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A laugh burst from Lock. “Don’t we all, brother?”
They slapped hands, then Lock gathered up the safe and headed back outside to his bike. He strapped it to the rear seat.
Time to get home to his son.
And the woman he could still taste on his tongue.
God, she was fucking delicious.
During the trip home, he forced himself to think of the most revolting images he could conjure up. Anything to keep his mind off Brenna and his cock under control, so he didn’t show up with a tent in his jeans.
Of course, when he opened the door and heard her singing a silly rhyme to his son, all that hard work went out the window. Jesus, all it took was the sound of her voice to make him hard. He pressed the heel of his hand over his cock as though he could force the over-eager organ into submission.
“Oh, hey.” Brenna came walking down the hall with Caleb in her arms. “Daddy’s home.”
His son squealed and tried to launch himself from her arms, making Brenna laugh and Lock’s chest ache again. Goddammit, he might have to see a cardiologist.
“Whoa, easy there, big guy. I’ll hand you over.” She stepped close enough that Lock caught Caleb as he practically dove from her arms.
“Hey, bud,” he said to Caleb, who snuggled right in against his chest.
“I think he’s sleepy. I was about to put him down for a nap.” As she stepped back, he noticed a slight tremor in her hands, which she tried to hide by stuffing them in the pockets of her shorts.
He frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Hmm?”
Now that he took a second to focus on her, he saw the signs of strain. Anxiety, maybe. Her ear-to-ear grin was fake as fuck. He’s seen her happy. Hell, he’d made her happy with his tongue and his fingers, but also, when they’d talked and joked, she’d radiated happiness.
And this wasn’t it.
“I’m fine.” She smiled, but he didn’t buy it.
“Something happened.” Not a question. He didn’t need her to confirm what he knew, only to tell him what had her freaked out. With Caleb safe in his arms, he wasn’t worried something had happened to his son.
No, this distress was personal to Brenna.
Which led him in one direction.
Oliver.
“What did that motherfucker do?”
She gasped. “What? H-how did you know?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Guess I’ve gotten to know you pretty well.”
Brenna blinked, and for a beat, they stared at each other. Then Caleb let out one of the adorable baby sighs he only made when in the first stages of sleep. Lock glanced down to find his son sound asleep in his arms.
“I’ll tell you,” Brenna said with a dejected huff. “Do you want to put him in his crib first?”
Did he? No. The baby’s warm, soft weight grounded him in a way he’d never have expected. Settling him in the crib would mean a loss of that feeling.
Brenna grinned, and it was the first real one since he’d arrived home. “You don’t want to let him go, do you?”
He shrugged. “Guess not. Who knew I’d be a fucking baby guy. Let’s sit on the couch so I don’t wake him.” He grabbed her hand, threading their fingers together.
“I knew,” Brenna said as she stared at their joined hands. “You love family. You’re protective and possessive of your people. Doesn’t surprise me at all that you’d be a baby guy, as you said.”
