Give Me You (38 page)

T
here is nothing hotter than a man with a baby and a diaper bag.

Except watching him put that child to bed. And hearing him say the sweetest goodnight you’ve ever heard over the baby monitor.

Even Deb looked surprised. But I was downright floored.

And turned on as hell.

Skylar has always been confident—probably a little more so than most. But he was nervous about his first visit with his son and it was sweet that he cared so much about being a good dad. Once he got the hang of it, though, watching him get Christian out of the car with ease, carrying the sleeping boy like it was the most natural thing in the world, it was an ovary-exploding sight to behold.

Then while I was returning the diaper bag to Deborah, I heard it. His voice coming through the speaker next to where she stood.

“Night night, big guy. Thanks for hanging out today. Daddy loves you and I’ll be back soon. I promise. Sweet dreams, Christian.”

The cadence of his voice was unlike anything I’d ever heard. Soft and strong. Protective. Raw.

And it’s official.

Skylar Martin is the hottest dad ever.

Something deep in the core of what makes me, well, me, begins to pulse and throb uncontrollably—as if my heart is pumping a drug throughout my system instead of blood.

The car ride is sheer torture and I barely make it inside my front door before jumping Skylar like a complete lunatic—a lunatic in heat. He seems to anticipate my move and practically catches me in mid-air.

His hands grip my waist tightly, and I moan into his mouth.

“I always thought you were hot. Not going to lie. And the closer we got, the more I wanted you. But tonight…you…with Christian…the way you—”

His tongue cuts me off when it slides into my mouth. My knees go weak so he has to literally hold me up.

“I need you. Inside me. Soon,” I tell him. Or maybe I’m begging. I don’t know. I just need him to soothe this ache. Immediately.

Skylar slides his fingers between my thighs, beneath my dress and inside my panties. “Fuck, baby. You’re already wet for me.”

I whimper as he thrusts a finger into my throbbing slit.

“Thank you for wearing a dress tonight. Seriously. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.”

I grind against his hand, trying to get him to that place deep inside but it’s not enough. I growl my frustration and he chuckles low against my neck.

“Want me to fuck you right here against this wall, sweetheart? Or can you make it to the bedroom.”

The bedroom might as well be in a different time zone.

“Wall,” I pant. “Right here. Now. Please.”

He complies, unbuttoning his jeans quickly and lifting me, impaling me on his steely length. He’s inside me without a condom but I can’t find the words to remind him to pull out when we finish.

I wrap my legs around him in a vice grip as he sets the pace for our bodies. This isn’t the way we usually make love. It’s different, but a good different. This is about gratification and pure, animalistic need. With every thrust, he short circuits my brain, making it impossible to think any logical thoughts.

I hear myself, praising him and pleading for more. Normally I’m less vocal, but tonight, I need everything he can give and I need him to know.

I’m mid-release when he jerks hard inside of me. His mouth covers mine, drinking in my every breath, swallowing my moans of pleasure. My orgasm has a life of its own and it overtakes my entire body. I feel him trying to pull out but I clamp down and hold him inside. I need this, need to feel him filling me.

Once I’ve ridden out the wave of ecstasy, I’m drained—weak and unable to anything but slump against his chest.

Skylar lifts me and carries me in his arms to the bedroom.

“I should’ve pulled out,” he says from above my head.

“We both get tested regularly and I take my pill, Sky. Always. Religiously.”

I feel his throat move as he swallows. “I know. It’s just…with everything…I should be more careful. I want to always be careful with you.”

I reach for him when he lays me on the mattress. “I’m not made of glass, you know. Sometimes I like less than careful.”

He leans down and kisses me on the mouth before telling me he’s going to clean us up before he comes to bed.

I drift weightlessly in and out of consciousness, barely aware of the warm washrag that he uses to soothe the sensitive skin between my legs, until his warm body is lying beside me. He pulls me close and whispers in my ear. “Today was perfect. You are perfect. In a hundred lifetimes I could never do enough good to deserve you.”

“I love you, too, Skylar,” I whisper against his neck. His arms tighten around me. “Always.”

I
t takes almost six weeks before we get a court date. Then the Kensington’s lawyer requests a two-week continuance because he has a scheduling conflict.

I returned to the team weeks ago, but my head and heart haven’t been on the field with me. They’re in California with a little boy who has my eyes.

Every weekend that we don’t have a game, I fly home and spend every waking second I can with Christian. Sometimes Corin is able to get away from her internship and she comes with us and sometimes it’s just me and little man.

Even Deb and Jack seem to be surprised that I keep coming back. Part of me wonders if the continuance their attorney requested is bullshit and they’re hoping I’ll lose interest and go away.

I won’t. They can request continuances until their blue in the face—I will not give up on my son. I always give them notice, always arrive on time for pick up and drop off, and I have made sure to keep them informed about what he eats, drinks, and when he sleeps when he’s with me. When he had a fever, I called to let them know that I had contacted his pediatrician and given him the correct dosage of Tylenol. When he got sick after riding the carousel at the fair, I described the color and contents of his vomit.

I don’t know what else they want from me, but whatever it is, I will gladly give it. I have made damn sure there isn’t a single thing they can say against me in court.

I do have a question to ask Deb, though, and I’m not sure how it’s going to go over. It’s two weeks until our court date and the last thing I want to do is piss her off or give her anything to use against me. But I have to try.

After taking Christian to play Putt-Putt and eat froyo on Sunday afternoon, I put him to bed and linger in the Kensington’s living room.

Deb offers me something to drink, but I tell her I’m good. Once I’ve reported in nearly every minute of my time with Christian, I put in my request.

“Do you think he could go to Vancouver with me next weekend? I have a tournament and I don’t want to miss my weekend. My mom and Corin are both coming so they can care for him while I’m working. I’d love for him to get to come to the game.”

I can see the “no” in Deb’s eyes before she says it out loud.

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” I rush on, “but I can call you regularly to check in, we can video chat so you can see that he’s okay, and—”

“Skylar—”

“Deb, please. I’m begging. Tell me what I can do to prove to you that I am not going to let anything bad happen to him. I’ll do it.”

She sighs and rubs her temples. “Let me think about it and talk to Jack, okay? I’ll let you know something soon.”

It’s not a yes, but it’s not a no either. I nod.

“Thank you. For considering it at least. I appreciate that.”

When Deb calls me a week later, I’m nearly positive it’s to tell me I can take Christian to Vancouver over her cold, dead body.

And then she goes and surprises the hell out of me.

I’m leaving a promotional event for the energy drink that contributes a great deal to the team when she calls. Walking to my car, I brace myself for an argument.

“Skylar…Jack and I have been talking. A lot.” There is a strange sounding resignation in her voice. “As you know, parenting was never something that came natural to Fallon’s dad…and for many years all either of us could see was the importance of growing our business.”

I nod as if she can see me then roll my eyes at myself. “Yes ma’am. Fallon was open with me about her lack of a relationship with her dad and about her feelings of abandonment as a child.”

I don’t mean to be a dick, but it is what it is. I’m not going to sugarcoat anything for a woman who caused me to miss out on three years of my son’s life.

“Right. And she was justified in those feelings,” Deb relents. “But now, having Christian around, I guess I thought maybe he’d feel differently. But he didn’t and I spend most of my time alone.”

I don’t have a clue what she’s getting to or if she just wants sympathy or a listening ear so I remain silent.

“I haven’t been fair to you,” she admits. “I’ve been hoping you’d be a terrible father so that I could justify keeping Christian to myself. But that was wrong and I can’t deny the truth any longer.”

“The truth?”

I hear her audible intake of breath over the line. “You’re a good father. A great one. And considering the difficult circumstances you’ve been placed in, finding out overnight that you had a three-year old son, only getting to see him if you take time from work to fly across the country, and, well, dealing with me when I certainly haven’t been very accommodating…but none of that has deterred you.”

“And it never will,” I tell her honestly.

“He asks about you,” she says so low I can barely hear her. “After a couple days of not seeing you, he starts asking where his daddy is.”