Finally, a grin. Albeit small and wobbly, but right now I’ll take it.
“Okay.” She sighs deeply before slapping her little hand into mine. “Let’s do this.”
With the upmost pride, I lead my date to the dance floor, front and center. She glances up at me, gnawing on her lip, while together we wait for the chorus to hit. Then, I put my nightly YouTube dance lessons to the test.
“You know the steps,” Prissy squeals in shock, while nae-nae’ing like a fucking boss.
“Learned it just for you.”
“Wyatt?” she calls while we’re breaking down the Stanky Legg and all the little snooty girls crowd around, cheering us on.
“Yeah?”
“You’re a really good fake dad.”
I’m so deeply touched by her words that I can’t do anything but offer her a smile, fight back tears, and keep on moving.
When I agreed to this date, I went all in, determined to give Prissy a magical night she wouldn’t soon forget, never expecting it’d turn out to be one of the most memorable of my life.
“Where should I put her?”
This image of Wyatt, with my sleeping child cradled in his arms, will be etched in my mind for as long as there is a heart pushing blood through my veins.
“How was it?” I whisper, trying not to become emotional while signaling for him to follow me up to the apartment.
“Best night of my whole entire life!” the little faker proclaims.
“That so?” I laugh, holding the door open so he can pass through, then trailing them to her room. “In all your six years, huh?”
“Yep!” She yawns, peering at me over his shoulder. “You shoud’a seen Lydia’s stupid face when me and him showed out on the dance floor.”
I narrow my eyes toward the man in question. “Thought you couldn’t dance?”
He simply shrugs.
“Wait for me in the living room?” I ask, once he’s deposited her on her bed. “I shouldn’t be long.”
“You got it.” Wyatt bends down to press a kiss to the top of Prissy’s head, causing every last cell in my being to swoon. “Had a great time, Priss. We’ll have to do it again,” he says as he crosses the room.
“Just me and you?”
He pauses in the doorway looking back at me for permission, which I unwaveringly grant, with a bob of my head.
“Just me and you,” he echoes back.
My baby is smitten. “Night, Wyatt.”
“So, you really had a good time?” I ask once he’s left the room.
“Uh-huh.”
“And he danced?” I remove the pins she’s scratching at from her hair.
“Yep! I was so surprised,” she says, stepping out of the dress I just unzipped. “Wyatt’s got moves, Momma.”
“Does he?” I chuckle. “Slip your arms through,” I instruct after passing her nightgown over her head.
“It was just like in the movies, with everyone crowded around us.” The dreamy look in her eyes resembles the sensation warming my chest, and I think I know just how she feels.
“He’s really good to you,” I muse, shaking out her dress and draping it over the chair.
“Yeah,” she agrees, hopping back into bed. “And he’s super nice to you, too,” she presses.
“The best.”
“And soooo handsome.”
My cheeks flush. “He is definitely that as well.” I smooth her hair back, tugging the covers up to her neck before leaning down to smother her perfect little face in kisses.
“Momma?” Her voice beckons to me as I reach the door.
“Yeah, baby?”
“You think he likes us?”
“I know he does.”
She shifts to her side, propping her head up on her bent elbow. “No, I mean likes us, likes us?”
“I’m not sure what you’re asking.” Although I am. I’m just stalling for a minute—or ten—to come up with an answer.
She sighs. “I mean enough to be your boyfriend.”
“Well—I… Prissy, it’s just—”
“We’re not getting any younger, Momma.”
I snort. “We’re hardly a pair of old grannies.”
“He’s a fun dad.”
Dear Lord. This is exactly what I was afraid of. “Prissy, he’s not your dad.”
“Well, he didn’t get mad when I told everyone he was your boyfriend and was gonna be.”
“Priscilla Louise Daigle!” I’m suddenly weak and feeling a bit woozy. “Why on earth would you say that?”
“Because I want him to be.”
Tears prick the backs of my eyes as I stand there wordlessly staring into my daughter’s pleading face.
“Can you just consider it?”
I’m certainly not about to tell my six-year-old that it’s practically all I think about anymore. “Good night, child of mine,” I answer in a tone that bodes no argument.
“Night, mother of mine,” she grumbles in turn.
After shutting the door, I sag against it, replaying that conversation a dozen times, wondering if the way I handled it was acceptable, worrying I’m ruining my child’s life.
“Whit?” Wyatt calls. My heart rate increases with each footstep that draws near. “Hey.” The smile he flashed as he rounded the corner falters.
“Hey, you.” The mere sight of him has me shaking like a leaf.
“Did you change your mind about that talk? I can head on home if you’re tired.”
“No.” My reply is immediate. “You think maybe I could come with you?”
“Home?” He studies my features, no doubt trying to determine whether or not I’m serious.
I nod, swallowing hard. “To…to talk.”
“Yeah,” he says while nodding his head. “Mi casa es su casa.”
Dare I even hope?
My parents, of course, are more than willing to keep an eye on their beloved granddaughter so I can hang out with Wyatt for a bit. I knew they would be. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that one of them was responsible for planting this little fantasy of the three of us becoming a family in her head to begin with.
Being the upstanding man that he is, Wyatt insists I ride with him, even though he’ll have to bring me right back in a couple hours.
The man really is perfection personified. He’s charming. Beautiful, both inside and out. Thoughtful. And he makes it no secret that he adores my kid. I could certainly do worse. Come to think of it, I don’t think I could possibly do better.
So, what am I waiting for?
“Penis for your thoughts.”
“Huh?” I ask with a jump, knocking my head on the window. I must’ve misheard him.
“Just trying to get your attention.”
I shake my head, rubbing out the sting. “Well, that got it, all right.”
“We’re here.” He points through the windshield toward the house ten feet in front of us.
The truck is in park.
The motor’s off.
“How long have we been sitting here?”
“Not long, but I’m fucking freezing. Think we could go inside?”
“Of course.” I wink. “Was waitin’ on you.”
“Why are you acting so weird with me tonight?” he asks when we reach the living room and I can’t stop pacing. “Sit down.” He pats the couch beside him. “Please. You’re giving me anxiety.”
I nod, perching on the very edge of the cushion. My knees won’t stop vibrating while I search for the nerve to say what I came here to say.
“Why does it feel like you’re about to break up with me?”
“Jesus,” I groan, running a hand through my hair. “Have the whole bunch of you gone mad?”
His eyes widen as he stares after me, awaiting an explanation for my attitude.
“We’re not together.”
My pulse thrums as the corners of his mouth curve into a smile. “But we should be…and you know it.”
Shameless. “Prissy would like me to give this a shot.”<
br />
His jaw ticks. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him anything that even resembles frustrated with me. “At the moment, I’m a little more interested in what you think.”
With a contrite bob of my head, I spring back to my feet, crossing the room to stand in front of the fireplace. It’s imperative I put a little distance between us in order to get a handle on my thoughts. I can’t concentrate through the cloud of longing that takes over whenever he’s near. “I think…” I pause, choking back tears. “I think that I—I could be falling in love with you.” Worrying my hands, I have to force myself not to divert my gaze to the floor. I said it. Now, I’m going to own it.
The man who carries the lead role in my every dream rises from the couch, sauntering toward me with purpose. “Good. Because I’m already there.” He tilts my chin upward. “I’ve been for quite some time.”
“Is it?” My voice warbles and I can hardly breathe as the first of many tears blazes a path down my cheek. “Is it good, I mean? Because I’ve never been more terrified.” My hand flies to my mouth to cover a sob. “Not even at sixteen with a baby growing inside me, knowing her father wanted nothing to do with us.”
His thumbs swipe away the emotion pooling beneath my eyes, and he nods—ever so patient, so understanding. “It isn’t yourself that you have issues trusting.”
His words bounce around in my head, ringing out with glaring truth. “You’re right. The thought of letting anyone else into our lives, of exposing Prissy or even myself to that kind of pain…” I shudder at the thought, before hugging my arms to my chest. “I—I’m afraid.”
“Jump,” he pleads, curling his hands beneath my hair and around my nape. “And I promise to catch you.” His knuckles stroke over my jaw, slowly, fueling the fire burning inside me. “Let me love you, Whitney. Without restraint—the way you deserve. The way you both deserve.”
“Okay.” I nod, sniveling. “Okay,” I repeat with a little more conviction, because in coming here tonight, I’ve realized I’m already so far gone for this man that the only alternative is heartache. I tried. Oh God, how I tried, but I’ve failed miserably at locking him out. “Just don’t hurt my little girl.”
He tugs me closer, until my face is but an inch from his. “You have my word.”
“Then you have my heart.”
In an instant his lips are on mine, so soft and lush. His tongue is warm and seeking. And his hands—they’re everywhere all at once. And yet, it isn’t enough.
“Wyatt.” There’s an undeniable desperation to my voice as he scorches a path along my jaw to the shell of my ear. The heat of his breath has me buckling at the knees, quite literally melting for him.
In one fell swoop, I’m in his arms, with my eyes bolted on his.
“I want you,” I cry, my body trembling from the top of my head to the tips of my toes with unrestrained need. “Please.” Frantically, I begin fooling with the buttons of his dress shirt, eager to feel his skin on mine. One by one I pop them open and begin to trace his defined abs with my fingertips.
“No need to beg, love.” He nips at my lip before pulling back slightly.
My body screams out in protest.
“Bed, or couch?”
“Bed, definitely.”
He carries me to his room, gently placing me in the center of the mattress, the bulge of his biceps stretching through the fabric of his shirt as he crawls in over me. “You’re sure?” he asks, like I’m some delicate flower.
“Now isn’t the time for your games,” I warn, reaching to unfasten his belt and pop the button on his pants.
He chuckles, the deep warble thick with lust before trailing off as his intense gaze locks with mine. He lowers his body, his chest expanding with strength as he hovers over me, claiming my mouth once again.
My hips arch instinctively toward the ceiling as his roving hands reach around my waist and to my back, sliding underneath my cotton tee shirt. The access allows his skilled fingers ample space to quickly skim the band of my bra before finding the hook, releasing it with a simple flick.
Gritting my teeth, I shudder at the feeling of soft lace trailing against skin as he lowers my bra and pulls it from under my shirt. Every nerve is heightened. I writhe and squirm, my stomach twisting in knots with the need for his hands to be back on me. When his warm, calloused palm covers my breast, desire pools between my legs. Gently, he tugs at my nipple sending a jolt of pleasure shooting right to my core.
“Jesus,” he growls when I begin grinding my hips into the impressive bulge that’s been digging into my waist.
His sexy moans spur me on, giving me the courage to sneak a hand between us and cup him through his slacks.
Laughter rumbles from his chest when I gasp at his size, at how thick and solid, and just large he is. Dumpster sex didn’t give me a chance to take this all in properly.
“Does it meet your approval?” he rasps when I take my time exploring the tool now peeking out of the top of his waistband.
I run my tongue over my lips while staring up at him, his intense emerald eyes burning into mine. “It’ll do.”
His teeth clamp down on his lower lip and a whisp of hair falls over his forehead. “Oh, it’ll more than do,” he answers, nudging his knee between the apex of my thighs.
Without breaking from his gaze, I grip his zipper, sliding it down at an agonizing pace. “I want to see you,” I say, unsure where this boldness is coming from.
His brow quirks as if to say, “I’m right here.”
“All of you.” Our first encounter didn’t allow for any exploring. This time I want to feast my eyes upon every glorious inch of this man. I desire nothing less than the full experience.
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he says, reaching to switch on the lamp on his bedside table, ever the tease.
I yank my shirt over my head, flinging it across his room. “Your turn.”
His eyes morph into twin pools of liquid lust, never leaving from my chest when he moves to stand at the side of the bed, shrugging the shirt that’s barely still draped over his body to the floor and stepping out of his slacks.
“Don’t quit now.”
He hooks his thumbs into the band of his briefs, skimming them back and forth a few times to fuck with me. “I believe it’s your move.” The elastic pops as he withdraws his hands, lowering them to his sides.
“So it is.” I roll over to all fours, crawling across the bed until I’m close enough to stick out my tongue and taste him. Rising up to my knees, I bring my lips to his pecs and begin peppering gentle kisses over the expanse of smooth tanned skin.
His muscles flex, and I can feel his heart pounding a little faster with every touch. “Whitney,” he moans, fisting my hair in his hands. His head falls back as I continue my path lower. Lower.
“So strong,” I whisper, slipping my fingers into the band of his boxer briefs. “Your body is flawless, Mr. Landry.”
“Ahh,” he sighs when I stretch the elastic over his ass and pull them down to his knees. That remarkable cock of his springs free from the confines of the fabric, jutting right at me. Taunting me.
“I haven’t done this in a really long time.” My tone is an apology in itself. Truly I should be more nervous, but I’m practically drooling at the thought of taking him into my mouth.
“Please.” His moan is a desperate plea.
“No need to beg, love.” A smile curls his lips when I throw his words from earlier back at him. “It would be my absolute pleasure.”
I run the tip of my tongue the length of his shaft, swirling it over the head before wrapping my lips around his cock.
With a hiss, he kneads his fingers into my scalp, gently urging me forward.
There’s an undeniable sense of power that comes with knowing I’m the one responsible for the sexy little groans and grunts coming from this big, strong man. That, even if only for the moment, he’s completely at my mercy.
I curl my fist around the base, stroking to match the
stride with which he’s driving into my mouth. When I feel his cock tense, I suck harder, hollowing my cheeks and taking him all the way to the back of my throat.
“Oh, God.” His dick begins to spasm, and his grip on my hair tightens to the point of pain. All it does is give me the encouragement I need to work harder and faster.
“Stop.” He huffs, panting for breath as he withdraws from my mouth with a pop. “Not like this.”
My face crumples. “I don’t understand… I thought you were enjoying it.”
Chest heaving, he bends to grip my chin in one hand. “I enjoyed it immensely,” he says, followed by a soft chuckle. “I don’t want to wait to be inside you, Whitney.”
I pull in my lips and nod, my faltering confidence restored. “Well, all right then… Your move,” I whisper, trailing my fingertips over his scruffy jaw.
His answering grin is predatorial and gets my adrenaline pumping. “Lay back.”
I do, scooting myself until my head rests on his pillow.
I crane my neck to watch as he crawls in from the foot of the bed, only stopping when his face is hovering above my sex. When he hooks his fingers into the band of my leggings and moves to lower them, my heart becomes a jackhammer in my chest, echoing in my ears, pulsing in my throat, effectively drowning out any and all thought but here and now.
“Don’t,” I gasp when I realize his intent, suddenly becoming self-conscious. But the whispered plea lacks any conviction, my wanton desires swiftly overtaking any semblance of modesty.
“Just a little taste,” he says, spreading my knees apart and dipping his head between my thighs. He runs his tongue over my throbbing pussy, the lace of my panties only adding to the friction. The heat of his breath in my most intimate areas has me damn near convulsing as he blazes a path higher and higher. He presses a slow kiss just below my navel before gripping the elastic in his teeth and dragging the lace the length of my leg, flinging it to the floor.
I nearly jump clean out of my skin at the first swipe of his tongue over my bare flesh. And when he begins flicking it back and forth over my clit, the heavens explode behind my eyes.
“Wyatt, I’m gonna come,” I warn, only serving to incite the man.
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