like her boss. As for Mr. Stone, she’d go with the flow and figure out how to limit Cece’s access.
“My turn. Pick me up, Mama.” Cece yanked her forward. The pony stomped its hoof and the guide held his hand out, prepared to catch the bouncing little girl eager to get on.
Hoisted onto the saddle, Cece grabbed the reins and watched as the elderly man showed the proper way to loop a thumb and forefinger through them. As the pony and guide moved, so did Maggie, following the designated path. Thank goodness for the restricted area, since large clumps of poop made it difficult to navigate, causing her to dart around at least ten piles. Yuck, what a mess. If she were Matt, she’d force Mr. Stone to clean up before he left. A kick in her knee pulled her gaze away from her flip-flops to Cece’s enormous grin. She forgot about everything else and took pleasure in her daughter’s happiness.
That much she could provide.
There weren’t many children in their neighborhood Cece’s age, so when she asked to stay longer to play, Maggie had a hard time saying no. By eight o’clock though and most partygoers long gone, she went upstairs to check on the kids. Lizbeth, Harley, and Cece were asleep in beanbag chairs, Frozen playing on the TV. She turned it off and picked up Cece. A heavy sleeper, the jostling hadn’t even woken her. She’d let Matt know about the girls when she got downstairs, since Sophia had the baby in the bath.
Headed through the hallway, she turned toward the stairs and ran right into Mr. Stone as he stepped onto the landing. With her foot midair, she lost her balance, bouncing off him. His strong arms wrapped around her waist, yanking her and Cece into his chest and backing her into the wall. Face to face, breath to breath, lips a mere centimeter apart, shivers flowed in slow motion from her toes to tingling mouth. His broadened stance and rock-hard thighs braced hers. With Cece cushioned high on her waist in between them, they were pelvis to pelvis. That thought sent pins and needles through her, causing her core to clench and eliciting another tremble.
Mr. Stone breathed, “Maggie.” His lower lip slid along hers as he tugged her tighter.
Ignoring better judgment, she nipped his moist flesh and sucked him into her mouth. He groaned, and their tongues twirled and entwined, battling for control. His firm grasp cupped her behind and lifted her toward him, rubbing and stroking his hardness into the throb between her legs. Over the thumping heartbeat in her ears and a shift of weight in her arms, common sense got slapped into her when she heard a sleepy, “Max . . . Mama.”
She wasn’t sure which of them leapt away first. When it happened, they wore similar expressions: flushed cheeks, glossy lips, and wide alert eyes. The impromptu tryst took her by surprise too. Their heavy panting batted back and forth, off of each other. Her throat tightened and flashbacks assaulted her—Jake, his explosive desire for her in the beginning, and then Cece came along, and he couldn’t stomach the sight of her or his daughter. Lust, attraction, pheromones—whatever this might be wouldn’t last. Men wanted one thing—sex, a challenge. Once they had it, they moved on. Just as Jake had, cheating on her time and time again. This man wasn’t any different. His one-night stand disclosed as much at the restaurant, and his reaction proved it.
Finished with the encounter and him, she concentrated on Cece instead. Her daughter’s eyes were shuttered and there hadn’t been another peep out of her. She grabbed the railing and dashed around him, catapulting down the stairs. No one trailed her, and she marched through the vacant first floor in search for Matt, finding him sprawled on a hammock in the backyard chatting with Kat. After letting him know the girls had to be tucked into bed, she ordered her sister out of the hot tub and hurried toward the gate for a quick escape.
Her sister’s head-banger tunes did nothing
“My turn. Pick me up, Mama.” Cece yanked her forward. The pony stomped its hoof and the guide held his hand out, prepared to catch the bouncing little girl eager to get on.
Hoisted onto the saddle, Cece grabbed the reins and watched as the elderly man showed the proper way to loop a thumb and forefinger through them. As the pony and guide moved, so did Maggie, following the designated path. Thank goodness for the restricted area, since large clumps of poop made it difficult to navigate, causing her to dart around at least ten piles. Yuck, what a mess. If she were Matt, she’d force Mr. Stone to clean up before he left. A kick in her knee pulled her gaze away from her flip-flops to Cece’s enormous grin. She forgot about everything else and took pleasure in her daughter’s happiness.
That much she could provide.
There weren’t many children in their neighborhood Cece’s age, so when she asked to stay longer to play, Maggie had a hard time saying no. By eight o’clock though and most partygoers long gone, she went upstairs to check on the kids. Lizbeth, Harley, and Cece were asleep in beanbag chairs, Frozen playing on the TV. She turned it off and picked up Cece. A heavy sleeper, the jostling hadn’t even woken her. She’d let Matt know about the girls when she got downstairs, since Sophia had the baby in the bath.
Headed through the hallway, she turned toward the stairs and ran right into Mr. Stone as he stepped onto the landing. With her foot midair, she lost her balance, bouncing off him. His strong arms wrapped around her waist, yanking her and Cece into his chest and backing her into the wall. Face to face, breath to breath, lips a mere centimeter apart, shivers flowed in slow motion from her toes to tingling mouth. His broadened stance and rock-hard thighs braced hers. With Cece cushioned high on her waist in between them, they were pelvis to pelvis. That thought sent pins and needles through her, causing her core to clench and eliciting another tremble.
Mr. Stone breathed, “Maggie.” His lower lip slid along hers as he tugged her tighter.
Ignoring better judgment, she nipped his moist flesh and sucked him into her mouth. He groaned, and their tongues twirled and entwined, battling for control. His firm grasp cupped her behind and lifted her toward him, rubbing and stroking his hardness into the throb between her legs. Over the thumping heartbeat in her ears and a shift of weight in her arms, common sense got slapped into her when she heard a sleepy, “Max . . . Mama.”
She wasn’t sure which of them leapt away first. When it happened, they wore similar expressions: flushed cheeks, glossy lips, and wide alert eyes. The impromptu tryst took her by surprise too. Their heavy panting batted back and forth, off of each other. Her throat tightened and flashbacks assaulted her—Jake, his explosive desire for her in the beginning, and then Cece came along, and he couldn’t stomach the sight of her or his daughter. Lust, attraction, pheromones—whatever this might be wouldn’t last. Men wanted one thing—sex, a challenge. Once they had it, they moved on. Just as Jake had, cheating on her time and time again. This man wasn’t any different. His one-night stand disclosed as much at the restaurant, and his reaction proved it.
Finished with the encounter and him, she concentrated on Cece instead. Her daughter’s eyes were shuttered and there hadn’t been another peep out of her. She grabbed the railing and dashed around him, catapulting down the stairs. No one trailed her, and she marched through the vacant first floor in search for Matt, finding him sprawled on a hammock in the backyard chatting with Kat. After letting him know the girls had to be tucked into bed, she ordered her sister out of the hot tub and hurried toward the gate for a quick escape.
Her sister’s head-banger tunes did nothing
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