I convince myself it’s got nothing to do with Devon and everything to do with needing a pick me up but my subconscious laughs for a good twenty minutes and keeps making comments like ‘he’ll definitely pick you up*wink, wink* and if you need something up…
By the time I get my daughter and settle in for the rest of the day I have admitted to myself that my landscaping ordeal is nothing more than a plea to the heavens that my pick me up will come by soon.
Stupid vagina.
Chapter Thirty Seven
The doorbell rings with an incessant peal that makes me want to rip my hair out and feed it to the evil person who can’t wait five seconds for me to shuffle to the door.
I’m baby free for the next few days thanks to a cold I’d woken up with this morning. I’d called mama and she’d almost exploded with glee when I’d told her I needed some free babysitting while I fought the human plague that is a cold.
I would have called Devon since the guy will walk over hot coals for any free time he gets with Immie, but he’s still out of town on some deal and the lads, while they adore Im, are not capable of changing a diaper without puking themselves to death.
The doorbell chimes again and I stomp to the door with a huff before ripping it open.
“Hold the hell on! Can’t you-”
“You called your mum to look after Immie but not me?” Devon yells, clomping in and shoving the door shut.
“You were outta town.”
“I would have come back immediately imp. I told you to call me.”
“Okay, sorry.” I mutter, shuffling into the kitchen with a groan as my aching joints protest the motion. “I’ll call mama and tell her you’ll come by to get Im.”
“No. Sit down here so I can make you some tea. No, no arguments imp.” He mutters, pushing me into a seat and going to fill the kettle.
It takes five minutes and then I’m cradling a cup of warm, soothing tea and being harassed by Satan.
“Why didn’t you call?”
“God! I said I was sorry. Go fetch Im if you’re so upset about this, just please stop yelling, my head is splitting.”
“Goddammit Rebecca! I’m not upset about your parents getting her for a few days, I’m pissed that you’re ill and you didn’t ring me. You shouldn’t be alone when you’re feeling this poorly.” He snarls, ripping impatiently at his tie.
“Oh, er…I’m not that sick.”
“Really? Did you or did you not ring your mum and refer to it as ‘the goddamned plague’?”
“Artistic license.” I mutter sheepishly, dropping my throbbing skull onto my arms where they’re lying on the table. “I felt much worse this morning.’
“Well you bloody well look it. Now drink your tea so I can bath you and put you to bed.” He orders, giving me another glare for good measure.
I shut my mouth and obey because it’s impossible not to when Attila the Hun is staring into your eyes and throwing his weight around.
***
“Stop it.” I yell twenty minutes later, slapping at his hands when they go for my naked boobs with a wash cloth.
“Calm down, I’m just trying to get you clean and out as quickly as possible so you can go to sleep.” He insists, prying my arms away to skim the cloth over my flesh in a wholly clinical way that bruises my ego.
I’d refused, cajoled and then outright begged him to let me bath alone but he’d given me his patented blank stare and then overruled me anyway.
I’m mortified to be naked and wet-not the good kind!-in front of him when he sits me down in the bath and my belly rolls, creating a little roll that’s been driving me nuts.
Breastfeeding seems to be helping me shed the unwanted pounds but it’s not a substitute for working out and I really-
“Stop bloody trying to cover your tummy you barmy monkey. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about here. I like your body.”
Really? Because last time I heard you thought I was a fat cow incapable of seducing a rock.
Oh stop it Beck. Just don’t go there.
I sit meekly and allow him to wash me even when he takes liberties and pushes the cloth lower, lingering between my legs before dropping the cloth and rinsing me. Thoroughly.
“You know that my vagina isn’t in need of care right now, right?” I mutter, tensing my inner walls when his hand skims my labia in a once over that has my blood heating in zero seconds flat.
“I beg to differ imp. Seems to me she’s not as against my ministrations as you are.”
Insufferable.
“You are beyond arrogant. And delusional.” I mutter, rolling my eyes in an effort to mask the dropping of my lids when his fingers glance over my clit.