“Are you sure Everly won’t think it’s weird?” My eyes dart to the door as I hear voices outside.
“You can stay in her bed,” Max replies with a heated look in his eyes as he releases my chin. “After you stay in mine.”
The boyish wink he shoots me before casually walking outside to greet Claire at the door is literally panty-melting.
My panties…are gone.
“This feels weird,” Cassandra squeals from her spot on the sofa in my living room. She’s curled up under a blanket, her dark hair in a tiny bun, and she looks as good as ever in her loungewear as she does in her going out wear.
“Why weird?” I ask, walking over to refill her wineglass with more red. I set it down on the end table beside her, deliberately brushing my body along hers as I reach for my glass of whiskey.
“Because I’m in the Fletchpad,” she exclaims dramatically before taking a sip of her wine.
“Would you stop saying Fletchpad?” I laugh, flopping down next to her anxiously curled-up body. “It sounds like a fucking frat house. I prefer to block out my college years, thank you very much.”
Her cheeks flush as she stares hungrily at me. “If this was a frat house, I would totally let you do me on your loft.”
My brows lift with interest at that very pleasant mental image she’s just summoned. I drape my arm over the back of the sofa and tug on her ear. “You seem nervous.”
“I am,” she responds, her green eyes wide and wary. “Your daughter is right outside.”
She points toward the tiny house, and I look over my shoulder to see the reading lamp in the loft area glowing in the window. I got them settled for bed with a movie on Everly’s iPad an hour ago, and they both looked exhausted when I just checked on them. “I’m telling you…they’re seconds away from passing out.”
Cassandra shakes her head and takes a large drink of her wine. “But it feels like that’s Mom and Dad out there, and I’m in here making out with my boyfriend and could be caught at any moment.”
“Boyfriend?” I can’t help the smirk that lifts the side of my face. Why am I smirking at the boyfriend label?
She rolls her eyes and pokes me in the chest. “You know what I mean.”
I lick my lips and lean in close. “I might need a demonstration about the making-out part.”
“No freaking way!” She pushes me back with her foot in a really inelegant way that only Cassandra could make look cute. “I’m not letting your kid catch us being inappropriate on the couch. Everly and I do a lot of artful sitting here. We will not defile this sacred space with your wicked Zaddy ideas.”
My brows lift at that accusation. “First of all, you brought up the making-out thing, so that’s your wicked idea. Second of all, I have the security cameras all on, so as soon as they hit the pool deck, my phone will ping.”
She chews on her thumb nervously. “Are you sure?”
“Put that wine down and get the fuck over here, Cozy,” I demand. Apparently, all she needed was a command to finally get with the program.
She sets her wine down and leans over to kiss me. It’s not nearly enough, so I reach under her arms and pull her over to straddle my lap. My cock grows as her soft breasts press against my chest. She thrusts her hips over my groin, and I growl into her lips.
“Fuck, I love your body,” I grunt, grabbing her ass harshly in my hands and thrusting upward.
“You do?” she gasps as she grinds over my lap.
“Fuck yes.” I reach up and unzip her hoodie, revealing her sports bra-covered breasts smashed together like art. “And if it wasn’t totally fucking weird, I would pepper your tits with hickeys right now.”
“Please don’t.” She sighs, combing her fingers through my hair and gripping it to yank my face back. “I have to wear swimsuits around your kid.”
“Lucky kid.” I smirk before leaning in to slide my tongue up her neck, inhaling her intoxicating scent. “Fine, no more hickeys.”
My hand glides up her chest to her neck as I hold her in place to kiss her lips. I’ve learned quickly what she likes about this. It’s the moment of control, that moment when she gasps out the release of power and gives it to me to control her.
It’s fucking hot.
It’s too hot.
I need to get her off this fucking couch. Now.
“We have to get out of here.” I shift so she’s off my lap, my cock feeling like it’s going to rip through my jeans any second.
She sits on the couch, looking like a sack of tossed potatoes, so I reach my hand out to her to help her up. As soon as she’s standing, I bend over and press my shoulder into her torso before standing back up.
She cries out loudly. “You did not just throw me over your shoulder! Put me down!”
“I told you not to challenge me, sweet cheeks.” I give her ass a hearty smack and squeeze as I walk through the kitchen and into my bedroom.
Kicking the door closed behind me, I toss her onto the bed and relish the view of her in my space. I don’t fucking hate it. In fact, I kind of like it. And I especially like that I didn’t have to climb a ladder to get her horizontal.
She looks dazed as her eyes adjust to the dim lamps glowing on the bedside tables. I pull my shirt off over my head when a horrible thought occurs to me.
“Fuck…I’m out of condoms.”
“What?” she chirps, propping herself up on her elbows.
I shake my head, irritated by myself. “I was going to stop for them on the way home, and Jess called, and I got distracted.”
“Oh,” Cassandra responds with a heavy sigh, her eyes glancing down to my cock bulging in my jeans. The sex eyes she’s giving me are not helpful.
I sigh and run my hands through my hair, aching to be inside her and cursing myself for being such a fucking moron. I look down at her with a pleading look. “If you stay here for the girls, I’ll go run to the store.” I adjust myself, willing my erection to go down so I can be seen in public.
Cassandra’s voice interrupts my efforts as she softly says, “I’m on the pill.”
My cock roars back to life as my gaze snaps to her. “You’d be okay going without?”
“When’s the last time you were tested?” She eyes me thoughtfully.
I have to shake the thought of going bare out of my head to think seriously. “Probably at my physical like six months ago.”
“Have you slept with anyone between now and then?”
“No,” I reply instantly. “But I also have never gone without a condom before.” And it’s true. Everly was conceived from a broken condom, and even after she was born, my ex was insistent on me wearing one while she went on birth control.
Her lips part as she adds, “I haven’t either.”
My mind rumbles with this possibility as I sit down on the bed beside her. We need to be responsible about this. Cover all our bases. “When was your last partner?”
She laughs and flops back to cover her face with her hands.
“Hey,” I tut, leaning down next to her to pull her arms down. “Eyes on me, remember?”
She bites her lip nervously, her emerald eyes vulnerable when they find mine. “Like a year, probably.”