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Stone gives me that lecherous grin I always know means trouble, and I hiss at him.
“It better not be a coil of rope. You are not tying me up at your mother’s house.”
He releases a laugh that draws everyone’s attention, and Storm and Landon both offer us knowing grins, while Caroline raises her mimosa toward us and Saint smiles. Gabe and Skye roll their eyes, but Savage and Dani return their focus to the kids and Nana, who’s sitting in her high-back chair, watching all of them before she has to start on dinner.
Stone wraps his arm around my waist and tugs me fully against him. “Not a coil of rope. We’ll save that for tonight when we get home.” He kisses my cheek. “Maybe I’ll even string you up on the hook since we got interrupted last night.”
A shudder rolls through me. “Promises. Promises.”
He tightens his grip on me. “I brought your favorite toy. You could go back to the bathroom, take off your panties, and slip these ones on right now.”
I push back from him and glower. “You meanyourfavorite toy?”
Torture device is a more accurate description.
I couldneverforget how he used the vibrating panties on me while sitting in this very house at his mother’s table when we first got together, and the reminder sends heat between my legs despite the complete inappropriateness of the situation.
Stone grins. “Semantics.”
He brings his drink to his lips and takes a sip. I’m sure he’d much rather be enjoying a bourbon or mimosa with everyone else, but his continued sobriety over the last fifteen years has been the only thing that ever allowed this to work—and he’s workedhardfor it.
I know there were a lot of times he wanted to break, wanted to go down that road when the stresses of managing all the legal problems of Hawke Enterprises and having two young sons got to him and he would have loved to drown his problems in booze or cocaine. But we worked through those times together and usedotheroutlets for his frustration and need for the illusion of control.
We did it together, just like we always will. Just like he’s trying to do now—using a naughty promise to try to distract me from my worry. And after so many years, the fact that he still looks at me with that fire in his eyes and still follows through on his threats makes goosebumps break out over my skin.
I feather my lips over his. “As much as I know you would enjoy toying with me today and distracting me, I think I need to keep an eye on the kids and the door. I don’t know how Jude’s going to react to any of this. He might need me.”
Stone’s gaze immediately softens, and he presses a kiss to my forehead. “You’re such an incredible woman. You know that, right?”
“You’ve told me once or twice.”
“But you don’t always have to take care of everyone else.” His gaze holds so much concern. “Sometimes, you have to take care of yourself, or let me do it.”
I press my hand to his cheek. “You always do.”
He tilts his head to brush his lips over my palm, then Isaac rushes over holding up his new gaming system.
“Can we set this up when we get home?”
Stone nods. “Sure, buddy.” But he glances at Coen. “You know you’re going to have to let your brother play it, too, right?”
Isaac scowls. “Why? He has his own gifts.”
I turn to our oldest—and most stubborn—the one who’s so much like his dad, who always wants to be in control of everything. “Because he’s your brother, and you have to share, whether you like it or not.”
The little smartass who has developed so much attitude in his teens raises his dark brows. “Did Aunt Dani always share with you as a kid?”
I laugh and look over at her, where she sits on Savage’s lap, arm wrapped around his neck, as they watch Kennedy dig through her new makeup kit. “Your Aunt Danika was always a little selfish, and that’s one reason I want to make sure you’re not.”
He scowls at me again but huffs and walks back to plop down onto the floor near the tree and next to Coen. Coen fiddles with one of his other gifts—a new Lego set—looking sullen. Isaac shows him the game system box and points to one of the games, and Coen’s eyes light up.
Stone tugs me to his side, wrapping his arm around my shoulders as he takes another sip of his drink. “You’re a good mom.”
I look up at him. “You’re a good dad.”
He grins. “That’s a lie, but thanks for saying so.”
“You didn’t have one, babe. All you had was—” I bite off the name instead of saying it, but it’s too late, and a dark cloud settles over his eyes. “You didn’t have the best male role model, but you’ve been incredible with them, practically raising them yourself while I was going to medical school and through my residency and fellowship. Don’t underestimate how incredible you are—at being a dad and so many other things.”
