penis. Her husband. “Faster,” he whispered into her breasts. “Please.”
She went faster. And when he filled her with a moan of something that sounded almost like pain, she kissed him and kissed him and wished she could never stop kissing him.
Later, lying in the tub while Anton distracted Antony, who’d been dropped off by a friend after his morning at pre-school and about five minutes after Anton had lifted her off him and helped her climb into the warm water, she relaxed for the first time in a year.
She heard their voices, both raised slightly—Anton tended to match the boy’s volume instead of telling him to tone it down—then heard Kieran running down the hall from the room he now shared with his older brother. Warmth and happiness filled her from head to toe.
She washed, got out, and made a mental note to get condoms the next time she was at the store. She’d missed her husband and the extreme physicality of their relationship. She had no intention of going without any longer. But she was also not about to have any more babies.
Chapter Sixteen
Lucasville
Eighteen months later
“What d’you mean ‘angel investor?’ ”
Lindsay was setting the table for supper while Anton sipped iced tea and bounced Dominic on his knee for the few seconds the kid would allow himself to be held by anyone.
Antony, who would start first grade in a few weeks, played in the bottom basement with the train set his uncles had given him. That thing ran almost nonstop while he was home and awake. He had a penchant for placing his matchbox cars on the crossings and letting the train demolish them, which worried her a little … when she had time to worry about such things.
“Exactly how it sounds. A guy with a giant bank account who wants to help pay for the brewery to move to a bigger location outside of town, so we can widen our distribution.” He put Dominic down when he started yelling for his brothers, then wrapped his arms around her from behind, kissing her neck and cupping her breasts. She smacked him away.
“Hands off. I have hot food and it’s the wrong time of the month, mister. Apparently, I can’t count on you to put on a rubber, and I am not having any more kids.”
He laughed and smacked her behind. “I don’t really understand it, either. They don’t want to be known as anything but ‘silent partners.’ It’s kinda weird, but Joe says I should seriously consider it.”
“Joe, huh?” She put the casserole dish on the table, poured milk in three cups and hollered for the boys before turning to face him. “I don’t care for him. You know that.”
Joe Patterson was a hotshot attorney who’d wandered into the Love Pub about a year prior, seeking “something different” in beer. A native of California, he’d attended law school in Louisville, and had set up a thriving practice there, been married and divorced, and now practically lived in Lucasville, offering free legal advice “in exchange for beer,” he claimed.
Lindsay wasn’t sure what she didn’t like about him. He was tall and slim, a former swimmer or water polo player or some such foolish California thing. His dark brown hair was cut close, and his hazel eyes were sharp, knowing, and never still.
He was, in a word, handsome, and he knew it, which rubbed Lindsay all kinds of wrong ways. Handsome men were better off humble, in her opinion. The ones who weren’t were trouble waiting to happen. This was something she realized she’d better impart to her own potentially handsome sons soon enough.
“I know, honey.” Anton patted her behind again and made a sound low in his throat, indicating his preference for a bit of alone time.
“Off me,” she said, giving him a flick of her fingers and smiling when the boys barreled into the kitchen. With their contrasting dark, light, and rich auburn heads of hair, they were as different in looks and temperament as three humans who came from the same DNA combination could be. “Hands?” They all trooped to the sink and stood on the stepstool she kept there so they could soap, rinse, dry and jockey for position.
They sat, and Anton said grace, adding a bit about the Reds beating the Cubs, which made the boys giggle and her frown. Antony talked a mile a minute, barely pausing to eat. Kieran ate while observing his brothers and his parents. Dominic played with his food, eating a little, but getting most of it on his face, the table, and the floor. She’d put away the high chair since he refused to sit in it after figuring out how to climb down when she made him sit there. “Me,” he’d said simply, pointing to his brothers at the table, one in a booster seat the other on a pile of phone books. “Table.”