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She can do a split?
I nearly bite off my tongue to keep from following that train of thought.
“Let’s stick with just lifting you up,” I manage.
“On the count of three,” Maren says. “Katie, you want to count us off?”
My daughter is bouncing on her tiptoes again, delirious with excitement. “One, two, three!”
My knees crack as I bend them. Just as I’m about to lift her, Maren covers my hands with her own, grip firm. Almost like she doesn’t trust me to hold her up.
Sweetheart, you’re a goddamn feather compared to the weight I use for squat thrusts.
I tighten my own grip, fingers finding purchase in the sweet little circle of her waist, and then I straighten, lifting Maren high into the air.
“Whoa!” Maren says.
I chuckle. “You really thought I wouldn’t deliver?”
“Now straighten your arms!” Katie yells, repeating Maren’s instructions. “Go Karen, go Karen, go, go, go Karen.”
“Maren,” I correct. “Youjusthad it.”
She glances down at me. “You sureyougot this, Tuck?”
“Don’t offend me, Karen.”
Her lips twitch. “Okay.” She lets go of my hands and straightens her arms. Then, surprising Katie and me, she starts doing a whole routine in the air, chanting a Carolina cheer in a loud, clear voice. She moves her arms in some kind of dance that looks like a more polished, much cooler version of YMCA, clapping her hands before waving pretend pom-poms.
Katie goes absolutely apeshit. My arms begin to burn, but that’s nothing compared to the throb that gathers between my legs. Maren’s body rocks in my hands as she moves, forcing me to tighten my grip. I’m worried I’m hurting her, but Maren keeps chanting, and Katie keeps shrieking.
Damn. Maren isgoodat this.
And damn if it’s not a fucking turn-on. The confident smoothness of her voice, the feel of her small but mighty body in my hands. Her chants echo off the walls. Alongside Katie’s laughter, they make the house feel very loud.
Very full.
My phone, which I left on the counter, chimes. The timer for the broccoli.
Too soon.
And not soon enough.
“Gotta throw the shrimp in the oven.” My biceps scream as I slowly lower Maren to her feet. “Hope you enjoyed your flight.”
I let out a silent sigh of relief when she’s safely on the ground. But then Maren pivots her body at the same moment I loosen my grip, becauseof coursewe’re moving in sync. My palm glides across her stomach. Herlowerstomach. My thumb grazes the slice of bare skin above her shorts.
The want inside me tugs ferociously on its leash. My gaze catches on Maren’s. Her eyes flash.
Heat. I’d know it anywhere.
The space between us tightens. I’m very aware of the insistent pressure that spreads like wildfire through my limbs.
Speaking of fire. I drop my hand like Maren burned me. She immediately reaches for Katie and I immediately stalk to the kitchen. My thoughts riot inside my head. Blood riots inside my veins.
That whole thing was a very,verybad idea.
I open the oven and grab the tray of broccoli, only realizing when pain shoots through my hand and up my arm that I forgot to put on an oven mitt.
