"I need it, baby," I cry out. "Yes, I want to come for you."
"Come on my face, little benchwarmer," he pulls back long enough to say, that sexy twinkle in his eye when he glances up at me from between my thighs.
He's so handsome, dark hair and green eyes, muscled shoulders, and a heart that beats for his three girls—me, JoAnna, and Riley.
"God, I love you," I moan.
That earns me a long, glorious suck on my clit. I gasp as pleasure peaks and I feel my release flood out of me. His groans of need as he keeps his face right there turn me on even more. He always takes his time pleasuring me.
I shudder as he coaxes another release from me, my legs trembling on either side of his shoulders.
He nips the inside of my thigh, then rises to his feet. With gentle hands, he eases me back onto the mattress, eyes bright as they survey me spread across the bed.
"Open for me," he commands in that sexy as sin voice. "I want to see you before I take you, take what's mine."
"Yes, baby," I say breathless and wanton, shifting higher on the bed.
He sheds his clothes quickly, then joins me on the mattress. He lines up at my entrance, then pauses to look at me. We lock eyes as he slides into me, his girth opening me up even as I clench him automatically.
He groans, eyes closing as he slides in and out. "You feel so good, babe. Fucking tight and so wet for me."
He brackets my shoulders with his arms, kissing me as he thrusts harder, our bodies moving together on the soft sheets.
Two years ago, I never would have thought this could be my life. That he could be mine, that we could be so utterly, devastatingly, perfectly happy.
"Come for me again, my little benchwarmer," he growls out against my lips.
I'm lost in him, the feel of him in me, the scent of him, the warmth of him…the way he makes my heart explode again and again.
We come together in a dance of passion and possession. Our dance we built together the day the playboy decided to trust the reporter.
Afterward, as we lie tangled in the sheets, his fingers trace lazy patterns on my back. Through the window, I can hear JoAnna's delighted squeals as a wave chases her tiny feet.
"I never knew it could be like this," I whisper against his chest. "Growing up with just my mom, then losing her, then reconnecting with my dad... I never had a model for what a real family could be."
He kisses the top of my head. "Me neither. After my parents died, I thought protecting Riley meant keeping her hidden away. I never imagined we could have this—a life in the open, together."
I prop myself up on one elbow, looking at the man who changed everything for me. The man who taught me that not all athletes are like my father—some of them build families instead of abandoning them.
"Speaking of your dad," Jax says, glancing at his watch. "Isn't he supposed to arrive today?"
As if on cue, I hear a familiar voice calling out a greeting, followed by JoAnna's excited squeal of "Grandpa!"
I quickly throw on a sundress while Jax pulls on shorts, and we step out onto the deck. There's my father, kneeling in the sand, arms wide as JoAnna toddles toward him. His recovery center t-shirt shows the logo of the foundation he started for athletes struggling with addiction—the one Jax quietly helps fund.
Dad looks up, catches my eye, and waves. The years of pain and distance between us haven't completely disappeared, but they've faded enough that moments like this are possible now. Moments where my daughter knows her grandfather. Where my husband and my father talk sports and recovery and second chances.
"Go on," Jax says, giving me a gentle push. "I'll join you in a minute."
I make my way down to the beach, watching as Dad lifts JoAnna high in the air, her laughter carrying on the sea breeze.
"There's my girl," Dad says when I reach them, pulling me into a one-armed hug while balancing JoAnna on his hip. "Both my girls."
Riley and Mrs. Mathews join us, followed by Pen, who's already asking Dad about his latest celebrity client.
When Jax appears a few minutes later, he wraps an armaround my waist and shakes my father's hand. Two athletes from different generations, both carrying their own scars, both finding their way to redemption.
"I was thinking," Dad says, bouncing JoAnna gently, "if you're not busy tomorrow, there's a father-daughter fishing charter. Thought maybe we could..."
