Page 68 of Beg Me

I run my hands down his pecs. “In some respects, it’s a no-brainer. I’d go to Nevada. I mean, Gus mentioned that he lost his ‘first dad,’ so he’s aware of what he’s missing. And like you said, you’ve missed so much of his life already, and you have the chance to fix that. It’s kind of perfect. Besides,” I say, gliding my hands over his shoulders, “he’s eleven. He’ll be eighteen in seven years, and then he’ll be off causing havoc.”

Jory grins.

“Seven years will be over before you know it,” I say, shrugging.

“That’s true, and he’ll be twelve before I retire. So that’s six years.” His chest rises and falls, and his features grow somber. “What if I’m really bad at it?”

“Bad at what?”

He swallows. “At being a dad. I’m sort of a glorified babysitter at this point, tapping in for the fun times of his life. Holidays, birthdays, vacations. What if I can’t handle the day-to-day stuff? Or what if I get there and fuck up what’s working? Deidre is a great mom, and she has her rules and her systems. I don’t even know if it’s right to insert myself in their lives like that.”

It takes me a minute to wrap my mind around what he’s saying. Because whatever I thought he was going to say, this wasn’t it.

He’s so selfless—the opposite of self-absorbed. Jory’s sole focus is on what’s best for Gus, and the way he considers Deidre is so honorable. What’s best for their routine? What long-term impact will his presence make in their lives?

None of it is about him, and that’s such a rare attribute to have these days. I’m actually stunned.

I study Jory, giving myself a moment to consider how to respond. These are big questions with a lot of consequences. This matters. I can’t just pop off with something witty and then ride his cock.

He truly cares about what I have to say.

“I’m probably not the person you should be asking for advice,” I say. “My life is a patchwork of decisions, and I’m not sure any of them are all that solid.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I mean, I have a mortgage. That’s about the adultiest thing in my life.”

He grins.

“I don’t want a nine-to-five,” I say, repeating what I’ve told him before. “I don’t have a retirement plan. My health insurance plan barely fits the description of what insurance is supposed to be. If I get into a car accident or something, I’ll be bankrupt.”

Jory wraps his arms around me, weaving his fingers together at the small of my back.

“So, yeah. I don’t know if I’m the best person to offer advice,” I say. “I mean, my mission for the past two months was to find a partner to beat my ex-boyfriend in a pickleball tournament.”

I’ve never felt goofy about how I approach the game … until now.

I still want to win, and the idea of watching Jasper’s face as I crush him hangs on my mental vision board in a sterling silver frame. But it suddenly feels less important than before. Like I’m seeing it with someone else’s eyes.

He kisses my shoulder. “You are the Pickleball Princess.”

“You’re damn right I am.”

Our hands find each other, and our fingers lace together between us. My palms look so small in his giant, calloused ones.

I consider his questions, the ones I skirted around, and wonder how he could ever think he couldn’t handle being a dad every day. That he might mess up Gus’s routine with Deidre. And worse—why would he even consider that it wouldn’t be right to insert himself into their lives?

“Can I ask you something?” I ask.

He brings our joined hands to his mouth and presses his lips against them.

“What does Deidre say about you moving there? Have you asked her?” I ask.

“I mean, I haven’t directly asked her about it. She knows I’m retiring and that I want to be in Gus’s life—and she encourages that. Obviously.” He blows out a hasty breath. “But it’s not her decision to make. It’s my life, and I’m a big boy.”

I can’t resist. I push my weight onto his lap, circling my pussy against his cock. “That you are.” I smile at him. “To answer your question, I think you’d be an amazing everyday dad, and I think that if you don’t give it a try just because you think you’d mess it up, that you’re stealing more time from Gus. The kid adores you and deserves every minute you can give him. He’d be better for it. And so would you.”

“And you say you can’t give good advice.”