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  "Because we probably need rules and stuff, right?" I asked. My hand was still hooked into hers, making it hard to concentrate.

  "Sure."

  "Like are we having sex with other people or being exclusive or what?"

  "Well, it will be monogamous at my end," she said, shrugging. "Just because no one else is ringing my bells right now."

  "Ditto for me," I said. The idea that I alone was ringing her bells got my heart pounding double-time. "How about how we act around other people? We keeping this on the down low? Because otherwise I need to prepare for Nell to try and kill me while making it look like an accident. I'm thinking there'll be an incident with hot oil in the kitchen."

  Jean snorted, but she did not try to deny it. "Let's keep it just between you and me."

  "Sounds good," I said, trying not to let my relief show through too much. "Though I may have already kind of talked about it to Joe and my mom and Joe will definitely talk to Alex about it if he hasn't already. He's pretty much pussy-whipped when it comes to stuff like that. Sorry."

  "So basically word is going to get around?"

  "Probably."

  Her lips wrinkled, then she shrugged. "Whatever."

  "Whatever?"

  "Yeah." Out of nowhere, her hands were on me, pushing me up against the wall, and leaning in until her T-shirt-covered breasts were brushing against me. Made it damn hard to think. Christ, the absolute focus in her eyes. "I don't mind if you don't."

  I cleared my throat. "I, um, I vote we just tell them all to mind their own business."

  "Will they?"

  "Probably not."

  "Duly noted."

  Then her hands grabbed hold of my shoulders and she lifted up, pressing her lips to mine. Her breath mingling with mine, her face so close. Fucking hell, it was perfect and the woman did not mess around. Sweet turned to sin in no time. Mouths open and tongues playing. Our teeth clashed and my palms smoothed down her back, holding her tight. From our knees upward, we were pressed together and I could happily have died.

  "You don't mind if we practice a bit before the big event?" she asked, breathing heavily. "It's kind of been a while."

  "Whatever you want. Practice makes perfect."

  "Thanks."

  And then she kissed me again, hard and hungry. Her fingers dug into my hair, the kiss deepening. Ever so slightly out of control, I grabbed at her gorgeous round ass. Something I'd always wanted to do. A tiny voice in the back of my head wondered if ass-grabbing counted for Jean as "practice," and whether I was moving things along a bit too fast. But at my touch she pushed her hips hard forward into me, and my doubts disintegrated. She was as into this as I was. Maybe more, if that was even possible.

  Our mouths fused together once more, my hands happily full of Jean's delectable soft rear. Our pelvises were grinding together, the front of my jeans getting damn tight. The woman did things to me. Things beyond my control. Not that I wanted either of us in control right then. No, what I really wanted was to reverse our positions, have her legs wrapped around my hips, and then take the whole grinding thing to the next level. Though even just kissing Jean was a treat. The kind of experience where nothing else existed.

  We were halfway through the maneuver, Jean's legs just beginning to lift and spread around my waist, when Ada made some weird outraged yodel kind of yell in the next room.

  "Shit," whispered Jean.

  "We got a little carried away."

  "Just a bit." Then, sadly, she stepped back, straightening her top. The sight of her hard nipples undid me just a bit more. Her breasts would be as nice a handful as her ass. "You okay?"

  "Yes. Thank you."

  "If you want, I'll show them to you later."

  "Sorry, what?" My gaze returned to her face.

  Only to have her point to her breasts. "I said, I can show them to you sometime if you want."

  "I would like that very much."

  "Okay then." She grinned. "Next make-out session, no shirts. Agreed?"

  I was a total winner at life. Forget how much money currently sat in my bank account. Ignore my maturity levels and emotional stability or lack thereof. Jean had offered to show me her tits. The year had only just started and mine was already made.

  I grinned back at her. "Second base it is."

  Ada yelled again and Jean headed her way. Though the sound from the baby seemed more bored than upset or anything. She'd had both of our attention for a minute there, and then me and her mom had disappeared. Clearly not okay.

  "Hey, baby." Jean swung her up into her arms. "What's going on?"

  Ada gurgled happily once more.

  "Oh my god," cooed Jean. "Were you not the center of attention for a minute? That's outrageous. Worst mother of the year. Again. And you're not even a year old yet."

  "Hello." I gave the baby my finger to hold onto. Of course, she immediately tried to stick it in her mouth. "Cool zebra-print onesie, baby girl."

  "So glad it meets with your approval," said her mother.

  "You want me to hang with her while you get some stuff done or anything?"

  "Actually, I'd love to go downstairs for a coffee and get out of here for a bit," she said. "We could all go?"

  "Sounds good."

  "All right, let me just brush my hair." Jean passed me the baby, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek as she did so. "Won't be long."

  "Take your time." I settled onto the couch with Ada nestled into my shoulder. "I am completely happy right here."

  *

  The next day at work I had a lot to think about.

  As I walked around opening the place up, the fingers on my left hand still tingled with the memory of holding Jean's ass. But by 10 a.m. I'd moved on to more pressing matters, daydreaming about how Jean's tits would look, adorned with nothing more than a skimpy bra. The next tasks were to tally the books and restock the bar, which was an opportune time to speculate on what a sight they would be sans bra. Awesome, was my educated guess. Memo to self: don't dim the lights so far tonight that you can't get a good view.

  By the time I'd finished with that business, it was late morning. A few young tourists had moseyed in for brunch, and it was game on. I fixed their Bloody Marys wondering how those two magnificent creatures would feel when I finally had them in my hands. Firm and strong, if the memory of them pressing into my chest last night was anything to go by. Not to mention how they looked when she had tried to straighten her top, and those hard nipples pressed out against the fabric. But then, tits were strange and magical things, and sometimes they'd be surprisingly soft and succulent. A box of chocolates and all that. So it was hard to know. And then there was the whole question of skin texture and nipples to be considered. Like I said, a lot to think about.

  Oddly, it was turning out that messing around with Jean was twice as much fun as actually having sex with anyone else. After work the next day, I stopped by her apartment. She'd invited me over via text message. Ada was fast asleep and the lights were set to low.

  "I was trying for some atmosphere, but it turns out I only own one." Jean pointed to the thick white candle flickering on the coffee table. "Vaguely romantic second base?"

  "Works for me."

  "Oh, not that I'm trying for romance here," she quickly amended. "That's not ... damn. I didn't think."

  "Jean, relax," I said, joining her on the couch. "Pretty sure that having a candle on the coffee table doesn't equal a long-term commitment or anything." Actually, my entire life history demonstrated as much, but I didn't think that was the best thing to mention right now.

  "Okay."

  "Though you should keep more candles around in case of an electricity outage or something."

  "Yes, I've put them on the next shopping list."

  "Or in case of future emergency bases. I don't know if I'd be comfortable moving to fourth base without at least three candles. It just wouldn't seem right."

  "Right." She smiled and I just had to kiss her. It'd been far too long since our lips had la
st met. Like a day and a half or something outrageous.

  This part came easily, slipping my tongue into her mouth to caress hers. Then putting an arm around her shoulder and drawing her in close. And in return, she sank her fingers into my hair, holding on tight. Something she seemed to like doing and I certainly had no complaints about. I traced the length of her arm, curved my hand around her shoulder. Our kisses grew hotter, more feverish. But for some godawful reason, I couldn't concentrate on what we were doing. My brain would not shut up. Last time, she'd been so wonderfully greedy. Was I going too slowly for her now? I just wasn't sure at what stage she'd be expecting me to get the whole naked-from-the-waist-up thing going on. What if I moved too soon and messed it up and totally let her down?

  Shit, this was confusing.

  Also, it hadn't even occurred to me to ask her about her day. I'd barely been able to string a goddamn sentence together since I stepped foot through her door. The woman probably thought I was a useless jerk. Jesus.

  "What's wrong?" she asked, moving her lips to my cheek.

  "Huh?"

  "You seem distracted."

  I sat back with a sigh. "Yeah."

  "Eric?"

  "I'm fucking it up."

  She frowned. "No, you're not. Tell me what you're thinking."

  I pushed my hand back through my hair with a groan. "Damn, you know, I think I'm actually nervous."

  Her gaze widened.

  "I'm never nervous. This is crazy." I got to my feet, pacing back and forth, avoiding Ada's jungle gym and the oversized teddy in the corner. "Joe and I have been working out at the gym regularly, I'm in my goddamn prime right now. I dress nice, I have a good job. No mistake, I'm catch."

  Jean continued with the saying nothing.

  "And I always know exactly what I'm doing with a woman when it comes sex," I said. "I don't think it'll come as any surprise to you that fucking is my specialty. Right up there with mixing drinks. But talking, telling chicks--sorry, women--what's in my head, communicating my feelings, shit like that--I can't do that. It's just not okay. A bit of foreplay, though? Hell, I'm all over that."

  Jean still said nothing.

  "This makes no sense," I berated myself and continued my pacing. But maybe on some level, it did make sense. It was different this time. Maybe because it had been so long for me, after taking all those months out of the game. Maybe because the friends-with-benefits thing was uncharted territory. Or maybe because it was her.

  "Oh-kay."

  "I feel ... fuck," I said, curling my hands into fists. "Anxious. Yeah, god. It's horrible. What is that about?"

  "If it helps, I'm nervous too."

  I paused. "You are? What on earth about?"

  "Well, pregnancy changes your body, Eric." She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. "My breasts aren't as firm as they used to be, for starters."

  "Maybe, but they're still breasts. All breasts are great, Jean. Take it from a connoisseur."

  "Right," she said.

  "What else?"

  "I've heard about some of the women you've slept with in the past. They sound like runway models, half of them." She shook her head. "And I am very much not a runway model. My belly is kind of a little weird and wobbly now. Not to mention my Frankenstein scar down below."

  "I know Ada can be a handful at times, but saying a monster came out of you is a little harsh," I joked.

  "Ha. I'm being serious."

  "Okay, yes. Sorry. I get that." But seriously, like any of that mattered. The woman was nuts.

  "Plus, I've obviously got some experience, but not as much as you. What if I suck in bed?"

  "Huh," I said, realization dawning.

  "What is 'huh'?"

  "So this is normal for most people," I said, crossing my arms. "Worrying about your body and your performance and all that shit."

  She thought about it for a moment. "Yes, pretty much. Performance anxiety, insecurity about bodily bits, fears of inadequacy in general, all of those sorts of things. I mean, you want to be enough for the person you're into. Hell, you want them to think that you're awesome in all the ways and worth the effort. You want to please them. And be pleased in return, of course."

  "Jesus," I said, pacing once more. "It's fucking debilitating. How do you deal with it?"

  "I can't talk for everyone, but I just try to put it aside and concentrate on the moment," she said. "I mean, at least it means you care. It's not all a sign of something bad."

  I wasn't so sure about that. What if worrying about your performance actually impacted your performance? There was a serious issue here.

  "I've known guys who basically ignore you in bed."

  "Idiots."

  "You're just reduced to being a vagina and a pair of breasts. Body parts for their entertainment," she said. "They're usually the kind of dicks who say they don't like the taste."

  "Are you serious?"

  "Nope."

  "What useless sacks of shit."

  "One sad sack I met wanted to debate whether the female orgasm is a myth or not," she said. "While we were in bed."

  I hung my head. "Oh, man."

  "Indeed." She half smiled. "But we were doing something before this discussion derailed us."

  "Right. Yeah. Okay." I clapped my hands, rubbed them together. I just had to get my head back in the game. Get the mood back somehow. "How do you want to do this?"

  "What if I give you something else to focus on?"

  "Sounds good. What have you got?"

  In response, she peeled off her top and tossed it aside. Then she immediately covered her belly with her arms, leaving her skinny jeans and siren-red bra on display.

  "Okay, I did it," she said, speaking more to herself than to me.

  "You certainly did."

  "Your turn."

  I kneeled in front of her, my gaze hooked by the promise of that bra. Trailing fingers softly back and forth along her arms, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. I licked my lips. So much soft, bare skin calling to me. I'd dearly love to make a feast of the woman.

  Then she clicked her fingers in front of my face. "Eric, take off your shirt, please."

  I ripped it off straight over my head, catching it on my ponytail for a second. Damn hair. Apparently the sight of me pleased her, because she stopped worrying about hiding her belly and started touching me instead. Fingers stroking over my shoulders and up my neck.

  "God, you're gorgeous," she hummed, moving closer.

  Jean slid off the couch and into me, forcing me back. It required some hasty work, but somehow by pushing aside Ada's jungle gym, blanket, and the coffee table, we found enough room to make out on the rug. With me on my back and Jean straddling my hips, the world was simply awesome. Christ, the sight of her red silk-covered tits and eager hands. Not that I was slacking off in the feeling her up category. She pressed her mouth to mine, her body to mine, and my mind was blown. The long line of her back and slender column of her neck. Her lips and tongue and everything.

  Any earlier uneasiness, all of those bad thoughts, they were chased far away.

  "Pants are the worst," she murmured, rocking against me.

  Fuck, it felt amazing. "Absolutely."

  "But we should probably take it slow."

  "Whatever you want," I panted. "But what about the bra?"

  Hands set beside my head, she eased back a bit. "I did say naked from the waist up."

  "You did."

  She exhaled softly. "Go for it."

  "Yes!"

  My experienced fingers got rid of that red bra in no time and then there she was. Perfect brown nipples. The woman was all sweet curves. She fit into my hands just right.

  "I'm sorry you feel they let you down when it came to breast-feeding," I said. "But they are absolutely beautiful."

  Smiling, she leaned down to kiss me again. If red silk had been fine against my chest, hard nipples and soft skin were even better. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd been this excited about just making out and reachin
g second base. Though I guess second base was really just copping a feel, while we were both half naked rolling around on the floor. So second base with a hint of stealing third maybe. We'd reversed positions, Jean under me, her legs wrapped around my hips. By the time we finally made it into a bed, we'd have dry-humping down to an art form.

  "I can feel you," she whispered.

  "This does not surprise me." I kissed a path up her neck, nibbling on her ear. "Pretty sure I'm about to break the damn fly on my pants."

  She laughed, her hands running down my sides. But then she got serious. "Do you mind, taking it in stages?"

  "No. I am perfectly happy right where I am."

  "Good."

  Our kisses got messier, longer, and deeper. My stubble scratched lightly across her soft skin. I wanted to explore every inch of her. Find out what made her sigh and what made her squirm and laugh. I'd happily worship her tits for hours. Kissing and licking them made her hips buck and there was every chance I'd die of the world's biggest hard-on. Because of course my dick ached to be inside of her. But this was all about what made Jean happy.

  I could wait. I would wait.

  God only knows how long we made out on the floor. Time did not exist. But Ada most certainly did and eventually she woke up wanting her late-night feeding.

  "The books say you can start thinking about weaning her off the middle of the night feeding at four to six months."

  "You're still reading the books?" asked Jean, hunting around. "Do you see my bra anywhere?"

  "By the bear, and here's your top."

  "Thanks."

  "Yeah, I just ... I'm interested in her development, you know?"

  "I think it's sweet. You two are like buddies." She got her bra back on, a huge grin on her face. "That was some good clean adult fun, though."

  "Maybe next time we can move onto having some good dirty adult fun," I suggested, pulling my shirt back on. "If you're ready."

  "Oh, I think we're definitely ready for third base," she said as Ada increased the volume on her wailing. "Coming, baby."

  "Pants are the worst." I gave her a quick kiss, then made for the door. "I better get home, hit the shower."

  She made a little noise in her throat. "I know exactly what you're going to do in that shower. You disgust me. I wish I could watch."

  "Another time." I grinned. "Good night, my friend."

  "'Night."

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Later in the week, we hadn't yet made it to third base. Mostly due to Ada deciding to be an overachiever and start teething early. Maybe she was making up for not smiling on time. I'd told her the books said she had another couple of months to go before she hit that stage, but the baby didn't listen to science and reason. So two nights ago, I'd done an emergency run to Walgreens to fetch teething gel and a teething-ring thing. With Nell getting more pregnant by the day, it was easier for me to run errands for Jean and I didn't mind. Hell, I loved being the person she asked for help. Being the person she relied on, someone she trusted, felt damn good. And it was way easier for me to go grab stuff than for her to load up the baby and the car at some crazy hour.