I nod breathlessly, heart pounding. He lifts me as if I weigh nothing, and I cling to him, willing to go wherever he wants me to.
He walks into his bedroom, where I’ve only been one other time—to grab his phone when he forgot it up here. He shuts the door with the softest of clicks, walks me over to the bed, and gently sets me down.
“The girls,” I whisper, reaching for the hem of his shirt.
“I’ll cover your mouth.” He tugs it the rest of the way off.
I’ll never grow tired of seeing him without a shirt.
My fingers run down the valley of his abs. “What about you?”
“You’re the loud one.”
“Excuse me?” I raise both eyebrows.
He strips his mouth off my neck to give me a wicked grin. “I say it as a compliment.”
When he does that thing with his tongue along my collarbone, I forget all about our playful arguing, though I’m half tempted to act as if what he’s doing isn’t driving me wild with want.
The desire snaps, and our hands are everywhere. His mouth on my throat, my hands buried in his hair. He nudges me up the bed, crawling up over me until his body presses me into the mattress.
Nothing could be more perfect than it is with him. The way he’s able to slow our pace, wanting to take his time.
Bennett undresses me one painfully slow touch and kiss at a time, and when he pushes into me while gazing down at me, it almost brings tears to my eyes. He whispers sweet promises, and my fingers dig into his shoulder blades as I meet him thrust for thrust.
By the time we both come on a strangled whimper, making sure not to wake the girls, exhaustion takes over my body.
The room is a cocoon of crumpled sheets and early morning light. I blink, disoriented, trying to remember where I am. I feel the warm body at my back, see the picture of Wren and Leia on the nightstand, and it all comes together.
I search for my phone, but I have no idea where it is.
“Shit,” I whisper, hitting Bennett’s arm.
He mumbles something but doesn’t get up. I hit him again.
Knock. Knock.
“Daddy?”
Bennett jerks beside me, sitting up as though the word daddy is a blaring alarm clock. I’ll have to remember that for next time. His hand flies out as though he’s searching for his phone too, but I’m thinking it must be downstairs with mine.
“Shit,” he hisses, sitting up and running his hand over his face.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
I freeze. “Is that?—”
“Wren.” He presses his palms over his face. “It’s Wren.”
“Daddy, are you awake?”
I scramble, grabbing my shirt from the floor and shimmying it on backward before fixing it. “Where are my, oh my god, my underwear?—”
“Laney.” He reaches for me. “Just stay still a second.”
I’m half out of bed, shirt on, crouching to find the rest of my clothes. I shoot him a frantic look. “Where do I go?”
“Maybe we let her know you’re here,” he whispers, rubbing his face again, clearly trying to shake off sleep. If he was in a panic like me, maybe his heart rate would get him to wake up and get dressed.
