One Mistake: A Second Chance Romance by Summer Cooper

Author:Summer Cooper [Cooper, Summer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-06-05T18:30:00+00:00

11

Reese

There were a hundred things I would’ve rather done than tuck a drunken guy into the bed I slept in, but he was too tall for the sofa and the guest room had about six thousand boxes stacked on top of it.

I pulled his shoes off and set them by the door, then tried—valiantly tried—to remove his jacket, but he wrapped his arms around my waist and flipped me onto the bed next to him. “What are you doing?”

“Holding the girl of my dreams.” He tucked me against his chest and let his chin rest on the top of my head. He sighed, contented, happy by the sound of it. “Did you change your hair and clothes because of me? Because I was a dick to you?”

Yes. That was one-hundred percent of the reason. “No.” I couldn’t think of a lie fast enough. It had, over the years, made undercover work easier. But that had nothing to do with the initial change.

“Did I hurt you?”

Hurt? No. He’d destroyed me. “I’m pretty tough.”

“I couldn’t stop seeing your face when I closed my eyes.” His thumb stroked the small of my back, and my breath hitched. Something about his touch made me want to shove my tongue in his mouth, grind my hips against his until he stripped us both, and let me screw him until he was cross-eyed and muttering incoherently. “Those things I said to you…that you were just a fuck”—I could’ve done without the play by play I remembered by heart—“and that I wouldn’t have wasted my time on you if you didn’t give such good head, I didn’t mean them.”

“It’s okay.”

He shook his head and sniffled, then again and I pulled back to look at him. He had tears. “I hurt you. Nothing about that is okay.”

I wasn’t strong enough to resist his regret. Hell, I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to resist. Years I’d waited for his apology. Years I’d wanted to know why he’d said all those things, but right now, with his arms around me and that damned thumb still stroking, it didn’t matter.

“Ryder…” If I sounded like I couldn’t catch my breath, it was because I couldn’t. There was too much Ryder in this room intoxicating me, making me wonder exactly how important breath really was.

“I was such a fucking fool.” He sniffled again. “We could have five or six kids by now.”

I chuckled. “That’s pretty big numbers for the guy who doesn’t have to shoot them out of his body.” But I could see our kids—beautiful like Ryder, tough, but kind. But not five. Definitely not six. Two was a good number. Three maybe.

“Doesn’t matter now because I’m a fucking idiot.”

He spoke with such conviction, and I was in a spot in my head where those imaginary kids played that I didn’t argue. I kissed his collarbone, the only place I could reach. I wanted kids. Not as much back then. They’d been more abstract, a someday, but still with Ryder. Lately though, the tick tick tick of my biological clock woke me up, and reminded me I was alone.

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