I tugged my arm away. “I’ll work it out. I’m not hiring a nanny.”
“Good, you don’t need one. You need family.”
“She’s right,” Katherine spoke up.
I turned to see her standing in the doorway, reaching down for a bucket of blocks. “Sorry to interrupt. I was just gonna grab a few toys, but I want you to know I’d love to help in any way I can.” She rubbed her free hand over her stomach. “I don’t plan on returning to work after Charlie’s born. I’d be more than happy to watch Oliver during the day for you.”
My gaze dropped to the floor. I was surprised by the offer. I’d missed too much time at the office as it was, but the thought of leaving Oliver even with Katherine, whom I trusted just as much as if not more than Julia, was still hard.
“What other choice do you have?” Julia asked. “Daycare?”
“I need time to think it over.”
“What is there to think about? Let her help. Mom also said she’d watch Oliver on some weekends.”
“I don’t work weekends,” I cut in, my aggravation climbing.
I turned back to Katherine as she spoke. “We can start off with a trial period. If you’re not comfortable with me watching him, then you can take him to someone else.”
Of course I was comfortable with the idea of her, it was just…I didn’t know how to let him go. But before I could overthink it, I agreed.
“All right, if you truly don’t mind.” It was the best option I had. “It would mean a lot to have him with you. Have you discussed it with Lawrence?”
She nodded. “He’s the one who suggested it, and I thought it was a great idea.”
“I insist you let me pay you.”
“That’s not necessary—”
“I’m paying you. You’ll have a new baby soon, and with Oliver there nine hours a day, you’ll deserve it. I won’t take no for an answer, but you have to promise me one thing: If the arrangement becomes a burden on you, you’ll let me know. I’ll understand.”
She smiled, visibly relieved. “I will, I promise.”
I felt the relief myself. “Good. Now if you don’t mind, Oliver and I were about to have dinner…” I looked to Julia and her victorious grin. “…alone.”
Chapter 1
Two and a Half Years Later
Alarmed
I woke with a start, one eye peeking open, and then the other. The morning sun was higher than I’d expected to see it. It was Sunday, which meant—
Shit!
With an apprehensive frown, I ripped the blanket away and rolled on my side.
The brunette snoring beside me looked as exhausted as I felt. I scrubbed my hands down my face, sobering. I was able to better make her out, noticing her mouth hanging open, hair knotted around her slender frame, limbs stretched out. My memory was still firing up, but what little I remembered was a night like all the rest: lackluster.
I glanced over to where my side table should’ve sat and shook my head, unable to resist a small smile. The table was on its side, my alarm clock wedged under it.
Maybe the night had been a bit more than lackluster after all.
As my gaze wandered around the room, my smile curved up into a wicked grin. The woman had stamina—I remembered that, as well as the crazed lust in her eyes when I’d told her I was taking her home. She was up for anything, and I’d made sure to reap the full benefits of it.
My gears began revving and my dick swelled, interested in going one last round before I showed her the door. But that thought faded the instant I stretched down for the alarm clock and checked the time: 10:08.
“Fuck me!” I muttered, bolting upright and jumping out of bed.
Oliver would be home within the next hour—two, tops. I ran my hands through my hair, shaking my head, and slipped on the pair of white lounge pants flung over my favorite chair in the corner. I’d bought it purposely for the bedroom, and it saw more action than the bed.
I slipped on the pants and moved back to the bed. “Time to go,” I said, standing over the woman and nudging her shoulder lightly. Of course she had to be a heavy sleeper. I shook her again, then moved her hair to the side to get a better view of her face. She was pretty enough, but nothing extraordinary.
How she looked didn’t matter the morning after, anyway. All I cared about was making sure Oliver didn’t come home to find a stranger hanging around—especially one with just-fucked hair and dark makeup smeared down her face.
I’d never let that happen. Whenever I brought a woman home, I already had a strategic plan in place: Every other weekend, Oliver stayed with my mother, and I was able to pull an all-nighter with a woman or two. I lost myself in time—no worries or pressure.
It was the duty of my trusted alarm to be there first thing Sunday morning to wake me before sunrise. I would clear the house of women and liquor, and always be standing tall at the door to welcome my boy home. Obviously, that plan wasn’t working so far today.
“Come on, sweet thing, wake up for me.” Still nothing. That left only one other way to wake her up that, sadly, wasn’t enjoyable for either of us.
“UP!” I roared, my loud voice jolting my system into full functional status, shattering any chance of peace my morning may have held.
“Mmm, not yet,” she purred, rolling over to face me and showcasing a full view of her assets. She stretched her neck up and opened her eyes, expecting a kiss.
Not my thing. I backed away, heading to my dresser. “I have an appointment this morning,” I explained. It was a lie, but it usually worked. I snatched a pair of paint-smeared jeans for after my shower. “Maybe we’ll run into each other again sometime…” Normally I didn’t add a name since I rarely remembered it, but I was almost positive I knew it this time and decided to take a chance.
“…Casey.”
“Ugh, it's Macey!” she pouted, rolling her eyes.
At least I was close. It didn’t matter; I was over the morning niceties at that point. I twisted back around to face her.
“Right. Well, Macey, I need you out of my bed and out of my house by the time my shower’s over.”
“Oh, God!” she shrieked, scrambling up to a sitting position and looking around the room for some clue she may have missed. Slowly, the color drained from her face. “You're married! No, not again.” Her head shook violently, her hands clutching the sheet tighter against her body.
I stood there, fully aware I was a prick for not easing her worry right away, but I knew what was coming.
Her impenetrable gaze focused back on me, her bleak expression morphing into an angry sneer. “Shame on you! You guys are all the same.”
Predictable, as always. “Relax, doll.” My lip twitched up in a smirk. “I am very much single.”
“Oh,” she murmured, a pink blush returning to her gaunt cheeks. Her tongue peeked out, skimming her top lip. Her eyes locked on mine as she released the sheet. “In that case…”
My erection grew as I watched her seductive performance. She ran her fingers down over her breasts as her legs opened, inviting me in.
Unfortunately, I knew better. There was no time. “You can see yourself out.”
She wasn’t taking no for an answer, stepping down from the bed on her tiptoes and strutting toward me confidently. The morning-after show was one I’d seen far too many times and usually played out one of two ways, but the fact that never changed was that I always held the upper hand. As much as women hated it, I never had a problem turning them away when I was done.
“There’s money on the dresser for a taxi.”
She released a provoked whine when I turned around and entered my bathroom, closing the door behind me.
***
[The force of water hammering down over my shoulders eased the final stiffness from my muscles. The club I’d ended up at the previous night with Caleb had been a new one with an over-the-top opening, and still I was surrounded by all the same faces—all except that of the woman now scouring my room for her clothing. She’
d been a pleasant distraction from the monotony of the evening, but as with all the rest, my curiosity about her was sated.
The predictable creak of the bathroom door sounded around me as I massaged soap into my scalp. After a quick rinse of my head, I opened my eyes, watching her climb in and shut the shower door.
She gave a sweet-but-far-from-innocent smile, judging by the mischievous gleam in her eye. “I can help,” she offered.
She reached for the bar of soap resting on the ledge and lathered it in her hands. I waited, a smirk growing, pleased that like all the others before her, she was eager to make sure I had my fill. Her eyes held mine as she encased my solid erection in her soapy hands and began stroking.
Her tongue peeked out, tracing along her lips as she rinsed the soap away under the spray. A slow smile emerged on her lips and I knew exactly what she was thinking—what she wanted.
“Show me what that pretty mouth can do,” I said.
She stooped down on her knees and held my cock firm in her hand. Her tongue swirled around the head a few times, firing my senses to life, before gliding down and swirling around the base. Another lap back up caused my hips to nudge forward, urging her to take me in.
She pulled her gaze from my cock and looked up at me through long, dark lashes before opening her mouth and plunging down over my dick, skimming it over the roof of her mouth. She sucked hard before popping her mouth open and drawing it in again.
Her hand gripped my thigh, digging into the skin while she moved her other hand to the base of my cock, stroking me for added pleasure. I threaded my fingers into her hair, thrusting my hips forward and taking full power.
Her ravishment grew wild, her hand pumping and her mouth taking me deeper, over and over. Her head bobbed frantically. The girl knew what she was doing; she was damn near a pro.
A breath hissed from my lips. “Fuck,” I ground out when she scraped her teeth down gently, then slid her tongue back over the sensitive flesh.
I slammed my eyes shut, focusing on the vibrations of her lips humming over my hard cock, nearing release. Her mouth moved faster, rougher. I grasped handfuls of her hair tightly with both hands, holding her lips in place suctioned at the base of my cock as its shaft pumped into the back of her throat.
A rough, gratified moan tore from my throat, clearing away any lingering stress in my thoughts. My mind was wiped clean as I lost myself in the feeling of her warm lips milking me into my morning release.
***
“So, will I see you again?” Macey asked, her voice hesitant. She was bent around, attempting to zip her tiny black dress from last night. I stepped behind her in two long strides, my fingers grabbing the zipper and making quick work of it with a single flick of my wrist.
“I don’t think so.” I pulled on my jeans, buttoned them, then grabbed my T-shirt: a simple white one, ready to be demolished by Oliver’s wild painting skills.
The room was eerily quiet all of a sudden. Her movements stilled, and heavy tension hung around us.
I sucked in a rapid breath then quickly released it in a sigh, hating that she was going to be one of those women who tried to guilt trip me. I should’ve seen it coming.
When I chanced a glance over at her, her shoulders were deflated, hands kneading together. Based on the thick crease over her brow, I knew she was searching for her next words.
“Last night was fun—let’s leave it at that,” I said casually, taking her hands and placing a kiss on the top of her left and then right ear. “There’s nothing else here between us. There never will be. That’s not what last night or this morning was about.”
She regarded me coolly. “Right.” She swallowed, and a flash of disappointment crossed her features.
Shit, she’d been holding out hope. How had I not noticed that when I picked her up? I could’ve sworn she’d known what I was providing: pleasure and mutual satisfaction for the night.
I was off my game lately with seeing the slice of hope some women held. I’d made a point to avoid those women before. I may have been an insensitive prick to some, but at least I wasn’t cruel enough to lead them on.
The smallest trace of a smile highlighted her lips, and I relaxed. She didn’t strike me as a stalker or clingy type. I couldn’t handle another one of those women—they were irrational—but Macey appeared too refined for such behavior.
I handed her the hundred-dollar bill from my dresser. “For the cab.”
She held up her hand, shaking her head. “No, that’s fine, thank you. I got it.” She snatched up her bag and shoes and fled from the room.
Relieved she was finally leaving, I started down the hall, wondering what Oliver would decide to paint when he got home. He always surprised me with what he came up with, and he knew his way around the canvas well for not even four years old. My greatest pleasure was sitting back and watching his creations come to life.
“Who the hell are you?” The familiar snarl of Julia’s voice boomed from the foyer, halting me in my tracks.
I held my breath, pleading with the universe that Oliver wasn’t with her. My mother always brought him home so she could spend some extra time with us, but there was a chance Julia would bring him if something had changed.
Oliver had never witnessed a woman sneaking from my bed, because I’d never allow that to happen. He needed to be a believer, and grow up looking for the woman who’d love and support him. It was one of the reasons I considered myself lucky he spent time with Katherine while I worked: He saw a beloved wife, and when she was with Lawrence, Oliver had the privilege of seeing how it was supposed to be. I didn’t want him to accept my single status as the norm. I wished for him to grow up and not only adore women, but find the one woman to love.
I personally stopped at the adoring part, taking a brief hands-on approach before releasing women back into nature for someone interested in taming. I was just as wild, and not interested in being restrained.
When I rounded the corner to the entryway, I found the front door wide open. Fall leaves blew in from the porch, and my sister was standing toe-to-toe with Macey, as I’d expected.
Julia was a straight shooter. She didn’t take shit from anyone, and was as stubborn and whiny as they came. She was graduating high school soon, and growing into an interesting young woman. I looked forward to the day she met her match: someone to calm those temperamental mood swings. It would either take a real man or a real fool, but if he treated her well, I’d buy him a drink…regularly. He’d need it.
Darting my gaze around the room, I strode past Julia and peered outside. No Oliver. I sighed with relief, stroking my hand across my jaw. Thank Christ. Julia would’ve shed blood.
I closed the door for privacy in case my sister made a scene and turned, walking back around her. “Why so early, Julia?” I asked, ignoring the standoff she was in the middle of.
“Who’s the slut?” she hissed, shooting a judgmental glare my way.
“Hey!” Macey shrieked. “I’m not a slut! And who are you?”
This wouldn’t end well. “Go,” I said, looking at Macey.
Her expression held nothing but disgust. Probably assuming my statement about being single was a lie, she brushed past Julia and yanked the door open. Just as she was about to shut it behind her, her narrowed eyes caught mine. “You’re a pig!”
If that was the only scene she’d make, I’d take it. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard a similar comment, and it was one of the friendlier versions. I let her believe what she wanted, unaffected when the door slammed shut.
I would’ve considered the morning a success if I wasn’t standing next to a ticking explosive ready to detonate.
“Walk and criticize,” I said, heading down the hall again. “Oliver will be here soon.”
“Are you kidding me right now?” Julia bellowed, stomping along beside me.
“What?” I asked, a smirk playing on my lips.
“What? Screw you, Logan, I’m not a child. I know exactly why the whore was leaving.??
? She made a choking sound, followed by a drawn-out “Yuck!”
She didn’t miss a beat as we entered my studio to set things up for Oliver.
“Since when do you bring sluts to your house, huh? I thought you were a hotel/motel type of guy. And her outfit!” Her face screwed up. “Oh my God, could she be more lewd? Her tits were falling out, and her ass barely fit—”
“Don’t be crude.” I stopped dead in my tracks and shot her a disapproving scowl.
“Oh, get over yourself! You have horrible taste in women: always the least dressed, it seems.”
I wasn’t about to discuss my sex life with my baby sister, so I had to shut it down. “It makes it convenient.”
The look on her face told me that did the trick.
“Gross! No wonder Jax admires you so much. I can’t have two brothers with no standards.”
“Are you implying one of us still has potential?” I questioned, brow cocked, smug grin in place. “Because I’ve seen a few of the coeds Jax sneaks in here when he stays over. I’d question his standards first.”
Frustrated, she stomped her foot and balled her hands into fists. Yes, ticking time bomb for sure. I couldn’t help but find the humor in it.
“Ugh, not the point! What if I had Oliver with me today? He doesn’t need to see a tossed-aside tramp in his home.” Her head tilted to the side as she watched my amusement disappear. “I don’t think you want him to, either—unless you have some twisted plan for him to grow up and follow in you and Jax’s disgusting footsteps.”
My jaw worked tight under my skin, back teeth grinding together as anger brewed deep within me. My son would be better than me—and better than Jax, who incorrectly thought he had life figured out.
I stepped forward, making myself clear as I growled, “He won’t. I don’t bring anyone around Oliver, so stop being so fucking dramatic!”
With that, I started toward the large table in the room full of supplies. I ran my hands over my face, digging them in, the pressure easing my aggravation. I picked out Oliver’s favorite brushes, then scanned over the paints.