Page 13 of Crossed Up

Wren told me that she’d been working for the painting place for a year, and they paid her under the table in cash. She was living in one of the run-down month-to-month apartments in Mount Pleasant.

She doesn’t dress in expensive clothing or have a car, let alone one that would suggest she’s rolling in dough. Sometimes, you can just tell when someone has money, and the only thing that gives any indication she did is the refined edge to her mannerisms and language. She’s incredibly eloquent for someone who’s only twenty-two.

There’s just something about her that fascinates me and makes me want to dig deeper, so I make a note to push her background check through as soon as possible. Maybe I can get some answers that way.

Part of me feels like I’m invading her privacy, but the rest of me knows that doing a background check is a smart move, both as her employer and because she’s caring for my son and has unfettered access to him twenty-four-seven.

Realizing I’ve been silent for too long, I chuckle. “He sounds like a character. My brother and I pretty much survived on the microwave growing up. Mama tried to cook when she was home, but more often than not, she was picking up extra shifts at one of her jobs.”

Lyla looks sad for a moment but shakes it off quickly. “What about your dad? Did he ever cook for you?”

Any levity I had been feeling dissipates with the mention of my father. I don’t want to be rude, so I quietly clear my throat and shrug as if the mere mention of him doesn’t threaten to send my stomach straight out through my throat. “No, my dad didn’t cook for us. Unless it came out of a bottle, he wasn’t interested.”

The last thing I need is to see the pitying look she’s likely aimed my way, so I grab the meal she made me and give her a fake smile. She makes it too easy to say more than I should when she gives me those doe eyes and acts like she cares.

“Thanks for this! I’m going to eat real quick and then head inside for our last workout of the day. Feel free to head home if you want. I should be done here in an hour or so.”

Without waiting for a response, I grab the warm container and kiss Crew’s head before stalking off, desperate to unleash some of this tension on the heavy bag in the gym before I do something stupid.

Like turn around and kiss my son’s nanny.

6

AIDAN

Tires screeching, the sickening crunch of metal folding in on itself. Why is it so hot in here? The sound of my father cursing and screaming for help assaults my ears on a never-ending loop as lines of something thick and hot pour down my face. I should never have let him drive tonight.

I wake with a jolt, my entire body drenched in sweat and shaking with adrenaline. Nightmares about the night my father died have gotten less frequent over the years, but I’ve had one nearly every night since Lyla asked me about him at the field last week.

Having her here has been a godsend for Crew, but she’s still nervous, reactive, and quiet, which reminds me way too much of how my mom was while I was growing up.

She dropped a mug in the kitchen early the other morning after I startled her coming down for my usual coffee and immediately dropped into a panic attack. I watched her cower by the fridge, apologizing frantically, while my heart twisted uncomfortably in my chest. I could barely keep my own panic at bay long enough to clean up the spilled coffee and talk her down.

It took almost ten minutes for her to come out of it, and when she did, she immediately excused herself and sprinted up the stairs on unsteady legs. We didn’t see her the rest of the day since it was her day off.

I tried to keep my focus on Crew and all the things I needed to do to prep for this season, but I kept finding my gaze drifting to the stairs during every quiet moment, wondering if she was okay up there by herself and fighting the urge to check on her.

But as anxious as she’s been around me, she’s the exact opposite with Crew. When her sole focus is on him, her entire face lights up with no traces of hesitation or anxiety. Just in the last two weeks, she’s gotten him started with a whole kindergarten program, and seeing his excitement to recount every moment of his days to me makes me feel like my throat is in a vice.

Part of me is grateful he isn’t in school yet because he doesn’t seem to know what he’s missing by not having a mom in his life. Wren is amazing with him, and I’m so grateful Crew gets the fringe benefits of having a positive female influence. However, it’s not like she can act as a mother figure for my son.

With a sigh, I climb out of bed and strip the sheets for the fifth time this week, making a note to grab some more sleep tea at the store later to try and combat these nightmares. My entire body is coated in a film of dried sweat, so I take my time in the shower, letting the scalding water beat down on my tense muscles.

Even after waking up the way I did, my cock is standing at attention against my lower abs, a combination of morning wood and the warmth from the water making me ache. How long has it been since I took the edge off? I haven’t had sex in years, but even touching myself has felt more like a chore than anything lately.

It’s still really early, so I decide to take advantage of the quiet for a little self-care, wrapping my fist around my straining erection. A guttural groan works its way out of my throat as I tease my hand up and down my length slowly, a faceless woman starring in my fantasy.

A dark-haired woman sinks down to her knees in front of me just before her tiny pink tongue darts out to lap at the precum gathering on my slit. I choke out a surprised whimper and tangle my hand in her thick, glossy hair.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Take me in your mouth, just like that.”

She moans around my cock, the sound vibrating down through my balls.

The sounds coming out of my fantasy woman have me close already, so I tighten my fist and squeeze over the head on every upward stroke, my hips stuttering when I start to fuck into my hand.

“Is this okay?” she gasps, a string of spit connecting her mouth to my cock.

“Fuuuck,” I growl. “Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you look down there on your knees for me, darlin’? You’re takin’ my cock so well.” She preens at my praise, so I smirk down at her and tighten my hand in her hair just enough to ride the edge of pain. “Now, how ‘bout you put your mouth back on me so I can come down that perfect little throat?”

---