at him, just in time to see his tongue dart out, wet his full bottom lip. I think I moan, which is stupid.
“You have a long drive back.” It’s barely a whisper.
“Uh-huh,” he says, and then his mouth is on my neck, his lips parting. Heat radiates up my spine to the tips of my fingers as they slide through his hair. He groans, saying, “Like, so far away, I might fall asleep…” My back arches, pressing my breasts closer to him as if they’re yelling here, I want that mouth here! He smiles against my flesh because he knows exactly what he’s doing. Soon enough, that smile turns into a wicked, cocky guffaw. The motherfluffer is teasing me.
This time, I do push him away and attempt to glare at him.
He laughs. Jerk.
“My couch is really uncomfortable.” I move to grab the blanket and thrust it against his solid chest. “I hope you have the worst sleep ever!” And then I cross my arms and stomp off to my room, closing the door behind me. I strip out of my clothes and into an oversized T-shirt before climbing into bed. For minutes, I toss and turn, and I don’t know why I’m so annoyed that he has this stupid power over me. I should take the power back. Claim it. I retrieve my phone from the pocket of my shorts and write out a text:
Next time you tease me like that, I’m going to sit on your face and ride your filthy mouth, Leo Preston!
With a wicked grin on my face and newfound confidence, I hit send.
A second later, I hear the alert go off on his phone, and a moment after that: “Dammit, Mia!”
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Mia
I wake up the next morning on my own, no Benny climbing on the bed—which hasn’t happened since he moved out of his crib. I check the time on my phone, and it’s close to ten. I don’t sleep in this long, not even when Benny stays at my dad’s. I worry too much; I know this. Still, it doesn’t stop the panic from pumping through my veins. I throw the covers off of me and practically run out of my room, halting when I see them in the living room. Under a shared blanket covering their backs, Benny and Leo sit between the couch and the coffee table, looking at the pages of an open book. Leo glances my way, then says, focusing on whatever Benny’s pointing at in the book, “Morning, sleepy head.”
Benny giggles. “Yeah. Morning, sleepy head.” He’s on his knees, flipping through the pages.
Leo’s eyes meet mine again, his smile lazy, hair sticking up in all directions. “There’s still some coffee left if you want it. Benny and I had toast already. We weren’t sure when you’d wake, but we can still go to the diner for breakfast.”
“Leo, look at this one!” Benny almost shouts, finger slamming down on the book.
“That’s a really cool one,” Leo replies.
“You think any of the rocks in the tumbler will be like that?”
“Maybe.”
For a moment, I just stand there, my heart in my throat, watching them talk, seeing them connect. And I try to push down all the emotions swarming through me. Regret bites at my chest, clawing to escape, and it’s so damn painful it causes heat to burn behind my eyes. My airways close in while I sniff back the heartache. And Leo—he must sense my destruction because he looks over at me, his eyes stained with pity, and then he lifts the blanket and motions for me to join them. I sit, ignoring the heat emitting from his bare chest as he pulls me into him, his hand stroking my arm, up and down, up and down. He presses his lips to my temple, whispering so low I barely hear him, “It’s okay.”
I wipe my tears against his shoulder, because it’s not. None of this is okay. The pain we caused each other—the guilt and regret and turmoil and suffering—it doesn’t just go away because we have a son together. And all of that exists in just our little bubble alone. What happens when his family finds out and gets involved? Which they will, inevitably—and how do I tell him that of all the things in this world that terrify me, his brothers’ judgement could be my one undoing? I sniff back another sob as Benny asks, “What’s this one?”
Leo leans forward to look at the page. “That one looks like amethyst.”