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There’s a baby. A tiny little baby in nothing more than a diaper cradled in his tanned, tattooed and seriously drool-worthy arms. I lose the power to look away. To breathe. To Goddamn blink! What the actual hell has this man done to me? “Nice ... kid?” I look around helplessly. “You’re busy. I should go.”
Before I even start to spin back to the door, he’s across the room. His fingers linked through mine. “Wait.”
Achy—my insides are positively achy. I can’t deal with this many feels in one day. I’m not built for this. “The tattoo. You said to come, but not what time.” Unable to hold his stare, and scared I’ll brush the hair from his forehead again if I look there, I focus all my attention on the baby boy currently dosing in the crook of Sonnie’s arm with his little cheek mushed against his faded black, Clua Ink T-shirt. That would be the same faded black Clua Ink T-shirt I had on the other morning. Not helping.
I watch him turn and carefully pass the comatose infant to Rylie, his friend friend. “Follow me.” He clears his throat but doesn’t so much as look back to see if I am indeed following him through the arch decorated with more hand painted designs.
I follow. Of course, I follow.
“Jump up.” He pats the leather bed in the center of the sterile white room he’s led me to as he passes it, the frosted glass door clicking closed behind us.
I do as he asks without a word, still reeling from the whole discovery that I’m jealous, and I interrogate kids.
I swing my legs and grip the edge of the bed, trying to figure out why I’m so nervous. Laia’s assurance that she thought she was fine alone until she met Felix taunts me. That would mean that maybe ... nah.
“My dad never got over my mom. I’m not mad he didn’t come.” The muscles of Sonnie’s lean back bristle as he snaps his black latex gloves on. “He’s the good guy in this family.”
I blink to stop my eyes from popping. He’s been worried I’d judge? All morning? “I would never...” My knuckles turn white on the edge of the bed at the stiffness of his shoulders. “You don’t have to defend anything, or anyone to me. You’re a good guy too, Sonnie, don’t doubt that.”
He shakes his head as he turns from the stainless-steel workstation. “My mom could manipulate anyone into just about anything.” Dragging his bottom lip through his teeth, his blue-green eyes take me in from the top of my head to the tips of my flip flops, then back again. “Dad took me back to Baltimore when he saw that her looks weren’t the only thing I was beginning to inherit.” He swallows thickly, his jaw clenching, then releasing. “And, you know what? It still gutted him, and he knew—he knew that it was only a matter of time before she set her sights on something bigger and better than us.”
My eyes sting at the rawness of his words. “You don’t lie though, Sonnie, and you don’t cheat. You’re nothing like that.”
“Really?” He snorts air through his nose like I’ve no idea what I’m talking about. “I take what I want and leave the rest. Worse when I drink.”
I shake my head tightly, refusing to dwell on the fact that he was drunk when he admitted whatever it was he admitted to me, or let it stop me from setting him straight. It’s him that has no idea. “Ever thought that, more than afraid of hurting people like she did, you’re afraid of being hurt like your dad was?”
A line appears between his eyebrows, but he holds my stare, and I can practically hear the wheels turning until finally, one side of his mouth curls in a smirk that makes my tummy flutter completely against my better judgement. I’m not that girl.
Heat creeps up my neck and over my cheeks when he doesn’t look away. I can’t help it. Apparently, I am that girl. The one I swore I’d never be.
“Says the woman who is as allergic to commitment as I am?” His smirk eases into nothing more than a flickering of the dimple in his left cheek as he places a black-latex-glove-covered hand on each of my knees. “What’s your excuse?”
I shift to lean back when he nudges my legs apart, and my body temperature soars even higher, my pulse roaring in my ears. My smile falters before it even makes it to my mouth. “I’m just not built that way.”
He cocks his head and for a second, I think he can see right through me and my bullshit. For a second, I think I want him to. It’s all about to come tumbling out. My truth, my past, my everything.
“I’m gonna need to...” He flicks his attention to the button of my shorts then back to my face before anything falls anywhere. I’m not sure what he reads there, but I sure as hell know what he reads when they drop to my chest, and the shitty job my tank top is doing of disguising my reaction to his hands on me.
He runs his tongue over his bottom lip. “This morning was—”
“Intense.” I attempt a smile. “We can forget it ever happened if you want. We can forget all of this and just go back to—you know...” I roll my eyes. Fucking for fun.
As if he can read the words I didn’t say, both dimples come out to play before he returns his attention to my shorts, slips the button easily from his hold and tugs the zipper down.
My teeth clamp down on the inside of my cheek.
My skin’s tingly and over-sensitive when he folds over the open sides of my shorts and runs his finger over the elastic of my panties to guide them down until the nicely healed tattoo is visible. His teeth are clenched too. I can see it in the tick in his jaw.
I should tell him the truth. I need to tell him.
His stare lifts to mine for a millisecond. But it’s enough to make Hoo-ha brain take the reins. It’s the exact same look he gave me before he kissed me for the first time. The same look he gave me before he pushed inside me. My lips part, and half a pant escapes before I can stop it.
“You’re ready, but—” His voice curls rough and smokey around his words.
I nod. I don’t trust myself to speak.
He traces his fingers lightly across the design, raising goose-pimples across my skin and his gaze up to mine. “Stan, I—”
