15. Don’t Wake the Baby

I return a few hours later, after a grueling study session, dragging my feet. Of course, checking my phone every ten minutes in case Tucker called with an emergency didn't help. But I never heard a peep out of him.

I figure I'll deal with him, then get the baby to bed, and study another hour or two until my eyes drop. This grueling pace will be over soon and I'll be done with school. It's been seven long years of hard work and dedication to get to this point. With a bachelor's in business administration and a law degree, I won't stop now that the end is near. I can sleep after graduation all I want.

I walk into the apartment on a sigh, and note the lights are dim. I kick my shoes off, then take a few more steps in when the sounds of soft lullaby music lilts into my ears. After rounding the corner into the family room, I stop.

Tucker is there, swaying with Remy zonked out in his arms. His little head of golden hair against his father's chest, and his arms hanging loose, completely asleep, leave me speechless, at first.

Our eyes meet, dancing together, lost in their own conversation. I step closer, my heart filling with desire, but it also irritates me as he didn't follow my instructions.

"Well, he's alive," I whisper. "And you got him to go to sleep, which is nice, but?—"

"I tried to lay him down, but he kept reaching for me and wanted to be in my arms. And next thing I know, this happened." Tucker casts me a lopsided grin. Cute, but it doesn't erase the fact that it took me months to get Remy into the habit of sleeping in his crib.

"Oh, it's such a bad habit, though, to let him sleep on you. He knows how to go down to sleep in his crib. Didn't you read the part about patting his back gently to help soothe him asleep?"

"Hey, Whitney? He's my son and I'm his dad and we did all right for our first night together. Seeing how I missed the first year of his life, I think it's okay that he fell asleep in my arms for one night."

My heart flutters. I remember how I fell asleep for one night while in Montana with him, too. Tucker's body temperature was warm and cuddly, his muscular body holding me; there's no other safe feeling in the world that I've known since then.

It's no wonder that Remy would want to sleep in his father's arms. And it's like my heart picks up where I left it—right with him back in Montana, only this time, there's nothing stopping us from taking things further between us.

"Follow me. We'll get him to sleep together," I say and lead him down the hall to the nursery.

Once there, with dim lights and his soft music playing, and a few more whispers between us about how best to lay him down on his stomach, Tucker follows through. The baby fusses just a little, but with a few smooth pats of his big hand down the baby's back, the rhythm eventually lulls him to sleep again.

Tucker lingers there, crouched over, his chin on his hands, holding onto the edge of the crib, looking lovingly at our child, and he says, "We sure made a beautiful baby together, Trouble."

He shifts and faces me, lifting a hand, running the back of his knuckles down my cheek, and my heart can't take it anymore. I think I'm falling fast. This is insane—how much this man turns me on by being a father to our child like this. But all these feelings rushing in scare me, too.

He leans in to my ear and whispers, "How I'd love to make more babies with you."

I melt. My heart flutters at his words and my body responds instinctively, my panties soaking. His lips, like a seductive crawl, brush along my jawline, landing on mine, capturing them. One, two, three soft kisses, and my heart beats wildly against my ribcage.

I open up and let him in. My moans rise and fall as he deepens our kisses, tongues entwining, until I break apart, panting, gasping for air. With a gaze deep into his hazel eyes, my chest heaves. "Oh, Tucker."

"Shh…" He places a finger on my lips, the corner of his mouth on a sly upturn. "Don't wake the baby," his husky whisper turns the air between us alive, crackling with electricity, pulsing with anticipation.

We move in unison, lips locked in a tender dance. His passion like a map, guiding the way, his hands cup my cheeks, backing me quietly from the nursery, closing the door behind him.

He's like a skilled father seducing mama for the hundredth time, pursuing me with more kisses until he finds the perfect spot to press me against the wall in the hallway.

"Are you still on birth control?" He checks, his cock twitching in his sweats, knocking on my stomach. I want him more than anything. What has he done to me?

"I am, but I didn't really need it the past two years," I explain.

"What do you mean? You haven't been with anyone else?"

"I lied," I cry, tearing myself away from him, and I head for the kitchen. Once there, I turn on the baby monitor, swipe a tear away, then dive my hands into the cold, soapy water, where the dishes are still waiting to be done.

Everything is so crazy right now. I feel his energy behind me long before he leans in. He gathers my hair to the side and caresses my neck, massaging my shoulders. At the release of tension and his hands on me, I moan, my body tingling from head to toe.

"Care to explain yourself, Trouble?" He asks.

I grasp the edge of the counter with wet hands. "I wasn't dating anyone, at least not seriously, at the time that you and I were together. You're the only man that could have fathered Remy, and I'm sorry I led you to believe otherwise. I just I freaked out. I never expected to see you there in Brad's office. And given his rule and our past, I needed time to think about things."

"I'm not mad. It's okay, baby."

"Why are you so understanding?"

"Do you make it a habit to lie?" He asks.

"No."

"Didn't think so. You see, I took one look at you in that small town bar where we met and knew right away you're a very good girl." His voice drops low, wetting my panties again.

My thighs quiver, my breath catching, as his lips land on my shoulder and collarbone, kissing up to my neck. My flesh prickles, desiring more of him and his hands allover me.

"I think you're an intelligent woman who doesn't just open her legs for anyone," he continues. "Why you chose me that night in Montana is a mystery you'll have to clue me in on sometime. But right now, you have me so fucking hard knowing that you haven't been with anybody else."

I swivel to face him, my jealousy slipping out. "But what about you? Mr. Hockey Playboy? It seems there are a lot of women who comment on your social media. There's one with you holding a baby, and I think it generated the most."

"So you spied on me?" He chuckles and pulls me in for a hug. "That's Duke's kid. And don't read too much into it. These women, puck bunnies we call them, like to think they know me and the guys on the team well, but they don't. Let me be very clear. I haven't been with another woman since you, Whitney. I've been obsessed, replaying that night in my head every single day since then."

Remy cries out in his sleep. We both freeze, listening to the monitor, until a few seconds later he's quiet again. I weaken in Tucker's arms, suddenly so tired. He wants me tonight; I know it, and I want him, too, but with a glance at the laptop open with my school work glaring at me, I feel weighed down again by everything. "I have so much to do, and I'm so stressed."

Tucker follows my gaze. All of a sudden, I'm lifted in the air, carried off in his muscular arms. He even grabs the baby monitor. Oh, God, he's a wonderful father.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Listen, baby mama, you come first. You're stressed? Let me take care of you for tonight. I'll make you feel so good, I promise. Tomorrow you can deal with everything else."

I can't go on denying how much I want him. Or how my heart beats crazy for him since the moment he reappeared in my life. When he sets me on the bathroom counter and reaches for the tap to run the water, I don't argue. I let go of everything holding me back and flow with it.