"And who's that handsome fellow?" Ryan asked, returning his attention to the drawing and pointing at the last figure. It was taller than the other two, larger, and more colourful. And most definitely a man; long legs clad in blue for jeans, short hair and the all important goatee beard.
"You," Daisy whispered, suddenly sounding nervous that her creation wouldn't meet his approval.
"Really?" Pierce asked, adding a hint of shock to his voice. "But he's way too good looking to be me."
I huffed out an amused sound and rolled my eyes. Ryan chuckled.
"What are we doing, Princess Daisy?" he asked, eyes back on my child.
"We're having a picnic," she announced. "Every Sunday in the park. You come with us and Mummy makes us a pie to eat, and then you push me on the swing."
And there it was, the little swing from Abi and Ben's backyard, hidden behind the three smiling figures.
"That sounds like a wonderful life," Ryan said softly. "I think I'd like that."
"You will," Daisy declared imperiously, living up to her Princess tag.
"So would I," I whispered, holding Pierce's gaze.
Neither of us realised that Daisy had stopped finessing her drawing, and was instead flicking glances between our faces. Until she announced, "I'm going to show Abi. Leave you two alone."
I closed my eyes and gently shook my head, as I heard Pierce laugh out loud. Then the scrape of Daisy's chair brought me back to the room, and I watched my matchmaking daughter slip out the door, heading towards the lounge.
"Well," Pierce said, breaking the silence left in Daisy's wake, "I can see a lot of you in her."
"Really?" I asked, imitating his tone from earlier.
"Yes," he replied, with a small nod of his head. "That determination when you set your mind to something. That confidence when you're trying to hide how important that something is. I saw it in you that very first day," he whispered, shifting his chair closer to mine, so the length of his thigh ran down the length of mine. "When you stayed under your desk, determined to sort those cables out, even when you knew a man was watching your every move like a horny teenager."
"You mean watching my butt," I pointed out, just as his warm palm landed on my thigh and started to sensually stroke.
"Yes," he agreed, bringing himself even closer, a hot breath away from my cheek. "I openly admit I was ogling your arse, but it was what you were doing, not how you were doing it, that intrigued."
"What do you mean?" I said, a little breathlessly. Every puff of hot air out he made sent tingles through my body. The urge to lean closer was too great. Before he had a chance to answer, I'd manoeuvred my cheek within touching distance of his lips, forcing a sweet peck.
A rumbled laugh followed the kiss.
"Your focus on the task despite distractions," he murmured, interspersing his words with more pecks of his lips against my skin. "But this is where I stray from the similarities between you and your very astute daughter," he added. "Because even when you came out from your hiding spot and saw me, no doubt already putting two and two together to figure out why I was there, you never crumbled, you remained focused, confident, entirely untouchable." A nuzzle of his nose in amongst my hair. "So untouchable I wanted to do just that, so very much."
"Ryan," I said, as his hand swept up my spine, sending shockwaves of electricity through my frame, and then his fingers entwined in my hair holding me captive.
"Say that again," he husked, lips nibbling my jaw, my ear, the corner of my mouth.
"Say what?" I said, sinking into the moment, uncaring if anyone were to walk in on us right then. Ryan could do so much with so little. A simple - or not so simple - kiss, stole all reason, completely.
"My name," he husked against my lips.
I sucked in a small breath and whispered, "Ryan." And that's all it took for him to release his hunger, his desire for more, his need. To allow himself to let go and take what he wanted without conscious thought.
I gave myself over willingly, letting myself be swept away by the firm and demanding press of his lips, the sure and determined seeking of his tongue, the hungry and passionate feel of his touch. We were both so lost to the moment, a moment that was turning X-rated at an alarming speed, that we didn't hear the back door open.
It wasn't until he was standing right before us, arms crossed over chest, fierce scowl on his face, that Ryan pulled back, realising we were no longer alone.
But it wasn't until the guy said, "What the fuck?" very loudly and very angrily, that a sense of dread replaced the lust of before in my mind.