Page 128 of Discerning Blake

I growl as I grab her with one hand and pull down the waistband of her yoga pants with the other.

“Wait, wait, wait,” she says, trying to squirm away from me. “Your hands are dirty.”

I look at the room around us. It’s full of dust and cobwebs, and I’ve been touching it all.

But I can’t leave her unsatisfied. Ever since she explained to me why she cried after our first time together, I’ve sworn to myself that I would never come without making sure she did too. I’ve kept that promise for two months, and I don’t want to back down now.

“Fine.” I pull her pants back up. But I don’t let her go.

I bring my hand between her legs. It’s only a thin piece of fabric, and when I pinch down on her clit, she gasps just the same as if I were touching her skin directly.

And when I drag my fingertips against her core, I find her pants are already damp.

There is nothing sexier than knowing how much she enjoyed touching me. I kiss her as I apply more pressure between her legs. Until she’s squirming, until she’s begging.

I lift her up, holding her with one arm under her butt. She wraps her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck, laying her head in the crook of my neck, while my free hand plays with her.

I know what she likes, though it’s harder with the pants in the way, and I hate that I can’t bury my fingers in her depth. But Amelia seems to enjoy it all the same. She clings to my neck, and when I find just the right way to rub under her clit with my thumb, she bites down on my neck as she comes.

I wrap my arms around her back and hold her to me as she slowly relaxes deeper into my arms.

There are no words to describe what I feel in that moment. I press my heart to hers. And I know she feels it too.

Epilogue

Four years later.

Amelia

Chase sighs for the eighteenth time as I press send on the email. We’re sitting at the dining room table, handmade and oak, which sits ten that Blake and I ordered from Hunter, Shannon's husband and a local carpenter, who made most of the wooden furniture in the farmhouse and the brewery. The evening light passing through the beautiful floor-to-ceiling, multi-paned patio doors, as the sun sets just behind the green-peaked mountains, reflects off the table, making every speck of dust glitter and causing Chase and I to scoot more and more toward the corner.

I take a quick glance at Chase’s homework. He’s only finished half the page. Usually, he loves math, but right now, he wants to let me know just how much of a pain I am for making him do his homework before playing video games. It’s an eternal battle between us that has only gotten worse since he turned twelve.

I pretend not to hear him and take a quick peek at Delilah, who’s been suspiciously quiet. She’s busy digging in the cabinet under the TV and pulling out magazines. I let her explore. The living room is a mess of toys, blocks, and dolls and stuffed animals thrown everywhere. And now she’s adding my magazines to the mess. But I don’t stop her. Blake and I moved all the objects that we care about to higher shelves the moment she started walking. Right now, I’m just grateful that she’s playing on her own so that Chase and I can get some work done.

Chopper, who's an adorable mix of lab and husky, puts his nose on my lap. I pet him behind the ear as I open the next email in my inbox. There’s a problem with one of the bands for the Spring Festival: their guitarist broke his arm. I groan as loudly as Chase.

“Want to trade?” he asks.

“Work.” I give him my sternest look just as the front door opens, and I lose his attention entirely.

“Dad!” Delilah abandons her magazines and runs to the front door just as Blake enters carrying two paper bags.

He drops the bags on the floor and picks up Delilah, showering her with kisses that make her squirm and giggle.

Chopper abandons me to stick his nose inside the shopping bags.

Blake, holding Delilah in one hand, gives Chopper a one-handed scratch on the side of the neck and then picks up the bags. He drops them on the dining room table, smiling at Chase and I as if he just can’t stop.

Blake does a lot of smiling these days. It changes his face completely.

“Blake, you promised we’d play together,” Chase says.

We bought Chase a video game console and a baseball game for his twelfth birthday, and it’s all he wants to do. When he’s not playing baseball in real life, that is.

“I know. Set it up then.”

Chase jumps off his chair with a huge grin.