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“Promise you won’t yell.”
Leo hated sentences that started that way because he always wanted to yell. “Vince,” he said, infusing as much warning into his tone as possible. “What did you do?”
“I was playing with your pocket knife.”
“Why?”
“We read The Outsiders in school, and I was showing Clint—”
“Forget the why. We’ll talk about that when I get home. Where’s Darcy?”
“She’s in the kitchen making us popcorn. We’re gonna watch a movie.”
Leo rubbed his eyes. “Do you need stitches?”
“No.”
“Is it still bleeding?”
“No. It stopped now.”
Leo counted to five in his head. “Show it to Darcy and get a Band-Aid if you need one.”
“Okay.”
“And, Vince…don’t text again unless you cut off a finger.”
“How can I text without a finger?” Vince replied. His kid had inherited his same smart-ass dry wit.
Yvonne laughed even as she chastised him. “Leo.”
“Go watch the movie and don’t do anything else stupid. We’ll talk about the knife when I get home.”
“Yes, sir,” Vince said. “Bye, Dad.”
Leo hung up and silenced his phone, placing it on Yvonne’s nightstand.
“Sorry about th—”
Before he could finish his apology, Yvonne shifted, straddling his lap to kiss him. He lifted his hands to her breasts and pinched her nipples, loving her soft gasp that morphed to a groan when he did it again.
“Harder,” she urged.
“Vonnie, baby…”
Yvonne’s hands were on his shoulders and she was rubbing against him, the sexiest dry hump in history.
Leo needed to slow things down or this interlude was going to be over before it even started.
He gripped her hips, holding her tightly to stop her motion. Yvonne didn’t seem to notice. She pressed her lips against his neck, her tongue roaming along his skin as her hands drifted lower, reaching for the button on his jeans.
He chuckled as he tugged her hands away. Yvonne wasn’t deterred, reaching for him the second he let go.
He grasped her wrists again, only this time he held on. “Slow down.”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Baby, you gotta slow down.”
