Custom Love by Chantal Fernando

Chapter Twenty-Two

I stay at Trade’s that night. When we start kissing and things get a little hot and heavy, I stop him. “What if the kids hear us?” I whisper.

“They won’t,” he assures me, and continues to kiss my neck.

“But what if they do? I don’t want to traumatize them.”

Trade laughs. “Babe, do you think that parents never have sex? You have to live with your kids for at least eighteen years—that’s a long time to go without sex. And all of their rooms are on the other side of the house.”

“I never really thought about anyone’s parents having sex before,” I admit, wincing.

I guess he’s right, though. No one stops having sex because there are kids in the same house as you, and their rooms are far away from ours. We don’t share any walls with them.

“Okay, but we have to be quiet,” I demand.

Trade laughs again against my skin, then bites down softly. “Can you be quiet?”

“I can try,” I say breathily. “Maybe you could stop doing that, though.”

He smiles and keeps kissing me, moving lower down my body. I’ve never been with a man who actually enjoys pleasing me and going down on me so much before, and I have to say that I fucking love it.

I’m obsessed with him.

He puts me first, he never complains or makes anything feel like it’s a chore, and he’s damn good with his mouth, his fingers and his cock.

Yeah, I’m not letting this one get away.

His tongue twirls around my clit, and I put a pillow over my face and bite down on it.

Fuck.

He suddenly stops and lifts his head up. “I love you.”

I smile, eyes locking with his. “I love you, too.”

Fuck. What a big step we’ve taken tonight just by uttering those words. Yeah, it was during sex, which probably wasn’t the best moment to say it for the first time.

Yet I don’t regret it.

And I mean it.

After we’ve both come, me more than once, we fall asleep. I wake up in the night to Trade talking in his sleep.

“Ariel.”

I hear it, as clear as day, and it’s like someone has thrown a bucket of ice water on me. I know that she will forever be a part of this family and our lives, even though she’s not here, and I have accepted that.

I mean, I see her in all the children, especially Mila. I see her in the photos around the house. They are part of her.

I have accepted all of this.

But to hear him saying her name while we are naked and pressed against each other, hours after we just made love, is a hard pill to swallow. He must be dreaming about her.

I know she’s not here, but it still hurts.

I don’t sleep for the rest of the night—I just think. Or overthink, as it were.

I love Trade, and he loves me. And if I want to be with him, this is just something that comes along with it. He can’t control his actions when he’s asleep, I know that.

It just hurts that even his subconscious mind runs back to her. And if she was here, Trade wouldn’t have even looked at me or given me the time of day.

It’s hard not to feel second place when you look at it like that.

When he wakes up in the morning, I don’t tell him what he said. I just force a smile and pretend like everything is fine.

Apparently I’m good at doing that.

Trade comes over to my house in the evening. “What are you doing here?” I ask, smiling.

“Izzy took all the kids out for a movie, so I thought I’d surprise you,” he says, handing me a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine. “I know you’re stressed out, so I’m going to give you a massage and wine.”

I smile. “That sounds perfect, Trade.”

He comes inside and I pour the wine for us both.

“I forgot to tell you that Damon’s mother came in yesterday to have a chat. Everything is just such a mess, you know? I really need this wine right now.”

“I know. At least we’re not a mess,” he says.

I go silent, remembering what happened last night.

“What is it?” he asks, brow furrowing.

“Nothing,” I lie.

“Nadia,” he chastises, taking my hand and pulling me to sit on his lap. “You have to talk to me. Communication is key, or so I’ve been told.”

I hide my smile. “Just...last night you were saying Ariel’s name in your sleep, and I don’t know. It was a little hard to hear. I couldn’t even go back to sleep after that. I don’t know, I feel selfish even bringing it up, but yeah, it did get to me.”

He’s quiet for a second, stroking my back as he thinks. “I did have a dream about Ariel last night. I remember having a conversation with her, but it wasn’t what you think. I was telling her about you, and she told me she was happy for me. I’m not going to lie and say I didn’t love her and I don’t miss her, because I do. But Nadia, I want to be with you. You don’t have anything to worry about. I’m happy here right now with you, and I don’t wish I was anywhere else. Does that make sense?”

I nod, composing myself.

It does make sense, but it doesn’t make it any easier for me.

“And you need to open up and talk to me, please. I’m not a mind reader, and if something has upset you, you need to tell me so we can talk about it, okay? There’s nothing you can’t tell me.”

“Okay. I just felt a little stupid bringing it up. It seems petty or insecure, I don’t know,” I admit, burying my head in his chest.

“It’s none of those things, and if it means something to you, then it means something to me,” he replies, pushing my hair off my face. “You’re important to me, and I think we have something special here. I don’t say that lightly. I never planned for you, Nadia, but I’m so fucking happy to have you here in my life.”

“You’re important to me, too.”

He carries me to my room, and I strip down so he can give me my massage. Then I strip him down and return the favor, with my mouth.

When we make love, he whispers in my ear how much he wants me, and how sexy I am to him.

And I believe him.

Trade takes me on a ride on his motorcycle the next day. I told him we don’t have the time to be fucking around, but he said it’s our lunch break, and that it’s not a crime to have a little fun.

I’ve never been on a motorcycle before, and I wasn’t planning on going on one today, but I guess sometimes you have to be a little spontaneous. I love that Trade has that side to him, because all I do is work; there’s hardly any play in my life.

Trade brings the play.

“I didn’t even know you had a motorcycle,” I say.

“It’s been in the garage. This is the bike I rode when I was in the MC. It doesn’t get much use these days, but I still love it. I love riding—that’s what drew me into the club in the first place,” he replies. I suppose with kids, the minivan is of more use than the bike, but if he likes it so much, I’m glad he kept it. It’s a beautiful, well-kept bike, a black Harley, and I can tell how much he loves the thing.

“I hope you look at me someday like you look at that bike,” I tease.

He laughs, and strokes the seat for emphasis. “I don’t know about that.”

I roll my eyes, and he turns, lifts me up in his arms and sits me down on the bike. “Are you ready for this adventure?” he asks, scanning my eyes.

“I’m ready,” I reply, touching the side of his cheek.

He closes his eyes, then opens them with a smile. “Let’s do this.”

He sits in front of me, and I wrap my arms around him, enjoying the feel of him.

The engine starts and I hold on a little tighter.

As soon as we’re off I find myself really enjoying myself. I press my breasts against his back and smile as I watch the scenery fly past us, the green trees and large properties. I close my eyes.

Everything else around me fades away. There’s just me, Trade and this motorcycle between our legs.

It’s pretty fucking great.

I couldn’t think of a better way to add a little spice into your day, especially if like me, you work behind a desk a lot of the time.

We stop at a new café, have lunch and ice cream and then ride back to work. Trade grips the back of my neck, tilts my head back and kisses me before he leaves.

When it’s good with us, it’s so good, and that’s what has me hooked.