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Chapter Twenty-Five

Lars

Adeline was quieter than usual on the way home from the party. I suspected performing in front of people and all the attention that yielded had worn her out. She went to great lengths to hide her light, which was easy to do when you were the introverted one in a family of sun-seekers.

While I put Mabel down, Adeline went to her room to shower and clean off her Zom-bee makeup.

I’d loved getting my girls ready for the party, loved being wrapped up in that domestic ease.

It reminded me of the more stable years of my youth, in particular, my dad’s short-lived marriage to Carla.

She was the only woman in his life that I could recall doing normal family stuff—Halloween costumes, school lunches, cooking together.

While the rest of Sven’s girlfriends floated through in skimpy bikinis and clouds of perfume, Carla had acted like a mom and tempered some of Sven’s worst traits.

I wanted that kind of stability for Mabel.

I wanted her to always know love and laughter and never a harsh word.

During the party, my agent had called and left a message. It was late but I phoned back, knowing he’d answer immediately.

“Any news?” It had been over two weeks and Vicki appeared to have gone off-world.

“We have her address in Cleveland but she’s not on site. Neighbors say she and her husband have gone to visit his family in upstate New York. We could have the lawyer reach out and start proceedings to—well, that depends on what you want to happen here.”

“If you’d asked me two weeks ago, I would have said she has to take her kid back, but now? She hasn’t even tried to get in touch, Quinn. Is that the environment I want to send Mabel back to?”

Maybe I was reveling too much in the fantasy of a life that was going well. My cute little girl in her cow costume, the gorgeous nanny taking care of my kid and my sexual needs, the fact I was playing better than I ever had—or would be once my suspension was up.

How long could this dream state last? I hadn’t lied outright to my friend, but every moment in his presence since had felt like a betrayal.

I was placing Adeline in this untenable position, forcing her to keep secrets from the people she loved.

And for what? A sad effort at a do-over for the life I’d missed as a kid?

“Get in touch with her. We need to start negotiations on Mabel’s future.”

“Will do.”

We chatted a little more about my upcoming contract renewal and how we might want to play that, especially given the wrinkle of my suspension.

We had hoped to use my partnership with Kershaw in his likely last year to leverage the negotiations, which required I actually play with the guy.

When I clicked off, I looked up to find Adeline standing at my door.

In a Rebels jersey.

“Is that?—?”

“Uh huh.” She turned and there it was: 22 NYQUIST. The hem skimmed her ass. Her gorgeous thighs tapered to slim ankles. Just my jersey against her silky skin.

Blood rushed to my groin.

I grabbed the baby monitor, a condom, and her, in that order, hauling all that lush flesh against my chest, one hand supporting her perfect ass.

Bare. She was completely bare.

I crushed my mouth over hers. All those doubts weighing on my mind—Kershaw, Vicki, my spurious dad credentials—went poof in the pleasure of her lips. She tasted like toothpaste and perfection, and she met my kiss with such dirty sweetness I almost came on the spot.

I carried her to the guest room, one eye open so I didn’t trip, and finally made it to sanctuary.

Placing her on the bed, I watched approvingly as she scooted up a few inches with one knee raised, revealing that dark valley of pleasure between her gorgeous thighs.

I stowed the monitor and the condom on the nightstand.

She sat up and curled her fingers around the jersey’s hem.

“No. It stays on.”

Those moss-green eyes flashed. “Like I’m one of your puck bunnies?”

Not where I would have gone, but I could tell this fantasy turned her on.

“Bunny Prime.” Kneeling at the side of the bed, I pulled gently on her ankle and brought her closer to my greedy mouth. “Now let me see what this little bunny’s got for me.”

I pushed the jersey up past her hips and placed my hands between her thighs. Spread her wide and looked my fill.

“Aw, sweet thing. Is that for me?”

Her chest heaved, her breathing turned raspy. “If you want it.”

“Oh, I want it. I want this sweet little pussy so bad.”

She squirmed, rubbing her gorgeous bottom against the duvet. “Please, Lars. Touch me.”

“You first.”

Cheeks flushed, her lips parted. Adeline wasn’t used to dirty talk, but she liked it. Her wetter-by-the-second pussy liked it.

I massaged her thighs, rubbing my thumbs close to the heart of her, but never touching. More squirming, now with added moaning.

“Larrrrs!”

“You heard me in the shower, baby, now it’s my turn to hear you.”

That connection flipped the switch. Feeding her hand between her legs, she started to stroke. My mouth watered, as I watched those fingers she’d used earlier to bring joy to so many play her own body like a musical instrument. A few seconds in, I couldn’t stand not tasting her any longer.

Pushing her hand aside, I took over with my tongue. Instantly, she bucked against my mouth, forcing me to spear inside her. My hands got in on the act. My fingers slicked through her folds as the flat of my tongue rubbed her clit.

Her writhing became more fevered, so much so I had to use one hand to hold her still while I licked and sucked and fucked her with my tongue. One final suckle on that slick bundle of nerves, and she came against my mouth, my name on her lips.

Giving her a moment to recover, I reached over for the condom and rolled it on. She sat up, leaning on her elbows, her cheeks flushed, her tongue darting out to lick her lips.

“You ready for me?”

With a sly smile, she responded, “You ready for me?” and then she turned over on her hands and knees.

Jesus.

That perfect ass, her glistening pussy, my name on her jersey.

I must have been good in a previous life because I certainly wasn’t good in this one.

I pushed that thinking away. Gripping her hip, I sank into the hot, wet clasp of her.

Made my claim. This woman had me under her spell, and with that encouragement to take her from behind, she knew what she was doing.

Thank Christ one of us does.

I withdrew a torturous inch, stroked a tantalizing inch more, then found a rhythm that drew me deeper each time. Both hands on her hips now as she stretched her arms forward and flattened her body to heighten the angle, taking her pleasure and spurring mine to unrecognizable heights.

Reaching around, I rubbed between her thighs. She moaned, met my thrust until I felt her pussy tighten, and she gasped her release. Instantly, mine rocketed through me and blanked what was left of my brain.

Adeline

A few days after Halloween, I walked in on a scene that would have had stylist Tara in a tizzy: Lars was tying Mabel’s hair in cute little bursts with rainbow clips.

He looked up at me with a grin. “I can’t wait until it’s long enough to French braid.”

“French braid? Who is this person?”

“You look so cute, Mabel.” He leaned over to nuzzle his nose against his daughter’s before picking up his phone and tapping the screen. “Take a look at this video,” he said to me. “Don’t you think this would look perfect on her?”

It was an adorable video of a dad braiding his daughter’s hair. But a kid had to have hair to braid.

“When it grows in.”

“When do you think that’ll be?” He sounded concerned. “I’ve checked and there’s this Japanese baby that looks like a mini-Yeti and he’s only five months old. I feel like Mabel should have more hair by now. When did Tilly start getting longer hair?”

“Six months? But we all have Kershaw hair genes. Dark and thick and wavy.” I didn’t know much about Vicki’s hair quality, but Lars had great hair. “Any baldness in your family?”

Horror crossed his brow. “No! Don’t you dare jinx it.”

I ran a hand through his thick, lustrous locks, and because I couldn’t resist, I parted it at the back. “Hmm, looking a bit bare here. Sure there’s no baldness in the Nyquist family tree?”

“There is not!” I loved teasing him. Who would have thought Lars Nyquist would have this lighter side to him?

“Oh, and I bought this outfit for her today.” He pulled a shopping bag from the side of the sofa, a bright blue onesie that said, “I Try to be Good, But I Take After my Daddy.” “Cute, right?”

“You’re doing things to my ovaries, Nyquist.”

“Oh yeah? What kind of things?”

I put my hand on his chest. “Melting, exploding, the usual.”

“Sounds serious.”

“Oh, it is.” Damn. “I didn’t mean?—”

“No, I know.”

But I wanted to mean it. I knew it wasn’t realistic, but I wanted him to know this relationship was important to me. Even if all that was left from the rubble was an awkward friendship and my broken heart.

I changed the subject. “So you went shopping with Mabel? Do anything else?”

“Went to the gym so I could stay limber during my suspension. Tara watched Mabel.”

“I could have done that.”

He shook his head. “You need time off. But I had an interesting chat with your brother.”

“Hatch?”

“Basically grilled me about you.”

That threw cold water over my domestic fantasy. “What did he say?”

“He just wanted to know why I’d come to your defense against MacFarlane. Sounded like my least favorite D-man’s accusations about my wicked intentions had finally hit home. Guess he needed to think on it awhile.”

“And what did you say?”

He sighed. “That looking out for you was a no-brainer. Listen, your brother is understandably protective of you.”

“Understandably?”

“In the way any male family member is protective of a female family member.” He frowned at my sour expression. “What am I missing here?”

“I’m just tired of being considered fragile enough to need protection.”