Chapter 16 More Than a Thousand Feet Hailey Matt

Chapter 16

More Than a Thousand Feet

Hailey

“Stay away from the window, Junebug! I mean it!”

Oh boy. I’m witnessing the impossible. Matt Eriksson…one of the biggest, toughest hockey players in the league, the man who can slay me with one crooked smile and bring me to my knees with one raspy-voiced word…is a wimp.

Okay, he’s not a wimp. But apparently my hockey god is human. As in a human who’s deathly afraid of heights.

“But it’s so pretty!” Matt’s daughter whines. “I wanna see!”

“Me too!” Libby pipes up, dashing up to the huge glass window to join her twin.

Matt looks like he’s about to have a coronary. His face is paler than the fluffy white clouds that we’re pretty much at eye level with. Yeah, we’re in the clouds. This tower is frickin’ tall . More than a thousand feet if the brochure in my hands is telling the truth. And is it weird that I’ve lived in Toronto all my life and never visited its most popular tourist attraction?

“Guys, listen to this,” I say, reading from the crisp booklet. “There’s a sky terrace one level below us.”

Matt makes a sputtering sound, his head swinging toward me in sheer betrayal. “They let you go outside ? From this height! Jesus Christ! I’m calling my lawyer.”

I can’t stop a laugh. “Your lawyer?”

“Yeah,” he huffs. “To preemptively sue this place for all the murders they’re going to be complicit in.”

Sighing, I walk over and place a hand on his big arm. He’s wearing a gray sweater that showcases every delicious contour of his torso and faded blue jeans that hug his ass so nice that I’ve already caught several other women ogling him. But it’s hard for me to ogle when he’s clearly so upset.

“Matthew,” I say softly, and his lips twitch at my use of his full name. I stroke my fingers up his arm until they reach the underside of his chin. I firmly meet his eyes. “Breathe.”

There’s a beat. And then I hear the slightest intake of breath.

“This tower has been here for decades, and it’s still standing. People fly in from all over the world to see it. The elevators carry a gazillion people to the top every day.” I sneak a peek at his girls to make sure they’re focusing on the view and not us, then caress the strong line of his jaw. “We’re perfectly safe up here. Okay?”

He exhales slowly. “Okay.”

“That a boy.” I give his cheek an exaggerated pinch. “Now come on. Let’s move a little closer to the windows. Libby wants to find out if we can see your condo from up here.”

Matt crosses his arms over his chest. “You go. I’m good where I am.”

Another laugh bubbles in my throat. I manage to tamp it down though. Truthfully, it’s a bit of a confidence booster to know that Matt is afraid of heights. It knocks him a foot or two off the pedestal I’ve put him on. Plus, it makes me feel like I’m more in control, when normally I feel so wildly out of control when I’m around him.

“Hailey, come see!” June calls. “I think that’s a doggy down there!”

I bite my lip in amusement. I’m fairly certain that whatever she’s seeing is not a doggy. From this height, she’d never be able to make out one measly dog. But I still humor the little girl, bending down beside her, squinting extra hard, and then agreeing that, yes, that teeny black dot hundreds of feet below is absolutely a dog.

“Daddy’s sweaty,” Libby whispers to me.

I glance behind us, then back at Libby’s wide gray eyes. “Seems so,” I confirm. “It’s probably because it’s so hot in here with all these people.” I gesture to the crowd of tourists all around us. Everyone but Matt is oohing and aahing at the breathtaking view of the city.

“It’s ’cause he’s a scaredy-cat,” Libby disagrees.

A snort flies out. “Well. Even daddies can be scaredy-cats sometimes.”

June shifts her gaze from the window to study me. “You’re pretty like my mommy,” she says frankly.

Heat rises in my cheeks, while discomfort fills my belly. I don’t like the comparison to Matt’s ex-wife, especially since the former Mrs. Eriksson isn’t just pretty—she’s a bombshell.

“Thank you,” I manage. “So are you. And you,” I add, smiling at June’s identical twin.

“Your nose is shiny,” Libby says in response.

It takes me a second to realize she’s talking about my nose ring. June decides she needs to touch it, and suddenly two chubby fingers are probing the tiny silver stud, and I don’t know whether to laugh or die of embarrassment.

“Does it hurt?” June asks curiously.

“Nope. Half the time, I forget it’s there.”

“Do you have a dog?” Libby asks.

“Do you like ice cream?” June asks.

My head starts spinning as the girls fire seemingly random questions at me, but after the tenth or so inquiry, I realize they’re asking me if I like the things they like. They’re sussing me out, trying to figure out if I’m good enough to be their friend—or rather if I’m good enough to be their father’s friend.

I answer each question honestly, which I think they appreciate. Even though Libby turns her nose up when I admit I hate gummy bears, she nods solemnly at the explanation I give—“I don’t like slimy things in my mouth.”

Matt snickers loudly at that. He’s slowly been creeping toward us, not getting too close to the windows but close enough to eavesdrop, apparently.

“That’s what she said,” he coughs into his hand.

June notices her father and squeals. “Daddy!”

“You guys have enough of this view already?” he asks us. “Because I’m hungry.”

“Liar. You’re just looking for an excuse to hide in the restaurant,” I accuse, and the twins giggle in delight.

He winks at me. “That too. But it is one o’clock, which is usually when the girls have lunch. What do you say, kidlets? Lunchtime?”

We end up in a corner booth in the family restaurant at the tower, not the revolving one that would probably give Matt heart palpitations. As the girls babble to each other while eating chicken fingers shaped like animals, Matt slides one hand under the table and slips his fingers through mine.

“Thanks for coming along,” he murmurs.

I smile. “Thanks for inviting me.” I give his hand a teasing squeeze. “Though I think you only did that so someone could stand at the windows with your kids.”

His answering smile is wry. “I’m sorry you have to witness this. I don’t know what it is about heights, but…” He gives an exaggerated shiver. “Man, I hate ’em.”

“I like that,” I admit.

He arches a brow. “You like that I’m a total pus—wimp about heights?” He shoots a glance at his daughters to make sure they didn’t hear his almost use of pussy .

“No, I like that you’re not invincible.” I reach for my soda and take a long sip. “It makes me feel less inclined to stammer and stutter in your presence, knowing you’re such a wimp.”

“Ha ha.” He studies my face for a moment. “You haven’t stammered and stuttered in a while, now that I think about.” A grin stretches his sexy mouth. “Could someone finally be warming up to me?”

I warmed up to you the day we met. I melted for you the second you kissed me.

I swallow the urge to voice those thoughts. I have no idea how I feel about Matt, except that I love spending time with him, and yes, I’m definitely starting to relax around him. Jenny was right—my confidence took a hit after the divorce. But it’s slowly coming back. I feel stronger. More self-assured.

“There might be some warming,” I concede with mock reluctance. “But I’m not sure I can deal with the scared-of-heights thing.” I lean in to whisper in his ear. “Now’s probably not the time to tell you that I enjoy skydiving, right?”

He blanches. “Oh God. Please tell me you’re lying.”

“Afraid not. I try to get a dive in a couple times a year if I can. Biggest thrill ever .”

“You’re dead to me,” he deadpans.

I burst out laughing, then lift my hand from under the table and pat his broad shoulder. “It’s okay. I’d never force you to skydive with me. We all have our stuff.”

We’re interrupted when Libby reaches over to persistently tug at Matt’s sleeve. “Daddy. I have to potty.”

“Ah. Okay. Let’s take care of that, shall we?”

He starts to push his chair back, but I get up instead. “I can take her,” I offer. “Saves you an awkward trip to the men’s.”

He looks grateful. “Thanks, Hott—Hailey,” he corrects himself.

“Of course.” I hold out my hand to the little girl. “You ready, Eddie?”

She gives a high-pitched laugh. “I’m not Eddie! I’m Libby!”

“She’s Libby!” June chimes in.

“I know. I’m just teasing you.” I ruffle Libby’s silky-soft hair and then lead her away from the table. Glancing back, I see Matt sliding closer to June and whispering something that makes her giggle. His rugged smile as he talks to his little girl makes my heart flip over in my chest.

In the ladies’ room, I make sure that Libby washes her hands after she comes out of the stall. When she shuts off the water, I’m ready with a paper towel, which she grabs and swipes across her little hands.

An elderly woman smiles at me just as Libby hands back her used towel. “Your daughter is gorgeous,” she says, a smile on her wrinkled face.

The compliment catches me completely off guard. My eyes drop to Libby’s pale eyes as I try to see what the woman saw. It isn’t often since my divorce that I allow myself to think about having a family of my own. That way lies the abyss. So I take a breath and try to compose a polite explanation. But before I can form the words, “I’m just a family friend,” Libby darts toward the ladies’ room door. And since I don’t want to lose sight of Matt’s daughter in the touristy melee, I only get out, “Thank you,” before I chase after her.

***

After the tower trip, we spend another hour walking past all the department store windows that have been specially decorated for the Christmas holiday. The girls squeal over the glitzy displays, and Matt slips his hand into mine.

Heaven.

So when he asks me to come upstairs with them and stay for an early dinner, I say yes even though I should say no.

“Can I help?” I ask when he goes into the kitchen.

“Nope!” he says cheerfully. There’s a slow cooker on his countertop, and I watch him pick up an oven mitt to lift the lid. “It’s already done.”

After petting Rufus hello, I peek into the pot. “Chili? It smells great.”

“My mother’s recipe,” he says, giving it a stir. “And also gluten-free.” He takes a piece of paper out of his back pocket, unfolds it, and smooths it onto the counter. Matthew— it begins. Many paragraphs follow in a small font. His finger skims down the page until he reaches a bright yellow section called DISALLOWED FOODS . “Yay. Rice is still legal. I’ll make some rice on the side.”

“It’s still…what?”

He makes a face. “Kara has a hundred rules, and I try to break as few as possible.”

“This letter is, like, her permanent instruction manual?”

He laughs, but the sound is bitter. “That’s just for today. I get a new updated manual on every visit. She didn’t used to print them out and highlight passages though. So that’s new.”

I literally bite my tongue to keep from making a comment. Bashing the ex-wife is not something I want to do. But I just spent several hours with Matt and his kids, and he made it all look easy.

After he walks the dog for a few minutes, the girls disappear into their room with Rufus, and I sit at a counter stool with a beer, watching my hot man make rice. My big contribution to this meal is to put napkins and silverware on his table and pour milk into two plastic cups with handles.

“Half-full,” he cautions. “There are frequent spills.”

“Gotcha.”

“Rufus loves it when the girls are here.”

Sure enough, the dog wags his tail happily from the floor between their two chairs when we all sit down later, waiting for errant grains of rice or whatever else falls from the sky.

Matt’s kick-ass chili is delicious and makes me feel embarrassed to have served him store-bought lasagna. At least the dessert he takes out of the cupboard is store-bought.

“Yay, cookies!” one of his daughters yells. “Mommy will be mad.”

“No, she won’t,” he says quickly. “They’re organic and low sugar.”

“Really?” I whisper as he opens the package beside me. They’re coconut macaroons dipped in dark chocolate, and they look delicious.

He gives me a guilty shrug, and I swallow a laugh. “They’re gluten-free though,” he whispers back. “You can’t have everything.”

He’s right. You can’t. I’ve just spent the past couple of hours trying not to wonder how different my life might be if I’d married someone who wanted to stay married and have kids. Children were always on Jackson’s and my to-do list. Or at least I thought they were. But since I’m not even thirty, it was never an urgent matter. And we had a growing business to run.

Matt disappears for a little while to get his girls changed into pj’s. They’ll do anything to avoid brushing their teeth, it seems. A game of tag breaks out, and then Libby tries to ride Rufus like a horse. His reaction is to yawn and sink down onto the floor.

Then there’s a storybook on the couch, followed by pleas for more.

“That’s all,” he says, snapping the book shut. “Bedtime was two minutes and seven seconds ago.” It sounds like a faintly sarcastic echo of his ex, and when I smirk, I get a sexy wink from him. “Say good night to Hailey.”

“G’night, Hailey,” they both chime.

“Night, girls. It was fun scaring your daddy earlier.”

They giggle, but Matt gives me the side-eye for that. Apparently it’s fine for a bossy alpha male to admit his fear of heights, but only once a day. Matt herds them into their room and reappears a few minutes later.

“I should go,” I say reluctantly, rising off the couch.

He lifts an eyebrow. “Like hell you should. This is the perfect evening—all my favorite females under one roof.” He kisses my forehead, and I feel the warmth trickle through me. “Besides, you just survived seven hours at the Eriksson circus. Now you win a glass of wine and a snuggle on the couch.”

I fold like a bad hand of poker. Five minutes later, I’m sipping cabernet and watching the highlight reel of the Pittsburgh/Montreal game.

Five minutes after that , we’re making out like a pair of teenagers right before curfew. Matt’s hand is up my shirt, his thumb circling my nipple through the lace of my bra. His muscular thigh parts my legs, and my body practically bursts into flames. I swear I hear the same whoosh sound as when the heat kicks on in my apartment. I’m stroking his pecs and rubbing against him like a cat in heat.

He catches both my wrists in one of his big hands and lifts them over my head, pinning my hands to the arm of the couch. Then his mouth lands, hot and determined, on my neck. Whoosh again. Firm, generous lips begin to suck at my skin. Whooshity-whoosh . I’m turning liquid right here on the sofa.

In front of all of Toronto.

While his daughters fall asleep a few feet away.

“Matt,” I pant, lifting my chin. “We have to stop.”

His hand releases immediately, and I lose his hot mouth on my neck. “Sorry,” he gasps. “Thought you were into it.”

“Mmm,” I agree, trying to get a grip on myself. “But…your girls.”

His thumb circles my nipple again. I knew there was a reason I spent my life lusting after hockey players. Matt is really good with his hands. “Hottie,” he says, his breath ghosting over my jaw. He pauses to kiss that spot, and I shiver. “My bedroom door has a lock. Let’s go use it.”

“You sure?”

Instead of answering me, he stands up and shuts off the TV. Then he tugs me off the couch. Leaning in, he murmurs in my ear. “We’ll be very quiet, okay?”

I nod to show him I understand the need for silence.

“Walk slowly into my bedroom.” His whisper is a hot hiss in my ear. “Then take off your top and your jeans. Wait for me beside the bed.”

A shiver runs through me as I nod again. He pinches my butt and tips his head toward the bedroom, getting me moving in that direction in a big hurry.

His bedroom looks different in the dark with the lights of Toronto shining in, bathing the white comforter in silvery light. There’s no chance that anyone could spy on us in the darkened bedroom. But it still feels risqué to strip out of my top in front of his windows. There are other apartments lit up throughout the neighborhood. Other Saturday nights in play.

None of them is as great as mine.

The door clicks shut as my jeans drop to the floor. Hands land on my shoulders and turn me around to face his sexy smile in the dark. He lifts his eyebrows and then points at the buttons of his shirt.

It takes me only a split second to understand that I’m the one who’s supposed to undo them. My hands rush to do this task. He’s warm and solid under my hands as I quickly flick the buttons apart. As soon as I’ve revealed a portion of his chest, I have to lean in and kiss it. The only sound is his sharp intake of breath when my tongue finds his smooth skin. Two hands give my ass a squeeze that’s full of expectation.

There are so many whooshes now I lose count.

Somehow I strip him out of that shirt, my eager fingers moving to his fly. “That’s it,” he breathes into my ear as his pants fall away. He hooks his thumbs in the waistband of my panties and drops them to the floor. Then he does the same to his briefs. “Now turn around.”

I expect him to nudge me onto the bed, but he doesn’t do it. He just clasps me there, my back to his front, his erection pressed possessively against my lower back. His hand flicks my bra clasp open, and now I’m completely naked. A gasp escapes my lips as his hands slide across my skin, waking every nerve ending and making it sing. One arm clamps across my body, his roughened palm holding my breast. The other palm skates down to my core, cupping me.

His shameless fingers dip between my legs, and I bite my lip, eyes squeezed shut, as he discovers how wet I already am for him. I can feel his heartbeat against my back, and I sink down against his hand, my head falling back against his shoulder. I can’t help myself. In this room, I’m a different Hailey, the kind whose hips move in time with his strokes. Modesty be damned.

“Look,” he orders so silently that the k is almost the only sound I hear.

My eyes flip open to see our reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of his closet door. The light is dim, but there’s no mistaking my pale bare skin. His strong arms stripe across my body. I can’t decide which one is sexier—the one that’s gripping me possessively across the chest or the big hand working me over below, the tendons flexing in his wrist.

My gasp is loud. Too loud. And his upper hand has to give up my breast to clamp across my mouth. My moan is dampened by his hand, thank God.

This man is going to ruin me.

***

Matt

Damn, she’s amazing.

Getting Hottie hotter is my favorite thing in the world. I’ve blasted the doors off her comfort zone, and the reward is the panting, sexy woman in my arms. It’s beautiful to watch her throw away her inhibitions and relax against me, her body supple and willing.

She has no idea how much this means to me. I’ve spent the last year and change believing myself unfit to be anyone’s partner. And maybe it’s true. But by spending her day with me—and her night—Hailey lets me believe I’m not a lost cause, that my messy life is worth sharing, at least when I can manage it.

Now it’s my turn to show her how sexy she really is. Helping her feel that is the best thing ever.

My dick is as hard as the CN Tower statuettes we saw in the gift shop a few hours ago, but I let this moment linger, teasing her pussy with my fingers, kissing her neck. When I can’t take the anticipation anymore, I guide her to the side of the bed but not onto it. Instead, I nudge her onto her knees on the rug beside the bed. I place each of her arms onto the mattress, palms down. “Don’t move,” I whisper.

She lays a cheek on the cotton comforter and takes a deep, steadying breath as I grab a condom out of the nightstand. I roll it on in a big fat hurry. But then I take an extra second to adjust the closet door a few inches, leaving it ajar, the mirror aimed at the place where Hailey leans over my bed.

When I sink down behind her, I run my hands over her silky back, cupping her ass cheeks. I nudge her knees farther apart. “You ready for me?” I ask. But I know she is.

Hailey nods eagerly, eyeing me over her shoulder.

I lift her hips gently, tucking my cock beneath her body. When I rub the head against her slickness, she sucks in a breath. I position myself at her entrance, then pause.

Her body is tense with expectation. But I’m waiting for something important. She shifts a fraction of an inch, offering me her body.

I wait, throbbing with want.

Finally, it happens. Her eyes flick over to the mirror. She’s trying to figure out why I’m not fucking her yet. But as soon as our eyes meet in the mirror, I push inside.

Her chin lifts, her mouth falling open with desire. It’s fucking gorgeous. I take her tits in both hands and pinch the nipples.

“Watch,” I growl. “See how beautiful you are?”

In the mirror, I see the sexiest woman I’ve ever met, her small body bouncing as I thrust. She’s tight and hot, and I feel a wave of lust roll through me, until I have to close my eyes before things get out of hand.

She’s magnificent, and I do my best to make it last. I give it to her nice and steady while her heart beats wildly in my hands. Then I slip one hand down between her legs and finger our connection, which makes her whimper.

“Shh,” I whisper, and her breathing becomes even hotter.

When I don’t think I can last much longer, I pull out and climb up on the bed, settling on my back. She follows eagerly, seating herself on my cock. I’ve made her forget her inhibitions entirely now. We’re face-to-face, her eager body riding me like a champion.

“That’s it,” I urge. “Take what you need.”

Her big blue eyes are heavy with lust, the pupils blown. I pull her down onto my chest, taking her mouth in a rough kiss. With a moan, she strains against me, desperate to find her release. I suck on her tongue as she reaches the finish line, her body quaking over mine. My hips pump on their own volition, and I’m spilling and moaning and holding her tightly.

“Shh!” she chides when I give one last loud grunt of satisfaction. Her small hand slips over my lips.

I kiss it, then nudge it aside with a clumsy hand. “’S okay,” I say, then suck down the oxygen that I need. “They sleep like the dead, Hottie.”

“Then why were we silent?”

“Because hot,” I mumble, my eyelids heavy.

“Seriously?” she says at a normal volume, and I just grin up at her with my eyes shut. “You’re so…”

“Sexy?” I offer.

She smacks my shoulder and then collapses onto it. “Yeah. Fine. You win.”

I squeeze her body to mine, just feeling lucky.