19th January.

I can't stop hearing her voice saying those words. I want to suck your dick, make you come, fuck my mouth. It's literally all I can hear, even in the morning, after a full nights sleep. I stand in the shower, breathing hard, my cock in my fist.

I'm not sure if she did it on purpose, but her voice was so sensual, soft, licking the words. My hand speeds up and I feel the pressure building, my teeth sink into my lip to stop myself from groaning her fucking name.

All I could think about while she read that book, was her saying those things to me, begging to suck me off, to fill her mouth, her throat. I couldn't stop picturing my hands in her hair, her lips around me, her tongue licking my shaft. I grunt, my flesh sliding in my fist as I lean against the wall and my head hangs under the water.

I'd almost unzipped my pants when I stood in front of Gabrielle last night, almost ended up being the one fucking begging for her mouth. The way she looked up at me through her lashes, her cheeks flushed and her lips parted, I couldn't stand it. It was all too much and I wouldn't be surprised if she'd heard me beating off as soon as I got into bed last night.

It wasn't enough. I have no idea how I'm going to face her when my climax hits and my cock spurts warm cum all over the shower wall. My breathing is ragged as I wash my hand off under the water and sigh.

We have to get this shit under control because how can we live together if all I can think about is the things I want to do with her? I should never have asked her to read that book out loud. I crossed the line because I knew what she was reading. It was all over her beautiful face and I wanted to hear it. I wanted to hear her say dirty things and I got way more than I bargained for.

                  Out in the living room, the fire is still on, Gabs is curled up on the sofa with her phone and Lydia is on the floor, her legs kicking behind her. There's a box in front of her, she's reading a manual and I realise it's a squirrel house.

A fucking squirrel house.

"Good morning, Nathan!" Lydia shouts.

I give her a quick wave. "Morning, kid."

I'm about to ask Gabs where the squirrel house came from when I look up and see her reading her phone, a little grin on her mouth, her thumb between her teeth. I'm immediately in agony.

I clear my throat and her eyes dart up to meet mine.

"Where'd the squirrel house come from?"

She locks her phone and drops it. We're ignoring what I said last night I suppose. For the best.

"Amazon."

Lydia starts pulling bits and pieces out of the box. It's a kit set with all of the pre made walls and the roof, it just has to be put together and painted. Comes with paint too. Lydia looks up and smiles at me.

"I put the wood on the fire this morning," she tells me, her hair is a knotted mess, as it is most mornings. I've watched Gabs comb it out before. She uses a lot of cream stuff and leave in conditioners.

"Thanks, kid," I say. "It's warm in here. So, is that what we're doing this morning?"

"I told her she can wait if you're busy," Gabs cuts in, sitting forward on the edge of the couch. "It came up on Amazon after you'd mentioned building one with Lydia so I bought it. She can be patient if need be."

Lydia looks at me, shaking her head. "I'm not good at patience."

"You will be," Gabby warns.

"We can do it this morning," I lower myself onto the ground and Lydia does an excited little shuffle in her onesie. "We'll do this and mom can cook breakfast."

Lydia keeps her focus on the instruction manual when she says, "Waffles please, mommy."

I lean back on my palms and give Gabs a big wide smile, her response is a tired grin. And all of a sudden, I'm hearing the words of that fucking book all over again and my heart kicks up. I have to break our eye contact before I ask her to go somewhere private with me.

Part of me wants to tell her that I've come twice since last night, all because of her, her voice and her words and just her. I want her to know that I think about her mouth while I'm fisting my cock. I want her to know that I picture her face catching my cum shot. I want to know what she'd do with that information. But I can't tell her that.

For starters, there's a child in the room.

Second, she might slap me straight across the face and never talk to me again.

Or there's the third and forbidden fantasy, she'll want to make it all come true.

Gabby sets about cooking waffles while Lydia reads the first few steps of the building to me. She reads slow and stumbles but she gets there eventually and I think it's fucking cool that she wants to do it herself. How else is she meant to learn?

Occasionally, I look over at Gabs and see her moving about the kitchen, she tip toes to get the mixing bowl out of the top cupboard, her long sleeve thermal hugs her slender frame, her pyjama pants are big and billow around her legs, tightening on her ankles. She ties her hair into a bun and covers the bench top in ingredients and scratches her nose when she's intently reading the recipe.

I'm spending my weekend morning building a squirrel house with a kid while one of the most beautiful woman I've ever met cooks waffles in the kitchen and I kind of fucking love it.

                The squirrel house is almost done two hours later. We've eaten our waffles and Gabs is in her room cleaning up. Lydia has done a pretty damn good job of this thing, not accepting a lot of help unless she absolutely needs it. It might've taken about fifteen minutes if I'd done it alone but no big deal.

She carefully brushes glue onto the roof so she can stick a sheet of shingles on. It's the last step and I have a quick flick through the pamphlet to make sure we didn't miss anything.

"You did good, kid. This thing looks awesome."

She smiles but doesn't look at me. "Thank you, Nathan. I liked building this. It was fun. I've never builded a whole thing like this before."

"Glad I got to be involved."

I hand her the sheet of shingles when she's done with the glue and she carefully lines it up on the wooden panel. She's super careful with it too.

"Nathan?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you know my daddy?"

Shit. "Uh, no, I don't know him that well. Met him a couple times I suppose but that's about it."

Where the fuck is Gabrielle?

"He's sick," she looks at me now, a matter of fact expression on her face. "He has a sick brain."

Gabs told me briefly she'd explained Josh's absence in a way that Lydia could swallow. Poor kid. She didn't deserve to lose her dad like this. Makes no sense to me that he's just up and left her. Prick.

"That's no good, huh," I mumble, feeling like a dick because I have no idea what I'm supposed to say.

"I hope he gets better soon," she moves on to glue the other side of the roof for the next sheet of shingles. "I miss him."

My heart squeezes. "I bet."

"He didn't like to make stuff with me because he'd get mad and say just let me do it. But I like to do it so he got mad sometimes."

Why are kids so fucking honest all the time?

"Maybe he just wanted to help," I say, practically having a panic attack because I don't want to put my foot in it. "He might've thought he had to help his little girl with whatever she needed."

Can Gabs not hear her daughter talking to me about Josh? I need her to come and tap me out. This is too much pressure.

Lydia shakes her head. "No. He just got mad because he thinked I was too dumb to do it myself."

"He was wrong, kid," I tell her, watching as she sets the second sheet of shingles onto the glue. I know I shouldn't volunteer any opinions on Josh but I'm proud of Lydia for doing this squirrel house, I want her to know that. "He was wrong to say you can't do it yourself. You're clever, kid. You built this almost entirely on your own. That's impressive."

"And only one oops," she points her hand at my face where I can see the band aid wrapped around her thumb.

She'd been using a craft blade to cut out the stencil pieces of wood and got the tip of her thumb. She hadn't panicked or cried, just asked for a band aid so she could keep building. Champion.

"We'll have to wait until the glue is dried before we put it outside," I tell her.

"I want to paint it."

"Let the glue dry first," I suggest. "So we know the pieces won't move."

"Fine," she relents with a little huff.

Gabs walks out of the hall while I'm putting the squirrel house a bit closer to the fire place so it dries quicker. She has her arms full of hair products and a couple of coats.

"Lyd, grandma wants to see you today," she says, not sounding all that enthusiastic. "Should we do your hair and get dressed? Which coat do you want to wear today?"

"None!" Lydia shouts, more attitude than I've heard before. "I don't want to go. I'm building the squirrel house with Nathan."

Fuck, don't bring me into this.

Gabs sets down the bits and pieces on the couch and meets my eyes with a dejected look. The relationship with her mom is strained and I imagine it must be hard being the middle man if Lydia doesn't want to go.

"It's just a visit baby."

"No," Lydia shouts again, standing up and throwing herself into the sofa. "I don't want to go."

This is the first time I've seen the two of them argue. Lydia isn't a difficult kid. She knows what she has to do in the morning before school. She knows what she has to do before bed. She does it all with no complaint. But I haven't seen her being asked to do something she doesn't want to.

Gabs however, doesn't seem surprised in the least. She runs a hand through her beautiful brown hair and closes her eyes, as if calming herself down. Or perhaps just looking for strength. I decide to give her some space and head into the kitchen to empty the dishwasher.

"Lydia, grandma wants us to visit. We don't have to be there for long but she misses you, babe. Can we go and say hello?"

Lydia rolls around on the couch, shouting, "no, no, no."

"We'll pick up some lunch?" Gabs offers, hands on her hips while she watches Lydia roll around having a tantrum. "What should we take?"

"You go," Lydia kicks her legs in the air, Gabs tries to tickle her feet and gets screamed at.

"You have to come with me, Lydia. Come on, pick a coat, we'll get some lunch to take."

"Grandma is an imbecile!"

"Lydia James!"

Putting the clean glasses in the cabinet, Gabby looks over at me, her cheeks flushed red and her gaze full of shame. I don't want her to feel embarrassed. Fuck, I'm well aware of how hard it can be to deal with a kid who isn't interested in doing what they're told. Dallas gave me hell all the time and I usually lost.

"I want to stay with Nathan," Lydia shouts, picking up the brush and throwing it at the floor.

Gabby puts her fists in front of her face and I think her patience might be slipping. I'm not sure what to do here. Do I tell Lydia to have some respect for her mom. Do I let Gabs handle it. Do I leave and let Gabby parent her without someone watching?

Lydia stands up and starts throwing the coats at Gabs. "You go see stupid grandma. You go. I don't want to go."

Gabby uncovers her face, which is soaked with tears and shouts, "cut it out!"

Quickly walking over to her, I wrap an arm around her shoulder and start leading her out of the room as I look back at Lydia.

"Get dressed, kid," I tell her, firm but not harsh. "Now."

In my room, I kick the door shut and wrap my arms around Gabs as she crumbles into breathless cries. Her head rests on my chest, I rub her back and hold her tight.

"I don't want to force her to see my mom," Gabby mumbles into my shirt, her voice thick with sobs. "She shouldn't have to if she doesn't want to."

I keep my voice free of judgement when I ask, "why are you making her then?"

"It's hard, how am I supposed to tell her Lydia doesn't want to see her? I know we're not in the best place right now, but I don't want to hurt her like that."

Makes sense I suppose. That's still her mom, differences aside, she loves her and I can't imagine how awkward it would be to tell her that her own grandchild doesn't want to visit.

Gabby's cries start to subside after a while and I notice just how close we are, just how weird this should be.

But it isn't.

She must notice too because her hold loosens and she tries to step back.

Fuck it, I don't want to let go.

My lips move dangerously close to kissing her head as I move my face, my nose touching her hair. Reluctantly, I drop my hold so she can step back and I ache at the tears on her cheeks and the redness around her stunning brown stare.

"Sorry," she lightly laughs, going to wipe her face. I catch her hand, wrap my fingers around hers and my thumb is the one that swipes the dampness from her cheek.

"Don't apologise, Gabrielle."

She looks at her hand enveloped in mine as they fall between us.

"What if I come with you two?" I offer, wanting nothing more than to make her day a little bit easier. "To your mom's?"

She flinches. "You'd do that?"

"Sure. Let it be her idea. Ask her if she wants me to come and then get her to invite me herself. If you want to, no pressure."

Her mouth lifts into a smile, her eyes almost glaze over with disbelief.

"Thank you, Nathan," her voice is nothing more than a soft whisper but the sound waves might belong tattooed on my fucking lungs.

She goes back out to the living room and I wait for a few minutes. Mostly so she can talk to Lydia without me around, and also because I need to breathe now that Gabby is gone and I can think straight. I don't know what the fuck is going on with me but I'm turning into a mess.

It has to be some severe case of blue balls. I want her so bad it's making me stupid.

However, one thing I won't do is ruin this safe place she has to live while she gets on her feet. As much as I want to fuck her, I'm not going to. For so many reasons, but mostly because she deserves better than me.

I hear Lydia calling from the hall a few minutes later and walk out to find her skipping toward me in jeans, a knit and big socks. At least she listened.

"Can I asked you something?"

"Yeah, what's up?"

"Do you want to come to my grandma's with me and mommy?"

We wander out into the living room where Gabs is tipping a fresh load of washing from the drier onto the couch. It sounds like static. She picks the pile up and hugs it to her.

"So warm," she sighs and I see a black thong on the top of the pile. Kill me.

"Yeah I'll come to grandma's," I tell Lydia, giving her my full attention. "Your grandma used to invite me to her house for thanksgiving a long time ago. It'll be good to see her again."

Camilla used to have Dallas and I over after Nan died. It was always sort of awkward for me. Dallas and Gabs had each other, I had food. Camilla would make conversation and it was fine but I was barely an adult man with no interest in hanging out with two teenage girls and a middle aged woman. I did it for Dallas though, so she could have a decent thanksgiving meal.

"You better be careful though," Lydia tells me, her brows raised as she wanders over to the hat and glove box. "If you don't eat Grandma's food, she gets mad."

Gabby, hugging an armful of her clean clothes, shakes her head. "Lyd, don't. I'm going to get dressed. I'll be back in a minute."

When she's gone, Lydia gives me a blank look and shrugs. "It's true. I don't like porridge. Carter Mason doesn't like porridge."

"Who?"

"He's a boy in my class," she explains, picking up the hair brush and shoving it at me. "Can you brush my hair? I like this magic mist. It smells the best."

She hands me a bottle of leave in conditioner and stands with her back to me. Well, shit. Should I be brushing her hair? Suppose it's no big deal. As dumbstruck as I feel, I'm kind of honoured too.

"Magic mist, huh?" I hold the brush in one hand, spray her hair with the other. She's right, this shit smells like strawberries.

"Yep it's magic because it makes my hair all brand new."

"It does smell good," I admit.

And it is like magic because I honestly couldn't see how her nest of hair could become nice little curls but when I run the brush through, there's no resistance and her hair softens right out.

"I thought you like doing everything yourself?" I say, working at a super knotted bit.

"Yes but not brushing my hair because it's very relaxding when someone else does it."

I lightly laugh, she's a well spoken kid so it cracks me up when she mis pronounces a word once in a while.

"Do you ever brush mom's hair?" I ask.

"Hmmm no."

I think about Gabrielle, about her beautiful head of hair, how the strands feel between my fingers, how her curls frame her face, how her tips almost touch the top of her ass when her head falls back. A work of art.

"You should ask her if you can brush her hair," I suggest. "She might think it's relaxding too."

Lydia bounces on the spot, her little fists bumping the air. "She would. I thinked she would."

The only thing I want to do with Gabby's hair, is pull it from behind and I think I'll keep that to myself.