She was so good with kids, even though she’d had—admittedly—zero experience with them before Sophie. It was one of the things that had drawn him to her in the first place. From the first moment Sophie and Claire had met, seeing how good Claire was with her...he was fucked, even then.
Once they had their skates on and laced up, they went onto the ice, and somehow he’d become the designated safety net. As soon as their skates touched ice, both Sophie and Claire clung to him, each gripping an arm. Wobbling back and forth, he barely managed to keep himself on his feet when he found his balance.
“Easy, ladies,” he said through laughter. He turned to Claire, not even attempting to hide the teasing in his voice. “Sophie’s only seven, you know. What’s your excuse?”
“Shut up.” She fought a smile, and slugged him quickly before clutching his biceps once again.
He could give her shit about it, but he didn’t actually mind. She could put her hands on him any day of the week, and if this was what it took to get her to do it, so be it.
“All right, squirt, you gotta loosen up the death grip you have on me.” He reached down and tugged on the strings hanging from Sophie’s hat.
“I don’t want to fall!”
“Come on, you’ll be okay. I’ll still hold your hand. I’ll stop you from falling, I promise.”
With the gentle coaxing, she slowly peeled her hands away from his thigh, then immediately gripped his hand in both of hers. Claire was still clinging to the crook of his elbow with both hands. Turning to her, he smiled at the wide-eyed fear on her face. “Don’t tell me you’ve never been skating before.”
She scoffed, and he had a feeling that if she didn’t fear ass-planting on the ice, he would’ve received another slug to the chest. “I was a beach baby, Logan. Sun and sand for this girl. You’re lucky I’m out here at all. I only did it for Sophie.”
“I know you did.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Thank you for that. You’re her favorite person right now.”
“Yeah, well, she’s got some crazy freaking voodoo or something.”
He grinned at her deflection. The flush that crept up her cheeks could’ve been from the cold or his words, but he welcomed the response either way. She looked fucking gorgeous out here, with the dusting of snow falling. It caught in her hair, some small flakes landing on her cheeks. He wanted to lean in and kiss them off, especially when one settled on her full bottom lip. The urge to swipe it away with his tongue was nearly overwhelming. The only thing that restrained him was his daughter’s voice and the tugging on his hand as she impatiently begged to start already.
“All right, all right. Jeez you’re bossy. Where’d you get that from anyway?” At Claire’s snort, he smiled and pushed off slowly, paying attention to Sophie to ensure he could keep his promise to her. Even with most of his focus directed to her, he was all too aware of the sexy-as-sin woman pressed up against his right side, stealing his heat and his safety.
As they skated along, his two most favorite women in the world at his side, he felt the heavy weight of regret settle deep in his chest. All of this had been in his reach at one time. This was how things should’ve—could’ve—been for them. He could’ve had the Saturday morning pancakes in bed and the weekend ice skating trips and the quiet but frantic sex under the Christmas tree. Instead, he’d let it all slip through his fingers, and he hated himself a little more every day for it.
* * *
After warming up with a mug of hot chocolate once they’d gotten home, Claire sat barefoot on the floor of Sophie’s bedroom, allowing the little girl to paint her toenails. Sophie’s beauty case was nearly better stocked than hers, and she wondered how Sophie managed to sucker her dad into buying all this shit for her. Though with a man like Logan for a father—who, admittedly, knew next to nothing about the girly things women liked—he probably bought her anything to overcompensate for his ignorance.
Their conversation consisted mostly of giggles interspersed with a surprisingly intense discussion on Sophie’s favorite Junie B Jones book. It wasn’t hard to act interested in what she was saying, because Claire actually was. She’d missed this time with Sophie terribly. When Claire and Logan had split, she’d already been gone for several months, and then her heart had been so broken over their ultimate demise, she hadn’t even really allowed herself to mourn the loss of Sophie in her life. But being with her now, utterly engulfed by her charm, Claire missed her with a shocking solidity.
While Logan had lost Claire, she had lost an entire family. She’d grown to love Sophie as if she were her own, but it wasn’t like the non-parental exes got visitation rights after a break-up. She’d sent birthday and Christmas cards, but that had been where she’d stopped. Why prolong the inevitable? She lived two-thousand miles from them, and that was hard for an adult to deal with, let alone a child.
Sophie’s giggle pulled her out of her thoughts, and Claire looked down at the mess Sophie had made all over her toes. “Sorry, I always get paint on the toes too. Can’t help it.”
With a laugh, Claire brushed the long, dark hair away from Sophie’s face. “That’s okay, sweetie. I’ll show you a trick to get it off when you’re all done.”
“Is it safe to come in here, or am I in danger of getting my nails painted too?”
Claire looked over her shoulder to find Logan standing in the doorway, leaning against the door-jam, his arms crossed against his chest. He looked ridiculous standing there in his nearly six and a half foot glory, surrounded by a shroud of pink, discussing having his nails painted. She couldn’t help but laugh.
“Oh, Daddy! Please, please, pleeeease let me paint them?”
Claire was all but forgotten as the little girl got on her knees, hands clasped in front of her, eyes wide as she fluttered her eyelashes beseechingly up at him.
“Nice try, squirt, but no.”
She flopped on her bottom, arms crossed against her chest, her lip stuck out in a pout. “You always say no. You’re no fun, Daddy.”
“Yeah, come on, Daddy, you’re not afraid of a little pink nail polish, are you?” Claire laughed as he narrowed his eyes at her. “Hey, she could get out her blue eye shadow instead.” Turning to Sophie, she said, “I bet he’d look really pretty in that, don’t you think?”
Before Sophie could answer, Logan stepped over them on the floor, taking a seat on Sophie’s bed as he thrust out one of his hands. “Fine. One fingernail, and that’s it. And this sh—crap better come off. This isn’t, like, permanent nail polish, is it?”
Claire snorted, shaking her head as Sophie squealed and clapped. She jumped up and squeezed him around the neck. “Oh, thank you! I’ll be the best nail painter ever. I’ll try really hard to not get any on your finger, ’kay?”
Claire watched them, trying to restrain the smirk on her face and the glee in her eyes. She obviously didn’t do a very good job because Logan fixed her with a glare, though she knew there was no real heat behind it. It was comical, this hulking man crammed on a tiny bed in a room that looked like Pepto-Bismol exploded all over it. His large hand was outstretched, long, thick fingers extended as Sophie so very carefully painted the nail on his pointer finger.
For all intents and purposes, he should’ve looked laughable with that one pink tipped finger that sparkled with glitter. Instead, she found herself more attracted to him than ever. The old Logan would’ve never let Sophie do this. And now, seeing him like this, with his guard down, sneaking glances to smile down at his daughter in between shooting playful glares at Claire, she realized how utterly fucked she was for having come back here with him.
She didn’t think it was possible, had thought she’d managed to get over him in the time they’d been apart, but the pang in her heart proved her wrong.
She was falling for him all over again.
Chapter Ten
“G
’night, squirt. We’ll go visit your mom and your new little sister right away in the morning, okay?”
“I’m so excited, Daddy, I don’t think I’ll even be able to sleep!”
He chuckled, bending down to kiss her forehead before standing. “I know it’ll be hard, but you have to try. Don’t want to meet your new sister when you’re tired and crabby, right?”
Nodding, she snuggled down into her bed, squeezing her eyes shut as if that would bring on sleep faster.
“Love you, baby girl.”
“Love you too.”
He closed her door and leaned against it, if only to give himself a moment of time to recharge. As he brought his hand up to grip at his hair, the pale pink of the nail polish he’d somehow been suckered into wearing caught his eye.
Christ, seeing Claire like that, her and his daughter laughing and giggling and, hell, even ganging up on him... It had just seemed so right. If he was uncertain before, it was clear as fucking crystal now—he was in love with her. Had probably never stopped. And seeing the two of them together made him covet everything he’d lost.
He didn’t know how he’d gotten here. How he’d let his job get in the way of his happiness. Because he had been happy with Claire. More so than ever before. And he’d thrown it all away. He wished he could go back and do it all over again. There were so many things he’d do differently.
Pushing off from the door, he headed into the living room, finding Claire on her phone, scribbling something down at the breakfast bar. He listened as she ended the call, then stared at whatever she’d written, a small frown tugging the corners of her mouth.
“Hey.”
She jumped, looking up to him with widened eyes. “Oh, hey. You scared me.”
He offered her a grin and moved to stand in front of her. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. Sophie go down all right?”
“Yeah, she’s pumped up on excitement, though.”
“I bet.” She smiled at him, but the happiness didn’t reach her eyes.
“I’m going to take her in the morning to see them.” He paused at her nod, glancing down at the paper, seeing a bunch of numbers, and his stomach tightened. “Is that...did you get a flight out?”
She lifted her head, looking straight into his eyes. He wasn’t sure what she was hoping she’d find there, but he looked at her the only way he knew how—like she was his everything. “Yeah. Leaves tomorrow at 4:35. I’ll have a cab come get me around 1:30, I think, to make sure I have enough time to get through security.”
He scowled. After he took Sophie to the hospital tomorrow, he had to get back to work. He’d let things accumulate enough with his time off because of the storm, but he didn’t like the idea of her catching a cab, not when taking her himself was an option. He could handle a lot of issues remotely from his laptop and phone. He could go in later and work into the evening. He’d manage to figure this out—he’d show Claire work didn’t always come first.
“I’ll take you.” He knew his tone was harsher than it needed to be, but he couldn’t seem to control it.
“That’s okay, Logan. You’re taking Sophie in the morning, and I know you need to get back to work. I’ll be fine.”
“I know you’ll be fine, but I don’t care. I’m taking you.” He blew out a breath, running his fingers through his hair before he grabbed her hands and tugged her to him. He leaned against the counter as she practically fell into him, standing in the open space between his legs. With his thumbs running circles on the backs of her hands, he continued softer, “I want to take you. I’ll drop Sophie at the hospital and come back here. We can grab lunch and then I’ll bring you to the airport, okay?”
When she said nothing, simply stared at him, her all-knowing eyes seemingly trying to burrow their way right into his brain to figure out what he was thinking, he squeezed her hands. “Please, Claire. I want to do this. Let me do this.”
“Okay.” Her quiet agreement was all he needed, and he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly. She felt so perfect against his chest. Feminine and warm, with lush curves he’d never been able to get enough of. He could spend hours worshiping her body. He recalled every ticklish spot, every place that made her squirm or moan or give that breathy laugh he loved so much. He remembered the way his thumbs fit perfectly in the twin dimples above her ass, the three freckles that sat on her right hip, the small birthmark she had under her breast.
He wanted to map them all with his fingers, then his tongue. He wanted to memorize every inch of her. When they’d been together the first night of the blizzard, they’d been frantic and crazed, and he hadn’t taken the time to love her properly. And he needed to. He needed to get lost in her body, needed to show her how much he still loved her, even if she didn’t want to hear it from him, even if he knew he’d broken her heart and he absolutely didn’t deserve another chance with her. And, if she was smart, she’d never, ever give him another.
But even still...he had to try.
“Come to bed with me, Claire. Please.”
With the look she gave him, he knew she understood what he was asking. That he didn’t mean to hold her like he had the night before. That he wanted to feel her—every inch of her—pressed naked against him. When she gave a slight nod of her head, he was worried his knees would buckle right there.
Without giving her the opportunity to change her mind, he bent down, pressing his lips to hers as he gripped her ass and lifted her against him. Immediately, she wrapped her legs around his hips, settling perfectly in his arms. As he walked them to his bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind them, she held his face, kissing him so softly, almost hesitantly. He nipped at her lips, sweeping his tongue into her mouth just to taste her.
Once they were in front of his bed, he set her down before leisurely removing each piece of her clothing, his lips tracking the skin he uncovered. While he tried to go slow, to savor every second, she seemed to want to rid him of his clothes in a frenzy. He helped her along, peeling off his sweater and jeans, followed by his boxer briefs. Her hands spread wide against his chest, her eyes taking in every naked inch of him. When she reached down to grip his cock, he nearly came undone.
“Jesus, Claire.” He groaned, closing his eyes and admitting in a soft rumble, “I’ve missed your hands on me, baby.”
She squeezed his shaft in response, and he bent to take her nipple in his mouth, smiling as she did exactly what he knew she would. Her grip slackened, her head tipping back, a low moan coming from her lips. Switching sides, he traced the other tight peak with his tongue before engulfing it. While she was distracted, he pushed her back until she collapsed on the bed.
He needed this, and from the way she was clutching at him, trying to touch as much of him as she could, she did too. The thought that this might be his last time ever inside her sat heavily in his gut. If that was the case, he was going to make this last all damn night. He worked his way down her body, kissing and licking and nipping as he went. He didn’t listen as she protested when he spread her thighs wide with his shoulders then his hands, pressing her open for him.
She tugged at his hair, trying to pull him up. “I just want you inside me. I don’t need it.”
“I need it. Let me.” He kissed the crease between her thigh and her pussy, traced his tongue against her smooth outer lips. And then when he couldn’t stand it anymore, he swept his tongue through her slit and tried to get lost in the taste of her so he wouldn’t think about what tomorrow would bring.
She nearly shot off the bed when he focused his attention on her clit. And her reaction to that little swipe of his tongue proved to him that regardless of what sexual encounters she’d had since they split, at least no one had known the pleasure of feeling her come in their mouth. He hummed against her pussy, his hands gripping the outside of her thighs as he coaxed her orgasm from her. When she broke, her
fingers buried deep in his hair as he swirled his tongue over her sweet spot, he felt like a fucking God for making her turn her head into the pillow to muffle the loud sounds of her climax.
When she was pliant, sated, he crawled up her body, then sat back against the headboard before pulling her astride him. He needed to see her like this—watch her breasts swaying inches from his face, get lost in the sight of his cock disappearing inside her. With his fingers gripping the back of her head, his thumb running along her cheek, he pulled her to him. She kissed him with the same sort of unrestrained hunger he felt all the way to his bones. He wanted to take her hard and fast, fuck her straight into the mattress, have her on her knees, hanging on to the headboard as he pounded into her from behind.
Instead, he gripped her hip and guided her to take him inside slowly. With her forehead resting against his, they both watched as she sank down, taking every inch of him. Groaning, he dropped his head against the headboard when she began to move. “Jesus, you feel incredible.”
She murmured her assent as she rocked over him. Her hands were everywhere—running over his chest, his shoulders, down his abs until she couldn’t go any farther. When her fingers snaked up his neck and slid into his hair, her grip unyielding as she tugged him forward, he opened his eyes to find her staring at him.
She was so exposed like this, her eyes so expressive. She looked vulnerable in a way she hadn’t allowed him to see since being here. He’d missed this, so fucking much. How had he let this beautiful, amazing woman slip from his grasp? She used to be his, was going to be his for the rest of their lives, and he’d fucked it all up.
And the thought that tomorrow she was going to leave again and this might be his only chance to make amends pushed him to do what he should have done a long time ago.
Pulling her to him, their chests flush against one another, he held her as tight as he dared. “Claire,” he whispered into her ear. “Oh God, baby, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
Season of Second Chances Page 6