Page 91 of Midlife Crisis

“You never had a home with your child, and we both know he can’t live with you in his condition. The liaison suggested that Gage treat him like any other adult living on his own by having a guest room. Only you aren’t a guest, Hank. You’re his father. Gage wanted you to have a space in case you wanted to stay the night.”

Sweet cheese, I’m fighting tears as I watch Hank’s face. He blows out a breath. Ever see a large man crumple with emotion? Me either, and my heart rips from my chest at the fight in Hank to keep the tears at bay. He pinches the bridge of his nose, holding the corners of his eyes a moment before blinking rapidly.

“We’ll give you a moment,” Edie says softly, her hand on her husband’s chest.

“Maybe twenty.” Tommy winks. “Don’t come to the pool house.” Hank chuckles, and I’m sensing the two men share a moment of history. Edie leads the way, and Hank and I are left alone in his new room in his son’s home.

+ + +

The stunned look in Hank’s eyes is all I can focus on.

“Holy fuck,” he mutters. He hasn’t moved, and I worry he’ll tumble over. Touching his wrist, I watch as he blinks down at me, then folds down to the edge of the bed.

“You okay?”

“I think I’m numb...in a good way.” He twists slowly, taking in the space. With a deep exhale, he reaches for me, tugging me to him. I fall over his lap, straddling him as he wraps both arms around my back and holds tight. I curl my arms around his head, pressing his cheek to my chest. A shudder rattles his body.

“No, Hank,” I mutter, bending forward to kiss the top of his head and linger. “Hank, honey, don’t cry.” I pull back, but he squeezes me tighter, not releasing me.

“Why did it take so long to find you?” He pinches his eyes again, his face avoiding mine a moment. I press him back and remove the trace of his tears with peppering kisses. My heart aches. “I wish I’d met you sooner.”

The sentiment is sweet but not realistic. A man like Hank Paige would have never been interested in me. I believe everything happens for a reason, but I can’t think of one reason Kit Carrigan emotionally abused this man or why he thought he had to drink so much.

“I think we met when we were supposed to meet. When we were ready, or maybe when we needed each other most.”

“I needed you so much earlier in my life, little lady.” I continue to cup his face. My lips brush lightly against his.

“I need you now, honey,” I say with another quick kiss. “There are some things I can never wish changing. My kids are those things for me.”

“I don’t want you to wish them away, baby. If anything, I want a little more of everything with them, too.” I startle. Hank has been wonderful with the boys, considering our misunderstanding weeks ago. He accepted Ronin’s apology and opened up to them about his history. He handles Elston’s surliness. Of course, Liam already adores Hank and finds no reason to dislike him even for a second. I could remind Hank he has Lawson, but I already understand his feelings. Finding out he has an adult child isn’t the same as discovering he has an infant. He’s missed out on so many things. The squishy toddler. The whiny teen. He wants experiences.

“You’re an amazing mother, Middy. I would have loved to have babies with you.”

“I know, sweetheart,” I say softly. I’m forty-one, and while I’d love to give Hank a child, I think that ship has sailed. To be safe, we agreed I’d go on the pill. “I would have loved to give you a baby.” This is a moment of pure honesty for Hank. He’s not dismissing his own child. He’s simply admitting he wanted more.

“Maybe you could just let me share the ones you already have.” He leans forward to kiss my chest, avoiding eye contact once again. My heart contracts. This man.

His hands rub up my sides, his lips kissing my chest, nuzzling the open vee of my blouse over to get to the swell of my breast. I’m balancing on his thighs, not wishing to crush him or imply anything, but the more he sucks at my skin, and the closer he gets to my nipple, a pulse beats under my skirt. Hank’s hands slip under my shirt, massaging firmly along my sides.

“I love your skin,” he mutters, sucking at me once again. Nimble fingers begin to unbutton my shirt.

“We probably shouldn’t be doing this here.” I giggle until he bites my nipple over the cotton material of my exposed bra.

“If this is my room, I want to christen it properly.”

I laugh nervously. I agree. I want to be with him, but I don’t want the other couples to know what we’re doing.

“Maybe we should get back out there and see what everyone else is up to.”

“Sex. That’s what they’re doing. Each other.” He hesitates between lolling his tongue over the swell of my breast. “Shirt. Off.” He growls, and the vibration of his chest ripples against me. Leaning back, I do as he says and slowly remove my blouse. Hank’s hands squeeze harder at my sides, working his way just under my breasts but not touching me.

“You’re like a personal lap dance.”

“Cripes.” I choke, not wanting to consider him ever receiving one, or three.

“As I’m all about equality, I’ll match you.” He balances me on his legs while he tugs off his shirt in that guy way. Maybe I’m the one who wants the lap dance. That is, him dancing while I sit on his lap. Our skin makes contact as his arms span up my back. He tugs my hair, and I tilt back. This gives him more access to my neck, and he nibbles, teasing me once again by getting close to that spot—the one along my collarbone where he knows I like to be nipped.

“Little lady,” he whispers, and I know what he wants. He tugs down my bra and forces one achy globe upward. The nipple peaks in his direction, hard and ripe from his attention. “You know I love your tits, baby.” Hank sucks firmly, latching on to worship me. He’ll leave a mark from the suction as well as his scruffy jaw. He releases me with a popping sound.