After pouring him a measure of amber liquid and topping off her white wine, she led him back to the living room and curled up on one end of a wide, deep, cream-colored couch in front of a cozy fire. He averted his eyes from the hallway shrine, locking it out of his mind as he lowered himself beside her. They clinked glasses. One sip, and the liquor burned its way down to his stomach. “I met Parker after the game. Nice guy.”
“You did? How?”
“He and Ivy were waiting to say thanks when I left the arena.” Another heat-filled sip. “Have you given the Dillon ice castles any more thought?”
She let out a little laugh. “I thought you said ‘take your time’?”
He dropped his arm on her leg, his thumb caressing circles on her smooth skin. “I did, but I figured it doesn’t hurt to ask. Plus, I’d like to have it squared away before I head out on the road.”
“Oh right. That makes sense.” Her eyes darted around the room. She seemed fidgety all of a sudden, and he expected her to haul out her necklace at any second.
He splayed his fingers over her thigh and canted his head to get a better look at her. “Hey, are we okay here? Did my asking about Dillon make you uncomfortable?”
A few twitches of her head told him no.
“Then what’s going on?” Inner alarms were rising, and he found himself hoping she wasn’t about to tell him she regretted last night.
She took a tiny sip of her wine. “I didn’t want to bring up the game, but do you think … I mean, it wasn’t your best game, and I wonder—”
“That’s putting it mildly,” he huffed. He scooted a little closer, pulling her legs across his lap. “I think I know where you’re going, and no, I don’t think last night had anything to do with my lousy game.” Her curls caught the light, and he had a hankering to tangle his fingers in them. “I have off games, and that’s what tonight was. An off game.” He reached out and pulled some of her strands loose.
“What are you doing?” she laughed.
“I guess I’m taking your hair down.”
“And you’re doing this why?”
He freed a few more curls and set his drink aside so he could devote both hands to the job. “Because I’ve never seen such soft, curly hair, and I love touching it.” It all came tumbling down, and he played with it as he arranged it on her shoulders.
“Better?” She gave him a knowing smile.
“Yeah. It makes it easier to do this.” He took her wineglass from her and placed it next to his half-full drink. Then he ran his hands in her hair and held her head, stroking his thumbs over her smooth cheeks while he drew her mouth to his. She parted her lips for him, and their tongues met for one long, lingering kiss. She pulled away, her half-lidded eyes on him. A lazy smile tipped her plump lips. He kissed her again, harder this time, and her hands wound around his shoulders to press him closer. He snaked one hand under the hem of her jersey while he continued holding her head in place. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, and a mewl rose in her throat. Suddenly, his body was on fire. He broke away and trailed kisses to her ear. “Jesuuuus, Lil. The more I’m with you, the more I want you.”
She dropped her shoulder, giving him better access to her throat. “So I didn’t wear you out last night, Professor?” she breathed.
Between open-mouthed kisses up and down her neck, he murmured, “Not even close. You’re my superhero drug.” He nudged her collar, nibbling the skin at the base of her neck, while under her jersey his fingers dipped into her bra cup and fondled her soft flesh.
A wail rose from somewhere behind him. He was still turning to see what it was when Lily disentangled herself and sprang from the couch with lightning speed. Daisy stood between the living room and hallway, her face red, tears staining her cheeks, her eyes trained on him.
“Mommy,” she whimpered.
His heart nearly imploded. Had seeing him kiss her mom—and feeling her up—freaked the poor kid out? He rearranged his pants and stood.
Lily was on her knees, her hands on Daisy’s arms. “What is it, sweetheart?”
“I threw up.” She began to cry, her little body shuddering. All of him wanted to do something, but he had no idea what, so he shoved his hands in his pockets and stood there like a dumbass.
Lily rose, scooping Daisy into her arms, and shot him a backward glance. “If you need to get going, I understand.”
Shit! What’s the translation? “I want you to leave” or “If you want to run the hell away, I won’t hold it against you”?
“Is there anything I can do to help?” he called after her, feeling lamer by the second.
“No.” As she carried Daisy down the hall, he could hear the little girl’s voice. “Why is Mr. Cage here, Momma?” He should have left right then, but something wouldn’t let him.
The evening turned out far different than he’d ever imagined. Though it took time, he eventually wore down some serious Lily walls. Whether they were mama bear walls or stubbornly independent ones, he couldn’t say. When Lily finally caved, she let him help remake Daisy’s bed. At one point, he even read Daisy a few pages from Is Your Mama a Llama?—one he recognized from his own childhood—while Lily steam cleaned the rug in Daisy’s bedroom. He tried to infuse a lilt in his voice as he read, which seemed to work because Daisy burrowed into him. Probably needs the body heat. She said little but occasionally gave him a big-eyed
