Chapter 10
Tate
I wake to the sensation of something soft and warm pressed against my body.
At first, my groggy brain assumes that Danny has clawed the door open and wriggled his way into my bed again, as he so often does.
But this warm, soft figure isn’t exactly hairy and doesn’t smell like dog. In fact, I smell … lavender?
And just then it hits me, and the memories of last night come flooding back. Grinning with my eyes still closed, I wrap my arms around Lucy’s warm body, pulling her tighter against me.
So much better than that fucking dog.
She giggles softly, and I open my eyes to a mess of brown hair splayed out across the pillow. I scoop it out of the way, pressing kisses to her cheek and neck until those giggles of hers slowly morph into soft sighs.
“Morning,” she says, her voice adorably groggy. Fuck, I could wake up to that voice every day of my life.
“Morning,” I reply, finally capturing her lips with mine.
She giggles, turning to face me but pushing me lightly away. “I haven’t brushed my teeth yet!” she protests.
I scoff. “First, if you think a little morning breath is going to scare me away, you’re crazy. And secondly, you don’t have any,” I say, pressing my lips to hers again.
My hands roam down her sides, down her bare body that’s still naked from last night. I break the kiss to slowly push the covers off of us, the warm morning sun cascading across Lucy’s picture-perfect body.
She squeals, grabbing for the covers, and I cock my head, leaning in to press my lips to her ear. “I’ve already seen all of you, sweet girl, don’t you remember?” I ask.
I see her cheeks flush pink, and fuck I’m hard already. “Yeah, but it was in the dark,” she says.
“Exactly. So it’s only going to be better now,” I insist. She looks at me with a peculiar expression.
Like she wants to believe me, but that something in her head is stopping her.
And god damn it if I’m going to let her leave this bedroom without thinking—no, knowing—that she’s the most gorgeous creature on this planet.
“Lucy,” I say slowly, running my hands along the curve of her side, her hip, her thigh. “Tell me you know how goddamn beautiful you are.”
Her cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink, and my stomach churns.
I sit up, throwing the comforter off of both of us in one quick yank. Lucy gasps and moves to cover herself, but I quickly throw my leg over her, straddling her, staring down at her chest heaving as she looks up at me.
“You’re perfect,” I murmur, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Every inch of you,” I say, trailing that finger down her neck, her collarbone, her chest. “I hope you know I like you because of you. Because of a million things about you I could list right now—but fuck, Lucy, this body of yours … it makes me …” I gently run a thumb over one of her nipples, and she bites her lip, “Feral,” I choke out.
She whimpers, and it takes every ounce of strength I have not to sink the length of me into her right fucking now.
“The way your waist and hips curve at just the right spots,” I say, gliding my hands along her skin, squeezing her flesh as I go.
“These freckles that I just keep finding everywhere.” I grin as I notice another on her lower belly, and I move to kiss it, keeping my eyes pinned on hers.
“Your breasts that fit perfectly in the palm of my hand,” I say, reaching up to cup one and squeeze it gently.
“The color of your nipples,” I say. “Pink. So pretty.” I lean down to gently glide my tongue over her already hardened bud, and she moans softly.
“The way your body responds so perfectly to everything I do,” I go on.
I’m pressing kisses to her breasts, down her stomach, moving myself so that I’m situated between her thighs, grabbing them and spreading them wide before me.
I glance up and meet her eyes—a mixture of nerves and arousal. “And this perfect pussy of yours,” I breathe. She shudders. “This perfect pussy that takes me so well.”
She’s biting her lip, looking almost pained, and god I’m loving every second of it. I trail my fingers softly along her inner thighs, my gaze landing on the moisture I can see growing between them. My eyes locked on hers, I slowly lower myself and glide my tongue along her slit.
She whimpers, arching her back and throwing her head back against the pillows as I continue licking her, finding her clit and drawing slow circles.
“God, you taste even better than I imagined,” I breathe.
Pinning her legs down on either side of me, I go to work, teasing her entrance, her clit, over and over again until she’s writhing beneath me, losing her dignity in the best way possible.
“Tate,” she gasps, reaching for me, and I look up. “Fuck me,” she pleads, and the words go straight to my dick.
Nearly panting, I scramble up, reaching for a condom from the nightstand and then positioning myself over her. “Are you sore from last night?” I breathe. I’m not completely clueless. I could tell she’d had a hard time taking me for the first time—and it’s not like she’s the only one who ever has.
Her eyes widen, and that fucking blush grows deeper. “A little,” she admits, and I know it’s fucking wrong, but it makes me harder at the thought.
“Do you still want to?” I ask.
She nods vehemently.
I kiss her deeply, positioning myself at her entrance and then slowly sliding inside.
She gasps, and I still, searching her eyes for permission to keep going.
But she whimpers and bucks her hip, so I continue.
And I swear being inside Lucy Adler is like walking straight into heaven.
My vision practically blurs, and I have to concentrate not to come right then and there.
“That’s my girl,” I praise, pumping slowly in and out of her. She whines in response, and I can’t help but grin. My girl likes dirty talk.
I slowly pick up the pace, pumping faster and faster. Then, grabbing her body and pulling her toward me, I flip both of us until Lucy is on top. Her eyes widen, and she stares down at me in surprise, but I don’t let it crush our momentum.
I grab her hips, moving her on top of me, coaxing her into grinding herself against me. She quickly gains the rhythm and then takes over, picking up speed as she rides me. Her eyes closed, her mouth drops open, and she moans, her hands pressed against my chest as she chases her pleasure.
I reach up to caress her breasts, pinching her nipples and eliciting more moans and whimpers from Lucy. Then I snake a hand down between us, finding her clit and rubbing.
She squeals, riding me faster, and I can practically see the wave of her orgasm approaching. She opens her eyes, shock registering in them. “Tate, I—fuck!” she cries, her eyes rolling back and her legs shaking. I come at the same time, groaning as the pleasure courses through me.
Panting, Lucy stares down at me, those hazel eyes of hers searing into my soul. I squeeze her waist, grinning up at her, suddenly envisioning every morning for the rest of my life. “Kiss me,” I demand, and she does.
I might as well have taken today off based on all the work I got done. I even had two of my ranch hands commenting on my lack of focus today, wondering if I was coming down with something.
If only they knew the truth. That I can barely go five seconds without envisioning Lucy’s naked body in my mind. And not just that. I’ve been envisioning … a future.
I feel crazy admitting it to myself. A future? I haven’t thought romantically about a woman since Fern was born. And even before Fern, I was never serious with dating. It was all fun and games. Until it was serious—too serious to even date.
And now here I am, living out the most cliched fantasy of all time. I literally slept with my daughter’s nanny.
It’s either going to work out extremely well or go very, very badly.
Fuck. I’m torn between kicking myself and patting myself on the back. Because I knew the risks going in. I knew them every step of the way. And yet I kept on walking. And everything about Lucy is so goddamn perfect I’m having a hard time seeing how this could fall apart.
But I know I need to be realistic. And that we should probably talk about it.
I pull my truck up to the ranch house, smiling when I see Lucy and Fern sprawled out on the front lawn with at least a dozen of Fern’s plastic ponies.
My gaze meets Lucy’s through the windshield as I put my car in park, and there go those butterflies again. Those butterflies that, until meeting Lucy, I’d thought grown-ass men were immune too.
I hop out of the car, striding across the lawn toward them. Fern squeals when she sees me, grabbing the nearest pony and holding it up for me to see. “This one can fly, Daddy!” she announces.
“Is that so?” I ask, taking a seat on the grass next to Lucy.
“Uh huh, and she’s going to teach this one how too,” Fern goes on, presenting me with another pony. Fern whirls away from us, twirling her ponies in the air.
Lucy shoots me a shy smile, her cheeks slightly pink, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s spent the day consumed with thoughts of last night—and this morning—just like I have.
“Hi,” she says quietly, her fingers lightly brushing mine against the grass.
“Hi back,” I say.
Fern tosses one of her horses into the air, yelping as it comes crashing down to the grass. “Fern, be careful! You’re going to hit yourself in the head,” I call, stifling my laugh so that she’ll take me seriously.
Lucy chuckles, and we watch Fern for a few minutes as she continues running around.
I take a deep breath, intertwining my fingers with Lucy’s and grabbing her attention. “Lucy, I … about last night.”
She stiffens, and I can see a bit of the color draining from her face. She straightens, pulling her hand from my grasp. “You regret it,” she breathes.
“No! No,” I say quickly, grasping her hand and squeezing it. “Are you kidding me? You … we ...” I shake my head, sighing. “No, I do not regret it. I just want to make sure you don’t.” I glance up to meet her gaze, and the warmth returns.
“I don’t regret it, Tate,” she says.
I can’t help but smile. As much as I assumed she felt the same, it’s good to hear her say it.
“But the thing is …” I look down at our hands clasped together, and I run my thumb over her palm a few times, trying to gather my thoughts.
“I’m a package deal. Obviously.” My eyes dart to Fern, who’s sitting in the grass about fifteen feet away, playing with her horses.
“So when I date—I mean, I don’t date. I haven’t dated since Fern …
Jesus, okay, sorry. Didn’t mean to say that … ” I clear my throat.
“For someone who hasn’t dated since conceiving your child, I’d call last night some pretty good muscle memory,” Lucy quips, and I swear to god I can feel my cheeks growing red.
I laugh, biting my lip. And then I glare down at the grass because I know if I look at Lucy, I’ll lose my train of thought.
I take another breath. “When I date, I have to think about more than just me. I have to think about her. And maybe that’s not fair, but it’s the way it is.
So this—whatever this is—I need you to consider me, but more importantly, I need you to consider Fern. ”
I look up to meet her gaze, hoping that she understands what I’m saying.
That dating me isn’t just looking into the future of our relationship.
That dating me means she needs to think about what it would be like to be …
Fern’s mom. I just can’t seem to say those words out loud.
As if the gravity of them could scare her away. Scare me away.
Only the idea of Lucy being a mother to Fern is doing something funny to my chest right now. This warm, fuzzy feeling followed by a tight squeeze at the prospect of possibly being too good to be true. God, it almost hurts.
But instead of recoiling or pulling back or stammering something noncommittal, Lucy squeezes my hand back, her smile growing wider. “Oh Tate, I fell in love with your daughter well before I even tolerated you.”
A loud, genuine laugh bubbles out of me, exuberant enough to grab Fern’s attention from across the lawn. She comes bounding back, throwing herself into my arms and asking, “Why are you laughing?”
I chuckle, pulling her into a tight hug against me. “Because your nanny is so funny,” I reply.
Fern gives Lucy a thoughtful look and then nods decidedly. “Yeah, Lucy is funny.”
Our gazes meet over the top of Fern’s head, and that funny feeling in my chest grows. And I’m not a praying man by any means, but if I get one prayer answered in my lifetime, I hope to God it’s this one.