Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Niko

Coach's words echo in my ears even an hour after we spoke.

You know I trust you, Drugov. Don ' t make me regret it.

I should have driven Chloe directly to his house after sorting her duplex. In fact, I am shocked he did not demand as much over the phone. What was I thinking insisting Chloe stay at my house while her place is being repaired? Clearly, I was not. But she is doing me such an enormous favor, it seemed like the only choice at the time.

Lunch was a quiet affair on my end as I fought thoughts of Coach lopping my balls off with an axe after learning of my fantasies starring his daughter. But Chloe was able to fill the silence with stories about her old teaching job and questions about Ayana. The more I learn about her, the more I am drawn to her—which is going to make the next few days even more tortuous than I already anticipated.

I open my heavy front door, holding it for Chloe to walk through in her curve-hugging suit and ridiculous rain boots. She enters my foyer, and I follow, lugging her suitcase and bag. Paul's whine from his crate in the kitchen is the first thing I hear. But he can wait.

"Well, this is it. Let me show you your room." I jerk my chin toward the hallway to our left and head that way with her things. My house is a sprawling one-story brick and stucco home on a large lot set away from the street. I was not interested in any of the pretentious gated communities but preferred a large lot with space for Ayana to be a child. The place has four bedrooms and several large living spaces, so maybe having Chloe here will not be as intimate as I fear.

"You will stay in the guest room down here," I say. "Ayana's bedroom and mine are on the opposite side of the house, so you will have plenty of privacy." I look back to reassure her, but she has disappeared. So, I continue to the guest room to drop her things, assuming she went back out to her car to retrieve the plants.

But when I return, the front door is closed, and I hear Chloe's voice coming from the kitchen. I cross the tile floor to see her sprawled out in the center, an excited Paul climbing all over her and licking her face. I have never been jealous of a dog until this moment. My life is officially a clusterfuck.

"Who's the cutest doggo in the whole wide world? That's right. You are, Paul," she coos nonsensically at the German Shepherd while he basks in her attention.

"He will piss all over you if he doesn't go outside right away," I warn her. "He is only four months old, so his bladder is not trustworthy."

Chloe smiles up at me, unfiltered joy in her expression. I thought Ayana was the only person in the world capable of replicating the feel of sunshine on my skin. I was mistaken. Chloe cradles Paul's head in her hands and kisses his nose, laughing when he swipes her nose with his tongue. "You wouldn't pee on me, would you, Paul?"

The words are barely out of her mouth when the puppy finally loses the battle and sends a stream of piss soaking one leg of her pants.

"Paul!" I lunge for his leash, which hangs on a hook nearby, and rush to clip it on his collar. "I am so sor?—"

Chloe cuts me off with another laugh. How can being pissed on by a dog ever be a positive experience? "Oh, please. This suit was done for after my duplex swimming pool. It was already destined for the dry cleaner."

"Still. I apologize. Let me take him out." I point toward the guest room hall. "Your bags are down that hall, second door on the left. You should find towels in the restroom where you can clean up." I hurry to the backyard before Paul can demonstrate any more of his bad manners.

Thirty minutes later, Chloe has still not emerged from the guest room, and I am annoyed with myself for keeping track of the time. So I text Mac and Cappy about our offseason training. The timing is unfortunate, since it starts tomorrow—the same day I get Ayana—but training camp is less than two months away and we have much work to do. How was I to know the judge would let me have Ayana so soon after the hearing?

I tell them we must move tomorrow's training to the afternoon because there is no way I will postpone picking up my girl in the morning.

"You have a pool! God bless you." Chloe appears in the entryway to the living room, and Paul races from his spot at my feet to greet her with a vigorously wagging tail. I grit my teeth and do not respond. I'm too busy trying to ignore her new outfit. When she bends to scratch Paul's head, a groan escapes my throat, causing her to eye me curiously.

"What's the matter? Did Paul pee on you too?"

"Rule number two, Chloe!" I bite out as she straightens.

Her amusement is poorly hidden. "There were so many, I can't remember. What was rule number two again?"

"Appropriate clothing at all times!"

She looks down at her outfit, and my eyes follow her gaze before I can stop myself. She is in another of those tops that ties behind her neck and gathers her breasts together like two puppies trying to wrestle themselves out of a sack. There is no possible way she is wearing a bra. The shorts might be even worse, a pair of cutoff jeans with frayed edges that hug her ass and hips and reveal the creamy skin of her thighs.

"What's inappropriate about this?" She appears genuinely baffled. "It's Tampa in July. I'm not going to wear a snowsuit to play with your daughter and your dog."

I rise from the couch, ditching my phone and the magazine I was pretending to read.

"Where are you going?" she asks.

"To turn up the air conditioner."

The sound of her laughter follows me as I go to take what will undoubtedly be the first of many cold showers this week. Afterward, I invent several errands to run so I can put distance between Chloe and me. Being alone in the house with her is not a good idea.

When she texts that she is ordering takeout for dinner, asking if I want something, I tell her to eat without me. It is poor manners to leave her on her first night in my home, and my mother would disown me if she knew. But my hold on my control around her is beyond precarious, so it is best for both of us to avoid alone time. It will be easier when Ayana is near.

It is only when I pull into the driveway and see the guest room light is out that I sigh my relief and return inside. But the joke is apparently on me because I spend the next three hours tossing and turning in my bed. Chloe is on the other end of the house separated by two closed doors, yet she may as well be spread out beside me in my bed for how she dominates my thoughts. I can even smell her shampoo somehow. My cock is too stiff to allow sleep, so I get out of bed and pad into my bathroom.

I dip my head under the hot water pouring from the showerhead and close my eyes, letting the heat suffuse my body. I am simultaneously keyed up and exhausted, thanks to my uncontrollable attraction to my daughter's new nanny. But here, alone in my shower, there are no restrictions on my thoughts—or my behavior.

As steam billows around me, I take my cock in hand and imagine Chloe's painted red lips closing around the head. It takes only seconds for me to get hard enough to pound nails. I want to take my time, so I use slow strokes, but my head still drops back on a groan when I picture Chloe's blue eyes turned up to me as she drops to her knees and takes me deep.

Her small fingers wrap around my base until she has to move them as I thrust my entire length into her mouth, her throat squeezing around the head. She cradles my balls instead, gently kneading them while I pull back and drive deep again. The vibration of her moan around my cock has me going harder still.

"Touch yourself," I demand, and she immediately obeys, one hand diving between her legs and the other cupping one full breast. I enter her mouth slowly this time, letting her tongue rasp against my entire length as I test her gag reflex. But she can take all of me.

I delve my hands into her wet hair to hold her where I want as I continue to fuck her mouth, my pace increasing with each thrust. Her eyes hold mine while she works her clit and nipple and takes everything I give her.

"Good girl," I praise as her eyelids begin to flutter while her hips undulate with her approaching climax. As soon as it hits her, I drive faster into her throat as my own orgasm draws near, until I bury myself deep and come hard down her throat with a guttural shout.

When I pull back to give her air, she milks the last drops of cum from my cock with her tongue and lips, moaning as she does. My fingers wind into her raven hair, my breath coming in gasps as reality slowly filters back in and I feel the hot water pounding onto my back again.

I am alone in the shower once more. If I thought jerking off to fantasies of my houseguest would cure me of my attraction, I was sorely mistaken. And I am beginning to fear nothing will ever do the trick.

"Dad!" Ayana's arms wrap around my waist in a bear-cub hug, and I bend to kiss the top of her head. "Can we watch Tara Swanson's new concert tomorrow?! It's releasing to streaming in the morning!"

"Um..." It is never a good idea to commit to something you do not understand, so I go with, "We will see." A streaming concert? Is this a new thing? And I thought Tara Swanson was for teenagers, not seven-year-olds.

When I straighten again, Peyton is coming down the walkway wheeling Ayana's suitcase. Soon, she will have plenty of her things at my house so she will have no need for a suitcase.

Before I can even say hello, Peyton launches into a dissertation. "I'm emailing you the list, but she has dance on Tuesdays and Thursdays at five. I'm assuming you know where the studio is and what she needs to bring. Mackenzie's birthday party is Saturday at noon at the trampoline park in Westchase. Not the one in Carollwood. Make sure she has the right socks, and don't forget to get a gift—not too expensive, but don't be cheap either. Her allergist just recommended some medicine for her ragweed allergy, which I'm sure you know she's allergic to."

It takes a concerted effort not to tighten my grip on Ayana's shoulders as Peyton forges ahead. "And when she flosses at night, you have to watch her or she'll say she's done it even when she hasn't. I've already told her she can watch the Tara Swanson concert, so don't go all overprotective and embarrass her. All her friends will be watching it. Friday is?—"

"Enough," I cut her off as I reach over and pry the suitcase handle from her grip. "I get it." It is perfectly clear that Peyton is throwing out a challenge, waiting for me to fail. She will not get her wish, and I will not take the bait she is dangling between us right now. "I am happy to read your email, but we must go now." I transfer my gaze to my daughter. "There is a new friend I want to introduce you to."

Peyton scoffs, but I do not spare her another glance as Ayana's eyes widen. "Another puppy? Is Paul getting his Prue?"

"No." I frown down at her. "This is a human friend—one I promise you will like very much. And one who will teach you to play hockey just like me." Ayana's eyes widen again.

"Hockey?!" Peyton cuts in. "No way. That's too dangerous."

I am forced to look at my ex-wife's scowling face again. "It is a starter recreational league for children, not an NHL team. She will be fine."

Ayana whirls around to face her mother. "Come on, Mom. I can already skate. I won't get hurt." It is true I have used some of my limited time with Ayana over the years to teach her to skate. It would be sacrilege for a hockey player's child not to learn.

"Come give me a hug and then get in the car, Ayana," Peyton instructs our daughter, who does as she is asked, even if it is accompanied by a pout. When the door closes behind Ayana, Peyton steps closer. "You did that on purpose."

"What?"

"Told her about hockey before discussing it with me so I'd be the bad guy if I said no," she accuses.

"I do not see how that is any different from you signing her up for dance classes without my knowledge. Or you telling her she can watch some concert while she is at my house. When have we ever discussed things beforehand?"

Peyton's nostrils flare as she speaks through gritted teeth. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

I am finished with this conversation, so I turn to wheel the suitcase to the back of the Rover. "Finally having time with my daughter? Yes." I stow the suitcase and quickly get into the driver's seat before Peyton has a chance to ruin Ayana's and my first day together.

It is time to prove that I have what it takes to be the father Ayana deserves.