Chapter 21 #2
“Jesus, Willa.” The words came out rough, pained. “You’re so fucking perfect.”
Moonlight spilled across the soft curves of her body, over the graceful line of her shoulders and the lush swell of her breasts, and his chest tightened, trapping the breath in his throat—not with urgency, but reverence. Like he’d been handed a gift.
And he had. The fact that this beautiful, strong, caring woman wanted him—what had he ever done to deserve this kind of beauty?
He pressed a trail of kisses from her belly to her cleavage, pushing her breasts together and breathing in her sweet and lemony scent. He wanted to lick her, bite her, devour her.
When she let out a shaky sigh, he tucked his face into her neck. Her hands scraped across his scalp, her ankles locked around his hips, and they clung to each other. He could feel her pulse, her heat, and the gentle thread of her fingers through his hair.
“Willa?” he whispered. But the truth was, he had no words. There was no way to express the swell of emotion rising in him.
“I know,” she whispered back.
And really, this connection…it was all that mattered. He kissed her then, one hand gliding down her body, touching, savoring, mapping her pleasure points. Her back arched, her legs fell open, and she gripped his ass.
Hunger rolled through him, hot and aching, and he deepened the kiss. His touch grew needier, more desperate. Her hips rocked. She ground against him.
“More.” Her hands squeezed, pulling him tighter, closer. “I need you.”
Kissing the tip of each breast, he wandered down her torso, offering a lick, a nip, a caress, until he reached the hot, wet cove between her legs. While his thumbs swept over her nipples, his tongue delved deep, and when it flicked her sensitive nub, her ass reared off the bed.
“Decker.”
He lavished attention on it, loving the grip of her fingers on his hair, the grinding of her hips against his mouth, and her desperate cries and pleas.
And just when he thought she’d reached her breaking point, she pulled him off. “I want…I need us closer. I need you inside me.”
Want slammed into him so hard, his mind blanked out. He became nothing but sensation. Rising over her, he gripped his cock, lined himself up, and drove into her.
The blinding heat, the searing intimacy of her body wrapped around him…it was almost too much to bear. It was perfect and intense, and he’d never felt closer to anyone.
Lost in her soft skin, her urgent pants, and the slick heat of her tight channel, he thrust with a madness he couldn’t control.
His mind detached from his body, and he floated in a sea of bliss. Pounding into her, he couldn’t get enough. Faster, harder, the friction wound him up into a frenzy.
The tension gripped him so tightly he could barely hold himself together.
And when her neck arched, when her hips slammed up against his, when he felt her clench around his cock, he exploded.
Pleasure kept breaking over him, relentless and consuming. He didn’t ever want to come down off this high.
“Willa…fuck. Fuck.” He planted himself inside her, desperate to get closer, deeper. And he stayed there, connected, rooted, riding out the ecstasy until his arms gave out, and he collapsed onto his side.
He held her tightly against his body, both of them having a hard time catching their breath.
Once he settled, he pressed a fierce kiss to her cheek.
He didn’t know what the future looked like anymore.
He only knew it had to include Willa.
Decker dropped into the driver’s seat and shut the door. He hadn’t driven in nearly two weeks, and it felt good to get behind the wheel. Of course, it wasn’t his Porsche Turbo S, but it was a lot better than being driven around.
Starting the engine, he flexed his ankle, testing the range. He felt some tightness, but it was stable. Good. Because he’d definitely overexerted the night before.
Not that he was complaining. He’d never left her bed, so they’d reached for each other a few more times, both insatiable. And maybe there was an element of fear driving them to take their fill. Because neither could predict the future.
Yeah, well. He was ready to fight for them.
The question was whether Willa would still want him once the reality of his life set in.
As he pulled out of the parking lot, he allowed himself to remember the way she’d ridden him. Her hair brushing over his thighs, her tits bouncing. When he’d reared up to suck her nipples and bury his face in her cleavage, she’d clutched the back of his head.
Even then, he wanted her every way he could think of. He wanted to plow into her from behind, watch that ass jiggle and her head tip back when she came so hard she cried out.
Yeah, he wanted all of it.
Desire surged, making his blood spark and his cock harden. He’d never get his fill of her.
But for now, he owed his quarterback coach a check-in. As he turned onto 191, he hit Call.
“Hey, man,” Coach said. “How’s the ankle feel without a boot?”
“Good.” Decker turned onto the highway. “Swelling’s way down. I worked dropbacks in the pool. Tomorrow, I’ll do some throwing.”
“Excellent. Just what I wanted to hear.”
“I have to get up to speed. If I’m stepping into game eighty, I can’t be calibrating on the fly. I’ve got to be sharp.” Three hundred and fifty yards. He didn’t say it out loud. He didn’t need to. “But Cassian Ellis lives here, so he’s going to come out and throw with me.”
“Don’t forget Xander Wilder does, too.”
“Yeah, but he’s at training camp. I’ve got Tyler Cavanaugh here, too. That’s Cassian’s father-in-law.”
“Football royalty,” Coach said. “You can’t beat help like that.”
“Exactly.” Sunlight filtered through the branches of the pine trees bracketing the road.
“Though not sure why you need to toss with them when you've got your team waiting on you. Doesn't sound like you need to stay away anymore. How about we get you back here the day after tomorrow?”
No. It was like stepping on a shard of glass. The sting of it jolted his entire body. “That might be too soon. Give me a little more time to set things up for my daughter.”
“How much time are we talking?”
“I need to iron out the contract with the nanny. Also, I’ve decided to take Birdie on the road with me, so I’ll need to work things out with Coach Larson.”
“I’ve got to say, this isn't like you,” his quarterback coach said. “Usually, you're the first one on the field and the last one to leave.”
“And that's why I need to tie up all the loose ends. So I can be that for my team.”
“The kid definitely complicates things. But yeah, I get it. Let me know as soon as you work it all out.”
“You know I will.”
“Just… Don't take too much longer, okay?”
“What do you mean by that?” he asked, but his coach had already disconnected.
He didn't like that pause.
What's he not telling me?
If he called back and dug around for answers, he might not like what he heard. And he did need a few more days to get Birdie settled, so he’d let it go. It wasn't like he was the first player to miss a few weeks of veteran camp.
He dropped the phone into the cupholder just as traffic slowed for the Wild West Days barricades. He rolled down his window to take it all in.
Calamity was transformed. White tents lined every business facing the square, canvas tops snapping in the wind.
A crowd gathered around a staged shoot-out in the middle of Main Street.
Fake gunfire cracked, and a man in a long coat tipped and spun before collapsing while tourists clapped and filmed.
A stagecoach rolled by, horses glossy, hooves thudding against pavement, and little kids darted between booths with toy pistols tucked into their belts.
The town smelled like kettle corn and sun-warmed dust.
As he passed the inn’s tent, he tried to gauge the stacks of white boxes behind the table. More people had dropped off pies throughout the morning, so he figured they had plenty.
He looped behind the inn and parked in the family lot, killing the engine but staying seated for a moment. He hadn’t noticed his ankle once while driving.
Good sign.
He stepped out, putting his full weight on the leg, and let himself enjoy the surge of hope. If it kept up like this, he’d be playing sooner than they’d projected.
It only intensified his need to get to Willa. He wouldn’t give her up a second before he had to.
Inside, the private stairway was cool, quiet, and insulated from kitchen noise. When he opened the door into the family apartment, he heard giggling, and it pulled a smile out of him.
Birdie was a happy kid. Quirky, for sure, but happy by nature.
Would taking her on the road wear that out of her? But it wasn’t like he had a choice.
He followed the sound to the bedroom doorway. Willa stood beside the bed, lifting a clean sheet high before letting it float down over Birdie like a parachute. The three-year-old shrieked as it settled, small hands and feet punching upward. When she crawled out, her wild curls covered her eyes.
“Again!” she demanded.
“Okay.” Willa laughed, already lifting the sheet. “Here you go.”
Birdie’s eyes were wide and bright, her smile huge as the white sheet fluttered down over her. When she poked her head out, she gazed up at Willa. “I stay wif you?”
Everything in him stilled.
It wasn’t the question. It was how easily she asked it, like staying somewhere else was normal, like people came and went, and you just…rolled with it.
“You’re welcome here anytime you want.” Willa didn’t miss a beat, though her smile dimmed. “But you live with your daddy.”
“Daddy?” Birdie seemed genuinely confused. “Who dat is?” She sounded curious, not worried.
“Sweetie, Decker’s your daddy. He’s the one who’s been feeding you and giving you baths at night.”
“Like Bwian?”
The name made him flinch.
I’m not like that guy.
“Oh, no. Brian was your mom’s friend. Decker’s your father.” When Birdie gave no sign of understanding, Willa said, “He’s your dad.”
The little girl just looked at her, her little hand clutching the sheet.
A moment ago, she’d been safe. Happy.
And now, she seemed lost.
That’s because I haven't given her a sense of belonging.
I arranged a nanny and filed paperwork to establish paternity. I’ve had my house childproofed. Installed cameras. Bought toys, a bed, a dresser.
When player services asked if he had any preferences, he’d said, “Nah. Whatever works.”
He didn’t know her well enough to say, “Paint an animal mural.” Or “Her favorite color’s green.”
He didn’t know her at all.
Decker had faced blindside hits, a collapsing pocket, and fourth-and-long with everything on the line. He’d taken the kind of hits that left you seeing stars and gotten back up anyway.
But he’d always had a plan to follow, coaches to teach him. A record to beat.
For this little girl, he didn’t have a playbook.
This is what Dad was trying to tell me. He had to figure it out as they went along. And right then, he understood that she didn't need the right car seat or pediatrician.
She needs to know she’s mine. That she belongs to me.
He stepped into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. He got it now. He did. And he wasn't going to stay on the outside of this any longer. “Hey.”
Birdie studied him, her expression cautious, like she was trying to decide what to make of him.
“You’ve been staying with me,” he said, keeping his voice steady, “because I’m your dad. I’m the one who takes care of you.”
When her face stayed blank, he understood she had no context for that word. No reason to trust it. No experience that would make it mean anything good.
Her mom had disappeared and never come back.
She’d lived with a man who didn’t want her.
And Cady had dropped her off with a stranger.
What else could she feel but neglected? Alone. Wanting something she couldn’t name: safety, roots.
Love.
I know what that feels like.
Up until now, nobody had stayed in Birdie's life.
Why would he be any different?
The little girl shifted, inching closer to Willa, her hand resting on Willa’s arm. “Stay wif me?”
The plea hit him hard. Not because she wanted Willa, but because she didn’t have any attachment to him at all.
“I’ll always be your friend, Birdie,” Willa said softly, her voice warm and steady but also threaded with grief.
He drew in a slow breath, forcing himself to stay present instead of slipping into planning mode.
Birdie wasn’t a problem to solve. She wasn’t something to fit into his schedule.
She was his daughter.
“I know we don’t know each other very well yet,” he said carefully, “and I know you’ve been around a lot of people…Brian, Cady, and now me.”
Her gaze stayed on him, watchful.
“But I’m not going anywhere.” And for the very first time, he believed it. “I’m going to be with you. Okay?” He touched her arm, connecting the three of them. “I’m your dad. And that’s forever.”
He didn’t know if he’d done it right. He suspected it was more about actions than words.
And maybe that first move would be a hug.
But just as he leaned in, Birdie reached into her pocket and pulled out a gray striated rock. She offered it to him.
“Oh, cool. Thank you.” He rubbed his thumb over the slightly gritty surface. “You know what this is?”
“Dat catty.”
“Catty?” His mind scrambled to place the two syllables with a word he might recognize.
“You mean a kitty?” Willa asked.
“No.” Birdie shook her head. “Catty. Cat-piwer. It hongry.” Her hand moved like a wave as her mouth chomped.
They both burst out laughing. Decker had been reading her The Very Hungry Caterpillar book, so they finally got it.
“Right. A caterpillar.” He held it between two fingers.
“Actually, this one’s interesting. It’s called gneiss.
And it’s one of the oldest rocks in the world. Over three billion years old.”
She looked at him like he was the dullest person she’d ever met. “It catty.” And she took it back as if only she would know how to care for it.
“Yeah. You’re right.” He’d talked to the nanny about respecting Birdie’s imagination, and what had he done? Given her a lesson in geology.
That’s all right.
He’d get there.
And he’d do it by stepping out of his world and entering hers.
His daughter shoved the rock back into her pocket and turned to Willa. “Again!”
Decker got up, and just as Willa reached for the sheet, he said, “Hey, Birdie? What’s your favorite color?”
She gave it some thought. “Sky.”
He and Willa shared a glance. “Yeah, that’s my favorite, too.” He started toward the door, then stopped as the next piece clicked into place. He knew one way to show up in a way a three-year-old could feel. “You hungry?”
Birdie looked at Willa—save me from dat man’s broccoli—and then shook her head.
“Want to make a pie?” Decker asked.
“Can I?” she asked Willa.
“Don’t look at me. Ask your dad. He’s the best pie maker in the whole world.”
Birdie scrambled off the bed. “Make pie.”
“Let’s do it.” Decker led the way.