He sucks.

Then circles.

Then sucks again.

I lose myself, screaming his name over and over as I tug his hair. He waits for me breathing to slow before working his way back up, passing the little bit of candy that’s left back to me.

“And that was number one.” He throws out a cocky grin, reminding me of that night.

“You think you can make it four this time?” I tease, rolling the little bit of candy that’s left around on my tongue. I taste myself as I watch him strip in front of me.

He rests his forearms against the cabinet as he sinks into me slowly. “Baby, I can give you as many as you want. You just need to tell me when to stop.” He plunges all the way in, almost daring me to beg for it. “You’re still my Lemon Drop.”

I moan. It’s all I can do. His words used to cause rivers of desire to flow, but they could cause a tidal wave in the ocean now.

“Do you know how many of those I ate in the months we were apart?” he whispers against my lips.

I shake my head slowly waiting for him to kiss me.

“At least ten a day. I couldn’t stop because they remind me of you, and you’re my addiction.”

“Kiss me,” I beg, covering his cheeks with my hands.

He pulls my hands away, pinning them up against the cabinet as he continues to push into me over and over. “This is my game tonight, Lemon Drop. I make up the rules.”

The way he has me pinned combined with his words has me coming around him within seconds. Something about giving him all control turns me on. It’s only then that he kisses me—soft and tender—weakening my cries.

Blake is a protector.

A lover.

A fighter.

He’s not always sweet, but that’s what I like most about him.

“That’s two,” he says against my lips.

When my breathing slows, he wipes us both off and leads me to a spare bedroom that’s already been setup as a studio of sorts. The walls and floors are covered in a protective white canvas.

He stands me in the middle of the room and tells me to close my eyes. If it were anyone but him it wouldn’t feel right, but trust gives a person a license for many things. Besides, I remember this moment like it was yesterday. I’d relive it every day if I could.

“The night in the studio … I held back on things that I shouldn’t have. I was scared of the way you made me feel.”

Cool paint touches the space between my breasts. I flinch at first and then just like I did last time, I try to figure out what he’s painting. The contrast against my skin, the coolness … it feels exactly the same. When I remember the first time he did this, it feels like falling in love all over again. The lemon drops were special, but this stole my heart.

“I want you to listen and feel. Nothing else.”

He continues to paint down my stomach. My eyes twitch, waiting to open. “Don’t open your eyes, baby. I’m almost done.”

If he only knew what he does to me. You think you know what love is until you really feel it. You have to truly fall before someone can catch you.

I’ve definitely fallen.

I hear his bare feet on the canvas-covered floor moving away from me then coming back. His calloused fingertips trace a line from one side of my hips to the other, not cold or wet. My breath hitches when they slip between my legs, two entering at once while his thumb works my clit.

“Still wet,” he growls, pulling my lower lip between his teeth. His touch switches between sensual and rough—loving then teasing. His fingers halt, and I want to cry. “Do you remember what I said that night? What my favorite part of your body is?”

How could I forget? “My eyes. You said my eyes.”

He inserts his long fingers inside of me continuing what he’d started. Standing in darkness, the only thing I have to do is feel his skin against my swollen flesh.

The friction.

The tension.

Two hearts further melting into one.

The pressure builds, and I come hard around his fingers, digging my nails into his shoulders to hold myself steady. His mouth covers mine, swallowing my screams. He groans, kissing me hard, punctuating it by lightly kissing each corner of my mouth and the tip of my nose like he’d done that night.

I attempt to open my eyes, but he kisses me before I get a glimpse of what he painted. He’s good at diversion. He finally steps back, and says, “You can open your eyes now.”

As soon as my eyes adjust to the light, I see “I LOVE YOU”. The “I” between my breasts “LOVE YOU” on my stomach.

“I should have told you I love you then because that’s when I knew.”

“I loved you then, too,” I admit.

“Think of how many of our problems could have been avoided if those words had been spoken.”

“I’ll tell you every day,” I promise.

“I feel it, baby, and every time you look at me, I feel it.”

He’s scrapbooking our whole relationship right onto my heart—the one he forever holds in his palms.

He grabs my hand again, leading me up the stairs to the only bathroom in the whole house. It has a white pedestal sink, toilet, and oversized claw foot tub. I used to swim it in as a kid. He lets go of me just long enough to start the water. The picnic basket he carried in earlier is sitting against it. He reaches inside, sprinkling rose petals over the rising water.

“Let me wipe some of the paint off you,” he says, wetting an old yellow washcloth. “You’re not going to forget it now, are you?”

I shake my head, enjoying the texture of the warm cloth against my skin—the gentle way he moves it over my stomach. “It’s written in your eyes, too, Blake. It’s written in lots of the things you do for me.”

“Don’t forget it. There’s going to be days when I’m a complete asshole, but even then, I need you to remember I love you. I can’t think of a single thing that would change that.”

He kisses me, tracing his thumbs over my nipples. I moan against his lips, ready to go at it all over again.

“Let’s get in the tub before I end up bringing you to bed instead,” he mumbles against my lips walking us back until the backs of my legs hit the porcelain. He helps me in then sits across from me with our legs entwined.

“Remember the night I came home and climbed in the tub with you, and you started to cry after we made love?”

I nod.

“Tell me what you told me before you climbed out,” he says.

“Tell you what?” I ask, staring into his deep blue eyes. There are other parts of that night I remember more vividly.

“That you love me. Tell me again.”

“I love you, Blake.”

“I love you, Lila.”

I bend my legs, closing enough space between us that I can easily kiss his lips. He only allows a taste before pulling back. “If I’d said it back then, what would you have said next? How would that night have been different?”

I scoot back to my side of the tub, looking into his eyes. “I’m pregnant, Blake.”

He moves toward me like I’d just done to him. “Are you sure?” he asks, placing his hand over my flat stomach.

“I took a test this morning.”

His eyes well with tears. “What if I’m a shitty parent?”

I trace my finger in a circle around his heart. “If you care about this baby the way you care for me, it won’t want for anything, Blake. The rest we’ll learn together.”

He kisses me once more. “If I had to do that moment all over again, that’s how I’d want it to be. From that second on, I would never have let you out of my sight.”

“I’ve forgiven you for that, too. You weren’t running from me. You were running from the past.”

“It’s not an excuse.”

“But I get it.”

He smiles big, tapping my nose with his finger. “Can I trust you in here for ten minutes without falling asleep?”

“What are you up to?” I ask narrowing my eyes at him.

“In ten minutes, get dressed and come out the back door. Follow the path.”

“The path?”

He climbs from the tub, wrapping one of grandma’s towels around himself. It barely wraps around his hips. “You’ll see when you get outside.”