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“I’m... I’m going to get my things.” I dart around Ward and give Atlas an awkward wave as I run up the stairs.
CHAPTER EIGHT
WARD
“GIVE ME FIVE MINUTES.” I say to Atlas as I glance around the kitchen and rub the back of my head.
Penelope has her purse in one hand and a garment bag in the other when I glance up.
No doubt she found it in one of the closets and has tucked her vintage Chanel dress inside. I can’t help but respect that under the circumstances.
A woman who appreciates the importance of protecting couture in the face of being caught with her pants down...well, that’s admirable.
And the kind of grace I expect from her.
“Take your time. I think it’s pretty clear what happened, so you don’t need to hurry back and explain.” Altas sips his coffee, and I want to slap the smirk from his face.
But I’m also slightly relieved.
Of all my kids, he’s the one I’m the least concerned about. Atlas is my optimist. The one who takes life in his stride and seems comfortable in his own skin. They all are, in their own way, but perhaps it’s because he’s a creative.
Or...who knows why our kids are like they are?
If it had been Knox. Jesus. A whole other story.
Bella would likely be trying to make friends with Penelope and have her babysitting.
Levi. Shit. I just don’t know. I need him focused on his football career. These years are so important to him. As the baby of the family, losing his mom so young was harder on him.
I think.
Men. We just don’t talk enough.
Even though I think I talk to my boys more openly than most dads. At a guess. Like all parents, I’m fucking winging it.
“Message your brothers and I’ll kick your ass.” I growl under my breath as I pass my son.
He spits out his coffee, coughing and laughing, while I go and say goodbye to Penelope.
I gather her coat from the closet and steer her outside, hoping another one of my offspring doesn’t show up.
“I’m sorry.” I smile down at her.
“Don’t be.” She shakes her head but barely meets my eyes. “We were saying goodbye, anyway.”
It felt to me like my cock was waking up again, having her on my lap. Feeling her tongue sweep over mine. Her soft breasts pressing against my chest.
So much for fucking her out of my system.
A second night with her has made me desire her more...and not just physically. Making her breakfast and teasing her as she padded around my kitchen was...nice.
Her giggles had me smiling like an idiot, feeling all macho and shit. I...liked it.
I could’ve easily tucked her under my arm and curled up on the sofa watching movies for the day. Or, in better weather, dragged her out to the tennis court and tested her skills.
Made her a cocktail and watched her swim lengths—naked—in my heated lap pool.
Adopted a fucking dog and gone walking in the park together.