If she was going to stay the night in my apartment, I didn't want her anywhere but in my bed. So I scooped her up and carried her back to my room. She stirred along the way.
"Pick?" I loved her sleepy, blurry voice, especially when she was saying my name. "What're you doing?"
"You are not sleeping on that couch."
She curled more fully into me and rested her cheek on my shoulder. "Well, neither should you."
I shook my head. "My place, my rules. No sexy new mother is allowed to sleep in anything but a bed."
Neither of us mentioned the extra bed in Tristy's room, and she had to know it was there. She'd passed the opened doorway to get to my room I don't know how many times.
I guess we'd silently agreed it was off limits. But it felt wrong for her to sleep where Tris had slept. It felt as if Tristy had soiled the mattress and made it too dirty for the likes of my Tinker Bell.
As we entered my bedroom, I saw that both babies were asleep in the crib. I had to smile. They could've been brother and sister. It was as if this was how things were meant to be.
Eva didn't resist when I laid her on the mattress, but she did grab my shirt when I tried to straighten. "You stay too. This bed will hold us both, and I'm far and away from being a modest, maidenly virgin. Plus, I trust you."
The I-trust-you part won me over. Blood surged through my veins, hot and thick. My skin prickled, suddenly extra sensitive. I was going to sleep beside my Tinker Bell.
Oh, fuck. She was going to be right next to me, all night long.
My arousal thrummed painfully hard, but I nodded in agreement because no way was I turning this down. Then I held my breath, irrationally afraid she'd come to her senses if I breathed wrong. If she knew how much the very idea of lying beside her turned me on, she'd probably freak.
"Just . . . uh, just let me just change, and I'll be right back."
She was already fast asleep again by the time I returned, wearing a hole-ridden t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. She'd scooted to the outside edge, probably so she could take the side closest to the kids, which meant I had to crawl over her to reach the inside of the bed that I had pressed against the wall.
"Night, Tink," I told her softly before kissing the crown of her head.
"Mmph," was her only reply.
I smiled, killed the lights and crawled in with her. The blonde silken tresses of her hair, illuminated by the nightlight that was plugged in by the crib, looked like spun gold. I wanted to reach out and touch it, run my fingers through it, and bring it to my nose to smell. But I was a good boy and kept my hands off the woman I'd been dreaming about for the past decade. She was inches away, safe and secure, and so damn beautiful. Our children were sleeping only a few feet from us. Life was pretty damn spectacular.
I fell asleep with a smile on my face. And again, I slept right through Julian waking up in the middle of the night.
***
The next night, Eva stayed over again, and she slept in my bed. Again. And once again, I crawled under the sheets with her after I got home from working at the club.
But unlike the two nights before, I woke to suckling sounds in the early hours.
"Julian?" I mumbled, rolling over to face her.
"He's already gone back to sleep," she answered. "I'm up with Skylar now."
Shit, she didn't need to get up this many times. "Need me to do anything?"
"Nope. Got it covered." And she did; she'd thrown a blanket over her shoulder, covering all the action.
My squinted eyes suddenly weren't so squinted with sleep anymore. "Are you breastfeeding?"
"Mm-hmm."
I sighed and reclosed my eyes. "That is so hot. Breastfeeding mothers kick ass. If I wasn't this tired, I'd be incredibly turned on right now."
Screw it; I was already growing wood.
She laughed softly. "Go back to bed, Patrick."
I smiled. "Call me that again."
"Patrick." She teased my hair with her fingers.
Damn. "Yep, I'm having a serious wet about this dream tonight."
Then I fell back asleep to her amazing laughter.
EVA
By the beginning of the fourth day of playing Nanny Mercer, I was exhausted, and yet strangely invigorated. I just felt good. Good about myself, about what I was doing for Pick and Julian, about how I was spending my days. Just plain good about everything.
The fatigue was beginning to get to me, though. Today, I was going to sleep whenever the kids did. That's all there was to it. Besides, I'd mostly caught up with all the housework, even though Pick kept insisting I didn't have to do so much. I felt better being in a cleaner place, plus I wanted to help him out since he worked himself like a dog. And I had to admit, I loved all the appreciation I saw in his eyes every time he came home to a hot meal or freshly washed sheets.
Oh, God. I sounded like June Cleaver.
I'd always made fun of those women who didn't work, who stayed home like the obedient little housewife, barefoot and pregnant, and always sweating over a hot stove. But after being that woman for the past three days, I knew I would never make fun of her again.
This kind of life took some serious girl power. It was no cushy job; it was more like slave labor. I was so freaking tired, sometimes my eyelids hurt from keeping them pried open. I don't care how much Pick was paying, no dollar amount would ever compensate. Except, I already felt compensated. I went to bed each night with this awesome feeling, knowing I'd accomplished something. I'd set a plan of how to tackle all my duties, and I reached every goal, every day.
I'd honestly never felt as good about myself as I did now.
It was this emotion—this love I was cultivating for the babies I nurtured as well as the man who kept looking at me as if I could do no wrong—that made it all worth it. Even when Julian woke up earlier than usual, right after I'd been up with Skylar for the past two hours because the girl just wouldn't go back to sleep, I felt quenched.
Popping out of bed before he could wake Skylar again, I snagged him from his crib and turned back to the cozy nest I'd shared with Pick two nights in a row. But Pick wasn't there. I paused and cocked my head until I heard the shower running from the single bathroom down the hall.
Wow, I hadn't even stirred when his alarm went off.
After settling Julian and myself back on the bed, I propped some pillows behind my back so I could sit comfortably, and then I pushed up my nightshirt to unsnap my bra.
"Are you hungry, little guy?" I asked as I cradled him into position and drew his face up to my nipple.
I didn't realize what I'd just done until he began to suck. The strength of his pulls was a lot stronger than Skylar's. It snapped me right out of my foggy, half-asleep daze. With a gasp, I bolted upright, suddenly fully awake.
"Oh, shit." I was breastfeeding Julian.
This had to be wrong. He wasn't mine, and I was only watching him for a couple days.
What Pick would say if he knew?
Julian didn't seem to mind, though. The kid kept drinking while his chubby little fingers rested possessively against the side of my breast.
Instantly, something inside me softened. I stroked his head, letting him have his fill. Wet nursing was no new thing; it should be okay. And Skylar certainly wouldn't go without. The preemie rarely drank much; there was more than enough to go around. And everyone said breast milk was so much better for a child than formula. Plus, if they both ate this way, I wouldn't have to get up so much in the middle of the night, shuffle to the kitchen, warm a bottle, carry it back to bed . . . yada, yada, yada.
When I realized I was rationalizing why I shouldn't stop, I flushed. The God's honest truth was I liked taking care of him this way. I liked the bond, and I loved this baby.
Down the hall, the bathroom door opened. I sucked in a breath. Oh, crappity, crap, crap. Footsteps in the hall urged me to grab a nearby blanket and toss it over my shoulder, completely covering which baby I was feeding. Do, to-do, to-do, went the whistling in m
y head, nothing going on here.
Pick appeared in the doorway, wearing nothing but a towel. My mouth dried up and I forgot what I was trying to hide from him.
He jerked to a halt when he saw me. "Oh. You're awake."
I was a too busy staring to answer him. Yeah, I was definitely awake now.
He motioned toward his dresser. "I forgot to bring my clothes into the bathroom with me."
When he entered and crossed the room to pull open the top drawer, I waved him on. "Trust me, I don't mind." Really.
"In that case." He tossed me a wink over his shoulder and dropped the towel.
My mouth fell open. Oh, sweet mercy. Naked Pick Ryan looked amazing from the back. His tush was tight and sculpted to perfection, and his spine muscles looked all sleek and shiny, wet from the shower. My gaze swept up and down, then up and down again. He really did only tattoo his arms and neck, didn't he? Oh, and his heart. I remembered seeing a peek of that one at Forbidden during the auction, but I hadn't been close enough to see what had been special enough to place it directly over his heart.
I forgot all about tattoos when he bent to pull on a pair of boxers. I caught the barest glimpse of a shadow from his junk hanging down in the front and had to press my legs together tight. He didn't turn around until he had on a pair of jeans and was zipping up the fly.
"Hey, you got a little drool." He wiped the corner of his own mouth. "Right there."
I begin to lift my fingers to wipe up the mess before I realized he was teasing. Eyes narrowing, I muttered, "Shut up," and I stuck my tongue out at him. Then I laughed at my own silliness. As my gaze caught on the single tattoo over his heart, I couldn't stand the curiosity. "You never did tell me what that one meant," I said, hitching my chin toward it.
He froze, with one of those hand-caught-in-the-cookie-jar expressions. Then he briefly skated his fingers over it as if he wanted to hide it. Shrugging, he yanked on a white undershirt. "Just a list of names," he said and grabbed a fresh work shirt from his closet before buttoning it up.
Holy crap, he was so hiding something. I couldn't let this drop. "I caught a glimpse of it at the club on auction night. But I've never gotten close enough to see the details. Whose names are on it?"
Ha! A direct question. Let's see him evade this answer.
"Just . . . " He focused his attention on straightening non-existent wrinkles on his shirt. "Names."
I wasn't deterred. "Of important people?"
" Mm-hmm."
"Is this in any way related to the reason why my birthday is the passcode to your cell phone? Because, you know, you refused to talk about that too."
He lifted his face to frown at me. But he said absolutely nothing.
"Fine." I flung out a hand. "Go ahead and shut me out. Again." I lifted my chin in an airy, pretentious way. "It's fine. I mean, I thought we were becoming friends and talked about everything. But don't worry. I get it. You know the worst possible thing there is to know about me, but I don't need to know anything about you at all."
His shoulders deflated and his expression turned bleak. "Don't be that way, Tink. I—"
"I'm kidding!" I broke in with a roll of my eyes and forced laugh.
Okay, fine. It did twinge a little that he didn't feel comfortable enough to share something with me, but seriously—
"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. I understand. I really do. And I'm sorry for teasing you about it. I didn't mean to make you take me so seriously."
He drew out what I hoped was a relieved breath, but something on his face told me he wasn't quite reassured. I opened my mouth to go on and keep apologizing for making him feel guilty when a rustling from the crib caught our attention.
Pick was quick to check it out. "I'll get him," he offered, only to stop short when he looked down at the baby inside. He hesitantly drew Skylar from the bed and turned to me. When his gaze dropped and fixated on the lump where Julian was still having his breakfast, I knew I'd been caught.
"Eva . . . " he said slowly. "Are you . . . feeding Julian?"
"Um . . . " The guilt on my face totally gave me away.
His eyes shot open wide. "Holy shit."
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." I immediately pulled Julian away from my chest and covered myself. "I was half asleep and just so used to taking care of Skylar this way. I didn't realize what I was doing until he was already latched on . . . " I faltered when Pick's eyes widened at that description. "But he took to it so naturally and seemed happy, I didn't want to disturb him."
He seemed kind of fussy now, though, since I'd interrupted him mid-meal. But I swung him over my shoulder and began to pat his back quickly and nervously. My gaze sought Pick, trying to gauge his reaction, but he looked more surprised than anything.
"Oh, God. You think I'm gross and disgusting, don't you?"
"I think . . . " He shook his head as if he had no idea what he thought. Then he uttered, "I think you're feeding my kid from your . . . your . . . "
"It's supposed to be much more nutritious this way." I motioned vaguely at my boobs. "This milk is packed with disease-fighting . . . stuff, you know, to help protect him. I read all about. He'd get a much healthier, safer diet from me. Besides, Skylar never eats enough. I usually have to pump out the extra to keep my boobs from hurting. And why the heck are you looking at me like that?"
He grinned, and I knew everything would be okay. "Sorry, I just . . . " He shook his head. "This has to be the hottest conversation I've ever had with you. Please . . . continue talking about your breasts."
"Oh my God." I rolled my eyes toward the ceiling. "Pick, this is serious. Do you have a problem with what I did, or not?"
He jiggled Skylar in his arms, swaying her back and forth to keep her happy. "Why would I have a problem with it? You just listed a million reasons why it's better for him."
"Because . . . I don't know. He's not mine. Surely someone would have a problem with it . . . for some reason."
"Well, they're not here in this room, so fuck them."
"But . . . " I closed my eyes and held Julian just a little bit tighter. "What if . . . what if attachment issues come from this . . . or something?" Like they already had.
Pick sat on the edge of the mattress next to my hip. "Tink, you are the best thing that's ever happened to that kid. I don't care if he only has one day left with you or twenty, you just keep doing whatever you're doing until you have to go, and I will forever worship the ground you walk on. Because a little slice of heaven is better than none at all. I will gladly deal with attachment issues if they crop up. Got it?"
A smile lit my face. "Got it."
But, wow, this man was too good to be true. He always knew the exact right thing to say to make me feel better. Was it any wonder I'd been able to sleep next to him all night without a single qualm?
I'd never been able to fall asleep next to any guy; too many lingering childhood traumas prevented it. But there had been no reservations about urging Pick to crawl into bed with me. Sure, I could argue that I'd been half-asleep and too tired to care. But honestly, I just felt that completely and utterly safe with him. I felt protected, and I knew if he ever touched me, it'd be because I wanted it, and I he'd make sure I enjoyed it.
"Here, trade me," I told him, holding up Julian as Skylar began to complain. "She's gotta be hungry too."
He readily complied, setting my daughter in my free arm. After we switched off, and I tucked Skylar under my nursing blanket, Pick narrowed his eyes at a happy, babbling Julian.
"Oh, don't you smile at me with that milky grin, you lucky shit. There's no need to rub in it. I know where that mouth's been."
"Pick!" I rolled my eyes.
He sent me an innocent glance. "What? He's clearly rubbing it in."
"You are such a guy."
"Hell, yeah, I'm a guy. What'd you expect me to be?"
His smile was slow and seductive, which reminded me I'd just seen his taut naked tushy. I didn't know how I was going to handle livi
ng with him for another week and half. Keeping my hands off him while I slept next to him every night was already a challenge, but now that I'd seen what the goods looked like under his clothes, the challenge had just ramped itself up into mission impossible.
"I'm going to make myself a bowl of cereal. You want one?" he asked.
Tickled he thought to ask and was willing to serve me, I smiled. Oh, yeah. Reese had been right. This one was a keeper.
If only he was available to keep.
I shook my head. "No, thanks. I'll grab a banana later."
His eyebrows shot up. "Banana? We have bananas?"
Before I was even able to answer, he was gone, shooting from the room like a rocket. Seconds later, I heard, "Holy shit!"
He pounded back down the hall until he reappeared with a pile of food loaded down on Julian's lap as he carried the poor boy like a human bowl. "Eva, there's . . . there's food freaking everywhere. And fruit. I love fruit."
I laughed, glad I had remembered that detail when I'd gone shopping. "I know. I bought it, remember? With your money?"
"But." He strode to the bed with his loot and let the heap tumble off Julian's lap and onto the mattress beside me. "There's apples, and oranges, and what the fuck is this?" He took a bite before moaning. "I don't care. It tastes amazing."
"Didn't you see everything I bought last night—or the night before—when you were in the kitchen, eating supper . . . and breakfast?"
"No." He shook his head as he settled next to me on the bed, placing Julian between us. Then he started a picnic with the food, letting Julian gnaw briefly on his nectarine before he stole it back. "I was too busy eating, and staring at you, and running off to my next job in between getting hit on by your cousin to notice much else."
"Oh, she was not hitting on you."
"Whatever." He shrugged. "You know, you keep treating me this good, I may never let you leave."
I couldn't say what I was really feeling, which was, who said I wanted to leave? But I definitely thought it. I think we were going to have to worry about me suffering more from attachment issues than Julian would.