Before heading upstairs, I check on Daisy again, and turn the volume up on the monitor. Papers crinkle as Jonah unfolds the instructions, and I head to the washer and dryer to switch the bedding, tossing Daisy’s new crib sheets and blanket into the wash. With a bundle of fresh-smelling sheets in my arms, I walk to my room, directly across from Jonah’s master suite, and make up my bed. I smooth my sheets out and sit, noticing I can see straight into his room, an unobstructed view of his bed.
For the briefest of moments, I picture myself between his sheets, his body on top of mine, holding me down and doing the filthiest things to me. A hot blaze rides through my veins, and my hairline grows damp as I envision his mouth on me, those hands touching me in ways that will rock my world. Lord knows my worlds has never been rocked before, but if the rumors about the Body Checker are right—
“Quinn,” Jonah calls out, and my thoughts come crashing back to the present.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice a little higher than I would have like.
“I need you to hold something for me.”
As my thoughts go off in a million different directions, thinking about what I’d like to hold for him, I jump from the bed. “Yeah, sure,” I say as I rush into the baby’s room.
My feet come to a resounding halt at the doorway.
Holy God. Seeing Jonah all rough and rugged in his hockey gear is one thing, but this Jonah, bent down on one knee as he uses an Allen key to screw the bed together, well…that’s something else entirely. Something that reminds me I’m a woman, one who hasn’t been touched in a very long time.
So what should you do about that, Quinn?
“Can you hold the other end up, so I don’t twist the frame?”
I step around him and lift the edge of the crib as he works the tool. “You read the instructions?” I asked.
“I glanced at them, why?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Just wondering.”
“It’s not rocket science.”
“I guess I didn’t realize you were so good with your hands. I mean, I know you can handle a hockey stick, I just didn’t think…”
“I’m a hands-on kind of guy,” he says, and when my gaze flashes to his, catches his devious grin, I swear to God he’s talking about sex.
“I put Daisy’s sheets in the washer,” I say, desperate to change the subject.
“What time do I put her down tonight?”
“Did her mother give any instructions? Do you even know if she’s sleeping through the night yet?”
“Nothing. I don’t even know how to get ahold of her, either. She just handed Daisy over and left.” His teeth clamp together with an audible click, and he grunts. “Pretty shitty thing to do if you ask me,” he mumbles through those clenched teeth.
I shake my head, incredulous, and his eyes lock on mine. In that instant, I know we’re both thinking the same thing. How can a mother walk out on her child?
How could mine walk out on Zander and me?
I clear my throat. “I guess we’ll just have to wing it for the next little bit, until we get her on a schedule. I’m going to make some calls later, to see about a nanny. The sooner we find one, the better.”
Jonah finishes tightening the screw and walks toward me. Our hands touch, a soft brush that does the most ridiculous things to the needy spot between my legs.
Since I’m desperate for a man’s touch, and he’s a man who has the right touch—again, according to the rumors—then maybe I should take advantage of my time here. Scratch an itch while helping him. A tit-for-tat kind of thing.
Jonah is saying something but I’m so lost in my thoughts, I don’t hear.
“Quinn,” he says, his brows furrowed.
“Yeah.”
“Where were you?” he asks, genuine concern in his voice as he waves one hand in front of my face.
“Oh, nothing,” I say quickly. “Just thinking about Daisy’s mother.”