Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 89350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
It was probably just as well that Liam had interrupted them. And a short time later, Daphne had woken up from a bad dream asking for her parents, breaking Isaiah’s heart all over again and making him glad they had ended the conversation when they had. Plus, it had been some heavy talk and Isaiah wasn’t lying—he really didn’t want to take advantage of Mark. That Mark felt close enough with him to want to kiss was a big deal, and Isaiah wanted to tread carefully. Mark as demisexual or gray ace made a lot of sense, but of course it wasn’t about what Isaiah thought—what mattered was that he be respectful of Mark’s sexuality and his limits, whatever they were, no matter how much he might want a repeat of the hottest make-out session of his life.
So he’d hung back, not pressing for more or pushing Mark to talk. And the kids kept them both plenty busy the last few days. The rest of the week looked to be similarly hectic.
“My roomies have found a guy to take over my part of the lease,” he reported as he grabbed a flat of succulents. “Any chance I could use the tank here to get the last of my crap from the apartment?”
“Sure. Tomorrow I’ve got a meeting in the morning, then I can get the girls from school. We can do a car seat swap. I’ll just take the BMW.”
“Just.” Isaiah rolled his eyes at him. Mark’s dad’s car might be older, but it was a sweet ride. “I might need to store some stuff in the garage, if that’s okay?”
It was weird, packing up his old life, moving into this weird limbo land where he was living in Mark’s house, yet not exactly a guest or a roommate. However, he didn’t want to have to pay for storage if he didn’t have to. Every penny of his savings would need to go for getting a place for him and the girls once Mark sold. And hopefully the lawyer wouldn’t drain too much of that savings either—the family lawyer Dylan had recommended was filing his petition for guardianship this week, and each billable hour had Isaiah sweating.
“That’s fine. The garage has an attic too. There’s plenty of room.” Mark stopped swinging bags of soil around to make a face for Liam. They’d put his car seat under the awning of the garage, so he could watch them unload without getting overheated. Watching Mark become more comfortable with the kids was one of the coolest things, every bit as good as planting a row of seeds, waiting for the sprouts to show up, then finally turn into full-fledged flowers.
Saturday, by the time Isaiah had made it upstairs, Mark had already got Liam quiet, and he’d been the one to give Liam his bottle after Isaiah changed him. Seeing the big, tough SEAL in the rocking chair with the sleepy baby had made Isaiah’s heart do this weird stutter-step. And he’d backed out of the room. He did not need to get any more feelings for Mark. Things were complicated enough.
Since Mark was distracted with making the baby laugh, Isaiah grabbed the last two bags.
“Ow.” The same neck muscle that had been sore since Saturday pinched, pain radiating down his arm.
“Here.” Mark took the bags from him, easily adding them to the pile. “Let me see?”
“It’s nothing. Too much lifting and carrying lately.” Isaiah waved him off, but Mark had his medic face on, all serious as he prodded at Isaiah’s neck and shoulder.
“You should see a doctor,” Mark chided him.
“Seeing one right now.” Isaiah laughed. Damn, Mark’s fingers felt good. “And it’s nothing a good massage wouldn’t fix.”
He really hadn’t meant that last bit as a hint, but Mark’s fingers switched from poking to rubbing. “Like this?”
“Yeah.” Isaiah had to stifle a moan. “But I wasn’t angling for one from you. I can probably barter with a friend—”
Mark made a scoffing noise. “I’m here now. Let me help.”
“Okay.” Isaiah really wasn’t going to tell him not to touch him, not when his fingers digging into Isaiah’s sore muscles felt so damn good.
“I’ve never done this before. Tell me if I go too hard.” Mark’s thumbs dug into a particularly tight knot and Isaiah groaned.
“No such thing.”
“Still, I don’t want to hurt you.” Mark was standing close enough that his breath ruffled Isaiah’s hair.
“Do what would feel good to you. And trust me, I’m loving this.” Isaiah stretched to chase more of the touch. His tone was maybe a little too flirty. He couldn’t help it though. He’d waited so long for Mark to touch him like this.
“This?” Mark tried a deep, rolling massage motion and Isaiah whimpered with pleasure.
“Yeah. That for like a hundred years.”
“You work too hard,” Mark chided. “Dragging the kids around all day. Let me do more of the lifting.”