"Is he down?" Pace asks, looking up and locking eyes with me.

"Yes, he's asleep. Are you sure you're okay with us taking your bed?" I ask.

"Of course. I wouldn't have offered if I didn't mean it."

I nod. I'm beginning to understand that about him—he doesn’t do or say things just to impress. There is meaning and depth behind everything he does.

"I know you said you don't drink much, but there's more beer, if you want one."

"I'm fine, thanks." I sit down beside him, realizing that the last time we were alone on a couch, I mounted him like a horse and rode him. No, I certainly don't need to add alcohol to the equation. Geez, I'd be bucking against him like a bronco.

"I think I'm going to call it a night," I say, stifling a yawn. It's only eight o'clock, but the meds I took earlier have made me sleepy.

Pace's eyes drift from the television over to me, and he slowly surveys my body. "Are you going to need help getting in and out of that contraption?"

I glance down at myself. I have a cast and a sling over the top of that, holding my right arm still and against my body. Honestly, changing clothes and showering is probably going to be difficult to do one-armed, but I will manage somehow. My cheeks flame bright red just thinking about Pace's big hands moving against my skin to help me disrobe. "I-I'll be okay."

"Suit yourself," he says, his low voice rumbling in the silent room.

"Good night." I want to thank him again for his hospitality, knowing Max is sleeping peacefully in the other room and that we're safe and taken care of for the night makes my chest feel tight. But I tip my head to the floor and scurry off to the bedroom. After checking on Max, I grab a pair of pajamas from my bag and head into the bathroom to change.


I push my arms through the holes of my T-shirt and remove it. My bra comes off next, getting momentarily stuck against my cast, before I free it and toss it aside with my shirt. If I'd known I was going to break my arm today, I wouldn’t have worn my skintight skinny jeans. These are hard to remove on a good day. Crap.

I get the jeans halfway down my thighs and begin to shimmy my hips, hoping the move will somehow coax these babies down my legs. No luck. I push and tug and twist, but they are stuck. Placing one foot on the side of the tub, I buck against the fabric.


With my legs bound tightly in denim, I tumble to the floor with a shout.


I sprint down the hall, wondering what the hell could have caused Kylie to scream. My first thought is an intruder. I burst through the door to the bedroom, ready to defend her, but Max is asleep in the bed alone, so then I shove my way into the bathroom.

Kylie is sprawled out on the tile floor, a pair of jeans midway around her thighs, holding her arm to her chest. Her very naked chest. My brain short-circuits temporarily as the abundance of pale, creamy skin hits me.

"Shit, what happened?" I lift her to her feet.

She's breathing and not bleeding anywhere that I can see, but my eyes assess every inch of her, seeking out injury. All I discover is that she has a glorious rack. Full, bouncy C's tipped with tight pink nipples, and my dick springs to life. Her panties are lime green and are the boy shorts kind. They're cute and unexpected.

"A little help here?" she huffs out, flinging her arms across her chest to cover her breasts.

"Sorry. Of course." I sit her down on the edge of the tub and peel the jeans down her legs, freeing her. "There. How's that?"

"Better. Thank you."

She's thanking me for taking her pants off? "Anytime."

We stand there, me with an erect cock, and her dressed in only a pair of panties that show the bottom of her ass cheeks, just watching each other.

"You can go now," she says, her voice small.

There's no way in fuck I'm leaving just when things are getting good. "Come on. Let me help, I won't have you risk further injury." My dimples give away my good mood, but seeing her topless makes me happy.

To my surprise, she doesn't argue. I grab her pajamas from the bathroom counter. I hold the shorts out for her to step into and she places her good hand against my bicep, momentarily uncovering those beauties while she steps one foot and then the other into the shorts. She covers her breasts once again. No, no, no, that won't do.

I hold the T-shirt out. "Arms up."

"No way. You'll see my breasts."

"I already saw them, angel and they're perfect, so you have nothing to be self-conscious about." Shit, I'd be tugging on my dick later to the image of them swaying when she moved.

She swallows and slowly lowers her arms.

Hell. Yes.

If she wasn't hurt, I'd want to nuzzle my face right in between them, bath them in kisses, spend hours, no days, getting to know them on a deep, intimate level. I push her arms through the sleeves, and my hands accidentally graze her tits as I lower the shirt.

Kylie sucks in a breath and holds it. "Thank you," she squeaks out a moment later.

"You're welcome," I murmur, my voice thick with desire.

I pray that she'll invite me into the bed with her and Max. I know nothing will happen, I just want to be close to her, but she says goodnight, then closes the bedroom door. My bedroom. That I've willingly given up to her and her child. I don't know who this man is I've become, but I think I like him.

Chapter Seven


In the morning, I wake to the sounds of baby squeals in the distance, and I jump out of bed. Max must have climbed from the bed and is doing God knows what in Pace's condo.