Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
“Change of subject,” she says, chuckling. “Next week, you have a game in Ohio. You leave Saturday morning, right?”
“Yep. This is really good,” I tell her.
“Thank you. Okay, so trick-or-treating is Friday, so as long as Cam is better, that should be a go, right?”
“You know my schedule as well as I do,” I tell her. “If I don’t have something with the team, I’ll be wherever you want me to be.”
“Aww, that’s actually kind of sweet.”
“It’s also selfish. I can’t seem to get enough of you,” I tell her.
“Is this one of those ‘will you be my girlfriend? Check yes or no’ conversations?” she jokes.
“Nope. You’re mine already. No boxes need to be checked, because we’re nothing but yes in the Sinclair house.”
“Oh, Cam is going to love to hear that when he wakes up.”
“Let me amend that. Nothing but yes between us. I’ll never tell you no. It’s those damn eyes. They twinkle when you smile, and I’m toast.”
“Just my eyes?”
My body heats. I know what she’s asking, and so does she. “All of you,” I amend.
“I’m going to need you to eat so you can show me.”
“I’m full,” I say, pushing my half-eaten bowl away from me.
“No way, Sinclair. Eat and then we can go upstairs and have dessert.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Pulling the bowl back, I devour my soup and grab another bowl, because damn, it’s good, while she finishes her first. Together, we pack away the leftovers. Okay, she tries to pack away the leftovers, but I keep stealing kisses and touching her because she’s mine, and there will never be a time that I won’t want my hands on her.
“Ready for bed?”
“Yes. I want to check on Cam.”
I hold out my hand for her and lead her upstairs. We stop by Camden’s room, and he’s sleeping soundly, so I pull her down the hall to our room. It’s technically mine, or the one I use up here, but everything I am belongs to her, so it’s now ours.
I trail kisses down her neck as my hand slides under her sweatshirt. She buries her hands in my hair, and any exhaustion I felt from the game disappears. Reaching for the waistband of her leggings, I start to undress her when Camden lets out a cry. I pull back, resting my forehead against hers, trying to catch my breath.
She traces her hand over my hard cock. “I’ll go. He can’t see this,” she says, kissing me one more time, before going to check on my son.
A few minutes later, she appears with Cam in her arms. “He wants to see his daddy,” she says.
“Come here, bud.” He reaches out for me, and I take him to bed and cuddle him close. My eyes find Sloane’s. “Sorry,” I whisper. “Rain check?”
“He comes first. Always. You’re a dad, Baker. I know that.”
“Come here.” She moves closer, and I shift us around so that I’m holding both of them as we drift off to sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sloane
* * *
Tonight has been so much fun. Everyone met us here, then we loaded the kids up in the wagon and took off around the neighborhood. All five of the guys were troopers with dressing up and playing their part. Amanda ended up canceling. Something about Ethan having to work and her not feeling well. I’m not sure I believe it, but we all told her to feel better and to let us know if she needed anything.
I think her husband refused to participate, and she didn’t want to have to make excuses for him again. I could be wrong, and I hope that I am—not that I want her to be sick—but I do want her husband to make time for her.
“I can’t believe they thought the two of you were dressed up as yourselves.” Corie laughs.
We’re all back at Baker’s place after a night of trick-or-treating, talking about the night. We ordered pizza and wings and are waiting for them to arrive. “We were us,” Foster says, looking down at his jersey. “It’s not hard to be me.”
“What he said.” Baker grins. “You did well, babe. We had to put in minimal effort.” He chuckles.
“You’re welcome.” I grin up at him, and Foster holds up his hand for a high-five, and I slap my palm against his.
“I know, but they thought you were not the real you dressed as you,” Corie says, shaking her head.
“And what about you all?” I ask Corie. “That kid was all ‘Ma’am, your husband looks like Knox Beckett,” I tease.
“I know. I wanted so badly to tell him he was right, but I knew with all five of them there, we’d get mobbed.” She grins.
“It was nice,” Landry says, “to be out like that and have people think we looked like us, but didn’t bother us like they would if they knew that it really was us.”