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I can’t tell if he’s joking, and truly, I’m not feeling in any way funny, but I offer him a small smile.
“Your sister’s a dick.”
Did he just say that?
“I know I don’t know her or anything. But I heard enough of that conversation to know that your sister is a dick. You shouldn’t let her in your space, Adi. She doesn’t deserve to be part of your world.”
“Thor—”
He covers my lips with his finger. “Are you about to make excuses for her? Or apologize for her? Or say something that belittles yourself and emphasizes her point?”
I was absolutely going to do all of those things.
“I don’t want to hear it. Accidents happen. Mom says kids are the most unpredictable and fearless creatures in the whole world. There’s no telling what they’re going to get into next.”
Wow. He’s taking this “I broke your son,” thing way better than I expected him to given the ferocity with which he stormed up the stairs.
This is wholly unexpected. Where’s all the yelling and screaming? Where’s the “you should have known better,” speech?
“It’s just a bump, Addison. Hell, we even have accidents as grown-ups. I have a bruise on my calf... no idea where it came from.” He’s trying to make light of the situation. But a bruise is very different from actual blood on his child’s actual face.
“I don’t think this is going to work, Thor.” Even though he’s being patient, and understanding, and all the other nice things I can’t think of right now because I’m staring into his captivating eyes, Sarah is right. “My sister is right. The neighbor’s child almost drowned under my care when he was little. I know I was younger too, but I can’t be trusted to take care of someone. Least of all, another child.”
He shakes his head, and little strands of hair fall from his messy bun. “I’m sorry I reacted the way I did. I’m sorry I freaked out. I was running on fear and adrenaline. I heard “blood,” and I lost it. But it’s just a bump. I was able to put a Band-Aid on it, and he’s already sitting upstairs in his room. You want to come up and say goodnight?”
No. “Sure.”
I poke my head into Matthew’s open door. Thor’s hand rubs circles on my lower back as he stays out of sight. Matthew is reading a book I can’t see the cover of. “Hi, Addison.” He doesn’t look up. “Did you know the Wild’s official mascot is named Nordy?”
I love that he’s constantly educating me. His little off-the-cuff hockey facts are so sweet. “I didn’t. I’ll have to Google him. How are you doing, Matthew? How’s your head?”
“It’s okay. Dad put a BandAid on it.”
My heart warms at his use of “Dad.” Matthew points to his head. “It’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt anymore unless I poke it.”
It’s like he added the last part to make me feel better. Even if he didn’t, the reassurance settles something deep in my chest. I turn off the light in Matthew’s room, and close the door, following Thor back down to the kitchen in silence after wishing Matthew sweet dreams.
It seems too easy, itfeelstoo easy, but there’s something to be said for looking a gift horse in the mouth. I’ll take whatever wins I can get, easy or not. I let myself relax just a little.
Matthew doesn’t need stitches. Thor isn’t firing me. And he reinforced my thoughts that my sister is a toxic influence in my life, and I need to deal with that... at some point. It’s not a now thing, however, because right now I’m face to face with Thor in the kitchen, fighting the urge to throw myself into his arms.
“See? I told you he’s already over it.” The way he strokes my cheek with such tenderness sets off alarm bells in... well, everywhere. My clit, my nipples, my brain, my heart. Sirens ring out throughout my body. He’s too close.
This is such a bad idea.
He needs to not touch me.
He needs to step back, create space so I can breathe again, and reinforce the boss and employee boundaries, because right now? In this moment? My smarting feelings about the whole goddamn evening and my butt-hurt brain after being yelled at by my sister could most definitely do with a good spanking, and we both know that’s a bad idea.
A very, very bad idea.
CHAPTER12
Thor
This is a terrible plan.
Addison is caged against the kitchen counter. Her eyes are still red-rimmed and puffy from crying, cheeks blotchy, curls falling loosely around her face, and all I want to do is kiss her. Actually, that’s not all I want to do. I want her on her knees, my rock-hard dick between her pretty pink lips, thrusting against the back of her throat and making that mascara run down her face for better reasons than her sister is a raging bitch.
