My body responds to the memory without my permission, my erection pressing against the front of my pajama pants, making me grateful that we fell in such a way that my hips are resting on the floor, instead of between Aria’s thighs. If she could feel me now, there would be no denying the way she affects me.
“Nash?” she asks in a husky voice that draws my attention back to her mouth.
“Yeah?”
“I said I was fine,” she says, her eyes narrowing. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I’m good,” I lie, fighting to regain control before I stand up, a part of me wishing I didn’t have to move an inch.
I like having Aria under me, her lips only a few inches from mine. I like it way too much.
I want to kiss her so badly, need claws at my insides. I want to claim her mouth the way I did in the beer tent that first night. I want to feel her moving beneath me, her back arching and her breasts pressed against my chest as her legs wrap around my waist.
I want it so much that I’m leaning closer—morning breath and our bargain be damned—when Felicity calls out, “Mama, Mama!” from her room and Aria flinches like she’s been caught shoplifting.
“I should go get her,” she says. “I want to make a big deal about what a good girl she is for staying in her bed all night.”
“Right. Good idea.” I shift onto my side, setting Aria free, waiting until she’s disappeared into Felicity’s room before I make a beeline for my closet to grab running clothes and talk myself down from the ridiculous state I’m in.
I was a hot second away from making a fool of myself and endangering our bargain before either of us get what we need from the arrangement. The hearing with Aria’s ex is still weeks away and we’ve been too beat to venture out in public where we might run into my ex, or at least encounter gossips willing to carry the news of our happy coupledom to Rachael’s ears. I can’t risk screwing this up, for Felicity’s sake if nothing else.
Aria and I agreed to be friends in private. The lovey-dovey stuff is for the benefit of others, when we’re out in public.
Then you’d better find an excuse to get her out in public. Stat.
The inner voice is right.
And brilliant.
A night out to celebrate Skeeter’s first successful brush with sleep training and a chance to get close to Aria—it sounds like a little piece of heaven. I promised to bring Aria and Felicity over to Raleigh’s house tomorrow to meet part of the family—easing Aria into the Geary experience a few sisters at a time—but there’s nothing on the agenda for tonight.
Wheels turning, I head out of the bedroom.
I find Aria and Felicity in the kitchen, Skeeter balanced on her mama’s hip as Aria warms up the baby’s bottle in the microwave.
As soon as Felicity sees me she lets out a happy squeal, grinning her gap-toothed grin.
“You did it, Skeeter!” I reach for the baby, who comes to me with outstretched arms. I lift her high in the air and spin her around the kitchen, making her giggle. “You did it! You slept in your bed all night! What a big girl you are!”
“She is a big girl,” Aria says, laughter in her voice. “I told her Mama was so proud.”
“Me, too.” I blow on Felicity’s belly, while she laughs and kicks her legs. “So proud that I think we should celebrate,” I add, holding Skeeter against my chest with one arm as I turn back to Aria.
“Celebrate how?” she asks, smiling as she twists the top on the bottle and gives it a good shake.
In her PJs, with her hair wild and not a drop of makeup on her face, she looks so young, closer to the girl she was when we first met, back when I looked across the camp, locked eyes with the redhead watching me from the other registration line, and had to go introduce myself. That very second.
There was just something about her.
There still is.
It’s a dangerous thought, but it doesn’t stop me from saying, “Dinner out tonight.” The baby reaches for her milk and I guide her back into Aria’s arms, staying close as I add. “On me. At David’s downtown.”
Aria’s eyebrows lift, and her smile widens. “David’s, huh? That’s fancy.”
“Fancy ladies deserve fancy food.”
“Did you hear that, Felicity?” she asks, kissing the baby’s head as Skeeter tips her bottle back and begins to drink. “Want to get pretty tonight and go out for a fancy dinner with Nash?”
“You’ll be the prettiest girls there, even in your PJs.”
Aria glances up, pleasure and uncertainty mixing in her expression. “That’s a sweet thing to say.”
“It’s not sweet, just the truth,” I say, fighting the urge to draw Aria and Felicity both in for a hug. This feels like a warm, family moment, but it isn’t, not really, and it will be bad for all of us in the long run if we let the line between real and pretend blur too much.