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Broken Love Story (Love 3) Natasha Madison 2022/8/3 13:53:52

They dump their bags, and I look at Samantha. “Follow me,” I tell her and go to the second guest room right next to mine. I open the door for her to see the queen-size bed, the white covers look super fluffy. “This is your room,” I tell her and take her bag. She walks into the room and stands in the middle of the room while I dump the bag on the bed.

“This is perfect,” she says, looking around. I walk to stand in front of her. “I don’t know how to thank you,” she starts saying and looks down, her hair falling in front of her face. I reach out to move her hair, and she looks up, smiling at me. My thumb rubs her cheek as I get closer to her. “Blake …”

“I haven’t kissed a girl in seven years,” I whisper to her as my head slowly moves down to hers, and she leans up, her breath hitching. I’m so close, close to finally tasting her when the door flies open, and Daisy yells, causing us to jump apart. “Pizza is here,” she says and turns around.

“Well. That wasn’t at all what I thought the first time would be like,” I say and hear Samantha laughing.

“It’ll be better when they are in bed.” She grabs my hand, walking to the kitchen where my parents have the pizza set up on the counter, and my mother is making plates for the girls. It’s the longest dinner of my life. I swear it lasted more than humanly possible for us to eat pizza.

Finally, my parents leave but not without promising to be back for breakfast and come with us to the zoo. When she leaves to put the kids in bed, I sit on the couch, my feet outstretched in front of me as I flip through the channels while I wait for her.

I hear the door close as she comes into the living room, her feet now bare. She comes to the couch, sitting on her legs next to me. “Hey,” she says, looking at the television.

“Hey,” I say, looking at her. “Was everything okay?”

“Yes.” She smiles. “I couldn’t think of a better night.”

“I didn’t think my parents would ever leave. Honest to God, they stayed forever.”

She leans forward, laughing. “It wasn’t that long,” she says. My head turns to her.

She leans in and kisses my lips, just like that, no waiting, no talking, she just comes and places her lips on mine softly. My hand goes to her cheek, right as her mouth opens and her tongue slides against mine. She changes the angle to deepen the kiss, and it goes from soft to hungry. I grab her hips, bringing her to straddle me, and her knees land on either side of my hips. My hands get buried in her hair while her hands rub up my chest. When she gets to my neck, her hands thread through the hair at the base of my neck. I move her head from right to left as our lips stay together.

Neither of us wanting it to stop, we both try to lead the kiss. I finally let her lips go as our chests rise and fall at the same time. “That was,” she says softly, “perfect.” She brings her lips down to mine again; this time, just giving me soft kisses.

“Your lips,” I tell her, “were made for me to kiss.” She comes back for another kiss. I kiss her until we are both breathless. I kiss her until I can’t keep my eyes open any longer. I tuck her into bed, the kiss bringing me on the bed with her, and I fall asleep with her head tucked into my neck and my arms around her. And I feel suddenly at peace.

This is the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in, ever. It’s almost like it’s a huge marshmallow. “Mommy. Blake made breakfast.” I hear Lizzie say from the side of the bed, and my eyes open.

Blake. I smile. For the seven years he hasn’t kissed, he’s certainly made up for lost time. The minute I sat on that couch, I couldn’t wait any longer and just went for it. I stretch my hands over my head and look at Lizzie. “Morning, baby.” I smile at her. “What time is it?”

“Almost nine thirty,” she says, and I jump out of bed. “Blake let us help make pancakes,” she says when we walk out of the room. I walk into the kitchen and see that the table has been set.

“Morning,” I say softly, going over to Daisy and kissing her nose. “Did you sleep okay?” I ask her, walking to the kitchen and Blake. I lean up and kiss his lips, and then we both stop, forgetting that the kids are here. We both look over and see that Lizzie saw but then smiled and looked down, sitting down. “Morning,” I whisper to him. Taking him in, track pants and t-shirt, his hair all out of place from sleep or from my hands.