I roll my eyes. “Yes, Mother, it’s me. Who else would be in here?”
“Just checking, sweetie. You’re usually up by now.”
I stride toward Lennon and nuzzle the side of her neck. “I would’ve been except someone kept me up late last night,” I whisper.
“Shhh,” Lennon says, giggling and shoving me away.
This girl.
I can’t get enough of her, and now she’s standing in the middle of my room in her rumpled clothes from last night with flushed cheeks, looking sexy as hell, and my cock is standing at full attention.
Clearing my throat, I grab my jeans off the floor and pull them on, along with a T-shirt. “What are you doing back this early in the morning?” I call, knowing my mother is still standing outside the door. She’s suspicious already, I can tell. It’s probably that mother’s intuition she’s always talking about.
“You know how your dad is.” Her sigh is audible from behind the door. “I’ll make breakfast and tell you all about our trip.”
“Sounds good, Mom. I’ll be out in a few.”
I hear her walk away, followed by the theme song to Nova’s favorite TV show.
Turning to Lennon, I try offering her a reassuring smile. “You okay?”
“Your family is here, Noah,” she says, glancing around the room as though she’s looking for a way to escape. “This isn’t exactly how I envisioned meeting your parents and your daughter. What are they going to think when they see me doing the walk of shame?”
She’s right. This isn’t exactly how I would want her meeting my parents—hell, I’m still trying to wrap my head around the notion that I want her to meet my parents. But ushering her out of my house like a cheap date doesn’t feel right either.
“How am I going to get out of here?”
Her eyes are pleading with me to fix this, to do something to get us out of this mess, but the only answer I can come up with is to walk her into my living room, introduce her to my parents and my little girl, and have her sit next to me at breakfast.
I’ve never done anything like this, not since Kim, and the thought terrifies me. But something about it just feels right. Every single time I’m around Lennon, I have this intense reaction. My heart races, my palms sweat, and I get this insane urge to touch her and be close to her. I’ve never had a connection like this with another woman, and that right there should tell me something. It does tell me something. I want her to meet my parents.
I want her to meet Nova.
I hold out my hand, knowing that if she takes it, if she trusts me enough to do what I’m about to do, we have a real chance of making whatever this might be between us work.
“Noah.” She slips her hand in mine, and I pull her close.
“Stay.”
Her eyes widen.
My legs are restless as I wait for her to say something, anything, half expecting her to dive out the window.
“Really?” she asks.
“Yes.”
Three letters.
One word that solidifies our connection.
She blinks and then smiles, and it’s enough to bring me to my fucking knees. This woman is going to ruin me for anyone else. I just know it.
“Okay.”
Lennon’s hand is trembling in mine. I squeeze it as we step into the kitchen. “Hey, Ma.”
“There you are. I threw in some cinnamon rolls,” Mom says, opening the door to the oven and peeking inside. They must not be done because she shuts the door, turns toward me, and takes one step forward. When she sees Lennon, she stops.