Chapter 3 Heat Check
Heat Check
Desiree
My body aches from tossing and turning all night, and these silk pajamas sliding against my skin with every movement didn’t help. They kept reminding me of other things that could slide against my skin. Specifically, Enrick Hughes’s hands.
Get it together, Dez.
I reach for my phone on the nightstand, squinting at the screen. Multiple notifications flood in—weather alerts, flight cancelations, road closure updates. I scroll through them with growing dread.
FLIGHT UPDATE: Winter Bay International Airport remains closed.
“Great,” I mutter. “Just great.”
Two days before Christmas and I’m still trapped here. With him. With these feelings, I have no business feeling.
“Mommy!” Bella bursts through my door. “It’s a snow day! Uncle says we can’t leave the house ’cause the snow is taller than me! Isn’t that the coolest?”
“The coolest,” I manage, sitting up.
“Daddy says it’s time for breakfast!” She bounces on the bed. “He’s making pancakes shaped like snowflakes!”
Twenty minutes later, I emerge from the shower wearing designer jeans that hug my curves like they were tailored for me and a cashmere sweater so soft it feels like a hug.
My braids are piled high in a bun, and I’ve managed to make myself look presentable despite having no makeup except the lip gloss in my purse.
The scene in the kitchen stops me in my tracks. Enrick is at the stove, flipping pancakes while all five kids sit at the massive island, decorating gingerbread houses. He’s wearing a gray Henley that stretches across his shoulders and dark jeans that... Lord have mercy.
“Mommy, come help us!” Bella waves me over. “Daddy said we could have a competition!”
“Did he now?” I slide onto a stool, trying not to notice how Enrick’s eyes track my movement. “What does the winner get?”
“Hot chocolate with extra marshmallows,” Asher informs me seriously. “The big marshmallows. Not the small ones.”
“High stakes,” I murmur, accepting the mug of coffee Enrick slides my way. Our fingers brush, and I pull back quickly. “Thanks.”
“Sleep well?” His voice is low, intimate, meant just for me.
“Like the dead,” I lie. I spent half the night replaying our conversation, the other half imagining what would have happened if I’d let him kiss me.
“Liar,” he says softly, then louder, “Okay, house decorating rules. Each team gets one adult and two or three kids. Gina and Maverick already called dibs on being judges because they have no imagination.”
“Hey!” Gina protests, entering the kitchen. “We have plenty of imagination. We just also have common sense.”
“Which means,” Enrick continues, grinning, “Dez and I each get a team.”
Oh, he’s slick. I narrow my eyes at him, but he smiles innocently.
“I want Mommy!” Bella declares.
“Me too!” Isa chimes in.
Boys versus girls?“ Penny suggests. “That means Uncle gets these two weirdos.” She gestures at fifteen-year-old Mycah and seven-year-old Asher, who are sword fighting with candy canes.
And that’s how I find myself seated directly across from Enrick, close enough that our knees keep brushing under the table, trying to focus on gingerbread architecture while he does distracting things like lick icing off his thumb.
“Mommy, you’re not paying attention,” Bella complains. “You just put the door where the window goes.”
“Sorry, B.” I refocus, but Enrick chooses that moment to lean across the table for more candy. His cologne—that expensive, spicy-smoky scent that haunted my dreams—washes over me.
“Problem, Dez?” He’s smirking, the bastard. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
I notice the chip in his bottom tooth—from a hockey accident in college. I’d traced it with my tongue that night in Atlanta.
“Not at all.” I grab the icing bag. “Girls, we’re going to destroy them. Penny, you’re on roof duty. Bella and Isa, you handle the yard decorations.”
“What are you gonna do?” Isa asks.
“I’m going to make sure we win.” I catch Enrick’s eye. “I’m very competitive.”
“I remember.” His voice drops, and suddenly I’m transported back to Atlanta, to a hotel room where we competed to see who could make the other orgasm first. I won. Barely.
“Is it hot in here?” Gina fans herself dramatically. “Mav, honey, maybe open a window?”
“There’s a blizzard,” Maverick responds dryly. “But I see your point.”
Heat floods my cheeks. I concentrate on piping icing along the roof line, but my hands are shaking. This is ridiculous. I’m a grown woman with a child, not some teenager with a crush.
“Uncle, you’re doing it wrong!” Asher protests. “The roof is sliding off!”
I glance over to see their house listing dramatically to one side. Enrick is staring at me instead of his construction project, and the intensity in his blue eyes makes my stomach flip.
“Are you ready to admit defeat?” I ask.
“Never.” He grins. “Kids, emergency measures. We’re going for artistic interpretation instead of structural integrity.”
“What does that mean?” Mycah asks.
“It means we’re going to make it look cool even if it falls apart.” He winks at me. “Sometimes the best things are worth the risk of collapse.”
I know we’re not talking about gingerbread anymore.
The morning flies by in a flurry of icing, candy, and laughter. Despite the sexual tension crackling between us, or maybe because of it, I find myself relaxing.
Enrick is good with all the kids, not just Bella.
He’s patient with Isa’s questions, roughhouses with Asher, and gives Mycah great advice when the fifteen-year-old talks about the two girls crushing on him.
He even handles Penny’s disgust about the whole situation, listening to her rant about why both girls are “totally wrong for Mycah” without dismissing her concerns.
Watching him with them makes me imagine what it would be like if this were our every day, not just a snowy accident.
“Time!” Gina calls. “Let’s see these masterpieces.”
The boys’ house is a disaster—walls caving in, roof sliding off, candy scattered everywhere. But they’ve covered every surface with decorations, and the boys are proud of their “earthquake survivor house.”
Ours, on the other hand, is pristine. Perfect angles, careful decorating, even a little candy garden that Isa created.
“We win!” Bella shouts, and I high-five my team.
“Hold up,” Enrick says. “I demand a recount. Our house has character.”
“Your house has structural damage,” I point out.
“Sometimes the most interesting things aren’t perfect.” He’s looking directly at me. “Sometimes perfect is boring.”
“Sometimes mess is just mess.” My voice comes out breathier.
“Okay, okay,” Gina intervenes. “How about everyone wins? Hot chocolate all around!”
The kids cheer and scatter, leaving Enrick and me at the table surrounded by gingerbread carnage.
“You’ve got icing on your face,” he says softly.
“Where?” I reach up, but he shakes his head.
“Here.” He leans across the table, thumb brushing the corner of my mouth. But instead of pulling away, he lingers, tracing my bottom lip.
Every nerve ending in my body zeros in on that point of contact. His eyes darken, and I know he’s remembering how I taste.
“Enrick.” His name comes out as a plea, though I’m not sure if I’m begging him to stop or continue.
“I can’t help it,” he says roughly. “You’re here, with my family, playing with our daughter, and all I can think about is—”
“Hot chocolate delivery!” Maverick’s voice breaks the spell, and Enrick jerks back.
I grab my mug with hands that aren’t quite steady, wrapping them around the warm ceramic. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” Maverick looks between us with knowing eyes. “Gina’s organizing a movie marathon in the media room. Kids’ movies until they pass out, then something with an actual plot for the adults when the teenagers abandon us to their devices.”
“Sounds good,” Enrick says, but his voice is rough.
The rest of the day is torture. Mycah sets up a video game tournament in the game room, and Bella insists her parents be on her team.
Which means three hours of sitting between Enrick and Bella on the couch, trying to focus on Mario Kart instead of how his arm keeps brushing mine.
We have lunch all together, and I end up sitting next to him again, his thigh pressed against mine under the table.
During the movie marathon, Bella insists on sitting between us, but she falls asleep halfway through Frozen, and Enrick settles her on his lap. The sight of them together—my baby girl safe in her father’s arms—does something to my heart.
I watch them in the flickering light from the screen. Bella’s face pressed against Enrick’s chest, his large hand cradling her head with tenderness. His eyes are closed, his expression softer than I’ve ever seen it, and it makes my throat tight.
What if things had gone differently six years ago? What if he hadn’t accused me of trying to trap him? What if we’d joined forces and figured parenting out together?
But no. He’d demanded a paternity test, and honestly, I expected that since we’d only known each other five weeks. What I hadn’t expected was the venom that came with it.
He called me a gold digger, accused me of trying to trap him, and suggested I probably did this all the time. Like I was some kind of con artist who’d specifically targeted him.
As if those five weeks of late-night conversations and growing feelings had all been part of some calculated scheme. As if everything we’d shared meant absolutely nothing to him.
Still, watching Bella nestle deeper into his embrace, I can’t help the longing in my chest. Not just for him, but for a family. A partner to weather the tantrums and celebrate the victories.
I want this. God help me, I want all of it.
By evening, I’m wound tight. Every accidental touch, every shared glance, every time Enrick says my name in that low voice makes him harder to resist.
After dinner, I escape to the covered deck, needing air even if it’s freezing. The snow is still falling, leaving everything white.
The hot tub steams invitingly in the corner, and I stare at it longingly. A hot soak would work out all this tension.
The kids are settled with Gina for a Christmas movie. Maverick and Enrick are cleaning up the kitchen. I can have twenty minutes to myself without worrying about those blue eyes tracking my every move.
I head back inside and find one of my bikinis in my suitcase.
It’s a strappy red thing I’d packed for the adults-only resort in Jamaica.
The kind you wear when there are no kids around.
I’d brought four, actually, each skimpier than the last. This red one is technically the most conservative of the bunch, which isn’t saying much.
I grab a thick robe and head back out, the cold air shocking my exposed skin. The hot tub is blissfully empty, and I sink into the water with a moan of pure pleasure.
“Oh, that’s perfect,” I mutter, letting the jets work on my tense shoulders.
I close my eyes and try not to think about Enrick. Try not to imagine what it would feel like to have his hands on me again. Try not to remember the way he used to—
The sliding door opens.
My heart kicks into overdrive, but I don’t open my eyes. Don’t turn around. My body recognizes his presence.
“Mind if I join you?” Enrick asks, and when I open my eyes, I immediately wish I hadn’t.
He’s wearing black swim trunks that ride low on his hips, and sweet baby Jesus, when did he get those abs? His chest is broader than I remember, with a dusting of dark hair that arrows down to—
“It’s not my hot tub.” I sink lower in the water.
He climbs in across from me, and I try not to watch the way his muscles flex with the movement. Try and fail spectacularly.
“Didn’t like the movie?” he asks, settling against the jets.
“I’m technically supposed to be kid-free right now,” I say, closing my eyes. “Figured I’d grab some me-time while Bella’s occupied.”
“Could be worse ways to spend your time off,” he says, and I hear the water shift as he settles in. “At least we have the sexual tension to keep things interesting.”
I open my eyes. “Excuse me?”
“Come on, Dez.” He leans forward, and the water ripples between us. His eyes drop to where my bikini top is visible just above the waterline. “We’ve been dancing around each other all day. It’s exhausting.”
“Then stop,” I suggest. “Stop looking at me like—”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re remembering what I look like naked,” I blurt out, then immediately want to drown myself.
His grin is pure sin. “Hard not to when you’re wearing that bikini. Red is your color.”
“I didn’t have a choice. It was this or skinny dipping.”
“Should have chosen skinny-dipping.” His voice has gone deep and rumbly.
“I should go.” I start to rise, but he moves faster, catching my wrist.
“Don’t run.” His thumb strokes over my pulse point. “Not again.”
“I’m not running. I’m getting sleepy.”
“Liar.”
He tugs on my arm, and I stumble forward, catching myself with my hands on his chest. Big mistake. Huge. His skin is hot and slick from the water, muscles firm under my palms.
“I want to kiss you.” He’s so close I can see droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes. “Taste the sweetness between your pretty thighs.”
“Enrick, please.”
“Tell me what you want.” His hands settle on my waist, thumbs stroking the bare skin above my bikini bottoms. “I remember the sounds you made. The way you taste. How you dug your nails into my back every time you came.”
“Stop.” But I don’t move away. Can’t move away. My body has overridden my brain’s executive function.
“I remember how you rode me,” he continues, voice rough. “How you threw your head back and took what you wanted. How you took my dick in your mouth.”
A whimper escapes before I can stop it. He groans in response, hands tightening on my waist.
“Tell me you don’t want this,” he challenges. “Tell me to stop, and I will. But don’t lie to both of us by pretending you don’t want me.”
I should climb out of this hot tub and go back to my bedroom. Should remember all the reasons this is a terrible idea.
Instead, I hook my hand behind his neck, lean in, and kiss him hard.