Midnight Sommelier - Anne Malcom Page 0,59

the side of my breast. It moved to caress my nipple.

I bit my lip.

“The second you opened the door, I wanted you naked and underneath me. Then I wanted you naked and on top of me.” He tweaked my nipple to the point of pain. “And of course I wanted to eat your pussy.”

I inhaled sharply as his other hand moved between my legs.

“But then I saw more of you. More of that pain mingled with the fact you’re fucking crazy. Strong. Funny. A great mother. I didn’t want to just fuck you anymore. I wanted to be inside you and see into your soul. I wanted to fuck you until you saw into mine. I wanted to screw into damnation.”

And he did exactly that.

I was humming the next morning, though I shouldn’t be.

Last night was the single most amazing night I’d had with Zeke. And that was saying something. The tectonic plates underneath our relationship had shifted. We were something different now.

I’d barely snuck in before the sun rose this morning. Had just enough time to shower the sex and shame off before changing into pajamas and coming down into the kitchen to make pancakes.

Alexis had come and gone, already running through the neighborhood by the time Ryder made it downstairs, looking decidedly more awake than he usually did.

He was even dressed.

“You sound happy this morning,” he said.

“You look human this morning,” I countered with a grin.

“Ah, I’ve been up since dawn. Test to study for.”

I smiled, hoping my panic didn’t show through. Surely he hadn’t heard me come in. “Cramming at the last minute, just like your mother.”

“Mom, you know I know that you go to Zeke’s every night, right?” Ryder asked, pouring himself some coffee.

I blinked. “What?”

He smiled in that way his father used to. Amused with the fact he knew better. Slightly arrogant yet incredibly endearing. My heart pinched with that sharp pain I’d never get used to.

“Mom. You know I’m a seventeen-year-old kid with insomnia and a protective instinct for his mother. I know you sit outside alone every night. I watch over you, make sure you’re okay. When Zeke started coming over I figured I didn’t need to watch over you anymore.”

Watch over me. My first boy, my baby, had taken it upon himself to watch over his mother. He should’ve been sneaking out, going to parties, getting drunk, and making questionable decisions. But no, he was staying home. Staying up to take care of me.

Was I a terrible mother for making him feel like he had to do that, or an incredibly good one for creating such a caring and selfless young man?

“You don’t hate the idea of me with someone?” I croaked. “So soon after Dad?”

Ryder smiled. “I didn’t love it at first. I didn’t know how to think of you as anyone’s but Dad’s. But that’s my problem. That’s me not accepting that he’s gone.” He paused, voice thick. My heart broke into a million more pieces. “Jake helped me with that. Helped me work through the fact that Dad was gone.”

I smiled. It was work. It seemed to break my jaw, but I did it. “Remind me to pay Jake a hundred bucks an hour for however long you two have spent together,” I joked weakly.

“Mom, as much as I love how crazy you are, I think you paying my boyfriend to be with me might cross the line,” he replied.

“Ah, that’s the line,” I said. “Got it.”

“Seriously, Mom,” he said. “I know you think you don’t get to be happy, that you have to be Dad’s wife forever. I wish you could be—I wish he were here, more than anything.” He stopped speaking, eyes shimmering, then he cleared his throat. “But he’s not. And you need to live your life.”

Then he walked out of the kitchen like he hadn’t just rocked my world.

“Have you killed people? Beyond those who kidnapped Luna?”

It was after midnight, of course.

We weren’t together unless our respective children were tucked into bed, unaware of the connection we had—well, except Ryder. He could’ve told Luna, but I had a feeling my son would keep my secret until I was ready to share. He hadn’t said anything since that morning, hadn’t pushed it. He was waiting until I was ready. In front of the rest of the kids, we were friendly, if a little distant. Luckily, there weren’t many times we had to put on that act—I was up to my quota on pretending.

Thus far, no one