Morgan takes his flask back while I’m distracted. “Don’t take shit that doesn’t belong to you.”
I draw in a deep breath and shift in the chair, trying to conceal my erection from my kid. “She wasn’t,” I’m quick to say. “She was looking for her napkin.”
“I got a napkin you can use,” Morgan says, winking at Kacy and taking another pull from his flash.
I give Carly a “what the fuck” look that goes unnoticed. What does she care? She’s divorcing his ass. My next plea to contain Morgan goes to Aunt Tilly across from me. If anyone can control Morgan, it’s mean Aunt Titty, as he used to call her. Only she’s talking to Camdyn about Christmas bullshit and is absolutely no help.
“Morgan.” Lara Lynn sighs and hands him coffee. “Drink this.”
“No thanks,” he says politely.
Carly glares at him and then leans forward to catch my eyesight. “Nice.” Her eyes dip low to my crotch. “In front of your children?”
I’d love to say that our family suppers are never this hectic, but I’d be lying. They usually are.
After an eventful dinner and a lot of sexual frustration, we pile in the side by side and head back to my house. Kacy takes another shower in my bathroom while I get the kids ready for bed. They talk nonstop about Christmas after Aunt Tilly got them all wound up about Santa.
Or it might have something to do with the fifteen-foot-tall Christmas tree in our living room that’s decorated only on the bottom four feet.
When their baths are finished, and I’ve gotten them water, ice packs, and everything else under the sun they ask for, I press my ear to the door and listen.
“Can I sleeps on the big bunk?” I hear Sev ask Camdyn. It still cracks me up that they have their own rooms, but they insist on sharing one together.
“No.” There’s a thud, and I imagine she’s thrown a pillow off the bed and at her sister. “Go to sleep.”
“If you sleeps on the bottom, I can sleeps ups there.”
“Sev. No. Sleep.”
“When you falls asleep, I’m comin’ up there. And then when you wakes up, I be there.”
I chuckle to myself, waiting for Camdyn’s reply. She sighs again. “Go to sleep.”
“I love you,” Sev tells her.
Did your heart melt? Mine did.
Sev, though she acts tough, she’s like a unicorn that breathes fire and is blind, always running into things and then gets scared and sets on fire what scared her. Camdyn, she’s a protector by nature, like me, watchful, wary, and always observant.
Sighing, I walk down the hall to find Kacy sitting on the couch, her legs tucked underneath her wearing my sweatpants again. “Told you I was keeping them,” she notes, winking at me.
The corners of my mouth twitch. “They look good on you.” I take a seat next to her. “But they’d look even better off.”
A beautiful sigh falls from her lips. “They’re not staying in their rooms, are they?”
Dejection hits me as I sit next to her, a foot of empty, unbearable space between us. “Probably not. Sev still gets up once a night, and Camdyn, you never know with her.”
Her eyes find mine, the flickering of the fire dancing golden light on her perfect skin. “I can’t believe Sev caught me touching your boy parts.” She starts giggling.
“I’m not laughing,” I grumble, annoyed.
“I’m sorry. Your family is nice.”
“If you say so.” I drop my gaze to my hands, the callouses on my fingertips dragging against the roughness of my jeans when I pull my cell phone out and set it on the coffee table in front of us. “I’m sensing you’re not close with your family?”
“No. I’ve never been close with them. I have an aunt I like who lives in San Diego, but my parents… I don’t know. I was close with my dad growing up, but he got so into his own life and his music that he didn’t notice his daughter was heading in the wrong direction.”
“Wrong direction?”
“I was a bit of a rebel when they weren’t looking.”
I laugh lightly. “Weren’t we all?”
“I know Morgan was.” She snorts, shaking her head.
“That’s an understatement. So your dad’s in music?”
“Yep.” She nods. “Russell Randal.”
My eyes widen. “The drummer for Final Order?”
“That’s him.”
“You don’t have his last name?”
Shifting, she turns toward me, her legs crossed under her. “Nope. My mom didn’t want me to have his name because everyone would know who I was. Only daughter of a famous drummer, well, she wanted me to have a more private life.”
“And did you?”
“If you mean being raised by my nanny and private schools, sure.”
“But everyone still knew who you were, didn’t they?”
“Unfortunately. I only got attention because of who my parents are.”
“Something tells me that’s not entirely true.” I reach over, sweeping her hair from her neck. “I have no idea who your family is, but you still caught my attention.”
A soft laugh escapes her, and I fight through the urge to grab her by the ankles and lay her flat on the couch so I can settle between her legs. And then the urge collapses all my rational thoughts, and I do just that. “That’s because I rammed my car into the side of your building,” she says, giggling when I have her on her back.
My stomach tightens with need, and I grind my hips into hers. “Don’t say the word ramming.”
Licking her lips, she taunts me with a raise of her brow and a “fuck me” face. “Why?”
“Because you know I want it,” I breathe, my face an inch from hers. I see the smile and the overwhelming realization that I might not be able to keep her. My lips come to rest on her warm shoulder, the flames dancing on the wall behind us. Reaching down to her knee, I lift her leg higher on my waist and angle my hips into hers.
She touches my jaw, rubbing her thumb across my chin—eyes hooded and breath falling fast from her lips. “You’re… nothing like I expected.”
I don’t know what she means by that, but just before I’m about to carry her to my room, Sev comes out of their room, scratching her face. She looks at us on the couch and then where my hips are connecting with Kacy’s. Neither of us says a word or move before Sev rubs her nose. “I can’t breathe.” And then her eyes drift back to our lower half connected.
Yes, Sev, my boy parts are touching her girl parts. And if I ever catch you doing this with a boy, I’ll murder him.
“Daddy, gets off her.” She stares at Kacy. “Can yous breathe?”
“I can breathe,” Kacy giggles out, covering her face with her hands.
I love my kids.
I love my kids.
I fucking love my kids.
I think I’m trying to convince myself of this, but it’s not working. I want to tell my three-year-old to stop being a bitch baby and go back to her room.
Groaning, I push myself away from Kacy. “Told you they wouldn’t stay in their room.”