Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 103033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
I was so royally screwed.
“Good morning, sweetheart. I’ll be right back.” I ducked into the tiny bathroom under the stairs and made quick work of relieving myself, freshening up, getting dressed, and taking my insulin.
The more time I spent with Gael and Joshua, the clearer those images became. The ones Gael had shoved into my skull. I could just imagine how wonderful it would feel to show them around Verdun on a crisp fall day when the trees burned red and orange and the worst of the tourist season was over. That part of France was stunning in the fall. Perhaps we’d road-trip to Normandy and Mont Saint-Michel after…
I’d been to all those places Gael dreamed about, though I’d never shared them with anyone. I’d been there for work, whether I was writing a book, meeting up with colleagues for a seminar, or I was part of an interview for a documentary. I’d sat in cafés on my own or with another professor or two.
Just as easily, I could picture springtime hiking in the Shenandoah—Joshua could get his adrenaline fix somewhere before he joined Gael and me at a picnic table. Hell, sign me up for a sugar sand beach too. I could watch Joshua try to teach Gael to surf while I sat comfortably in a beach chair with a book and a colorful drink.
Unfortunately, I could also foresee restaurant dates where a server asked, “And what would your son like?”
My chest tightened uncomfortably.
What the fuck was I doing?
I didn’t belong in this fantasy.
I did my best to push down the sharp twinge of grief and left the bathroom as I tucked my shirt into my pants.
The sound of a wolf whistle made me snap my gaze to Gael, and I was met by his goofy grin.
“That’s so hot,” he said.
What, my clothes? Regular black slacks and a light-blue button-down.
I accepted the ego boost and kissed the top of his head. “I prefer a half-naked bruised little peach, but thank you, pet.”
He didn’t appear nervous about today, but maybe it would come later.
“I prefer the scratch marks on your back,” he replied, blushing a little.
I chuckled and dipped down as he tilted his face up, and I kissed him quickly—only to change my mind. I wanted more. I cupped his face in my hands and deepened the kiss, getting a taste of orange juice and something sweet, maybe strawberries. It wasn’t the bacon sizzling on the stove anyway.
Gael shuddered and locked his arms around my neck, and he had to stand on his toes.
Fuck, he was delectable. Such a perfect blend of goofy sweet and ambitiously subservient. Joshua may have taken control of most of the cooking, but breakfast was now Gael’s territory, and he went all out.
More hunger surged within me, and I reached down to pick him up. I had to. With his legs wrapped around me, I walked him over to the kitchen counter and sat him down on an empty spot. I couldn’t fucking stop kissing him. Or take my hands off him. My fingers belonged right here, digging into the soft flesh of his sides or his sexy little ass—
He whimpered and moaned, the sound going straight to my cock, and I fucking ached for all of him.
“What—” Goddamn. I stopped and had to catch my breath, and I tried to fight the words tumbling out. Tried and failed. “What will you do when someone mistakes me for your father?”
He blinked, the fog of lust clearing slowly. “What?”
I swallowed against the dryness in my throat, my heart pounding a bit faster. “If we walk hand in hand down the street, or we’re in a restaurant about to have dinner together, and someone thinks you’re my son or something like that.”
I remembered Joshua telling me once that his hair had started turning gray unusually early—in high school, I believed—but it sure as hell wasn’t grayer than mine was today. His was still mostly black. Mine was mostly silver. Same with my chest hair that Gael evidently liked to run his fingertips through.
Gael searched my eyes, his brows knitting together. “Well. I guess you need to dye your hair and get Botox because Daddy and I really care about such things.”
That little—
“These handsome laugh lines right here…” He traced a finger at the corner of my eye and down to my mouth. “They got to go.”
Brat.
“And right after,” he continued happily, “you can drive me to get liposuction.”
Hey, now.
I narrowed my eyes.
“Yeah, sounds stupid, doesn’t it?” He narrowed his eyes right back at me. “Why would I care about what a server thinks about us? I spent the past five years worrying, and it cost me most of my happiness.”
I deflated like a balloon right then and there.
“Have a seat on the couch, please, Sir,” he murmured. “I want to get you your breakfast before the bacon burns.”