The Trophy Wife by Evie Baxter

Twenty-Four

Jesus! He looked so hot, all bare chested, golden skin and taut muscles. Briefly I remembered Robert, with his slight paunch and pasty skin. I closed my eyes, willing the image away, then refocused on Bastian. He kept his eyes on me, allowing me time to come to this decision without pressure, and it was that patience which led me to bend at the waist and slide my lips over his as I murmured, “Good morning.”

Bastian let out a rumbly groan and then instructed me to, “Kiss me again.” There was a pause, then a broken, “Please.”

I licked my lower lip as my eyes held his and I witnessed the heat building in his gaze. It shot straight to my core, causing an unfamiliar clenching that travelled up my spine as my body shuddered. Closing my eyes, I pressed my lips back to his, more firmly this time. I nipped at the fullness of his lower lip, traced the bow of his upper lip, then slid the tip of my tongue along the crease where those two lips met.

“Fucking hell,” his voice was hoarse and dark. “Best good morning kiss ever.” His large hand palmed the back of my neck and he held me to him as his lips parted and his tongue came out to meet my own. The zap of electricity that shot through my body at this connection caused me to lurch and almost crash down upon his chest.

“Steady,” he smiled against my lips. “I’ve got you, baby. Just a good morning kiss, I promise. No more. Besides, we have the world’s best chaperone downstairs.” Then his fingers tangled in my hair as he deepened the kiss into a carnal exploration of my mouth. My hand came down to steady myself as my knees wobbled and it met the hard, hot flesh of his abdomen. I felt them contract at my touch and glorified in the heady knowledge that my touch affected him as much as his did me.

“Mummy! You’re kissing Bastian. Does that mean he’s your boyfriend now?” Isla’s little voice piped up from the doorway. The child who usually moved with the grace of a small elephant had managed to sneak up on us.

I jumped back from the bed and yelped. “No, darling, Bastian isn’t…”

At the same time he said, “Yes, Isla, I most certainly am your mummy’s boyfriend. If that’s okay with you.”

My startled eyes jumped back to Bastian’s. He lay there, hands behind his head, showing off the glory that was his chest, grinning at me.

“Yay! Mummy has never had a boyfriend, Bastian.” Isla jumped up on the bed, radiating joy.

“Isla!” What could I say? How did you make an innocent child understand that they have mortified you? I could feel the heated flush take over my body that had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with embarrassment.

“You should kiss her again,” Isla stage whispered in Bastian’s ear.

“I’m going to make breakfast,” I declared, heading for the door.

“Pancakes?” Isla asked, a pleading note in her voice.

“Yes, pancakes. Come help me make them while Bastian’s gets out of bed, darling.”

Five minutes later I was picking the bits of eggshell out of the batter after Isla had done her best to crack them into the bowl. She’d done a good job, mostly. I let her beat the mix with a wooden spoon, uncaring for the mess she made. Because who cared? How else could you teach a child to cook and not suck the joy out of it by insisting on levels of expertise they were not yet capable of?

I didn’t need Isla’s little voice to inform me when Bastian entered the room. The air became charged, and I had an awareness of his presence that went beyond my normal senses.

“I’m making pancakes, Bastian,” Isla informed him proudly.

He leaned over the kitchen island to admire her efforts. “With your mummy’s help?” he asked her.

“Not much,” the cheeky little madam sighed. I grinned at her, checking out the batter in her hair, and on her apron, and the worktop, and the floor. There was still sufficient left in the bowl to provide us with breakfast though.

I put the frying pan on the cooktop and started heating it up. While that happened, I pulled plates out a cupboard, cutlery out the drawer and maple syrup out the fridge and placed them all on the kitchen table. I scooped the bowl out of Isla’s hands to a disgruntled hey and started dropping dollops into the pan after I had melted a little butter in it.

“Bastian?”

“Yes?”

“I’ve never met a boy named Bastian before.”

“Well my full name is Sebastian, but everyone has always called me Bastian since I was your age, Isla.” I watched as Bastian wet a cloth at the sink and started cleaning Isla without me requesting it. When he was done with her, he cleaned the worktop and then, finally, the floor.

“I have a boy in my class called Sebastian, but everyone calls him Seb. Why didn’t people call you Seb?” Isla let Bastian lift her onto the worktop, so she was sat with her legs dangling over the edge while they spoke. He was a natural with her.

He touched the end of her nose with his forefinger in a teasing way, making her giggle. “I don’t know why no one called me Seb, flower. It’s just always been Bastian.”

“I like Bastian better than Seb.”

“Me too,” he replied. Me three, I thought.

We walked up to the green after breakfast and let Isla burn off some energy in the playground with a couple of her school mates who were there as well. Bastian and I sat on the bench that was under one of the trees watching. His arm was stretched over the back of it, his hand playing lazily with the ends of my hair. Each little tug or caress sent tremors zipping through me, my awareness of him off the scales.

“So you’re my boyfriend,” I stated while I watched Isla climb the ladder for the big slide.

“That I am.” I didn’t turn to look at him. I could hear his smile in his voice.

“Aren’t we a bit old to be boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“I think that you missed out on a whole lot of things because of Robert. And having a boyfriend was one of those things. So now you have one. Me.” His fingers moved from my hair to my nape and the soft brush of them made me arch my neck and press my flesh into him.

“Do we get to make out in a car as a right of passage?”

“Absolutely.”

“Really?” I turned to look up at him, only to find those green eyes of his crinkled in delight as he smiled down at me.

“We will make out in a car. I’ll try to cop a feel. We will hold hands, go to the movies, do all the normal dating things people do when they are dating.”

“Isn’t that kind of strange seeing as how we’ve already…”

“Done the dirty deed?” he laughed.

“Yeah, that.”

“No, baby. It just makes this all the sweeter because we know how good it will be when we reach that stage the way we should have originally, slowly and with great anticipation.” His arm dropped around my shoulder, his broad hand and long fingers enveloping my shoulder. They felt warm, and strong, and reassuring.

“I know it can’t be fun dealing with a mess like me.”

“You’re not a mess, Tori. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met. And an amazing mother. What Robert did to you is but a small part of you. And we will build happy memories that cause the bad ones to fade.” He was so sure of us.

I leaned in and rested my head on his shoulder. “You really think you’ll stick around?”

“I know so. As long as you’ll have me.” I felt his lips press into the top of my head. I sighed. Oh to be so confident in this world. Maybe some of Bastian’s confidence would rub off on me. I savoured the moment of peace I felt in his arms, sat in the warm sunshine, and let the feelings suffuse my soul. Maybe he really did like me, for more than sex.

I might have savoured the moment longer if Isla’s bellowing voice hadn’t carried across the playground. “That’s my mummy’s new boyfriend. He slept at our house last night.”

I gave a heartfelt sigh as Bastian’s body shook with laughter.