"You’re not him," she said. "You’re not my ex. And you’re not my son, even if you call me 'Mommy' when we play." A small, dangerous smile tugged at her lips. "You’re the man who fixed the leaky faucet, who showed up with pizza, who stayed when I had a nightmare last week."
She pulled back just enough to unbutton the first two buttons of her sweater. A hint of lace. A slow, deliberate invitation. YoungerMommy 22 12 02 Kenzie Love In Mommys Bed...
I flinched. She noticed.
"You are." She padded across the thick carpet, barefoot, holding two mugs of chamomile tea. Steam curled up between us. "You’ve got that wrinkle between your eyebrows. The one that makes you look like your dad." "You’re not him," she said
"Hey." She reached out, her cool fingers tracing my jaw. "Look at me." "You’re the man who fixed the leaky faucet,
