Chapter 15 #2
I nod, leaning into him. "Bonus mommy, huh?"
His smile finds the corners of his eyes. "Kid's pretty smart for three."
The party continues around us, but for a moment, we're in our own world—still new, still figuring things out, finding our way.
The apartment seems unnaturally quiet after the door closes behind Nate and Elena, the last to leave.
I kick off my shoes and pad across the living room, gathering empty wine glasses from the coffee table.
The evidence of our Thanksgiving is everywhere—scattered napkins across the sofa, dirty plates stacked beside the sink, the lingering scent of turkey.
Logan locks the door, then turns to me with a tired but content smile. "That," he says, "was a success."
"Definitely." I balance three wine glasses between my fingers. "Even with Tyler announcing my new title to the whole team."
Logan's laugh is soft as he moves to help me, collecting napkins crumpled across his usually pristine furniture. "Bonus mommy. I swear I didn't coach him on that."
"I believe you." And I do. Tyler's declaration was straight from the heart. "Though I'm guessing Jessica might have some thoughts."
"Probably." Logan shrugs, his shoulders rolling beneath his sweater. "But she was civil. That's progress."
We work in comfortable silence for a few minutes, moving around each other with the ease of dancers who've memorized the steps. I scrape plates while Logan loads the dishwasher. Our fingers brush as he takes a serving spoon from my hand, and that simple touch sends warmth up my arm.
"Your place survived its first toddler invasion remarkably well," I say, gesturing to the rubber corner protectors on the coffee table and the baby gate still blocking the stairs to his loft. "No blood, no broken glass, no emergency room visits."
"A Thanksgiving miracle." Logan grins, wiping down the counter. "Though I think we can attribute that to your expert child-proofing more than luck. Who knew kindergarten teachers had such valuable life skills?"
"And who knew hockey players could install baby gates without swearing?" I tease, remembering his concentrated face as he'd wrestled with the latch mechanism yesterday.
"I never said I didn't swear. I just did it very, very quietly." He flicks water at me from his fingertips, and I duck, laughing.
The dishwasher hums to life. I wipe my hands on a towel, surveying the kitchen. "Almost back to normal."
"Normal," Logan repeats, leaning against the counter. His eyes find mine across the island. "What even is normal anymore? I’m not even sure I know. Now I’m a dad and I'm hosting Thanksgiving with him and—" He gestures to the baby gate, the corner protectors, the box of children's books near the couch. "All of this."
"Having regrets?" I ask, trying to keep my voice light.
He crosses to me in three long strides, his hands finding my waist. "The opposite. I'm... grateful. For Tyler. For the chance to be his dad." His hands tighten slightly. "For you."
"Hmm."
"You made all of this so great." His voice drops lower. "You saw me completely fall apart when I found out about Tyler, and you stayed. You’ve shown me how to do this. How not to lose my mind. You made my son feel welcome in a situation that could have been so freaking awkward."
I shrug, uncomfortable with his praise but warmed by it all the same. "I’m just doing what comes naturally."
"And that's what makes you special." His thumb traces circles on my hip. "I watch how you are with him—so natural, so patient. Like today when he wouldn't try the green beans, and you made it into a game instead of a battle. Brilliant."
"Teacher tricks," I deflect.
"It's more than that." He tilts my chin up, making me meet his eyes. "It's who you are. I watched you with him, and I just kept thinking—" He stops, swallows.
"What?"
"That I'm feeling a way I didn’t know I could." His voice is rough around the edges. "Something is happening here I didn't even know I wanted."
We've been dating for months now, sleeping together for most of that time, but this feels like crossing a new threshold—one that's both thrilling and terrifying.
His hands slide from my waist to my back, pulling me flush against him. The heat of his body seeps through my sweater, making my skin prickle with awareness. His mouth finds mine, the kiss starting gentle but quickly deepening as my lips part beneath his.
"Let me show you," he murmurs against my mouth.
He lifts me, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carries me toward the bedroom. My fingers tangle in his hair, my mouth hungry on his neck. He tastes like a salty dream.
The sheets are cool against my back as he lays me down, his body covering mine. His weight pins me deliciously to the mattress as his hands work under my sweater, palms warm against my ribs, then higher to cup my breasts through my bra. I arch into his touch, already aching for more.
"I've been wanting to do this all day," he confesses, tugging my sweater over my head. "Watching you in the kitchen, playing with Tyler, sitting at the table joking with the fellas—like you belonged there. Like you've always belonged there. So hot."
My hands fumble with his sweater, desperate to feel my skin against his skin. When we're finally naked, his body covers mine again, and I hook one leg around his hip, urging him closer.
"Patience," he whispers, but there's a strain in his voice that tells me his control is just as fragile as mine.
His mouth blazes a trail down my neck, across my collarbone, to my breast. When his lips close around my nipple, I gasp, back arching off the bed. His hand slides between my legs, finding me wet and ready.
"God, Reese," he groans against my skin. "You're so perfect."
His fingers work me steadily, building pressure that makes my thighs tremble. I reach between us, wrapping my hand around his length, feeling him pulse against my palm.
"Please," I whisper. "I need you."
He positions himself at my entrance. Our eyes lock as he pushes in, filling me inch by exquisite inch until I'm gasping with the fullness of him.
"He teases me by holding still inside me, his arms trembling slightly with the effort of restraint. He gently pulls out a fraction of an inch which somehow feels even better and we both pause there savoring it.
I nod, words beyond me now. I wrap my legs around his waist, rocking in that tiny distance that feels exquisite. He’s growing even harder, barely moving.
Then, finally, he moves, setting a rhythm that quickly has me clutching at his shoulders. His hands reach around he grips my ass firmly in both hands, angling me to take him deeper, his strokes long and deliberate. Slow. Strong. Steady. I feel the tension building, my body tightening around him.
"Look at me," he commands softly.
I open eyes I didn't realize I'd closed, finding his face above mine—his expression a mix of pleasure and something deeper, more intense.
His look pushes me over the edge. I come undone beneath him, wave after wave of pleasure radiating outward as I make noises I didn’t know I could. He comes at the same time, his body shuddering against mine.
After, we lie tangled in sheets, my head on his chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my bare shoulder. The apartment is silent except for our gradually slowing breaths and the sound of an ambulance passing on the street.
I prop myself up on one elbow to look at him, finding his eyes serious and open.
His smile spreads slowly, like sunshine breaking through clouds. "Thank you, Reese. For having me even with all the complications: Tyler, Jessica, my schedule, the team—"
I press a finger to his lips. "Because of all that, not despite it. It's who you are."
He captures my hand, kisses my palm. "I keep thinking about what Tyler said. Bonus mommy." His voice turns thoughtful. "I never thought I could do this—be a father, build a family. But with you, I can see it. All of it."
"All of what?" I ask, though something in my chest already knows the answer.
"The future." His arm tightens around me. "More holidays. More firsts. You and me and Tyler.”
His eyes hold mine, searching. "Is that crazy? We've only been together a few months."
"A little crazy," I admit. "But the good kind."
He pulls me back down to his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear. Outside, snow has started to fall, dusting Chicago in white. Inside, wrapped in Logan's arms, I feel safe and excited.