Page 37 of Dr. Stone (Billionaires’ Club #9)

THIRTY-TWO

Andie

I stood in the doorway of Brandon’s room, watching the man I never meant to love rocking my son back to sleep. Jace read softly, holding Brandon close, like the space his father left behind had always been waiting for him.

My heart was melting at the sight of them, and when I realized Jace was reading to Brandon from a medical article on his phone—of all things—I had to stifle a laugh.

“…The procedure reduced operative mortality by thirty-six percent, using a hybrid approach combining transcatheter valve replacement with direct visualization through a limited thoracotomy.” He glanced down at Brandon.

“It’s the first successful trial with patients under forty,” he said excitedly, prompting Brandon to giggle in response.

“Wow. Cutting-edge cardiothoracic surgeries as a bedtime story,” I said, stepping into the room to see my son’s amused face better. “At this rate, we’ll never get you back to bed, mister.” Brandon’s eyes lit up, his smile widening like he’d just found a new best pal.

“I couldn’t find his books, so I improvised,” Jace joked. “Turns out my main man finds it just as fascinating as I do.”

“Yeah?” I asked when Brandon chuckled. “You need to get to bed,” I grinned, brushing a hand over his hair. “And I’m sorry—I should’ve told you his books are in the closet.” I lifted Brandon into my arms. “Let me get him settled, and I’ll meet you out there in a second.”

I carried him to his crib, tucked his favorite toy beside him, and turned on the soft lullaby music. Once he was cozy and content, I slipped back into the living room.

“Well, so much for trying to recreate what we had on that yacht,” I teased, walking over to where Jace sat on my sofa.

The next thing I knew, I was in his arms, straddling him instinctively. His lips trailed up the center of my throat while his hands kneaded along my thighs, his eyes sparking with humor and hunger.

“Oh, gorgeous, if you think a two-pound dog and your adorable son are going to stop what I’ve been wanting since that night, you’re sorely mistaken,” he said, gaze locking on mine.

Jace’s mouth was on mine before I could suggest moving to the bedroom. His lips closed over my breast through the thin fabric of my shirt, his fingers slipping inside me like they’d never left, finding that spot as if it had been made for him alone.

“God,” I gasped, panting.

I dug my knees into the couch, shifting to give him easier access. My hand tangled in his thick blond hair, tugging him harder against my breast.

The surge building in me was hotter and sharper than before, the orgasm I’d been denied earlier rushing back with a vengeance.

Jace groaned when I moaned, his fingers stroking deeper while his thumb circled the bundle of nerves that made me shake. His other hand popped the last of my buttons, freeing my breasts to his mouth as his palm slid down to grip my ass.

“Fuck,” I whispered when his fingers twisted and pulled me closer to the edge.

“Jesus, you’re drenched,” he murmured, voice rough.

“I want you inside me,” I demanded, desperate for the thick length of him to unravel me the way only he could.

My hand slipped into his boxers, wrapping around him—hard, hot, and pulsing.

“Yes,” he growled, teeth clinging to my nipple when I slicked his shaft with the precum leaking from him.

And then—click, click, click. The toenails. The barking. Duke.

“Are you kidding me?” Jace muttered, half-pissed, half-desperate.

I was in his arms again, on our way back to my room, and laughing as he tried to keep the moment alive. It was pure comedy: Jace, determined to salvage our night, while Duke launched a full-scale ankle assault like a pint-sized security guard.

“Jace,” I tried, choking back laughter, “slow down before you break the damn door—or the dog.”

“Don’t even think about him,” Jace grit out.

He tossed me onto my bed, my laughter bubbling harder, then spun to herd the relentless little beast out.

But Duke was having none of it. In full Rottweiler cosplay, he darted and barked, nipping and feinting like a two-pound SWAT team. Jace lunged, failed, cursed, lunged again.

The barking was enough to wake Brandon, and as hilarious as it was, I knew I had to intervene before this night ended in chaos.

“Come here, menace,” Jace snarled, lunging again.

“I’ve got him,” I said, scooping up my frazzled little tyrant.

“Well, look at you,” Jace shot back, eyes blazing at the dog.

“All two pounds of him,” I laughed.

“Two pounds of diabolical energy can go a long way,” Jace exhaled, finally smirking at Duke. “Guess I really screwed myself, using you as bait to get the girl.”

I brushed my hand over Jace’s cheek. “Stay here. I’ll put him back in his bed. Maybe he’ll settle once we’re not in the living room.”

Jace smirked in victory as I carried Duke toward the pantry. Of course, the little traitor barked again the second I passed Brandon’s door—waking him.

By the time Jace went to soothe Brandon and I bribed Duke with a treat, the night was officially a bust.

“Wait,” Jace said from the doorway, Brandon in his arms. “You’re rewarding him?”

“I’m bribing him,” I corrected. “Big difference.”

But then Brandon did something that made my heart stop. He tucked his face into Jace’s chest and clung—like I was the stranger, not him.

“Look at that,” Jace said softly, smiling down at Brandon. “The dog might hate me, but at least my new bud here doesn’t.”

My chest tightened. Brandon had never latched onto anyone this quickly. With friends, with his sitter—he was sweet, yes, but never this. Never choosing someone over me.

It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. Terrifying because if this didn’t work, it wouldn’t just be my heart at risk. And exhilarating because maybe…just maybe…Jace was the unexpected piece Brandon and I had been missing.

“He’s not usually like this,” I said quietly.

“No?” Jace grinned at Brandon. “Guess he just likes my medical journal bedtime stories.”

“Maybe,” I admitted, still stunned.

“I think you and I need to pick up where we left off, huh, little man?”

I watched Jace carry him back into his room, more eager to read him research articles than to have sex—which was both infuriating and, somehow, unbelievably attractive.

I trailed after them, settling into the cushioned chair across from the rocker. My disappointment over the ruined orgasm softened as I curled up, blanket pulled over me, watching Jace read animatedly to my son. Brandon couldn’t take his eyes off him. And hell, neither could I.

As Jace’s voice droned on—steady, soothing—I felt my eyelids grow heavy. I let myself sink into the sound of him, safe, warm, unexpectedly at peace.

Sex could wait. Tonight, this was more than enough.