“No way.” H
e reached his little hands beneath the jersey and grabbed the bottom of the long-sleeved thermal shirt creeping up her stomach.
“I’m your mom. You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“We can do this easy,” Sam said into the top of her head. “Or we can go hard. You choose.”
She tried to squirm out of his arms, but it was useless. “I’m keeping my Pittsburgh jersey. It cost me over two hundred bucks.” Outmuscled and outmanned, the jersey was whipped over her head. For a brief second, it caught on her ponytail, then she found herself in a tug-of-war with her son. “Let go.”
“Hold—her—Dad,” Conner managed between peals of wild laughter and grunts of raw effort.
With both arms around her, Sam held her even tighter. “Take it and hide it somewhere,” he told Conner.
“You’re in big trouble,” she warned her son. “No more cartoons for you.”
In response, he tugged so hard his face turned red. She rose onto the bal s of her feet and used her foot in his little tummy for leverage, but he ripped the jersey from her fingers. He tumbled across the kitchen floor, then took off. “Don’t let her go til I hide it, Dad.”
“She’s not going anywhere.” His arms tightened even more, and she suddenly became very aware of him pressed against her back and behind. Suddenly became aware of being surrounded by a heavy man blanket, throwing off waves of heat. She stil ed as the heat of him seeped through her pores. Two of his fingers brushed her bare waist where her shirt had risen.
Other than the males in her own family or the occasional handshake, the last man who had touched her was the man touching her now. Yes, she felt the heat and pure male grit of Sam. Just like al those years ago in Vegas. What she didn’t feel this time was the jump in her pulse.
“Let go, Sam.”
Chapter Nine
Any Man of Mine:
Respects Boundaries
“You about done, Conner?” Sam cal ed out. He glanced from the doorway to the top of Autumn’s head. Her messed-up ponytail tickled his cheek. It had been a long time since he’d been this close to a woman and been ful y dressed. Especial y this woman. He half expected an elbow in the gut and head butt to his chin.
“Not yet, Dad.”
Instead, she dropped to her heels and slid down his body. A slow friction that ignited a fire and burned down his stomach to his groin. His fingers pressed into her bare skin. He couldn’t help it. It just happened, and a deep, heavy groan vibrated his chest. A sort of sound that only meant one thing, and he hoped like hel she didn’t notice.
“I need some water.” She turned her face and looked up at him. “Want some cold water?”
That close, her eyes were very green. Not like emeralds. Warmer. Like when the trees final y turned in Saskatchewan. “No.” He dropped his hands and turned from the kitchen. Trees in Saskatchewan? Where the hell had that come from? Yeah. He needed some cold water. He needed to dump it in his crotch.
He moved into the living room and reached for his coat on the couch. “I gotta get going.” Before he did something total y insane, like starting to have sexual thoughts about the mother of his child. About Autumn. The women who hated and confused him more than any woman on the planet. “Conner!” he cal ed out as he slipped into his wool coat, which thankful y covered the beginning promise of a ful -blown erection.
“Yeah, Dad?” He came down the hal empty-handed. “Are you leaving now?”
“I’ve had a long week.” True, but not the reason he had to go. “I’l cal you Monday after practice and maybe we’l go to one of those kiddy fun centers you like.”
“Can we golf? I’m good at golfing.”
Autumn walked out of the kitchen, hair stil in a wild just-got-laid mess, blue thermal shirt hugging her like a second skin and a glass of water in one hand. “Sure,” he said as he looked down at the buttons on his coat.
“I have to work until around two. So he’l be at his day care Monday after school.”
“I’l send Natalie to pick him up.”
He looked across the room at her as she shoved one shoulder against the entrance into the dining room. There was something different about her that night. She was softer. More approachable, but that wasn’t it.
“You probably know my newest clients.” He’d noticed it a few weeks ago when she’d stood at the bottom of her stairs looking at him. “The Ross twins,” she continued. “One of them is marrying Mark Bressler. I think he’s your coach.”
“Yeah, I know Mini Pit and Short Boss.” Just a few months ago, he’d flirted with Chelsea at the Stanley Cup party. He liked her, and she was cute, but mostly he’d just wanted to piss off Mark. That’s what friends were for.