Had I really been tired less than a minute ago? It didn't seem possible with the way my blood was pumping through my veins right now.
"So . . ." he began, his smile twisting, "you look pretty tired, but I wanted to see if you felt like having some sweet dreams tonight."
My inner thighs tightened. "I'm not exactly alone anymore," I whispered, glancing back at the bedroom. "I can't have regular phone sex with you when a three-year-old's under the roof."
"Just be quiet," he suggested.
I laughed out loud before catching myself. "When was the last time I was able to be quiet during . . . that?"
An eyebrow arched. "Never. But there's a first time for everything, Luce." He was so damn confident, I almost wanted to tell him no just out of principle. But I knew I wouldn't. My body had already started the spiral to the top from his words alone.
"You do know if I have to attempt this whole quiet thing, I'm not going to be able to talk dirty to you. Right?" I said, skimming my fingers down my stomach. My skin was extrasensitive from anticipation.
Jude shifted in bed before holding his boxers in front of the camera. "That's a sacrifice I'm happy to make." And then he threw them to the side, giving me a full-monty view.
I swallowed, and then slid my hand under my leggings.
"Aunt Luce?"
I jolted, dropping the phone in the process. "LJ?! What are you doing up?" My voice was two octaves too high.
"I heard voices and wanted to make sure you were okay," he said, coming around the side of the couch sporting his Avengers pj's.
The phone had slipped behind the sofa cushions, but I could hear Jude's low laugh coming through it.
"I'm okay," I said as I pulled the phone free. "I was just saying good night to Uncle Jude." Checking the screen to make sure the view had changed, I flashed it in front of LJ.
"Uncle Jude!" His face lit up like Jude was cooler than bubble gum.
"Hey, little man. How's it going?"
"Good, but don't talk too loud, okay?" he asked, lifting his finger to his mouth. "Mom doesn't know I snuck out of bed."
"You got up to check on Aunt Luce?"
LJ nodded.
"Good job," Jude said. "You're the man of the house now, so I'm trusting you to take care of your mom and Aunt Luce."
"Jude, he's three," I said, turning the screen toward me. He'd shrugged into a shirt faster than he could get mine off.
"I'm almost four," LJ said proudly.
"Yeah, Luce. He's almost four."
"All right, man of the house," I said, turning the screen back toward LJ. "Say good night. It's way past your bedtime."
"One more minute?" LJ begged.
"Yeah, one more minute?" Jude's voice joined in.
I sighed. "Fine."
LJ did a little dance.
"Phone five," Jude said, as LJ high-fived the screen.
"Thanks for the football, Uncle Jude. Will you teach me to throw it one thousand yards?" It was dark, but LJ's eyes were twinkling.
"I'll teach you to throw it ten thousand yards."
"Wow," LJ replied, dumbfounded.
"I'll take you to the park when I come visit in a couple weeks. In the meantime, practice snapping your arm back and following through on your throw."
LJ's eyes squinted while he stored these instructions away.
"You'll be throwing like a pro before you know it."
"And . . . time," I interrupted, realizing that if I was going to be watching this kid six days a week, I'd have to get used to being a responsible adult.
LJ groaned and hung his shoulders.
"Listen to your aunt Luce, little man," Jude said. "From one guy to another, here's a word of advice: You're going to have to figure out what battles are worth fighting. And this isn't one you'll win."
LJ contemplated that pearl of wisdom for all of a second before nodding his head. "Okay. Good night, Uncle Jude. Good night, Aunt Luce." He waved and started for the bedroom. "I love you."
I turned the phone so Jude could watch him go. "Love you, little man."
When I heard the bedroom door click shut, I spun the phone around. "That was a major crisis averted," I teased, as his smile grew when he saw me.
"That, Luce, was a major crisis delayed," he implied, letting those words settle.
Jude Ryder . . . hopeless optimist.
"No, Jude," I said, propping the phone up against a stack of coasters on the coffee table. "That was a major crisis called on account of weather."