He drags me back, a possessive tug, and I glance up at him, confused.
He doesn’t make eye contact; instead he puts his arm over his eyes and mumbles, “Next time you’re in my clothes, I don’t want you wearing panties. When I lift your shirt, I want to find you bare and ready to be fucked, okay?”
Oh. My. God.
7
Jonah
I look at the woman sleeping beside me and can’t believe that we fucked last night. And oh, how we fucked. My cock thickens from the memories. It was seriously the hottest sex of my life, and her talking all dirty like that nearly blew my mind and my load.
But seriously, what the hell was I thinking?
I wasn’t. That much is obvious. Did I really tell her that the next time she’s in my clothes, I want her naked underneath? Talk about some big fucking balls. Balls her brother is likely going to cut off and feed to me if he ever finds out. Then again, he’s the one who called her to help me, so part of the responsibility is his.
How is that for logical reasoning at its worst?
I glance at the clock. It’s eight in the morning. My thoughts turn to my daughter. My daughter. Is she still asleep? She must be, otherwise she’s be crying her eyes out. Not that I can blame her. She had a pretty traumatic day yesterday. I have a billion concerns, things I need to think of, plans I need to make, but it’s so goddamn overwhelming, I try to block it out for now, just take this fatherhood thing one day, one hour, at a time.
I ease from the bed, pull on a pair of sweatpants, and tiptoe quietly from the room. I listen outside Daisy’s door and when I hear cooing noises, I inch it open, praying to God the sight of me doesn’t send her into hysterics again. I walk to her crib, and she’s staring at the ceiling, her feet and hands moving. Her eyes move to mine, and when her chin quivers, I act quickly, wanting to soothe her worries.
“Hey, little one,” I say quietly, and she watches me with those big blue eyes, so unsure of me. I don’t blame her. I’m unsure of me, too. “Are you hungry?” I ask, as I cradle her against my chest. Her little head bobs against my body, then she glances up at me, like she’s trying to figure out if she likes me or not.
Her diaper feels soggy beneath my hand, so before I feed her, I need to change her. I place her on the changing table, and talk quietly to her. “If you’re wondering who I am and what I do, well, I’m your daddy, apparently, and sorry that was just sprung on you. It was sprung on me, too. Anyway, I’m a hockey player. When you get bigger, I can teach you how to play, too.” I frown. “That is if you want to. Maybe you want to be a dancer or something.” I unsnap the bottom of her pajamas. What was it Quinn had called it? A onesie? “I’m new at this and it’d be great if you’d give me a chance and not cry.”
She wiggles, her little hands fisted, swatting at the air, like she’s looking to land one on my chin. I take her hand in mine, lean in and give it a kiss. “You’re going to be a fighter, aren’t you?” I remove her diaper and reach for the baby wipes. “That’s good, Daisy. You’re so pretty, you’re going to have to learn how to fight the boys off.”
She makes a noise and gives me a big smile—the first smile I’ve seen on her—and my heart jumps into my throat. “No way.” I turn around, half-expecting Quinn to be there, to witness this moment, but disappointment takes up residency in my gut when I find the room empty. I turn back to Daisy.
“Oh, you like that do you? You want to take care of those boys by yourself.” As I look at her, think about who’s going to protect my girl once she’s in school—a teenager—possession moves through me. Yeah, I know what guys are like, and if any of them think for one moment they’re going to get within ten feet of my teenage daughter, they’ve got another thought coming. I slide the diaper beneath her, tape it up, and re-snap her onesie.
She’s cooing and smiling at me when I pick her up and hold her against my chest. “How about we let Quinn sleep a little longer, and I’ll get your bottle. We can watch Sportsnet and maybe you can see snippets of your daddy’s last game.”
Daddy?
Man, will I ever get
use to that?
She wiggles in my arms, and her fingers tug at my hair. Damn, I’m going to have to get it cut before she tears it out. We head downstairs, and I take a bottle from the fridge. I set her in her car seat, which is plunked on the kitchen table, and make some coffee, wanting a mug ready for Quinn when she wakes up. My mind races to my best friend’s sister.
How will she react this morning?
Will she go running out of here, or take me up on the offer I’m about to make her?
When it comes right down to it, I really shouldn’t have seduced her. If she runs now, I’m fucked. Hindsight is a wonderful thing, and now, since neither of us can deny that last night was pretty damn awesome, we can only move forward with that knowledge
The microwave beeps, and as I prepare the bottle, I turn to see Daisy, one of the rubber toys hanging from the car seat handle in her mouth. Heart in my throat, I jump toward her, ready to grab it—but then stop. I guess it’s okay for her to chew it. They wouldn’t make a car seat toy that wasn’t safe, right? Fuck, I have so much to learn.
One day at a time, dude.
As the coffee percolates, I pick her up and we head into the living room. I sit, put the bottle into her mouth and flick on the TV. I go through the stations until I find Sportsnet, showcasing highlights of last night’s basketball game. Daisy drinks half her bottle, then I burp her, but before I do, I throw one of her blankets over my shoulder.
Like I said, I’m a quick learner.
Behind me the stairs creak, and Daisy begins to make babbling noises. I angle my head, catch the hesitant look on Quinn’s face.
“Sorry if we woke you. I was hoping you’d get more sleep.”