“Thank you!” she whispered, kissing him hard, her tongue parting his lips, the aggression making him submit for a few moments, until he found himself and took over, leading the way and leaving her invaded. Touched. Enraptured.
When they pulled back from each other, breathless, they found a startled Josie with her hand covering the baby’s eyes.
“Ix-nay on the ex-say in unt-fray of the aby-bay.”
“Aba bah!” Jillian said.
“Great. Her first sentence will be Pig Latin. Why don’t you teach her something more useful, like Klingon?” Dylan snapped.
Laura began tugging his hand. “Let’s go. Mike! Load up the Jeep. We’re about to have an adventure!”
But as Dylan passed the big picture window in their living room, he saw Mike already at the Jeep, loading a small gym bag, waving furiously at them to get in the car.
A man after Dylan’s own heart.
The drive to the cabin was exceedingly short, as Mike sped there. Dylan raced inside and turned on the tap to fill the tub. Earlier that day, he had come over with the baby in tow to turn on the heat and stock the fridge. The “eco-cabin” Mike’s resort had developed was really a sex sanctuary for them, and—at times—just a sleep sanctuary when one of the three reached a point of half-psychosis from sleep deprivation.
It was so much more fun to use it for sex, though.
He’d attached the swing to its harness, fingers stroking the leather, remembering the last time they’d used it, his cock growing hard at the image of Laura’s wet lips open with orgasmic pleasure as they’d found new heights of sensation and exploration.
Six hours was just enough time to fuck each other silly and shower. All this deeper meaning of life crap that plagued Mike could wait.
When Dylan found himself at odds with his own sense of self, he found pounding it out—and not through his feet—was a form of salvation.
Laura uncorked a bottle of a nice white Chardonnay and poured three glasses, looking around the bright cabin.
“Why is it so warm in here?”
Dylan’s smile went sly again. “Jillian and I came here earlier to prepare.”
She threw herself at him in a huge embrace, drinking wine over his shoulder. “This is the best surprise I’ve had in ages.”
“This is the first surprise you’ve had since the last time we were here,” Mike added, his voice warm, body relaxed. Good, Dylan thought. So much better than the way he’s been acting lately.
Laura pulled back, her mouth stretched into the kind of vibrant smile he loved to see, and she moved in for a kiss just as her juicy ass began to buzz.
She jumped and laughed. “Shit. My phone.” The look on her face as she read the screen made Dylan’s stomach fall, and his erection soften just a bit. Uh-oh.
“Josie?” This was a call, not a text. “What’s wrong?” Laura’s voice was guarded but resigned, and as he heard the tinny sound of Laura’s friend saying words like “puked,” all their shoulders began to slump.
Mike drank the rest of his wine in one long gulp. Parenthood had changed him that much.
“She puked up a what? An insect?” Laura’s voice went up half an octave and she spun around to give Dylan a death glare. “A giant wing from a what?” Josie continued as Laura pulled the phone away from her ear and hissed at him. “Did you see the baby around any insects?”
Just as he was about to craft the smoothest, best PR-spun answer ever, he heard a baby wail in the background of Laura’s phone. Laura listened for a second. “And she’s warm, too? Insects don’t give babies fevers, do they? Could she have picked up some God-awful disease from eating”—GLARE—“something as disgusting as a bug? How big was the bug? Oh my God, what if she ate a cockroach!”
Laura descended into hysterics as Mike calmly pried her fingers off the phone and said to Josie, “She’ll be there in five minutes.” He ended the call and slowly, deliberately pressed the Jeep’s keys into Laura’s hand.
“Go,” he ordered. Dylan had to admire his chillness. Not cold. Just in control and considerate.
“But…” Laura’s eyes were wild and a bit crazy. She looked at the wine, the swing, which now looked like a limp dick in Dylan’s eyes (joining his own), and the bed, made neatly and begging for action.
“But nothing. You won’t enjoy a single moment if you aren’t with our sick baby. Dylan and I just need to unload the fridge so the food won’t spoil. We have backpacks. It’ll do us good to hike home. It’s not even two miles.”
Internally, Dylan groaned, but he said nothing. He was already in the doghouse for letting the baby eat an insect (or…maybe she only ate that wing…).
“I—” he blurted, guilty conscience kicking in. Apparently, he had one. “She found an old teething biscuit this morning and there was this insect wing…”
Mike rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, now joining Laura’s glare. “And you didn’t say anything?” You would think that years of living with Mike would give him some indication of what the guy thought, but no. He was either royally pissed and ready to rip him apart, or barely keeping it together to not laugh.
Dylan could have flipped a coin.
“I don’t even know what to say!” Laura screeched as she zipped out the door and slammed it behind her. He’d never seen her run as fast as she did to the Jeep, spewing snow-covered gravel as the tires spun over ice patches until they caught and she drove off.
Mike winced at the grinding sound his poor engine made.
“Smooth. Really smooth,” he said, pouring another glass of wine. Dylan watched with growing amusement as Mike downed another half a glass.
“You working on your frat-boy skills? Is beer pong next?” he asked.
Mike smiled wistfully over the top of his wine glass, then downed the rest, carefully swirling the stem between his thumb and index finger.
“No. Just…relaxing.”
“Let our baby eat a bug and you’re sucking down wine like it’s coffee. What the fuck has happened to us?” Dylan plopped down on the bed and stared at the ceiling, the swing in his peripheral vision, taunting him.
“We’re parents.”
“We’re boring.”
“You tried. Thank you. This was a great idea.” Mike handed Dylan his glass of wine, and Dylan figured when in Rome, do what Thor does.
And drink the fucking wine.